#hope you enjoy nonnie

[puckinghischier]

What do I have to do to get some filthy Nico thoughts this morning? Xoxo

not much, honestly

was thinking about how absolutely rabid he’d be after that canes game, all high on winning. but unfortunately for him, you’d be out of service for a few more days, mother nature having paid you a visit a couple of days ago. of course you’d help him out, giving him a nice, long, treat on your knees to reward him for the victory, but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he could have all of you.

he’d be such a little menace about it too. snaking his arms around you while you’re in front of the mirror, doing your hair, letting them rest dangerously low on your waist. little smacks to your ass anytime you pass by him. waking you up in the morning by rutting his morning semi against your ass.

and when the two of you are out in public? god, he’s almost worse than when you’re at home. drinks with the guys turned into you being trapped in the booth, nico’s hand resting high on your thigh, fingers brushing you over your underwear. you knew wearing this dress was risky, especially with how he’s been the last couple days, but you figured since you would be out with the guys he’d be on his best behavior. but of course you were wrong. his long pinky makes long, drawn out circles on your barely covered clit, working you up continuously just to casually slide his hand away. only to do it all over again every ten minutes.

then, when you came to visit him at the rink for lunch, he was dragging you into a random corner, kissing you like he was trying to take all of the oxygen from your body. his heavy frame pinning you against the smooth wall of whatever deserted hallway you were in. he knew you were close to being his again, having his own tracker app on his phone for your cycle. which also means he knew you were in the stage where you were becoming increasingly more desperate and horny as the hours ticked by.

“nico…not here. please. you know we can’t. just another day or so,” you’d pant out, so close to just letting him have his way with you anyways. his response would be a hand coming up to cup over your sex, digging the palm of his hand into your clothed clit. “just think of everything you could’ve had already. all the fun you’ve missed out on, caused me to miss out on” he whispers gruffly in your ear, biting the sensitive skin there. “don’t you think i finally deserve my reward for having such a good game the other night?”

you let out a harsh gasp, the sight of your open mouth and perfect tongue poking out combined with your wild eyes nearly enough to make him start ripping clothes off right here, not a care in the world if anyone would see the two of you or not. he brings a hand up to pinch your bottom lip between his fingers, pulling the skin out. he has the urge to do something he never has before, which is letting a dribble of spit drop directly from his mouth into the small pocket created by your outstretched bottom lip.

he watches your pupils dilate in surprise, releasing your skin so it snaps back into place. he looks down at your throat, watching you swallow the saliva he just transferred to you. he smirks, knowing by the look on your face, and clench of your thighs, he’s almost got you.

you hear footsteps approaching the two of you, straightening up and pushing nico away from you only slightly, not wanting to get caught in a compromising position in his workplace. an equipment manager rounds the corner, looking up when he notices the two of you and waves.

“hey cap! got that new stick in you were wanting! on my way to go pick it up now, actually. meet me out on the ice?” he waves in greeting, cheery attitude showing he’s excited about the delivery.

“sure thing! see you out there in a few!” nico responds just as enthusiastically, a stark contrast from his demeanor mere seconds ago. you both watch the man retreat down the hallway, having given you a small wave of goodbye, which you returned.

“okay well…i’ll…uh…see you at home, yeah?” you clear your throat, hardly able to concentrate on the words you’re speaking.

“mhmm. see you in a bit,” he places a kiss to your forehead, backing away from your still stunned figure. “oh! and stop by the kitchen on your way out. grab a water, you seem a little…thirsty,” he smirks at you as he walks backwards, teasing you for just how quick you were to accept and swallow his spittle moments ago.

that night when he returned home, he couldn’t find you anywhere. you weren’t in the living room on the couch, in the small kitchen, in the bedroom. when he called out your name you emerged from the shared walk in closet, clad in his favorite lingerie set of yours.

“good news, neeks,” is all you managed to get out before he was stomping towards you, backing you against the floor-to-ceiling shelving of the closet. a few shoes dropped off the shelf at the force of his actions, but that was the least of your worries right now. you could fix them in the morning, considering the two of you never managed to leave the space the whole night, waking up on the carpeted floor to his soft snores, one of his suit jackets draped over your naked body as a makeshift blanket.

[windser]

conflicted contrast (3/?)

pairing: mc x sylus (soulmate!au) wc: 1.6k+ rating: t

a/n: i have so many drafted ideas for this and few other sylus dynamics. but here is a direct continuation from this work! i doubt future additions will remain linear, ill probably just bounce around scenes but i love them a lot already!! honestly, feel free to send questions or specific requests about this dynamic to help me explore more

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

'sorry, I'm not into subs.'

it's probably not your shining moment, especially not with your supervisor less than half a foot away. there is a cough from your right, definitely from the officer trying to reign in his reaction.

yet, the leader of onichynus—your soulmate—finds humor in it all. his laugh, strong but low, isn't as shocking as deep-bellied amusement, but it may as well have been, given the guard's surprised reaction. apparently, outside of his request to see you, this man had given them nothing.

this man who—

"sylus."

you look up, your eyes having subtly mapped out his body in curiosity about where such a phrase could be etched. it obviously wasn't as prominent as yours.

he waits until your eyes meet. "my name," he says, as if reading your thoughts. a hint of a smile curls his lips. "as for my mark, perhaps that's a show for private times. but I assure you, i have been waiting for those words for a long, long time."

and you understand because even when you had given up, you too had played the waiting game, always wanting to at least know what the words 'you're beautiful' sounded like on fated lips.

but now...

well, there wasn't much left to this story. your soulmate was a criminal captured by the UNICORNS organization, and that was the end of it.

this moment was likely the most private and last opportunity the two of you would have together. and it wouldn't even be just the two of you, as the other two parties in the room were likely desperate to use this chance to get what they wanted from him.

you were just a proxy.

akey to his lips.

"sylus, are you indeed the leader of the illegal organization onichynus?"

despite the words leaving jenna's mouth, sylus's gaze never leaves yours.

"is that what you really want to know?"

the sigh that escapes your lips is heavy, carrying the weight of how difficult he plans to make this for everyone involved. shifting your weight to one foot, you meet him with an equally measured look.

"do you need my permission to speak to others?"

his answering grin tells you everything you need to know and opens the abyss to more inquiries you didn't realize you had an itch to know.

feeling prompted, you ask the same question.

"yes."

now it's confirmed what everyone already suspected, but sylus doesn't offer more than that, leaving jenna to ask more about the operations. unsurprisingly, he only acknowledges the questions when you mimic them.

"we deal with the movements of the N109 zone that you all are too pure to taint yourselves with."

it's likely not exactly what jenna had in mind, but it was something. so she asks another inquiry about specific attributes of such dynamics, to which sylus waits patiently for you to repeat. this goes on for the next few questions until you're both irritated by the redundancy and vagueness of it all.

nothing he has said has exposed itself as more than what the UNICORNS already had on file. at most, all they got out of this operation was a face.

Sure, they had the leader, but what was a figurehead when the heart of the organization was still running rampant within its own borders? at least it could be said that what he build was competent in his absence. though more could be said about the lack of rescue attempts.

"why are you modifying protocores?"

this was the first question of your own, and because his gaze had never left yours, sylus acknowledges it with a raised brow.

"because it makes them better." your frown deepens, and in noticing sylus yields more information. "If protocores were to be left in their current state, it would be similar to extracting a gem and leaving it unrefined. to truly want to extract its beauty, it must be cultivated." it's common sense really, goes unsaid but his tone holds the intent.

jenna doesn't propose the next question, so you take the opportunity to poke more.

"and what do you do with these advanced protocores?" it's not meant to be a compliment, but acknowledging that they were better than anything the UNICORNS had in inventory was a simple fact.

sylus doesn't answer immediately. he seems to be rolling his response around his tongue before deciding on the preferred taste.

"the wanderers are an issue to both sides, along with the other unsavory characters that associate themselves with the entire mess. we utilize our resources as we see fit."

with that, he confirms what had been speculated—that onichynus wasn't the only force making waves in the N109 zone and, by the sound of his distaste, they were not pleased with the fact.

