#i know i did things. but i cannot remember any of them right now lmao

[crabbunch]

2023 RECAP:

i forgor all ofit

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Haircut

Summary: Javi thinks that he's way past due for a haircut. You like his hair long for reasons other than his good looks.

Word Count: 2.1K (I sprinted to write this after I saw this picture)

Pairing: Husband!Javi x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, praise kink, (lovingly?) possessive Javi, Javi's back at again with his filthy mouth, hair pulling, Javi is hungry and the man is gonna EAT, allsions to more smut, Jonas Brother's references ( bc Javi is our girl dad king and his daughters love them LMAO)

A/N: Y'ALL REALLY THOUGHT THIS PICTURE OF PEDRO WAS SURFACE RIGHT HERE ON TUMBLR DOT COM AND I WASN'T GONNA DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!? WRONG. I legit have 3 WIPS I started in the past 24 hours based on this picture alone. Pedro really did this one for the Javier Peña girlies (gn) and I will forever be in debt to him for that. You cannot tell me that this is Dad!Javi when his kids are a little bit older bc HOLY SHIT?! This really may the nail in the coffin for @notjustjavierpena and I bc really fear this is the dilfiest Husband Javi has ever looked 😩😵‍💫 anyways, never getting over this!!!!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

“God, I can’t even remember the last time my hair has been this long. Lucy keeps saying I look like a Jonas Brother. Am I supposed to know who they are? Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Javi sighed, playing with his dark brown curls in the bathroom mirror as you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist, peeking out to watch your husband’s longer than usual locks twist between his fingers. 

“They’re the goofy looking boy band on Disney Channel that the girls are obsessed with. Like the Backstreet Boys, except cooler, apparently.” You laughed, planting a soft kiss into the fabric of Javi’s worn t-shirt covering his broad back before stepping next to him, leaning your hip against the bathroom counter to admire your husband as he fiddled with his hair. 

“Jesus Christ, those guys? God, I really do need a haircut before I start looking like the poster what’s-his-face hanging on Lucy and Elliot’s walls.” Javi chuckled, running his hand through his hair once more before mirroring you, his hip resting against the counter, leaning his weight on his palm splayed flat along the granite surface. 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think he’s supposed to be the best looking one.” You teased, giving Javi a playful shrug. “Besides, I like your hair long.” 

“Seriously?” Javi asked, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest in protest. “It looks like a mop right now.” 

“A very sexy mop.” You smirked, nudging Javi before stepping closer into him, reaching up to run your hand through his curls, slowly twisting the ends with your fingers. “It reminds me of that trip we took to Jamaica a few years ago. Your hair was almost this long, remember? You looked so hot in those stupid floral button downs you insisted on buying, and hanging out shirtless by the pool all day while you played with the girls.” 

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m surprised we didn’t end up with a fourth kid after that trip.” Javi chuckled, slowly shifting the palm that had been holding him up towards your waist, letting his fingers gently toy with the waistband of your pajamas. “You really like my long hair that much?” 

“Mhmmmm.” You cooed, continuing to close the gap between your bodies, your free hand resting on Javi’s chest as the other continued to stroke his curls. You could feel a low groan rumbling in Javi’s throat as your fingers weaved back and forth through his hair, the other creeping up to cradle his jaw, thumb tracing back and forth across the stubble on his cheek. 

“Yeah? What else do you like about it?” Javi groaned, his hand slipping under the elastic waistband of your pants to grab a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hand. 

“I like…” You paused, bringing your lips to Javi’s, pressing a tender kiss on his lips, “I like that it gives me something extra to hold on to.” 

“Hold on to?” Javi asked, cocking his head in slight confusion. 

“Hold on to when you go down on me. I love being able to run my hands through your hair when you eat me out, especially when it’s long like this.” You smirked, watching Javi’s eyes go wide in delight, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he bit down on his lip. 

Before you could say anything else, Javi’s hands were gripping around your waist and hosting you up to sit on the counter, caging his body against yours, hands planted around the outside of your hips while his lips crashed into yours, your mouths becoming a tangled mess of tongue and teeth. 

