#his name is figaro

[ichiwashername-o]

Hello I know literally nothing about the Wicked musical or what the hell Figaro the Scarecrow's backstory is but I saw your comics and they're driving me insane so I'm here now!

I am deeply flattered! Welcome to the fandom, and don't worry! Things only get crazier from here on out!

Please do enjoy!

Wicked Master Post Here

[valeriefauxnom]

Silly Hypothesis du Jour

There's something silly about the implicit cultural residue of Dragalia's world seeming to have the same English attitude regarding French. I know it's just a byproduct of writers injecting their own worldview, as we all do, but still is silly.

Now, Dragalia had quite a few cultural analogues already. Sventila? I'm probably spelling that wrong, seems to be 'Russia', Hinomoto is 'Japan' in feudal era, Taiwu is China...but we never really established a cultural land for France. Fair enough. There's too many countries to cover in any depth.

But the French lingers. Specifically, it seems to pop up with slightly more frequency in the royal family's dialogue, with words like rendezvous, atelier, and soirée in at least some members' vocabulary alongside other fairly common words of French origin like coup. They also seem to have drawn at least some noble titles from historically French ones that migrated to English like marquis and baron.

Combined with the other context it pops up in most frequently, which is to say, fine dining, I believe that whatever the origin of the French language in Dragalia, it carries much the same aura of fancy, high-class language.

(L'amandier is, surprise surprise, French, for an almond tree. His restaurant name is The Almond Tree. 'Pièce de résistance' is, meanwhile, a masterwork, though more literally it's 'piece of resistance', ie, something that has sticking power.)

(Forte is pretty well known- a strength, as is its French meaning, strong. Voilà needs no explanation but I will anyways: It's a contraction between vois and là, voir being the base verb to see, and là referring to a 'that' in this sense. It's essentially a 'see this!, a 'lo and behold'!)

Aside from those, there's also words like hors d'oeuvres, "allez cuisine!", sous chef (which, contrary to some people's thoughts I've heard, doesn't mean soup, it means 'under', they're subordinate to the big chef in the militaristic French cuisine world), and even in Valerio's skill names, amuse-bouche and bon appetit.

Honestly, I'm surprised at how often the Dragalia team took to actually adding in the accents, since people often forget.

Then again, another funnier if-still-relevant to my claim here is the array of very informal speakers butchering the spelling and saying of another French phrase. Ranzal's the most common offender, but anyone from Sarisse to Mym to Ilia (does that imply French as a fancy language is over 1k years old???) will say:

It's off of 'tout de suite', which means, essentially ASAP. Instantly. Given their relative care in ensuring pièce de résistance is accented properly, I'm guessing the writers just found this one funny and kept using it, Canadians as they probably were along with the voice cast.

So yeah, that's my case French, wherever it originated from in Dragalia lore, has all the same haute culture ideations that many in the English-speaking world do.

As a fun little fact: many of the words that do see usage in English that are directly derived from French, ex 'forte', 'naive', etc, are the feminine spellings. The masculine spelling of naive, or rather, naïve, is naïf. Most of the time you only need to slap 'e' on whatever word you're using but of course, there are exceptions. You also can see it in words ending in -ve, instead of -if, like positive.

I'll cut myself off here, but hopefully you've at least reaction to my silly insights:

[gaytobymeres]

Just saw barber of Seville and it was so good!!!!!! I love opera so much!! Also I love Figaro with my whole heart

[nikolajrostovs]

Webmd help me i can't stop drawing very small and horrible spanish noblemen

[leporellian]

losing my absolute mind over this r/opera post of a met opera licensed blanket from the 70s

[jennsypuff]

@paintscroll and I were bold enough to ask the question, “What if Edgar was an evil Barbie?” Actually, he manifested an incubus when the world ended and he took on a life of his own. His name is Nero and you Should Not Trust Him

[malusienki]

one of my favorite ship dynamics … dorks in love

[redwingenthusiast]

sam, packing for undercover mission: buck, no one is going to believe your fake id is real.

bucky: what are you talking about? my alias is great!

sam: alfred pine?

bucky, muttering: i go by al.

[flovverworks]

the fauaki in pt2. <-still doesnt have the guts to read ch17 n 18

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : a little weed sure eases theses two up.

warnings : implications of sex & use of weed

mickey speaks : sorry this took a while to get out friends, hope u love it. also lowkey self inserting w the hawaii trip :P

THIS IS PART SEVEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

“OH, he’s obsessed!” andrea exclaims across the table, a wide smile smothered over her face.

it didn’t take long for asha to call you and begin debriefing her month-long europe trip to you, only for you to cut her short (because matt began knocking on the door, complaining about how long you’d taken to piss) and ask her to finish her tell-all over lunch. she of course agreed and texted you the location of her favorite ramen place along with: “tell your roomie andrea that she can come with i wanna see u bothhhh!”

she’s spent the last half hour detailing the total princess treatment she’d experienced from a guy she met at her stop in london. “yeah, too bad i won’t see him again,” she pouts.

“you didn’t get his phone number that entire time?” you ask, fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand.

“oh of course i did, i just won’t be using it,” asha laughs and tucks a piece of her dark curled hair behind her ear. “it was nice while it lasted but i’m definitely not trying to deal with the hassle that comes with dating anyone right now,” she shrugs.

“you’re so bad!” andrea shakes her head and giggles, "but you know what, i get it."

asha hides her laugh by guiding noodles towards her mouth.

your phone buzzes softly against the counter and lights up, showing off a new text message from your mom, but more importantly your lock screen wallpaper displaying a sleepy figaro on your chest.

asha squeals through her chews as you pick up your phone to decide whether you’ll confront or procrastinate the text message (that will most likely sour your mood). andrea’s eyes widen at the girl as asha finishes up and starts to explain, “who’s cat is that?!” her acrylic nail taps against the table.