"and what is the end goal of said resources?" jenna enunciates her question by stepping further into the room. it's an obvious authority play, something even sylus acknowledges with a barely-there smirk.

whatever is written on your face is easily read by him, so he humors her by responding directly for the first time, "whatever we want."

and that was the last of any relevant information either of you were able to get out of the man. he would always give you some sort of response, or at least his lips always moved with sound.

but questions like "how many members are in onichynus?" were met with answers like "i enjoy chocolate mousse cake but hate when they add cherries on top. what's your favorite dessert?" to the point where jenna decided to call it for the night, to sylus's humored dismay.

"we were just getting to know each other."

which was hilarious because, aside from knowing his apparently favorite confectionary sweet and his preferred exercise routine to blow off steam, he was every bit of the mystery of the man you'd walked in on.

it was a shame, really, because at the end of it all, you were finding your soulmate to be interesting, to say the least. a shame that intrigue came from the fact that he was a notorious criminal with more affiliations than UNICORNS could ever hope to pin on him.

you suppose you could at least admit to yourself that he was attractive. the pale, ashy hair complemented his eyes well. he was certainly built like a leader who liked to get things done on his own terms rather than delegate.

the biggest folly, really, that he just wasn't your type.

which is odd, because why would the stars align your lives with incompatible dynamics? If you needed a man to look at you for permission every time he spoke, you'd just get a dog.

perhaps it was best he was locked up, otherwise, you'd be the one forced to collar him.

"if I am to accept this will be my 'last meal,' could i at least get one request of my own?"

jenna pauses in her monologue of reading of rights, a long, drawn-out literature of things that are hearsay and probably won't even apply to a highly classified criminal such as him.

it's fair for her to be affronted by the inquiry, because not only has he not yet been offered his 'last meal,' it's the fact that it's you he's looking at.

he seems to wait for everyone to reach that pinnacle before he continues, "nothing untoward, i promise, as I am very much secured." as if the steel walls weren't enough, he makes a flimsy attempt to shake the handcuffs at his wrist.

reminded, your eyes flicker to the affronted restraints before raising to meet his. "what?"

his grin should have been the first warning.

"if you could at least humor the facade of privacy by coming closer."

it should be a threat. and definitely should not be considered.

but outside of the truth of him being a criminal, he is also, unfortunately, your soulmate. and while your spirits are not bound through mortality, you doubt he would do anything regardless.

it's Jenna who gives you the longest look before leaving the rest to you.

and from there, all that is left is a metaphoric cat and it's curiosity.

it doesn't take many steps for you to close the distance. as you approach, the man spreads his legs wider as if in accommodation, but you stop before accepting the obvious offer. it earns you the first proper smile rather than his muted smirk.

he leans forward instead, to close the distance himself, arms still held at a certain angle due to them being locked in a loop around the chair. from this position, the best he could do was tilt his chin up from a bowed head.

"are you disappointed?"

he's talking about himself. his attachment to you. the twine that intermingles your souls. and it's the first genuine set of words that you hear from his mouth besides his name.

"aside from the obvious, i'm not sure. if you'd chosen a different profession, perhaps you could have had the opportunity to prove me wrong."

which, down the road, or perhaps in a few moments, you would learn was both the wrong and right thing to say.

for in the next breath, his chest evened out, and behind his back, his pointer finger twitched once, and you all heard the clink of the cuff unlocking.

"well, with an opportunity like that, how can I resist, sweetie?"

[joanna-lannister]

3x06 // 8x05

requested by anonymous

[sgiddings]

hiiiii, do you have any jossam hcs you've never talked about?? I love your blog btw <3

hello lovely anon! oh, thank you so much! it means the world to me. of course, i've had some headcanons brewing up in the back of my brain for years now;

i don't think josh is a lady's man or what have you by any means possible. i think he has always been a loner whether that be romantic or platonic wise, rami said on josh himself that he's a loner. i think josh has always had a crush on sam from the day he met her, it's always been hard for him to feel anything for anyone else in that regard. has he fooled around a little? sure, but nothing with anyone that ever lasted long. i think further proof on his lack of experience with women or romance in general is the way he talks to chris about ashley. oh boy. he's been whipped for too long, the flings he's had with people would make his skin crawl by the end of it, he didn't want them. he wanted sam.

josh isn't really a massive social media person, he'll only create an account for something if sam asks him to. like instagram, he's really only there for sam (@evildeadgf inspired this headcanon, she has a very cute jossam ig edit) and will only post yearly if at all, but he's always liking a post whenever sam uploads something there. he's not chronically online per se but his presence around his girlfriend is known. back off!!!

speaking of sam's instagram, she's always taking very handsome photos of him and adding them to her stories and her "dump" photos, you know the ones where people will just post a random monthly post with a bunch of different photos from that month, a lot of those photos include josh and her and josh together, and them with their dog.

fairly new headcanon for me inspired by unused audio file of sam talking to her mum. sam's mum would always hound her about chris, sam has no idea where her mum even got this idea from, or how she even thought of it to begin with, but her dad's always had an inkling of what's really going on. he notices the way josh stares at his daughter. sam knows that he knows, and they don't say anything about it, they just have a silent sort of agreement to respect each other's peace. post mountain, josh is one of the first people her dad asks sam about. sam can barely keep it together.

i think to keep himself sane a little more tethered to the world, helping him to wade through his own problems, josh would have to keep his focus on something, maybe starting a new creative project - nothing too out there, could be just to keep his hands busy. making props? who knows, the world is his oyster and he is very intelligent. sam loves to watch him create, she loves the determination in his eyes and the way his brows furrow together whenever he's working at something. josh notices, throws a little "checkin' me out?" joke at her, and she can't help but laugh.

sam wakes up early and josh does not wake up early. sometimes sam will get up around 4 in the morning just to go hiking and take the dog for a walk, and she'll find josh still awake in the living room. "oh c'mon. go to bed." "not tired yet." "you're gonna wake up dead in the afternoon again." "fine with me, gives me more time at night to do what i want." "like what?" "stuff." "what stuff?" "like watch you sleep." "(laugh) okay edward cullen, shut it. i'll go make you some tea before i leave."

[petit-etoile]

hi! :) i love your writing!! Could i request an Astarion fic based on the Mahmoud Darwish Quote “they asked ‘do you love her to death’ / i said ‘speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.’”?

it's  our  last  chance  ( we'll  get  it  right  )

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 2,902 content warnings: canonical discussions of death, spoilers for astarion's act iii romance, spiritual interlude to this fic, references to cann.ibalism as a metaphor for love, an exploration of how s.ex can be healing, the faintest hints of a mortal!tav but that's up to the reader, what if s.ex cures vampirism ? other tags:  canon compliant,  character study,  introspection,  codependency,  religious imagery & symbolism,  p.orn with plot archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia,  @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added to the taglist here

summary:  ‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ Astarion tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

This is a night reminiscent of the day he died.

The sun has faded out over the horizon. The streets are bloodied once more, and hundreds of shadows have transformed into the shape of a bat.

Astarion’s grave is very old and covered with moss. You watch as he kneels in front of it and brushes his fingers across his name in reverence. You join him and cross your fingers together in prayer. You don’t know what you’re praying for but you mumble the words under your breath. It isn’t until you start digging that you begin to understand why you’re really here. You dig and dig and find relics of a life you never knew  —  dead flowers and childhood toys, tears that you cry. A mother and father’s love.

Astarion looks so much younger now that Cazador no longer hangs over his very being. The tension around his eyes has lessened, and even though he’s feeling something you can’t imagine, he wears the smallest smile as you uncover the gifts left behind by his family. Proof that Astarion lived, proof that Astarion existed. You dig until your fingers reach nothing and then you turn to him. He means to plant a seed and watch it grow.

He hands you seeds from a flower you can’t remember the name of. You pour them into the depths of this grave and fill it back up with dirt. You drop handfuls and wait for it to rain. You turn your chin up to the sky and wait for the storm clouds to release rapture.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says suddenly.