“Fuck…” Javi whispered to himself, pulling away from your lips to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, running his hands over your thighs. “I love it when you play with my hair, Hermosa. Love feeling you pull on it when you’re close. Makes me lose my fucking mind every time. Fuck, I’d stay burried between your legs forever if I fucking could.” 

Javi began to let his kisses trail down your body, past your chest and across your stomach before he was dropping to his knees in front of you, draping your legs across the width of his shoulders. Pulling at your waistband, you lifted your hips off the counter so your pajamas and underwear could fall to the floor, revealing the wetness that had been pooling between your thighs since you had walked into the bathroom a few minutes ago. 

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered, further parting your legs to see the arousal already dripping through your folds, staring up at you with a boyish grin on his face, “So fucking wet for me, Hermosa. Didn’t realize you liked my hair that much.” 

“Oh shut up you goof, you know I- o-oh fuck-” You whimpered, Javi cutting off the rest of your sentence as the flat of his tongue dragged across your cunt, the suddent sensation making you gasp in delight, already playing in to Javi’s plan as your hand shot down to his head, digging your fingers into his messy hair. 

“Better hold on tight, querida. There’s a lot more where that came from.” Javi smirked, pulling away just enough to see the smug smile between his cheeks, peppering a few wet kisses on the inside of your thighs before his head was back between your legs, placing a soft kiss on your clit, already aching and throbbing for more of what you had just been promised. 

“Do your worst, Peña.” 

That one sent a low growl of approval humming through his chest, laughing to himself as his hands gripped tighter around your thighs, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your skin before another slow, broad stroke of his tongue was traveling through your folds. 

While you were truly convinced there wasn’t another man who loved going down on their wife more than your husband did, you could always tell when Javi wanted nothing more than to stay buried between your thighs, making you cum over and over until you were begging him to stop, lapping up every last drop of you until there was nothing left to give, and right now, you already knew Javi meant what he said when you were about to have to hold on for dear life. 

The hand buried in the dark waves of Javi’s hair only began to tug tighter as his tongue began to work meticulously across your cunt, pressing just enough pressure against your sensitive bundle of nerves to already have you a squirming, whimpering mess, but painstakingly slow enough to have you begging for more. 

“Javi… Oh, shit. Fuck, more baby, please. P-please.” You moaned, looking down at Javi with what you were already sure was a wrecked expression painted across your face. 

You could practically feel Javi’s smug smirk pressed against your cunt as he eased one, then two fingers into your aching core, curling them to bump against the spongy spot inside you that already had you fisting at the edge of the bathroom counter to try and keep your composure, and better yet, your voice down. 

“Oh my god, f-fuck. You feel so good, baby.” You moaned, feeling the strong arch of Javi’s nose bumping against your clit, placing a soft kiss there before the flat of his tongue licked another long, broad stroke across your cunt, putting just the right amount of pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers worked in tandem to send the sweet tingling sensation to start building in your spine. 

“Fuck, I love this perfect pussy so much. I still can’t believe she’s all fucking mine. My perfect fucking wife. Tell me, Hermosa, whose pussy is this?” Javi asked, pulling away for you to see your slick covering his mustache and the lustful look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, the quiet possessiveness of his tone making your cunt clench even tighter around his fingers as they continued to pulse in and out of you. 

“It’s y-yours, Javi, It’s all- fuck- It’s all yours.” You whined, your breath hitching in your throat as you spoke. 

“And who’s the only one who makes you feel like this, huh?” Javi tutted, sliding a third finger into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting making you let out a ragged whimper as you threw your head back in pleasure. 

“Y-you- Jesus- Y-you are, Javi.” 

“And who’s gonna be a good girl and soak my face when she cums for me?” 

“M-me.” 

“That’s fucking right, you are.” Javi growled before diving back between your legs, working his tongue relentlessly against your clit, circling and flicking in fast and firm motions as his fingers curled deeper into your core, eating you up like a man starved, desperate to make you fall apart. 

You could already feel the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten from the way Javi was working so relentlessly to make you come undone, drinking every ounce of you up as his lips latched around your sensitive bundle of nerves, making your back arch and mind go blank while that all too familiar tingle began to creep through your core, cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around him. 