“oh, it’s ours,” you peer over your phone, deciding you’d rather not answer your mom’s text (she's asking how degree-related job searching has been, again).

“what?!”

“oh yes, he's my babyyy,” andrea coos while unlocking her phone to show off the many photos, “his name is figaro-.”

asha swipes through the phone in awe, “and when the fuck did this happen?”

“like a few weeks ago, i wanna say…” you turn to look at andrea while trying to remember.

“i’m coming over way more now. oh my god.” she gushes over the many photos of the playful black kitten before returning andrea’s phone.

“please do, it felt like you were gone for so long.” you whine out the beg before taking another sip of the warm broth.

asha sighs (in a way that causes her lips to flutter a little), “i know, i miss hanging out with my friends!”

“and we miss you! your ass is always traveling somewhere we have to soak up all your LA time while we can,” you joke.

the two laugh along with you, “i think i’ll be here for a while…not until like, my birthday.” asha thinks through her schedule and her mouth widens at the thought of her birthday, “oh my god! i forgot to tell you- mostly because it’s kinda far out? so, the past four years i’ve hosted trips for my birthday in late november... and i want you two to come this year!”

your eyes widen in excitement and your mouth is full of noodles, keeping you from letting out the loud 'yes' you wanted to. so andrea answers for the both of you, “well of course, we’ll come!”

asha’s face can’t possibly be stretched further with happiness as she celebrates, “yay, this’ll be so fun! you’ll get to meet some of my girlfriends and f’course the boys will be there so you’ll know a few people already!”

“and where are we going?” you ask with big, curious eyes.

“hawaii!"

౨ৎ

a distinct berry shade drips over the room in full swoops as the leaving sun peeks through matt's curtains ever so gently. your lips are now almost the same shade of the woven fabric, especially after enduring matt's undying and bitter kisses.

you hear him breathe a soft laugh, finding your body's limp, laid-out position to be straight out of an erotic femme painting: right leg and arm stretched above and below you, left arm above your waist to cradle your tits, and left leg bent and falling over the opposing leg.

you turn your head when you recognize his return, whispering, "hey."

matt’s bed dips accordingly when he lowers himself next to you, fixated on your still-exposed silhouette that hosts a few deep hickeys (he’s recently taken a liking to giving you them, his ego gains a small ignition at the thought of him placing them only where he gets to see), rather than your observant eyes.

he finds one he’d kissed into the skin under your printed hello kitty, leaning closer to lick and suckle at it more. you squirm and push his head away with a whine of his name.

he chuckles and moves his hair from his face, “put some fuckin’ clothes on then.” he lays your sweatshirt and panties, he gathered on his way back to you, against your chest.

you lift yourself easily, though a sleepy yawn still makes its way to you as you fit into the hoodie. matt shifts himself to slouch against his headboard. you finish your redressing before moving yourself higher on his bed as well.

matt thinks your phone screen is severely bright and headache-inducing but he doesn't complain as he normally would, instead he's more focused on balancing his joint-rolling necessities atop his wife beater clad torso.

you pay no attention to him as you exchange texts with remi:

REMI - 6:43 PM

OMFG

REMI

this guy im friends w thinks i should set you up on a blind date with a guy he knows :D

REMI

HE JUST SHOWED ME A PIC AND ... fuck

REMI

PLS SAY YOULL DO IT

REMI

u deserve a nice date night

Y/N - 8:36 PM

hi WHATTT

Y/N

idk rem😭😭

REMI

ABOUT TIME U RESPONDED HELLO

REMI

rlly you dont wanna??

Y/N

ill have to think about it

you sigh while turning off your phone, moving your body to better face matt, who's hands work to add the potent plant into his detailed silver grinder. there's obviously no need for you to stay in his bed or hang around for any longer, but as of late you both aren't necessarily itching to kick the other out as soon as clothes are back on.

"i wanna learn," you declare as you sit up more, looking down at his slouched figure.

"to roll?" he asks pausing his smooth routine and licking over his lips expectantly.

"yeah," you move your hoodie’s long sleeve cuffs away from the lower half of your palm, showing him your dedication and anticipation.

matt smirks and continues to zip the plastic bag once more, shaking his head.

"what? why not, matt?" you pout.

“because i’m already good at it,” he shrugs, “you can smoke with me but you don’t have to be the one to roll.”

“‘kay, whatever. i’ll just get someone else to teach me then, like chris or lucas or somethin’” stretching as you collapse back onto his bed and bury your face in the crook of your arm. when matt does nothing to pull you out of your dramatic fit, you decide to mess with him further, grabbing his phone from its place near his thigh and rolling over so that you lie on the plush of your stomach.

you pretend to type (actually just tapping against his uncharacteristically soft lockscreen, displaying a vintage looking photo of a woman you’d only assume to be his mother) then putting the phone up to your ear, mimicking the ring with a burring noise in your throat. “hey lucas! yeah it's me, matt never gave me your number! i know. that is really selfish and unfair!” you nod along while staring at matt who thinks you look and sound so stupid that it’s kind of cute.

you twirl your hair and bite your lip, really getting into character, “you're right, he is the worst. he won’t even let me roll up with him! but that’s fine, i think i may just need someone more skilled and sexy like you to hel-”

matt taps your barely covered ass harder than he intends to, shocking you in the best way. “alright, stop fuckin’ around and pay attention ‘cause i’m not repeating myself,” he softly demands, gesturing you to sit up with his fingers.

"ow!" you rub at the spot and roll your eyes in faux irritation, fighting the urge to smile now that you've successfully recaptured matt's attention and can still feel the heat of his hand on your ass. you try to give yourself grace in moments like this but you can't help but reflect and feel a bit pathetic when having a crush on someone like matt.

matt, who would never take a relationship further than casual sex and unserious after-sex smoke sessions, especially not with you.