He looks at you like a man learning to see for the first time. The softness of his features only intensifies the longer he looks at you. Astarion is always made up of hard angles and harsh lines but tonight, he looks upon you with an earnestness you haven’t seen for him in quite some time. You’re caught off-guard when he caresses your cheek.

If Baldur’s Gate were to weather a storm tonight, Astarion would be the warmth from the cold of the rainstorm. You close your eyes at his touch and lean your cheek into it, nuzzling his palm. Astarion decides that it isn’t enough. He’s selfish, manipulative, roguish and cruel, but when he leans forward and kisses you with his plump mouth, you forget about all those things. It’s healing. You open your lips for him.

‘I love this,’ he murmurs, snaking a hand down to the small of your back. ‘And I want it all.’

The storm breaks overhead, but Astarion covers your body with his and you forget that you hate the sound of thunder. He kisses the very soul of you, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. There’s something about the way he nips at your skin that infinitely thrills you. How could a man so determined to be dangerous, so keen on becoming the most powerful man in the world melt at the sound of your voice? Had Astarion always been this weak for you, or was this a new transgression in his never ending quest to crush his desires?

Astarion kisses you.

He is the only thing that quenches your thirst.

He knows that.

When you first fell from the illithid ship, you had felt a hunger unlike any other swell up in your gut. It was freedom you had never experienced, and somehow, you came out on top. What happened after that was only like the romances you had read about. When a beast hunter falls in love with their bounty, when a mortal loves their immortal despite the difference, when an angry vampire becomes softer and softer the more he learns about kinder touch. You’re a romantic, after all.

You think that you should talk about it. You want to ask Astarion if he’s sure. But of course he’s sure, he’s never been surer of anything. Asking him now would be a disservice, you think. He’s worked so hard to come this far. You don’t ask. You kiss Astarion back like you’ve never kissed anyone before.

His mouth is yearning. Astarion pines for you like a prince pines for a sweetheart  —  and his mouth and his tongue and his teeth are so overwhelming that you can’t help but cling to his shoulders, using him as a lifeline.

He turns his cheek against yours and sighs wistfully against your skin. Slowly, carefully, Astarion presses his fingers between your legs curiously. He does it just to hear you gasp. You meet his eyes, and your cheeks burn so hotly you think you might be dizzy. Astarion consumes your soul. He presses you down in the flowers you planted above his grave. Clover, daisies, and asters grow around, twirling in your hair as Astarion collapses into your arms. You hold him as he shakes.

‘I was dead before I met you,’ Astarion whispers in the crook of your neck. ‘I was a ghost.’

‘You’re alive now,’ you promise. He cradles your soul in his hands. ‘You’re alive now and you’re the sun, and I love you.’

Maybe it’s not that you aren’t sure Astarion is ready. You’re nervous about the setting. It’s not that it’s inappropriate or dire, but that anyone could see at any time and you were a selfish creature. For so long, it has always been you and Astarion and everyone else. Now, Astarion presses into the space between your hips and mouths at your chest. He tastes your skin and your nipples, and you shiver at the touch. He eats your heart. You’re grateful.

‘I’m not convinced,’ Astarion says roughly. ‘Should I die, where will I go?’

‘You will go where I go,’ you say as he sinks into your flesh. ‘You are half my soul. I’ll beg the gods. We can never be one without the other.’

‘And if they deny you?’

‘I’ve already killed gods,’ you say. ‘What are a few more if they deny me my love?’

Astarion lets out a satisfied hum, content with the fruit you have given him. He ripens you with his fingers and you turn your head. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and allow him to caress your sides, closing your eyes as he touches the more ticklish parts of your body. He nibbles at your collarbones

You say, ‘This isn’t your grave.’

Astarion’s mouth ghosts over your skin, and finally, he sinks his cock into you until you’re gasping for air. It pushes and fills and causes lights to dance in the corner of your eyes. You touch the little hairs at the nape of his neck to distract yourself.

‘You’re right,’ Astarion says softly.

‘A place of rebirth.’

‘A place of happiness, my love,’ he says. ‘Now when I see it  —  ’

‘More,’ you whisper.

You feel a rush of tenderness sweeping through your veins. You are drawn to it like a moth to light, and you chase Astarion as he flees from you, sliding your hips back against his so that he’s never gone for too long. You waited patiently for Astarion. Every touch, every kiss is a feeling so rare that you can’t help but savor it. You admire the vulnerability he shows you, and when he leans back to lift your hips higher for a better angle, you moan softly and cry.

Astarion’s fingers burn holes into your skin. He leaves a wildfire against your skin. It leaves you wanting more. But you’re always going to want more, aren’t you? Even a lifetime of Astarion is not enough. You seek the warmth in his gaze.

You aren’t sure how long you’ll last. The time between your trysts and the sheer passion causes you to be needy. He likes it that way too. Likes the way that you’ll always seek him out first. The first in your heart. The first in your soul. You wish you could pour yours out of your body to give it to him. He’s half your soul regardless of what he might say. You never understood the concept of an immortal soul until now. You pull Astarion back to you and kiss him, teeth to teeth.

But it’s not enough.

You don’t think it will ever be enough. You dig your nails into his spine and hold onto him. You cry weakly. It feels too good and like it’s too much at the same time. You part your legs wider and drag him further, hypnotized by the feel of his thighs beneath yours. Astarion shows an enthusiasm you haven’t seen in a while, and you’re reminded of how much you’ve craved him. The knife at your throat, the scowl on his face, the night at the party… Astarion is all-consuming. You never thought it would happen.

At first, you thought Astarion was primed to ignore you forever. You were kind and good and sweet, and now you knew that was everything Astarion was looking for. He tastes your kindness and goodness and sweetness and becomes drunk on the taste of your shared fate.

Astarion bites you on the shoulder but for once, it isn’t to draw blood and feed upon what makes you who you are. It’s a lover’s bite. An inquisitive nibble. That part of sharing is what this is about. He meant it when he said you were more than blood, more than a fling. You always thought about it…

Astarion proving his love to you now was welcomed. You summon a new life for him here during this pale evening. A life where he will not know hurt. A life where he will not be betrayed by those he trusted. Astarion was in your hands now, a crow on your wrist. He sings you a pretty song against your neck. He’s vocal now, content with moaning and mewling as he takes his pleasure in the warmth of your body. You wish you could bottle up his pretty song and take it with you forever.

You press your mouth to the sharp curve of Astarion’s ear, sneaking a kiss against the pointy tip. ‘Come closer to me, my love,’ you whisper. ‘No one must know.’

‘Everyone must know,’ Astarion disagrees softly.

‘Even the birds?’ you ask. ‘Even the trees?’

Astarion smiles. You can feel it. ‘The entire world must.’

‘Are we in love?’ you ask him softly, looking upon him fondly.

‘We are,’ he says, laughing.

You are in love like you have never been in love before. Astarion is a romantic and he cherishes this new world with you. He’s intoxicated by the freedom of your scent. And it’s not as though it’s any different for you. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips and keep him there, and when his arms shake and tremble, you accept his weight.

You kiss his throat and he raises his chin so you can kiss it more. You’ll pretend that it doesn’t entice you. You want to sink your teeth in like he has, to share with him that quiet exaltation. Astarion gives it to you more and more, and finally, you can no longer tame that part of you set to rupture. Your pleasure causes your vision to burn almost.

There is a world where you and Astarion have never met. A world where the mindflayers never devised a plan and you were still searching for enlightenment. The thought of it scares you so you cling to him and you climb into his sternum, holding onto his skin while the world is remade in your image. A world without Astarion is not a world worth living. You know that to be true. That’s why you’re here now.

Astarion follows suit in quick, frantic strokes. He loses himself in the quake of your core and digs his fingers into the dirt next to your head for stability. You watch as pleasure overtakes him and he wavers, choking on a ragged moan. You press unfocused kisses against his shoulders and sink beneath the earth.

It’s a good thing Astarion finds his confidence in the taste of your bones. He eats from you an essence that would make him strong. When he sits up, eyes soft around the edges and mouth swollen from your love, you can see the change in him. Have his shoulders always been that wide? Has his back always been that straight? Has the majesticness of his attitude always been so grandiose?

Astarion holds out his fingers and you kiss the tips of them. You give him a blessing and watch as his skin begins to glow. Cazador had unmade a proud man. You have rehabilitated a broken man.  But Astarion is not defined by his brokenness, not authenticated by his terrors and trauma, but by the whims he has shown you tonight.

When Astarion pulls you from the bed you made in the grass, you can see a dim light filtering through the overhead tree. A familiar sight, like the first time. You pull his jacket over your head to avoid any more mess and become acutely aware that Astarion is watching you breathe. He listens with that frightening vampiric hearing as your lungs exhale. He smiles as your heartbeat settles.

You distract yourself as he enjoys his orgasm by making him a crown of flowers. You twist them expertly like you once did in your youth, and when Astarion turns his head, you give him a kingdom. The fresh green of the leaves accentuates the paleness of his hair.

You know what you’ve done even if the world does not. It was an objectively stupid thing to do, Astarion said so himself. Life is a challenge, and you were not a quitter. If anything, you knew that you deserved it. A ghost called your name and you answered, unfrightened by the specter’s cold touch. Slowly, you replaced that frigid air with your own heat until there was nothing but fog in the aftermath.

‘Sometimes,’ Astarion begins when he’s ready, ‘I still have these cruel thoughts. This fear still consumes me but… It’s so unlike before I hardly recognize it.’

‘You’re not his first son anymore,’ you say.

Astarion smiles and slides the crown from his head. He twirls it between his fingers. ‘Not  —  Not that fear, no. Something else.’

‘What else could frighten you?’

‘Everything,’ Astarion confesses. ‘I listen to your heart when you sleep for any change. I check your face every day for any extra wrinkles.’

You laugh. ‘I’m still young,’ you insist. ‘We have time, Astarion. I am with you every moonrise.’

‘The worst thing about loving you is that I will never stop,’ Astarion says, staring at his headstone. ‘I don’t want you to die in a world where I could still love you.’

You think you’re going to be sick. You don’t mean to cry, but you do. You burrow your face in your hands and weep so hard Astarion wraps his jacket around you and kisses your head, shushing you until you’ve let it all out. It’s…not how you wanted to end the evening.

‘You didn’t let me finish, my love,’ he murmurs against your forehead.

‘Then go on,’ you say miserably.

‘I will never stop loving you,’ Astarion says again. ‘For a thousand more years and one.’

You twist the knuckle on your middle finger anxiously. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to feel.

‘Gale asked me tonight if I loved you,’ he tells you. ‘He asked if I loved you purely. I’ve never loved anything purely in my life, but I knew what he meant. He asked, ‘Will you love them to death?’ That’s why I brought you here tonight.’

You look at him suspiciously, and his ardor steals your breath away. His jacket slips from your shoulders. You watch as he fixes the carvings in his headstone and adds to them in a sprawling language you’re almost too exhausted to read. Eventually, you find your voice again. You lean your cheek against his shoulder, and if your eyelashes are wet against his skin, he says nothing about it.

‘Tonight,’ Astarion says, ‘and on top of my grave, you have brought me back to life. That is a debt that cannot be repaid.’

You turn to him and this time it is your turn. You take Astarion’s jaw in your hands and lift his mouth to yours, kissing him so sweetly you’re almost certain that he swoons from the touch. It’s like kissing him for the first time, a kiss that sweeps over and over, until the ocean of night sweeps over you and you melt into his sinew.

 ‘You love me?’ you ask him just to hear him say it again.

‘I love you,’ Astarion says.

Love is not always in the eyes of the goddess. Love is buried somewhere most will never find it. It is healing, it is sweeping, it is gratifying. It is watching your lover’s hair turn grey strand by strand every morning. It is chasing the sun before it falls beneath the stars every evening.

You think you get it now.

Astarion rests his cheek against your palm, and for the first night since he was turned into a vampire, he slumbers in your touch. He dreams of a future where you are both mortal and laughing.

‘I love you too,’ you confess, and Astarion smiles in his sleep.

[galvanizedfriend]

Hi!! do you have any new(ish) klaroline canon fic recs? i feel like i’ve read everything out there 💔

Hi, nonnie! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this. I was going to be a sad disappointment because I have not been reading that many new fics and so didn't have much to offer. :(

BUT! I decided to ask around for some recs to offer you some options. :) I haven't read most of these, but some of my mutuals did and they vouched for it. So hopefully you can find something new to enjoy here.

From me, I can tell you that Grazing by @notalittlebutalottie has been finished and it is absolutely phenomenal! If you haven't read that yet, get to it!

The Little Wolf by @morningstargirl666 has undergone a recent rewriting and gained new chapters. It's one of the best prequels to the Originals (not the show, the family) I have ever read. And i swallow the sea, which swallows me by @definedareasofuncertainty which a canon-divergent fic where Klaus and Caroline meet earlier on with Luiza's typically stunning and evocative writing, incredibly sensitive in addressing some of the rougher issues.

✨ @the-road-betwixt recced:

throw my heart off the edge by @impossiblekryptonitecolor

Persistence of Memory by @helpless-in-sleep

Who put Bella down the Wych Elm? by for_darkness_shows_the_stars i looked around in a blood-soaked gown (and saw something they can't take away) by @purplesigebert

in vain she wills, to run, fly, swim, walk, creep by @the-road-betwixt

✨ @purplesigebert recced

and if I bleed (you'll be the last to know) by justanothermess

spit the blood back, baby by generousheart

I'll be your mirror by @marxandangels

These Violent Eyes by ArtemisRavenCourtney

✨ @idreamofspring1 recced

sweet present of the present by VintageLilac

[therentyoupay]

hi kris!!!! as a longtime Jelsa shipper, have you noticed a shift in the random over the past 10+ years? esp as a writer? has the fandom lessened? is Jelsa still as popular?

HI NONNY, THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTION.

long story, short: yes and no! i could honestly write a whole essay on this. 🤣 perhaps one day i will come back and reblog this and add some more definitive thoughts when i have the time 💕💕💕💕💕

for now, i can say that (1) while there are definitely ebbs and flows to any fandom/any ship, and although ship wars/fandom!in-fighting/policing definitely fluctuate and change shape but typically persevere in one form or another... (2) at the end of the day, you can always find at least one peaceful, positive corner of the internet for pretty much any community 💕✨

i don't have any concrete metrics or data re: jelsa fandom stats (e.g., "activity" in terms of the number of fics/fanart/posts/metas/commentaries/headcanons/theories/etc., "population" lol however defined) that we might try to use to operationally define how "active/big" a fandom might be at any given time, but based on nothing but pure personal, anecdotal experience: although activity fluctuates, inevitably, jelsa has been a pretty steady ship! off the top of my head, i can think of a few key "boosts" in which activity really ramped up... for example, we saw a boost in activity during the frozen ii release, unsurprisingly lol, and certainly, another boost now with @callimara's ✨unhinged✨ video, resulting in our #kriscallicollab madness, more than you know, which has been SO AMAZING and inspiring and exciting and HEART-SQUEEZING to witness and to be a part of. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🙏🙏🙏💕 overall, there's always new jelsa community activity each year! and remember, i also took a 3-ish-year on-again-off-again break from tumblr during the pandemic and the start of my ph.d. program and Life Activity, so i also missed out on a pretty active jelsa-tumblr time period too! like, nowadays, there are plenty of times i see a jelsa art or graphic on my dash made from 2019/2020/2021 that i've never seen before and it's like a special surprise treat 😂😂💕

it's also been very cool to see so many members of our OG community still enjoying life in the jelsa tag, or replying/commenting/liking posts and leaving comments on fics, or creating new art and fic, after so many years 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 so many beautiful, lifelong friendships have been forged through this ship! likewise, there are so many newcomers or lurkers-turned-active-members and new community members that we've been able to meet in just the last few months alone, which is so exciting and really inspiring 💕💕💕 there's just a lot of respect—regardless of newness-or-OGness, generations (e.g., the Elder Millennials and Gen X-ers and Gen Z-ers)—going in a lot of different directions, and that, luckily, is something that has stayed pretty consistent in the jelsa fandom for over a decade 🥹🥹🥹💕💕💕✨✨

not sure how "popular" it is compare to other ships, though, i've never thought about it! 😂 that bit doesn't matter 💕 just happy to still be here and enjoying our hobbies and creation and community, as ever 💕💕💕💕💕