"shh. come here, bruh" he hushes you and you obey, shifting to sit next to him, reflecting his bent position. "'kay," he hands you the grinder, mumbling, "take a look," as he grabs one of the natural hemp rolling papers and places the packaging on his nightstand.

you open the silver lid gently, eyes widening slightly and impressed with the dollops of finely crushed weed laying in the container. "how much do you use?"

"all of it," your head practically snaps over to look at him and he sighs, "y/n, it's like half a gram."

you fight the urge to dip your index finger in the crowd of weed and move it around, "still looks like kind of a lot."

"well, it's not," he shakes his head and adjusts his shoulders. "now you're gonna take some in your fingers and place it in this paper," he taps your distracted arm with his hand to bring your attention to the rolling paper he has curled slightly around his thumb. as you begin to take a hold of some of the substance he warns, "and don't do too much at once- i don't need you spillin' any on us or my bed."

"you're such a diva," you huff and softly sprinkle the weed into the wrapper he's holding.

once it's full enough matt shows you how his fingers guide the paper and fold it into its proper joint shape. he moves his hand towards your mouth, "now you gotta lick and seal it." you inch closer, hesitantly peeking your tongue out just a little to lick at the small flap. "okay, you need more than that baby-ass lick. but don't over-do the spit 'cause that'll fuck it up too," he eyes your mouth when you expose more of your tongue, successfully sealing the joint (with matt's guidance).

he finishes off the end of the joint before presenting it to you, "voilà," matt fiddles with the joint in front of your face before you boldly grab it from his hands.

you immediately encourage him with a wave of your fingers, "gimme that lighter, please."

he's slightly impressed with your sudden confidence and adjusts himself (removing the remaining items from his lower stomach, including the lighter you ask for) and reaches over to light it for you.

matt's lip falls between his teeth due to natural anticipation. the sharp, orange hue sparks to life and you gain a shyness as he approaches the joint in your mouth with it. suddenly your fingers take it away from your mouth as you whisper, "wait, matt."

matt dramatically throws his arm down, "yeah?"

"i don't actually know how to do this," a smile spreads across your face when you see matt's mouth slightly ajar and eyes disengaged.

"seriously? you started talkin' like you've at least smoked a couple times."

you hold a laugh in, "well like, i wanna try it. you just have to tell me what to do..."

"inhale the shit," matt gestures his hands, "hold in your lungs, blow it out. it's simple as fuck," he points to your hand holding the joint, "let's see it."

you deadpan, "you're so unhelpful," you shake your head and place it back in your mouth, "just light me up."

he rolls his eyes as his hand moves back up to you, you lean into the flame and immediately inhale as it comes to life in your mouth.

matt just smirks from next to you, amused at your attempt. you focus on holding it in your lungs and close your eyes as you exhale. the smoke exits smoothly and surrounds your head, when you open your eyes you immediately look over to matt who laughs when he sees a cough brewing in your lungs. you push his shoulder just as you begin a small coughing fit.

he goes to grab the joint from your hand but you raise it away, finishing your cough and putting it back into your mouth to taste the odd plant flavor again.

matt's laugh is still there just died down, "who the fuck are you?! 'just light me up' and then here you go actin' like you own shit." he points a finger at you with his eyes big and playful.

you smirk sarcastically, and your eyes crinkle in the softest way, when you lean closer to him in response, blowing smoke in his face.

౨ৎ

"so why're nick and chris staying so late at the warehouse?" you ask and play with the strings of your hoodie.

matt draws lines across your inner thigh with his fingers, "it's nick's month to do inventory and chris bought some crazy wall art shit he had to finish setting up-"

"you're not gonna help them?"

"oh yeah sweetheart, i'll actually go there right now and help them out." his eyes are so dewy and red you find yourself excusing his annoying sarcasm and instead wanting to kiss him and his puffy eyelids and his flushed cheeks, especially when you're sat on top of him like this.

"still, they probably wanted you around," you explain.

"why do you care so much about shit that doesn't involve you? i left them and invited you over so you should be happy." his voice eases his delivery to not come across so harshly while his eyes squint a little.

"you're right, s'not really my place to have a take on y'all's dynamic." you shrug and feel as his hands stop running over your thighs and instead squeeze harshly as he looks in your eyes.

"mmm, thank you for telling me i'm right," he smiles and leans forward to give your jaw a kiss with his wet, pink lips, "say it again and i'll be fully hard."

"you're a dog," you laugh as he pulls away. "what'd you do today?" you whisper, ignoring the sensation that comes with him feeling up your lower half.

"guess." he blinks slowly.

"mmm... i don't know. you tattooed some people, fucked me, made fun of me, smoked..." you list off on each of your fingers.

he nods along as you list each, making different facial expressions depending on the task. "those are all definitely things i did.."

"did you eat?"

"i mean, yeah...ish." he rubs his eyes and his mouth begins to curve slightly, knowing your next sentiment well enough he could say it with you.

as if on queue, you prompt him with a question that tends to come up quite often when the two of you finish fucking, "can we get food?"

౨ৎ

the doorbell of matt's shared townhome rings through the house as the two of you giddily stand near the door, "3, 2, 1.." you count through giggles before opening the door and facing the young man dressed head to toe in papa johns gear.

"oh. my. god!" you exclaim in a ridiculous country accent, "baby come here, they sent a man to sell us insurance or somethin'!" you call out and pinch your eyebrows.

before the man can get a word in matt comes into frame, cowboy hat in tow and his mocking accent deeper yet identical to your own, "now who 'den sent you here to harass my woman? huh?" he holds a tooth pick in his mouth and squints his eyes. "and how much would i owe to have whatever you got in them boxes, son?" he points and you try not to laugh from behind him.

"uh, it's just a pizza delivery that was ordered to this address, sir..." he looks around, checking the numbers displayed next to the door once more.

you peek your head back in, "you know what, charles, it was probably little john, you know he's always orderin' that amy-zun and what not from that tablet!"