THANK YOU FOR YOUR QUESTION NONNY, HAVE AN AMAZING DAY ✨

[milllersfae]

sooo i have a filthy request for u ;) could you maybe do where reader loves abby’s strap and abby is all like “take it and put it inside of you” after bratty!reader has begged for the strap. i hope this makes sense 😭😩

my first request! i am deeply honored. i should be in bed but i live to serve y’all. take a blurb love <3

.𖥔˖๋ ࣭⭑ blurb | fucking yourself onto abby’s strap

content warning: dom!abby (duhh!!), size kink if you squint, bratty!reader, strap referred to as a dick, the usual <3. mdni

you were writhing under her, hands pinned above your head after your hours long whining to make abby fuck you. you had gotten to her—between your lap-sitting-turned-grinding and trailing hands she had finally had enough. abby’s grave mistake is that you wanted it this way.

you bucked your hips up into her grey sweats, the print of her strap calling your name. there was no point in wriggling your wrists free—abby had held the both of them in one hand, locked well in her grip. she took her free hand and put a grasp on your hips, attempting to contain your coaxing.

“control yourself sweetheart.” she hushed, moving her waist from your kicking feet. she tightened her clutch at your wrists, leaning in to make her words a whisper.

you shake your head, smile placard across your face. you had other plans, and weren’t ready to lose to her just quite yet.

“baby please? you feel so fucking good.” you pitched your voice, breathy against her ear. you saw her face flush, eyes wandering from your face to distract herself. you moan against her cheek, placing kisses against her temple in teasing persistence. you wanted to break her before she could break you.

you felt her concentration weaken, her hand softening around your wrists. her eyes anchor back to you, something shifting in her gaze. she bites her lip and nods, a peak of her canines appearing with a smirk.

“you want me that bad, huh? you want to fuck this strap yea?” she groans, eyebrows raised in query. you excitedly nodded, eyes full of arousal and need for a call to your desire.

abby takes the hand of her hip, sliding her sweats down to her knees. she takes your thighs, pulling them towards the edge of the bed in one movement. she prompts the head of the silicone at the entrance of your heat, eyes lidded in roguish delight.

“fuck yourself on it. put me inside you. work for it, baby.”

your eyes widened slightly, mouth peaking open in surprise. you didn’t turn it down for a second; nothing would stop you from feeling her girth.

you inch closer, your hand guiding her in. you moan at the sudden flutter in your core, abby’s dick spreading you from the inside. you poured your lip up at her, eyes heavy at the pressure.

“good girl. just like that, ‘doing so good.” she cooes, hand gripping heavy on her hair. you push yourself deeper, desperate to feel her strokes against your g-spot. you circle your hips in and out of her shaft, legs starting the sputter under you.

you were reaching your peak, finding a rhythm enough to make you close. your clit pulsed in warmth, aching under the sensory of her long-awaited entrance. your mind had slurried, mouth wide and eyes crossed in sensation. you meet her face again, face hot in a irresistible stir.

“pretty little face, so drunk on my cock,” she laughed, kissing at the sweat budding in your neck. she laid a slap on the soft of your ass, only furthering your heading climax. “rock like you need me.”

•────•°•❀•°•────•

[stagefoureddiediaz]

That anon is weird. Like yeah sometimes gay people are interested in straight people (backing off when they find out their identity). I think Tommy was picking up Eddie's gay vibes

But it's far from impossible that he's straight and Tommy was still into him

Like God I wish I was never interested in straight people. That would be great. Take me to your universe anon

Hey Nonnie

they really are weird - provided me with some entertainment though - band I hope you were entertained as well!

I also want to be in a universe where I don’t end up flirting with straight people - no embarrassment and weirdness when you get it wrong and it would save so much energy and time - sounds amazing!!!

Kinda gonna enjoy it when that anon watches Eddie figure out his queerness to be honest - they clearly don’t understand the idea of long form storytelling and foreshadowing and building up clues and layers of information over time - Eddie is queer coded - always has been - its just been a question of when he’d be in a place to figure himself out and Tommys (intense flirting and) interest in him is just helping build that narrative so that after Eddie does figure it out the audience can rewatch and spot all the stuff that pointed towards it all along. It’s like a murder mystery book or film - all the clues that point to the murderer are there from the beginning - you just have to read between the lines and put the pieces together - its obvious when you get the answer at the end!

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Autumnal doctor/rose, i lov it! How about ninerose and some alien hot cider?

thank you so much for this prompt, nonny! <3 hope you enjoy the fluff! and as always, please forgive any mistakes. i am my own worst grammatical enemy.

[read on AO3]

"That can't be right."

Through the doorway, he watched Rose laugh as she dumped yet another fistful of pseudocinnamon into a giant cauldron. The TARDIS had dug both out of storage—or generated them spontaneously, the Doctor suspected. He certainly would have noticed the cauldron before: the thing was massive, a piping hot shade of orange that assaulted the eyes, tall enough that Rose could barely see over the rim after hauling it up onto the hob. It was so fanciful and absurd he couldn't believe it was supposed to be functional.

It was also exactly what Rose had asked for.

Could hardly be a coincidence, could it?

You spoil her, he thought with a brief, mild accusatory glance upward. But he was not favoured with so much as a blinking light.

Typical.

The Doctor had always known the TARDIS had favourites, but he'd never in all his lives experienced such blatant, unrepentant spoiling of a travelling companion! The first time he'd seen Rose's bedroom—or, more accurately, palatial bedroom suite—he'd been gobsmacked. Her bed was enormous, at least twice the size of his. Though he wasn't much for throw pillows, hardly any aboard the ship had escaped the journey to Rose's bed; it was a miracle she could sit on the thing, let alone sleep there. And the eightieth century hi-fi teledeck?

No longer the centrepiece of the media room.

Which he was still sulking about.

But this was a new level of indulgence. The ship didn't just create matter out of nothing; everything had to come from somewhere—usually her vast stores of past rooms. To come up with something completely new involved energy transference. Effort. Time.

And, to create something as specific as a garish orange cooking cauldron? Care.

Shaking his head, he stepped inside the little galley kitchen. He'd followed his nose thus far, but the scent grew even more potent the moment he passed the threshold and into the sweltering heat of the narrow space.

"What do you mean?" Rose was asking, turning to look at him with big, worried eyes. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, nose and lips a berry pink. "This is exactly what the barista told me to do!" She rapidly dusted off her palms, a cloud of warm brown powder dispersing into the air, carrying with it the spicy, faintly floral scent of the cloned cinnamon root native to Chame. It made his nose itch. "Why would he lie?"

The Doctor scoffed. "To keep you coming back, Rose! All the way across the charted universe—dragging me and my poor ship with you—just to get your hands on the real thing," he said, with a grumbling noise of displeasure as punctuation. "Probably a bit of clever salesmanship."

Rose's smile slipped a little, prompting an unpleasant dip in his own stomach. It wasn't fair to her, him being so obviously jaded.

After all, the barista had been perfectly nice. To Rose.

Specifically.

"Was that a harrumph? Did you just harrumph at me?" Rose's head cocked, and the grin she set loose on him was a true blue Rose Tyler special, top to bottom: eyes sparkling, tongue curled around her teeth, and with a certain jaunty angle to her chin that told him she was gloating for some reason he didn't want to think too hard about, lest he actually find out what in the world she meant by it.

"Here, put this on. You can help," she said, turning to withdraw—from one of the kitchen's many and dangerously full drawers—an apron that didn't quite match her own. Hers had cheerful, smiling Jack-o'-lanterns all over a white backdrop, nestled amidst illustrations of autumn leaves and lit candles and seasonally appropriate candies that nobody he'd ever met actually enjoyed.

His apron... also had pumpkins on it.

"Oi! Is that s'posed to be me?"

He snatched the article from her hands, pulling it up to look closer at the frowny, grumpy-looking illustrations dotting the black fabric. The eyes and mouths of the Jack-o'-lanterns were slightly puckered, like someone had left the pumpkins out in rough weather for a few days, and it gave them a uniformly sour, Scrooge-like expression.

His gaze narrowed, and Rose pressed her lips together, like she desperately didn't want to laugh. "Don't look like that," she managed, raising her hands. "I just asked her for aprons."

The Doctor scowled, even as a part of him perked up. Aprons, plural. Had she wanted him to join her all this time? Why hadn't she said anything?

"Anyway, don't worry," she went on carelessly, "nobody's here to see you in it."

You are, he thought in spite of himself.

His eyes followed her as she took back the apron and motioned for him to bend so she could drape it around his neck. The brush of her jumper-clad arms against his hair made the tips of his ears tingle and grow warm, and he ducked his head nearly to his chest in sudden awkwardness. The few moments it took for her to make a knot would give him just enough time to get hold of his rebellious—not to mention ridiculous—biology, he decided.

Don't be daft, came his stern internal voice.

There. Job done.

When he righted himself, Rose was beaming. "I dunno," she said, tipping her head this way and that, observing him, her ponytail flopping about. "I think it works for you."

"Do you now?" He looked down at the frowning pumpkins spread across his chest; they were even more wrinkled and unpleasant viewed upside-down.

But if Rose thought differently...

"Yeah." She nodded more definitely. "Very good look."

Well, then.

-

Making the cider took more time but was somehow less involved than it seemed Rose had expected.

Aside from grinding up all the pseudocinnamon and quartering the apples—they hadn't picked up any authentic Autogolds on their last grocery stop, but had some lovely Galas to hand—the other steps were quick and simple. Most of the process was a load of hurry up and wait.

Which left them with little to do but hover around the cauldron, breathing in the steam and knocking hips when they got too close. Which was often.

"What's so great about this cider anyway?" the Doctor finally asked, after a few moments of grinning at one another across the cauldron. He dipped the wooden spoon in for another sample, wondering when he'd suddenly taste what made it special enough for Rose to go to all this effort.

He remembered the overly-friendly barista, smiling with all his teeth. He remembered walking around the market stalls afterwards, Rose beaming and pointing out every little thing that caught her eye while the sun set. He remembered sudden warm pressure—how she hid her face against his shoulder when a stiff wind blew through the courtyard, setting all the beads in the jewelers' tents tinkling and flashing. There were no skittering leaves to speak of, but the whole scene had given a passable impression of a mild Earth autumn day.

It had been a good day, yes. But the cider had been rather ordinary.

Rose nudged his hip again, then deftly pulled the spoon from his hand. "Stop messing with it, or it's never gonna brew right. We're s'posed to let it sit." She replaced the lid, closing in the steam and the gentle sound of simmering. Then she sighed. "I dunno. The barista told me all the ingredients and how to make it and it all seemed fairly normal, I guess, but there was just something about it—comforting. Couldn't put my finger on why. Maybe because it was such a perfect day," she added absently, fiddling with the hem of her apron.

The Doctor stilled. "Perfect?"

When he looked at her face, her eyes were on the floor. "Yeah. Think it was."

"Not... boring?" he asked, wishing she'd look up at him. But she was just crossing one foot over another, concentrating on her shoelaces. He wondered why.

After they'd dropped Adam off on Earth, he recalled with a scowl, he had gone a bit mad with the easy trips. Just a little break, he called it. But their "break" had turned into weeks of short stops on interesting—but more importantly, peaceful—worlds. Playing tourists.

At first, neither of them had really known what to do with themselves in these sorts of places. Relaxation was anathema. And Rose had been around long enough to know you never took off your running shoes, not ever, so she didn't quite let her guard down either. They'd wandered around, taking in the sights—Rose was never short on curiosity and clever questions—but it was always with their backs up. Ready for anything. It was a vigilance neither exactly knew how to shrug off.

Especially after he'd nearly lost her.

And she knew it.

They would meet each other's eyes and just know what the other was thinking of. The Dalek, the laser to the back of her head. Incomplete goodbyes over a staticky video. And the fear in her eyes when he'd run toward her with a gun in his hands. He hadn't felt that kind of shame in... a long, long while.

But they'd survived.

It took every moment of those two weeks to make him believe it. And it was only once they landed on Chame, in that market—so familiar, so Earth-like, and yet so different—that the calm finally found them. Arm in arm, meandering through a crowd with warm cups of cider in their hands. He'd realised then he wasn't waiting for the next thing to come around the corner. And neither was she.

Time had passed since that day on Chame. Back to the old life. The adventures. Neither of them could bear to stand still for long, or rest on their laurels. There were so many worlds needed saving, where time and tide of history had to be set right. It was never-ending.

It was their life.

But not the only part. Was that why she wanted to recreate the cider?

"No," Rose said after a moment. "Not boring. Not for me." She finally looked up, eyes soft. Shrugging helplessly. "Could never get bored with you."

The Doctor swallowed. Her proximity was like gravity.

He felt himself tipping into it. Giving in to it. Hands lifting to settle on her arms. and his head falling forward, lips coming to rest gently on her crown. Her hair smelled like apples and cinnamon and warm human.

It would have been impossible for him to say it, but he had no doubt she knew.

That day hadn't been boring for him either. It had been... more than good.

It had been perfect. The day's very ordinariness made it unusual, standing out like a burning star amidst their murkier, often more difficult travels. Its simplicity—its uncomplicated pleasures—made it rare and maybe even worth recreating. Sometimes.

"All right, then," he said. "We'll have cider." He couldn't say all he felt, couldn't tell her he understood, because he didn't know exactly what he felt. Like a pinching deep within him, clenching tight around his hearts. The Dalek had called it love; his people might have called it foolishness.

All the Doctor knew was, he wanted more perfect days with her.

[naferty]

Does someone know Wingfics of the avengers especially stony?

Ooh fic recs! It's been a minute.

Here are some of my personal wingfic favorites.

Stony:

Birds of a Feather by LoquitorLatinae Tony only ever wanted to be an Alpha with bright feathers, a huge wingspan, and attitude. But he was an Omega, and while he still has the attitude, his lot in life as dictated by society leaves a lot to be desired. But he was Tony Stark, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in his way—though he wouldn’t necessarily be against the company of a certain Alpha Capsicle.

The Winged Soul by inukagome15 It wasn't until he was three that he realized he was different and no one else could see the wings.

Albatross feathers by Indigomountain A young Albatross-winged Harpy could go months or even years without ever even touching land if they were on a pilgrimage. If they didn't have a hole in their wing that is...

Airheart by deadeyeboy Steve Rogers is an anomaly. One in a million. A man out of time. Tony Stark is an anomaly. One in a million. A man without wings. It's only natural that they'd meet somewhere along the way.

the slightest touch (and I feel weak) by SailorChibi “When you’re really tired or out of it, you show the underside of your wings to Steve,” Natasha says to Tony, ignoring Clint, who is doing an excellent impression of a fish. “We’ve all noticed it, but no one ever said anything because we didn’t think you knew. And judging from the look on your face, you didn’t.” “I don’t –” Natasha cuts him off with a raised hand. “Save it. I’m sure JARVIS has got video proof. You do it with Steve, Clint does it with Coulson, and both of them melt all over themselves when you two do it.” She stands, picking up her glass of wine. “So please, for the sanity of everyone else who has to live in this house, get over yourselves and just mate already.” She sweeps out of the room.

Get Some Fresh Air (At Quad) by Sineala Steve, newly arrived at the Academy, meets Tony, whose wings are like nothing he's ever seen before. He wants to know more. He wants everything. And luckily for him, the interest is mutual.