"mmm..." matt pretends to think and not laugh as he holds onto a fake belt around his black sweatpants, "my lady's right," he cracks a smile, "you know how the kids get," he tuts and gestures to the man again while pulling out his wallet, "i owe you?"

"only $12.57."

"right," matt grabs a few bills and whistles, "wife, come grab this box for little john would you?" he hands the money over as you reach for the pizza box, "keep the change, boy." he tilts his hat in dismissal and as soon as the door is shut matt's falling to the floor with laughter as you laugh and place the pizza box down, screaming about how close you are to pissing yourself.

౨ৎ

"asha told me about her birthday trip in november," you say, licking your lips of excess pizza sauce.

matt nods and swallows to respond while wiping his mouth, "yeah she does that shit every year."

you adjust yourself on the bed and grab another slice of the cheese pizza in between you two. "it sounds fun, i'm excited," you say before taking a bite.

"yeah, it's usually fun. usually." he laughs.

"meaning?"

"last year in mexico nick almost fist fought asha's boyfriend because he was bein' shitty to her on her birthday. it was a fuckin' brawl everyday of that trip, i swear."

"damn."

"yeah. but don't trip, asha's not letting anything ruin her birthday this time, she loves herself too much to do that." he rolls his eyes in endearment towards his friend.

"well, how about you? your birthday's next weekend.."

matt shakes his head and looks to the side for a moment, "we always struggle to figure out what we're doing for our birthday. the three of us wanna spend that time together but chris wants a party, nick wants a small get together with games, and i'd want a lowkey dinner or something."

"you could always do all of the ideas but on different days."

"that drags it too much, we'll most likely host a party like we did last year, chris will probably nag us enough to make us give up." matt shrugs and takes a bite of his slice.

"well, i'll be at whatever you decide to do," you smile.

"oh will you now?" his eyebrows lift for just a moment in humor.

"well duh."

"and who's inviting you? cause it won't be me," he smiles and stuffs his mouth again right as you push his shoulder and laugh off his bad joke.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @imaslutforwhitemen @trinity2058 @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life @1horrormoviewhore1 @keira324 @st7rnioioss

@whicked-hazlatwhore @matthewsturnioloswifey @mayhem-72

[tyranasauruslex]

Remy naming his cats after these particular Disney films has punched me right in the feels:

Oliver - a kitten that gets abandoned and has to grow up on the streets.

Figaro from a film about a puppet desperately trying to prove himself to be a brave, truthful, and unselfish, in order to fulfil his dream of becoming a real boy (and have a dad).

Lucifer after a film about an orphaned child looking for their happily ever after.

[vaggies-wings]

My contribution to the Cursed Cat Alastor content xD (The reason why I used Emily instead of Charlie, is simply because Charlie never addresses her dad by his name)

Dialogue: EMILY: ALASTOR!! What on Heaven are you doing to Luci's cage?! How many times have I told you to leave Luci alone?!

Reference: Figaro and Frankie

Any kind of support appreciated!

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Sam Gets Ghosted for Six Months / Bucky Loses His Nerve for Six Months

This is for the @sambuckylibrary's TFATWS Anniversary Event 2024 for the prompt "Six Months of Ghosting". I'll put a description of the gifs under the keep reading.

"Sam Gets Ghosted for Six Months"

Sam holds his phone, looking as Bucky starts and stops sending a text. The texts Sam has already sent:

Sam: *sends a photo of him and Bucky in the beetle*

Sam: AJ asked if I could move my seat up and I thought of you

Sam: *sends a photo of Figaro*

Sam: I'm going to name this cutie Figaro.

"Bucky Loses His Nerve for Six Months"

The same texts as Sam's are on his screen as Bucky holds his phone. He tries to voice to text a response, only to fumble it and give up.

Bucky: "Sam"

Voice to Text: Sam

Bucky: Um.

Voice to Text: Sam um

Bucky: No!

Voice to Text: Sam um no

Bucky: Delete!

Bucky turns off Voice to Text. Voice to Text deletes no, then um, then Sam.

Bucky: Just... Nevermind.

Bucky: I'll try again tomorrow.

[heaveninawildflower]

I posted the FAB silk postcard of the American actress, Maude Fealy a couple of weeks ago and said that I would post some more about her, here a are few more images of Maude from my collection of postcards and photographs.

The first postcard shows Maude as Alice Faulkner from the play 'Sherlock Holmes.' The third one shows Maude as Eunice from 'Quo Vadis'.

The sixth postcard shows a winning photograph by Burr McIntosh from the French magazine 'Paris Figaro Illustre.' Maude's photograph was sent to their competition (to find the most beautiful woman in the world) by the American photographer, William Burr McIntosh. Maude was the winner, chosen from out of 30, 000 entrants from all over the world.

Some information about Maude from Wikimedia.

Maude Mary Hawk was born on March 3/4, 1881-3 in Memphis, Tennessee (the dates vary depending upon the source) the daughter of actress Margaret Fealy and James Hawk, who divorced. Maude took her mother's name, Fealy.

In 1896, she made her debut at the Elitch Theatre in Denver playing various children's roles. Her first appearance was during the week of July 19 in Henry Churchill de Mille's The Lost Paradise. In 1905, Churchill de Mille's son Cecil B. DeMille was hired as a stock player at Elitch Theatre, and Maude appeared as the featured actress in several plays. Their friendship continued for decades, including when DeMille cast Maude in his film The Ten Commandments.

Maude made her Broadway debut in the 1900 production of Quo Vadis, again with her mother.

Maude toured England with William Gillette in Sherlock Holmes from 1901 to 1902. Between 1902 and 1905, she frequently toured with Sir Henry Irving's company in the United Kingdom, and by 1907, she was the star in touring productions in the United States.

In Denver, Colorado, Maude met a drama critic from a local newspaper named Louis Hugo Sherwin (son of opera singer Amy Sherwin). The two married in secret on July 15, 1907, because, as they expected, her domineering mother did not approve. The couple soon separated and divorced in Denver in 1909. Maude then married actor James Peter Durkin. He was a silent film director with Adolph Zukor's Famous Players Film Company. This marriage ended in divorce for non-support in 1917. Soon after this, Maude married John Edward Cort. This third marriage ended in a 1923 annulment and was her last marriage. She bore no children in any of the marriages.

Maude died on November 10, 1971.

[thecampjuicebox]

To have and to hold Pt. 1

A couple of weeks before Tav and Gale's wedding night, Tav is having second thoughts. Seeking out a past lover before the big night, turns her world upside-down.

Pairing: Tav(f) x Gale x Astarion

POV: 2nd person (Reader is Tav)

WARNINGS: 18+ Minors DNI | gentle smut | cheating | Biting | mutual pining | angst | slow burn | porn with feeling | Fingering | light choking | game spoilers

Trying my hand at a multi-part fic. Let me know what you think! This idea was suggested to me and I couldn't NOT do it. This is gonna be a long one. Buckle up!

Dress fittings, picking out decorations, venue tours, flowers, food choices, invitations and exchanging kisses with family and friends you've neglected to speak to since the Nether Brain had fallen - all aspects of a wedding you didn't seem to take into account when accepting Gale's proposal. You love him, yes. Unconditionally. With every fiber of your being, and those floating through the weave. And yet.. Regret bubbles up in your gut while staring at yourself in the mirror, hands smoothing the bone white lace on the bodice of your wedding dress. You fumble with the top of your corset, shifting uncomfortably at the stiff boning. Shadowheart stands behind you, one hand placed gently on your shoulder and she leans in to whisper to you, your pointed ears perking up.

"There's still time to turn back, you know."

Your heart thumps audibly in your chest and you sigh, picking at your fingernails. You didn't want to admit how frightened you are. You've never considered forever. Especially not with someone like Gale. Charming, handsome, intelligence unmatched. He was the perfect candidate. The man your late mother always dreamed you'd bring home to the family, Selune bless her. You choke back tears at the thought of her. How she won't be there for the big moment anyways, so why does it matter who you wed? You'd also never been to Waterdeep. You and Gale decided to stay in Baldur's Gate briefly while you made the preparations. It was easier that way. Gale had traveled back to Waterdeep for short bursts of time, mostly to see that Tara, his tressym and trusted friend, was well taken care of. You decided to stay back every time, much to Gale's dismay. Something about making the trek to your soon to be forever home made you uneasy any time he'd ask. You've traveled all over Faerun and back. Hells, you'd even plunged into Avernus more times than you'd be willing to admit. The idea of spending your days in a tower with a tressym, a husband, and an endless supply of books was not how you thought you'd end your travels, though. Mrs. Dekarios. You'd take his last name, obviously. Wear it as a badge of honor. Meet his family, bare his children. Gods.. Children. The idea makes you nauseous, hot bile threatening to fight its way up your throat. Shaking your head, you tune back in to the sounds of the quaint Baldurian dress shop. You were no stranger to Figaro's. You came to enjoy the lavish clothing he offers. Textures your fingers never felt before the cult of the Absolute forced it's way into your life. You were reborn, newly cultured, and so very exhausted by all of it. Karlach stands, making her way over to the small platform you stand on and she meets your eyes in the mirror.

"Everything okay, Soldier?"

You chuckle at the nickname. Soldier.. You feel like anything but a soldier right now. Her warm hand reaches down to capture yours and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. Tears well up in your large brown eyes and you lower your head once more to ease the burning in your tear ducts. You feel so hopeless. Surrounded by the people you love most, but so entirely and devastatingly alone. Your thoughts swirl in your brain, engulfing the area the tadpole once lived. How could you be so ready to give up on Gale? You know he loves you just as much as you love him. If not more. Definitely more. A quiet sob escapes you and you crumble onto the platform, startling Shadowheart and Karlach. In confusion, the two kneel beside you, each one grabbing a hand.

"Gods, Tav.. What has gotten into you?"

Karlach's voice is stern and low, her fingers tightening around yours to ground you in the moment. Shadowheart sighs and shakes her head. She knows. She understands. Small cries rattle your ribcage as a never-ending stream of tears streaks your flushed cheeks. Embarrassment burns in your throat and you quickly stand again, both hands yanking away from your companions. You want nothing more to be free of this dress and the agonizingly tight corset holding all of you in. You reach back and tug at the laces of the corset in frustration, failing to loosen anything before throwing your hands down at your sides once more.

"I'd like to be free of this death trap, please."

You mumble quietly. Shadowheart giggles and begins unlacing the corset while Karlach moves to the front of you, both hands now resting on the tops of your trembling shoulders.

"It's going to be alright. Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. Hells, I'd be fucking batshit if I were in your position. Especially with someone as grand as Gale."

You allow a giggle to pass your frown and sigh heavily in relief when Shadowheart finally frees you from the corset, the pale leather folding neatly in her gentle hands.

"Looks like you need a hefty meal and a nap, Soldier. Let's get going. Your dress fits you just fine."

Figaro scoffs in the corner and collects the corset from Shadowheart, placing it down on a velvet bench before extending his hand to you and helping you down from the platform. He leads you to a small room so you can change back into your normal clothing, quickly shutting the curtain behind him as he steps out. You sigh and quickly shimmy out of your dress, carefully folding the fancy fabric and leaving it on the small stool in the room.

...

"Where are you headed off to? How was your dress fitting? I assume you've gotten all of the details figured out with Figaro by now?"

Gale's eyes lift from the dusty tome lying open on his desk. He scans your form, taking inventory of the cloak you've draped over your shoulders. You wiggle your toes in your boots and shrug off his concerned tone.

"I uh.. Derryth needs help collecting noblestock. Baelen is ill. The fitting went.. About as well as expected. Karlach cried, Shadowheart told me I should get the dress in black, Figaro was disgusted by that idea."