Care and Comfort by MusicalLuna Tony offers to preen Steve's wings. It's been a long time since anyone did something so intimate for Steve.

Soft Touches by GayRainbowBridge Tony's wings were damaged during his time trapped in Afghanistan. They constantly hurt and Tony was afraid of anyone touching them. But Steve shows him he doesn't need to be scared.

Dancing With Your Ghost by LunaStories Tony never thought he'd be here, getting his wings groomed by Captain America of all people. It was too intimate, but Steve had offered and he was too weak to resist.

Here's some Stuckony, too, if you're interested:

Just the way you are by IronEyes Tony is in love with not one but two supersoldiers. Too bad that they have so beautiful wings and he...doesn't have any at all. But nobody knows that.

Featherbrain by Reioka Tony has always been shy about his wings. He doesn't understand why Bucky and Steve want to see his when theirs are so big and regally understated.

[the-nation-of-today]

Your fear is left in the dust We are the saints of the blood ↳ requested by anon

[spaceorphan18]

Ahh, I didn't know you liked Bridgerton! (I was away from tumblr for a moment and just now catching up on your blog) I'm obsessed with Penelope and Colin. How did you like season 3? I always love reading your thoughts! I saw so many people complain but I mostly really enjoyed it. I wish it didn't have so many random plotlines, and I didn't like the insta-baby but overall they're my favourite couple in the show haha.

Hi Nonny! Welcome back to the Tumblr! <3

I hope you don't mind me indulging a little with your ask, lol. If you've followed me for any length of time, you do know I can't shut up - but I realized I haven't really said my actual thoughts on the season, etc, I just started meta'ing and haven't looked back. So, pull up a chair, Nonny, as I chatter non-stop for a bit about Bridgerton and my thoughts on season 3, lol.

I'll put it under a cut to save the rest of your souls....

Part 1: How did we get here?

Am I big fan of historical romance? No, not really. Did I expect this show to ever have a grip on me? Not even a little bit. How in the world did this happen? Idk - it appears that favorite tropes and character designs and dynamics seem to transcend genre. And I'm an old sap.

The tl:dr version is that I watched Seasons 1 and 2 after Season 2 came out. It was fine. Not a huge fan of Season 1, I did like Season 2 though. And then kind of forgot it existed. Eloise was by far my favorite character - because I liked her spunk. And the friendship between Eloise and Penelope was the best part of the show.

And then I was reminded that Season 3 dropped and did not expect the shock that I got. I went in completely blind - I hadn't seen a single promo. I did know, because I looked up the books when I originally watched, that it would be Pen and Colin's story. But I was kind of fascinated at how they were going to go about it. Penelope was not a stereotypical leading lady. And Colin was very boy-ish looking in the early seasons. How was this going to work?

Oh man, the glow ups. The glow ups got me. Pen is so, so gorgeous this entire season. When she's wearing her hair down, omg... Or that one look where she's like a housewife writing in her journal. God damn, girl. She can get it. And then Colin... ha. When he got out of the carriage, I was like - oh shit. It was the pirate coat. A good pirate coat will always do me in.

But more than that - really, the dynamics of the characters just really sold me. I love friends to lovers. I love the angst and the pull. I love the whole she fell first he fell harder. I love that I unintentionally just go for the same kind of characters and their dynamics over and over and over.

And then, you know, between the first part and second part, I rewatched the first two seasons, which was helpful. (Though, still not a huge fan of season 1.) Was addicted to the promo tour (my god I love a good promo tour). And @ckerouac - got me to watch Derry Girls which really cemented my love of Nicola Coughlin. And, you know, once you start going down a hole, you just have to keep on going until you get to the other side.

Idk how we really got here, Nonny, but here we are! Lol

Part 2: My thoughts on Season 3

So, briefly, I just fell in love with Part 1 right off the bat. LOVED IT. Part 2, honestly, I felt disappointed after seeing it the first time. (I remember episode 6, in particular, thinking - wow that was not a very good episode).

And then... I rewatched it and then rewatched it again after watching Seasons 1 and 2 and kind of started to take it a part a bit, and it's grown on me. A lot! I actually do really love the season as a whole and appreciate what we've got...

Breaking it down a little more:

Pen and Colin's story: I still do think the first half is stronger. The whole Colin helping Pen find a husband, Lord Debling (who is a doll), Colin figuring out his issues, that carriage scene... ooff, all really, really good. The second half - there just needed to be more. At first, it was hard to watch them go through a wedding while being mad at each other, but I feel like now that I've had time to digest it all, it is /so/ good. It's a really, really fascinating dynamic going on there. I could and probably will go on at length about it later... a couple of things, though

They just needed more. The plot was so delicious. I did love the conflict over lady whistledown and I wish we had seen that tension played out better and resolved better. The end of episode 8 was a bit to fast. I swear - Season 4 better have some solidly good Polin moments or idek... They've been such a big part of the show as a whole, I hope they get to continue their development, even if it they go back to their Seasons 1 and 2 focus.

The season works better if you remember what happened in seasons 1 and 2. I had zero memory of the plots from the first two seasons going in. I didn't realize Colin's personality had changed. I couldn't remember any of the Polin moments in the first two seasons. This third season makes a whole lot more sense being built from what came before it, and honestly, I kind of love that. It makes the story more layered and engaging.

As for the insta-baby, I mean, they set it up at the beginning of the season, but it wasn't something I needed to enjoy the couple. I do wonder if they'll go back and explore that 9 months, or if things will pick up after post-baby.

Also, on perhaps a shallower note? I thought the actors had great chemistry. And I have so much respect for Nicola Coughlin for allowing herself to be presented in such a way. She is GORGEOUS in every aspect and the backlash over her body is ABSURD. If you can’t get on board that a larger woman can be seen as desirable than you can fuck right off because she is amazing.

Poor Luke Newton has gotten some push back, too, which I think is a little unfair. He's not expressive the way Jonny Bailey is, but Colin really isn't Anthony, and is much more an inward character. And the awkwardness of his attempt at rake-ishness in the beginning is supposed to be awkward. Colin isn't smoldering like the Duke from Season 1, either. He's a sweet, romantic kid who adores his bff-turned-wife, and the whole season (I mean, can we talk about the all the mirrors?) is about cutting through the bullshit we do to try to mask who we really are.

The thing about Luke Newton that I really appreciate is that he really understands who his character is and keeps that front and center. Colin is trying to be something he's not, and the real Colin slips out unintendedly, and that kind of subtly is hard to play.

The absolute best moments were when they laughed together - they both really shine when Pen and Colin are allowed to be the sweet friends they've been all along.

Anyway tl:dr - loved their relationship, and my heart will just be broken if we don't get more good development as the seasons continue.

Penelope and Eloise: The fact that this relationship was angled as another romance per se was also delicious. As I said above - Pen and Eloise were probably my favorite dynamic pre-Polin and it was devastating to watch them work their relationship out. But again, it was all so delicious. I loved it and thought it was perfect.

The Featheringtons: I LOVED THEM! They were perfection. I love that they leaned into some really good comedy with the sisters. Not only were they able to show off Nicola's excellent comedic skills, the family as a whole was just a whole delight. I loved the sisters. I loved their husbands. I even liked Portia - and, honestly, I wasn't a huge fan of her in earlier seasons. I loved that they linked Pen and Portia, it really made them seem like mother and daughter.

Colin and his family: There were some fascinating dynamics!

Colin and Eloise: yes, the third part of the platonic love triangle I loved their dynamic during the season. Eloise never really knowing how to handle Colin. The fact that they're close and yet awkwardly so. The fact that they both care so much about Pen in different ways and how LW just hangs over both dynamics. Ooff, so good.

Colin and Anthony & Benedict (and let's throw George in here, too): Love it. Wish there had been more. The brothers are hilarious and wonderful together and just I ate it all up with a spoon. Also, as an aside, I love that George is slowly coming into focus. The kid is adorable.