Your fingers drum against your thighs and you turn to look at him, attempting the most sincere look you can muster in the moment. The wizard's eyes narrow on you and he nods slowly, placing his palms flat on his desk to help lift him from his stool. His fingers graze the page on the tome before he begins his trek across the room to you. Gale pulls you into a tight hug, one hand grasping your waist while the other smooths your dark hair against the back of your head.

"Ah yes, Figaro and his.. Closed-minded fashion sense. Well, I'm glad the shop at least didn't go up in flames. The Underdark, hmm? Be safe, my love. Send word when you're on your way back, yes?"

You nod at his words and rest your head against his chest, the gentle thumping of his heart calming the nervous fizz in your brain for a moment. The soft velvet of his robe tickles your cheek and you nuzzle against it in the same fashion Tara would, but with much less purring. Gale chuckles and pecks the top of your head, mumbling a soft "I love you" against your scalp before he releases you, his hand reaching for yours to quickly caress the finger with your engagement ring on it. A soft smile thins his lips and he motions for you to make your exit. You smile nervously up at him, pulling your hand away gently and you turn to leave, your hands coming to your front to slowly slide your ring off of your finger and into your thigh pouch, your teeth catching your bottom lip. You slip into the night, tugging your cloak hood up to further shroud you in darkness.

...

You missed the glowing alure of the Underdark. The Myconid Colony serving as a beacon of calming light. You let out a quiet sigh at the familiar surroundings and cross your arms over your heaving chest, taking a moment to drink in the atmosphere and catch your breath. You weren't here to collect noblestock, and quite honestly, you're proud of yourself for the excuse you had come up with on the spot. You're in search of something much more valuable to you. A vampire spawn. The very one you'd shared so many sleepless nights with while infected with the tadpoles. Astarion. His name sends a shudder through your entire body. After your group took down Cazador in his crypt, Astarion made the impossible decision to kill the vampire lord and stop the Black Mass, freeing his fellow spawn to live in the shadows for eternity. Unfortunately, he was doomed to the same fate once the Nether Brain was defeated. You blink tears away from your eyes, rubbing your palms into the sockets to ease the slight burning. The thought of him cowering at the sun just after the final fight, running off never to be seen again, it makes your heart ache in a way you didn't think possible. And it has been exactly that long since you've laid eyes on the spawn. But you remember him so vividly. His pearlescent skin. His crimson eyes. His silvery hair that always rested in perfect curls, even after the roughest of battles with goblins.

Continuing your walk through the Underdark, your eyes fall on more familiar territory. The Duergar camp, nestled just on the edge of the black water you fondly remember sailing to Grymforge. However, the camp is... Inhabited. Rebuilt. Much more beautiful than you remember, large purple crystals growing in tall pillars around the quaint wooden houses peppered around the area. Long rope bridges connect the homes and buildings on the higher cliffs, chasm creeper and mushrooms speckled about on the rock. Your tired legs seem to will you towards the new found civilization, the promise of sleep fogging your brain. Taking a step into the camp, your eyes scan the surroundings, a few faces seeming oddly familiar to you. A tall, long haired vampire spawn with the scarring of runes scattered about his face approaches you, his crimson eyes cutting through the dark gloom. The purple glow of the crystal pillars around you grants you just enough light to make out his facial features.

"Tav..?"

"Sebastian?!"

Your eyes widen at the sudden realization. Sebastian is one of the Spawn your group freed from Cazador's crypt. A bright smile adorns your tired face and you sprint towards him, quickly embracing him in a tight hug. You nearly knock him off of his feet, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the back of his coat. The spawn chuckles and catches your short frame, gently lifting you from the dirt and giving you a playful twirl, earning a giggle. You inhale deeply, the scent of lavender and deep earth filling your nostrils.

"It's lovely to see you. Astarion hasn't stopped talking about his adventures by your side. I do believe he's around here somewhere. But what are you doing here, Dear? "

Your breath catches in your throat at the mention of his name. He's here. He's really here. You traveled all the way beneath the ground on an inkling that he might have followed the other spawn to the Underdark to seek refuge from the burning sun. Your heart thumps in your chest and Sebastian inhales your excitement deeply. He places you back onto your feet and takes a step back, smoothing his coat down before motioning for you to follow him. You nod and make haste, trying your best to keep up with his quick strides as he leads you in, what you assume to be, the direction of the spawn you initially traveled here to see. Sebastian stops in front of a large wooden door, tapping a few knocks onto the surface with the knuckle of his index finger. He holds his free hand out to you, motioning for you to wait outside once he hears a quiet "Enter" from the dark room behind the door. He carefully opens the door and steps inside, blocking the being within the walls from seeing you.

"Pardon me, Astarion. You have a visitor."

"A visitor? I thought I told that wretch that it was a one time thing! Gods, these deep gnomes are needy. Very well, send him in."

Sebastian stifles a chuckle and steps aside, revealing your presence to the the vampire. You step forward into the dim candlelight of his home, bottom lip caught nervously between your teeth, biting impressively hard on the sensitive flesh. Astarion looks even more beautiful than you remember. His hair a touch longer than before, but still arranged in that intoxicating mess of curls. A sparkling silver chalice rests between his pale, slender fingers and he swirls the contents in it with finesse. A familiar metallic tang lingers in the air along with the soft scent of bergamot and rosemary. A scent you grew very fond of when you were traveling alongside the spawn. One you often find yourself craving back home. Astarion is lying on a small velvet love seat, one leg outstretched and the other bent with his foot resting firmly in the plush cushion beneath him. Piles of dusty books and candles speckle the tables and floors around him, the room still tidy, but certainly lived in. His back rests against the armrest and he stretches for a moment before his eyes drift towards the front door. As he slowly turns his attention to the new intruder, he takes another sip from the chalice and he chokes suddenly, sputtering the red liquid. You stand in the doorway, hands clasped behind your back and you watch his reaction, a light smirk building on your lips. Astarion hurries to his feet, setting the chalice down with care to not spill any more of its contents before moving towards you swiftly.