Colin and Francesca (and let's throw Hyacinth in here, too): Hilariously, Colin and Francesca speak zero times to each other during the whole season. Isn't that weird? Really, their plot lines do not intersect except tangentially for family moments. It's so weird. I feel like I have no sense of this dynamic. As for Hyacinth - I adore her, and I feel like she has more personality than Francesca :P

Colin and Violet: I kind of loved this. She's a mother who understands her kids. And even though Violet wasn't around that much for the A-Plot, I like what role she did have to play in getting Colin to act.

Alright, so the rest of the subplots... It did feel like an abundance of them, but was there really more than previous seasons? Or was it the fact that Pen and Colin usually were subplots, and now that they're the main focus, everything else kind of shifts awkwardly around them?

Anthony and Kate: I love them to pieces, and wish there had been more of them. Their dynamic remains sexy and smart. Kate remains one of the best characters on the show, and is such an intelligent woman. I'm so glad she had wonderful, insightful conversations with her new family. I really would have loved to have had a Kate and Penelope scene. Also, the India thing was awkward - I lol'd because it clearly was written as an 'out' for the couple. But it's ultimately fine. But yes - bring back Kanthony in future seasons. I really don't care how much Jonathan Bailey is doing other things.

Cressida Cowper: I thought she was a fantastic villain, and the fact that she was so wrapped up with Eloise was kind of delicious. I don't think they needed to linger on her private life as much as they did. But I was fascinated that there seemed to be some queer coding in there, and wondered, for a bit if she was going to be a lesbian. I also think her ending was a little weak and she just kind of scampered off without any reprieve. I do wonder if she'll be back, tbh.

Francesca: Oof. It was intriguing on first watch but I find it incredibly dragging on subsequent watches and have a tendency to skip over it. I think this is the one plot line that really could have been cut down. I understand that it's set up but it was kind of meh for me. However, I am totally fine with her love interest being changed to a woman. Let's do this bisexuals! Speaking of which...

Benedict: My god, it felt like the show doesn't know what to do with him - and I am hoping Season 4 is his, because they NEED to do something with Benedict. So, to be clear, I LOVE that they made him bisexual. But the woman he was with was so boring, and I just did not care - because I knew it ultimately wasn't going to go anywhere. And, what was with the never ending orgy? Did we really need to cut back to it ten times? Please, show, give Benedict something interesting to do.

The Mondriches: Look, I feel bad saying it, but these people ultimately served no purpose to the show and could have been lifted right out. I'm sure the actors are lovely but if they're not going to directly service the story, then why are we wasting our time? Though, at least they really aren't the ones taking up the most time.

The Queen: They could have played up the rivalry between her and LW a lot more, and they just didn't. It felt... a little anticlimactic. Also, now what do they do with her as a character? Meh.

Violet and Lady Danbury's brother: I just don't care. I get it. I get that Violet should have something to do outside her children. But there are already a million plots, and not everyone needs to have their own individual story. By the time they threaded this in around episode 3 it did feel like too much.

Did I miss anything?

So... that's how I felt on everything. I have seen commentary about the pushback on Season 3. There are some things I agree about and a lot I don't.

About the actors: I disagree, Nicola and Luke are a delight, and they don't deserve the pushback they've been getting.

About the subplots: It is too many, and I do think they should have either made the season longer, or cut a few things.

About Polin not being as steamy: I think Daphne and Simon's soft core porn-a-thon set an expectation that doesn't necessarily work when you're going for other tropes. I did like the steamy scenes we got (though the last one should have been longer -- we better get some happy sex in season 4 or I will be annoyed) but Polin doesn't have the same dynamic as (what is their shipper name??) Daphne/Simon. We were never going to get the porn-a-thon.

Kanthany didn't either in Season 2, I don't know what to tell people. I appreciate that they're servicing the story they're telling and not just relying on sex. But, I will say, it is still the romance genre, based on books that do feature a lot of sex, so I can understand disappointment in some respects. There is a reason people watch these things, and when it's not met, it can be frustrating.

Idk, what else are people bitching about? (that's rhetorical) I think two years is too long a wait for a show like this. And the anthology aspect of it can make it hard when the focus shifts. People adored Anthony and Kate and to shift it to a very different type of love story can feel jarring, especially, I think if you've spent the past two years digesting what we've already had.

And then there are some people who are just never happy.

And I mean, I already feel a little 'meh' about Season 4. (It'll be Benedicts, there are so many hints...) I'll continue to watch, but I am incredibly sad that this was the year my favorites got to shine. My only hope is that Pen and Colin continue to occupy a space in the story... lord help us, though, in that it doesn't take another ten years to finish...

So.... them my thoughts! I'm sure I'll have more of them as I settle into this bright new world.

Omg, how cute are they????

[olympeline]

Thoughts on ukus?? And if it’s good thoughts can we hear about how you would put them in situations?? 👉👈👀

I’m more of a USUK enjoyer but I can go for some UKUS every now and then. As for a situation:

If you want some good “Arthur dominating Alfred” but with modern Al, send him back to the peak of the British Empire. I see plenty of Alfred meeting sexy pirate!Arthur, which is fun oh yes, but historically inaccurate if you want the most powerful Arthur possible. He wasn’t even the strongest in Europe back then. Spain was still far above England in their piracy days. Arthur would only reach his full potential three centuries later in the era of Pax Britannica.

Give them proportional strength and send Alfred back to meet Arthur in say, the mid to late nineteenth century. Proportional in that they have the strength of how much they dominate(d) the world at their best. The modern USA is a world superpower, but in that era Arthur was a world hegemonic power: the next level up. Probably the only one that ever was or ever will be. Thanks to a variety of factors that couldn’t have existed up until that point and now can’t be repeated. Stuff like ancient empires not being able to invade enough of the world pre-globalisation, the other Western powers (and Japan) still industrialising and not having caught the UK yet, rival superpower France getting curb stomped by Prussia, etc. etc. yadda yadda, history is complicated. The point is the USA can’t be fully imperial and bully the world the way Pax Britannica era British Empire used to. If for no other reason than the game changer that is nuclear weapons. Meaning Alfred at his strongest is proportionally still not close to Arthur at his peak.

Maybe they should meet and Arthur should make this swaggering, cocky yank aware of that. 👀

[happi-tree]

Hello :) do you take art requests?

Would you be willing to draw-

Teen-High-Binder Transmasc Normal?

Hi there, Nonnie! While I don't typically do requests I HAD to jump on the bandwagon for this one. Thank you Will Campos for making characters that are so queer and transgender 💗💗💗

Hope you're having a wonderful day!

[multifandomsimagine]

Imagine being Ty Ridgemount's favorite person to film

——— Requested by anonymous  ———

With his camera in hand, Ty stood on the Office's shore, watching as everyone was doing their own thing in the Office. Though he would usually be right alongside them to catch some waves of his own, Ty had decided to stay back and capture some surfing on film. It had been a while since he recorded something and with how great of a day it was, it was a great time to get some footage.

Raising his camera to his face, he looked at the screen as he surveyed the scene before him. Broseph seemed to be continuing his lessons with Emma as the two sat on their board, swaying with the waves. Moving his arms through the air as he tried explaining something, Emma watched Broseph closely, trying to take in everything he said. Fin and Reef were competing with each other if their shouting were any indication while Johnny was doing his own thing, making sure to stay out of the way of the blonde and the redhead. But much like always, Ty's attention was drawn to you.

Focusing the camera on your form, he watched as you made your way to the wave. As the slope started to come down, you move upwards and pulled off an air, your board leaving the wave. Bending down, you gripped your board as you flipped yourself forward, pulling off a rodeo flip before successfully landing back on the water without crashing.

Ty grinned as he watched you take a seat on your board, pushing your wet hair away from your face. Despite landing a complex move, you made no scene or tried calling attention to what you accomplished and it was one of the things that he loved about your surfing. You didn't surf for the acclaim or the praise. He was sure that if you competed professionally, you could easily become one of the top surfers in the world but you had declined the offer whenever someone brought it up. You surfed to feel free and close to the water and it was his favorite thing to capture. No matter how many surfers he could film, his focus and camera would always come back to you and he wouldn't change a thing about it.