"Tav is.. Is that you?"

You nod quickly and he whisks you from the floor, his face burying into the crook of your warm neck. You shudder at the sensation of his cold nose nuzzling your skin and you snake your arms around his shoulders, hands finding a comfortable spot in his soft hair. He groans at your touch and tugs you impossibly close to his frame, inhaling every bit of your scent that his nose will allow. Sebastian excuses himself, quietly closing the heavy door behind him.

"I've missed you, little star.."

"Where the hells have you been?"

You cling to him tightly, tears threatening to spill over your cheeks at his question. You shake your head and slowly slide from his embrace. His face contorts into a look of confusion, large eyes glimmering in the candle light when he focuses on your change of posture.

"Little love.. What ever could be the matter?"

You couldn't possibly tell him here. Not now. Not in this moment. You palm at your eyes once more before lifting your head to meet his gaze. He reaches out a gentle hand and cups your burning cheek, lovingly stroking the bone there with his thumb. You tilt your head into his touch and savor the feeling of his skin on yours again, finally. You've missed the vampling so much. Your heart pounds like a goblin war drum behind your ribs. He takes a step closer to you, his free arm gently snaking around your waist. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the salty taste of your sweat making his pupils dilate. A quiet whine slips past your lips.

"Speak to me, Tav. You're never so tongue tied, you poor thing. What has you so rattled?"

Shaking your head, your arms fly around Astarion's neck, taking him by surprise. He stumbles backwards, bumping his calves against the ornate wooden frame of the loveseat and he sits down to catch himself, a small grunt breaking the otherwise harsh silence of the room. You collapse on top of his thin but toned frame and gasp at the impact. Wet eyes meeting his, you suck your bottom lip into your mouth and bite at it, drawing blood. Astarion senses the metallic hint in the air and groans, your very familiar and intoxicating scent making his grasp on you tighten in a primal fashion. He mumbles a soft "Gods.." and reaches one hand up to grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You strain your eyes in the candlelight, releasing your bottom lip, the skin there now bruised, little rivulets of your life's essence staining the skin there.

"Astarion I..."

His grasp on you loosens and his gaze softens. He flashes you a gentle smile and cocks his head to the side. He knows exactly what he's doing to you, and though he revels in the idea that he can still fluster you this way, you feel his intentions have changed. The way his hands rest respectfully on your lower back now, the gentle drumming of his fingers against your spine. He's hungry, but he's doing so well restraining himself. The Astarion you met after the Nautiloid crash and the Astarion seated beneath you now are so incredibly different. It only makes you want to explore him more, to learn his new ways. And it feels so, incredibly wrong.

"Yes?"

"H-Have you eaten? Lately, I mean. I can't imagine there's much to feast on in the Underdark.."

Your question makes his eyebrows knit together for a moment, his expression twisting at the thought of just how hungry he is. Sure, he's eaten. Feasted upon a deep gnome here and there, their blood burning the inside of his mouth as he drinks. He hasn't, however, had anything nearly as delicious as your blood since the death of the Nether Brain. You were the last of your kind that he fed on, and he missed the taste all the same.

"I have eaten, yes. But, you know I am a man of.. Tremendous appetite."

His velvet words send a shiver down your spine and you press to him tightly now, closing the small gap that was left between your torsos while you straddle one of his legs. His knee presses into your mound and you try your best to block to feeling out of your mind. His eyes meet yours, full of lust. Full of hunger. Tinted with the gentle flicker of.. Love. You were his first mortal, after all. And he would be a liar if he told you that all of those nights of honeyed words and sweet nothings weren't how he truly felt about you. You offered yourself to him in a way no one ever has. Not with the intent to sleep with him. Just with the intent to make sure he was taken care of. A debt he, to this day, has no idea how to repay. His thought process is halted when you lean in close, bloodied lips grazing the length of his earlobe and you mutter quietly.

"I-If you're hungry.. Feed."

You back yourself up to meet his gaze once more. His eyebrows furrow and he growls, the deep noise causing your insides to ignite. Without hesitation, Astarion leans forward and flicks his tongue out against your sensitive bottom lip, lapping at the blood that has begun to dry there. He earns a whine from you, his pointy ears perking up at the sound. He smirks, determined for more noises and he sucks your bottom lip between his own, sinking a fang into the already abused flesh. You moan quietly, tilting your head back to tug your lip away from his grasp and your hands meet his chest, fingers toying with the ruffles around the collar of his silk shirt. The vampling's breath stutters at the encounter, your hands on his chest making his hairs stand on end. You instinctively grind your hips down into his, your leathers making a quiet noise from the friction. "Please.." you stutter, hands pulling at the front of his shirt now, your begging making Astarion's head swirl. Nose first, Astarion nuzzles into the side of your neck again, this time with much more intent, tracing the length of your perfectly soft skin. Baring his fangs to the open space, he quickly drags the flat of his tongue to prime the area for the sensation of the sharp pricks. His teeth sink into the flesh there, like ice shards. The pain is delicious and dizzying. You roll your hips again, this time Astarion's hips bucking upwards to meet your already wet core. You ache for him and you hate yourself for it. He laps the now steady stream of blood he's drawn from your neck, a low groan ringing in your ear as he drinks. In the past, he would drink while you were unconscious. Now, you wished you'd have been awake every time you had offered your neck to him. The little noises he makes, the way he gently cradles the back of your head while he feeds.. It's intoxicating. You're drunk off of the pain and the pleasure. Drunk off of Astarion. His lips leave your skin, tongue tracing the new pierce marks he's left in the crook of your neck. His hands remain where they are, one cradling the back of your head, the other tightly gripping the back of your shirt. He sighs to himself, tilting his head back as he cleans the crimson fluid from his lips.

"By the Nine Hells, you're just as delicious as I remember. I need more of you.."

His hands both slide to meet the tie of your cloak, making quick work of undoing it, the dark fabric sliding to the floor at his feet. Your body trembles beneath every movement, every feather-light touch from his fingers. As much as you love him, this was a feeling Gale has never been able to give to you. You love him.. Differently. You love his intellect. You love how much he adores Tara. You love his affinity for books and the way he talks about the weave. But your love for Astarion.. That was leaps and bounds deeper than anything you've ever felt. His touch sets your skin on fire. Your name sounds like a lyric on his tongue, soft and melodious. You crave him. His presence. His existence. You crave all of it. Tears threaten your eyes again and Astarion notices immediately. His hands quickly cup your cheeks and his soft lips crash to yours, your entire body falling limp against him. Arousal boils your blood, bubbling up into your throat, escaping as a soft moan against the vampire's lips. You're unraveling right there in his arms. He kisses you in a way you never in your life have been kissed, teeth knocking, tongues wrestling for dominance, the slight copper taste of blood lingering in his mouth from his meal. Your hips find a steady rhythm, rocking back and forth against his lap, the two of you moaning in tandem at the fiery friction building between your bodies. His right hand snaps upwards to grab your throat, thumb and fingers pressing harshly into the sides of your neck, your breath labored by the force of his palm against your trachea. Hungry red eyes meet your gaze and Astarion's lips slowly form the words that will be your undoing.

"Your body keeps no secrets, my love. This is what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me?"

You moan at his words, jaw falling slack. His hand moves upwards to press his thumb into your mouth, a quiet "Suck." commanding your lips to close around the digit, tongue lapping at his fingerprint. He watches you, pupils blown out with desire, hair disheveled from your previous kiss. You continue to suck on his thumb, his free fingers tapping rhythmically against your cheek bone and he purrs in delight. Your bones vibrate, your core aches, walls fluttering around nothing. He slips his thumb from between your lips with a gentle "pop" and replaces it with his middle and index finger. You obediently take the new fingers just as you did the thumb, moistening them with your saliva. He presses down on the flat of your tongue and you stick it out, allowing him to swipe his fingers around in your spittle. A devilish grin thins his lips as he watches you.

"So good.. Let's put this to good use, shall we?"

He slides his wet fingers down towards the waistband of your leathers, using his free hand to tug them forward. You curse under your breath, unable to do anything but watch. His fingers hastily meet your core, swiping teasingly slow between your think folds and you collapse against him, shaky little moans ringing in his ears. He groans at how wet you are, wasting no time to dip two digits into your aching cunt, finally granting you the pleasure you've been seeking. His thumb presses tightly to your clit and he moves it in agonizingly slow circles, first clockwise, then counter clockwise, and suddenly, in no particular pattern. You writhe against his hand, gasping and whining.

"That's it. Such a mess."

He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, relishing in the beautiful noises he earns in return. You're at the precipice now. You grind into his hand feverishly and throw your head back, whining into the open air, his name coming out in little yelps and moans. However, he keeps the slow pace. Taking his sweet, sweet time with you. It's been so long since he's touched you. Made you moan like this. Made you drop all defenses and absolutely lose yourself in him. He loves every second of it, his own pleasure coming solely from pleasuring you. He wants nothing more than to deliver you the ecstasy you so greatly deserve. It's the only way he knows how to repay you for the kindness, love, and support you've shown him in this lifetime. You'd never be up front about asking him for sex, let alone to touch you like this. You're the only person he's ever known to respect how he feels, what he wants, what he needs. For this, he has grown to love you with every ounce he's able to give. The time apart from you was agonizing and he spent many nights, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, praying to whatever gods would hear him that you would return to him. That you'd crawl into his bed once more so he could hold you and drink in your warmth. However, he knew you were somewhere else, with someone else. He didn't have the heart to approach you about it in this moment. All he wanted was to be here, with you. To enjoy you for as long as he possibly could before you slipped away, more unknown amounts of time passing before he'd be able to lay eyes on you again. To take in your sweet scent, one he has tried for months to recreate in a perfume. Vanilla, sandalwood, and woodsmoke. A tantalizing combination that leaves his brain all fuzzy and warm. He snaps back to reality, focusing harder now on your moans and the wiggle of your hips. The knot in your belly tightens with each stroke of his fingers against that heavenly spot within your walls, your arousal soaking his entire hand and the leathers that separate your skin from the cold air. His free hand grasps your hip, stilling your desperate grinding.

"Come for me, pet."

The movement of his fingers keeps a slow, steady pace. His thumb continues to rub into your clit, pressing a little harder now to throw you over the edge. You tighten around him, the knot in your core finally snapping, ecstasy making your eyes roll into your buzzing skull. The loud moan you let out surprises even you as you come undone against his hand. He grins proudly, working you through your climax, whispering sweet affirmations of how well you're doing during your comedown. Carefully sliding his fingers from your leathers, he pops one into his mouth, savoring your warm slick. His lids flutter in enjoyment and you watch him closely.

"You are.. Filthy.."

You giggle and wrap your arms sleepily around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you up to straddle him now, hands cupping the supple meat of your ass. You close your eyes tightly, the reality of tonight's events creating a pit in your stomach. You fight with yourself internally. Should you tell Astarion? Should you tell Gale? Should you even go home? A quiet sigh leaves you and your breath coasts along Astarion's pale flesh, making him tremble momentarily. He rests his chin on your shoulder and mumbles quietly. His next words make your stomach drop, your eyes shooting open suddenly.

"Well, this should be fun to explain to Gale.."

[ask-ink-machine-chronicals]

What ever happened to Figaro/jackpot? (the cat that got kidnapped by cuphead)

Jackpot is in this story too but wayyyy ahead from now, and his revised name is Phantom because the crew thought he was a ghost making random sounds at night but it was just him following them around.