At this point, your fingers were tugging so tightly around the soft, brown curls of his locks to try and hold yourself together, that you were convinced that you were close to pulling his hair out of his skull, but with the way you were on the brink of collapse from the way Javi’s mouth was working against your cunt, you almost didn’t have a choice. 

“Fuck, Javi. Oh shit- Baby, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” 

“I won’t stop, mi amor. Won’t stop until this pretty pussy fucking soaks me.” Javi mewled, peeking his head out from under you just enough so that his sweet, brown eyes were locked with yours, the hot words of his breath dancing against your pussy as his fingers continued to rock in and out of you. “I’ve got you, Osita. Promento. Damelo, bebita. (I promise. Give it to me, baby).” 

Before you could respond, your jaw dropped open and face scrunched in pleasure as Javi dove back in, burying his face in your cunt as each press of his tongue became more firm and precise than the last, feeling your pussy begin to flutter as you clutched tighter around the edge of the counter, trying to keep from screaming out in pleasure and raise any suspicion. But as your legs began to tremble and your heart race, teetering on the brink of collapse, it was taking every ounce of willpower you had left to make that happen.

“Fuck, Javi. Fuck, I- fuck- I’m gonna, I’m gonna-ahhhhhh.” You whimpered, feeling your orgasm crash through you, pleasure radiating in your veins as you fell apart, losing all inhibitions to keep yourself quiet as you threw your head back in all consuming bliss. With his fingers still buried in your cunt, gently working you through your high, Javi shot back up, his mouth engulfing yours in an electric kiss to try and capture your ragged moans that had been coating the walls of the bathroom, the tangy taste of you still lingering on his lips. 

Your heartbeat finally began to slow, your chest heaving in long, heavy breaths as you slumped into Javi, your head resting on his shoulder as your hands stayed buried deep in his hair, grasping onto his now sweat-dampened ends to try and pull yourself back down to reality.

After a few moments of letting you come to, Javi gently pulled out his fingers, all three drenched and glistening with your slick, pulling them out and bringing them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk of satisfaction on his face. 

“God, you taste so fucking sweet. You really weren’t kidding about the hair, huh Hermosa?” Javi chuckled, cupping your jaw to cradle your cheek with his broad palm, forcing your gaze up at him. 

“I told you.” You giggled softly, still trying to catch your breath as you smiled at him, pulling him in for another long, tender kiss. “Hottest looking Jonas Brother I’ve ever seen.” 

The two of you burst out into laughter, practically snorting at your comment, taking a second to compose yourselves as Javi crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes at you. 

“If that’s the fucking case, I’m getting out the clippers tonight.” 

“Not until you take me to bed and do this all again, you aren’t.” 

taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @pigeonmama @pedr0swh0r3

[spearxwind]

I’m just curious but do you have examples of good dragon anatomy in media? It’s ok if not or you don’t wanna share I’m just curious.

In media? whew, really hard to say. Often in media dragons will either have spoon wings (even if the rest of the dragon is good, like in hotd) or be shrinkwrapped :[

Toothless from httyd got it PRETTYYYYY CLOSE, the big wings dont go all the way down to the base BUT the secondary wings he has actually finish that part of the base and fill in that gap, and the fins on the tail tip are just so swag because they add lift to the tail tip as well

Saphira from the Eragon movie actually had GENUINELY TURBOSWAG wings!!! Like these are genuinely damn near perfect for the time. They're missing the wing slots on the tips BUT WE'LL ALLOW IT. Especially when these are so hard to make and back then especially

They could genuinely have more base to them, she does have a mild case of spoon wings but they are MUCH more proportionate than like... most others lmao.

uhhh uhhhh. I'm... actually REALLY struggling to think of basically any other media with good wings LMAO... the wing industry is in shambles. Most of the media with dragons in it has spoon wings (or worse). I feel like I've talked about one thing or another with good (or decent) wing anatomy but I cannot for the life of me remember anything right now.

Soooo...... to make up for that here's some BAD bad dragon anatomy in media:

From "dragons a fantasy made real". 1. what the fuck. 2. ???? i just dont know what to say its got it all. Shrinkwrapping, small spoon wings, nonsensical attachment to the back, etc. I love this movie to death but watching it when im older and Know Things is a curse

Dragonheart. I have not seen this movie but What The Fuck is going on there. Attach those wings son!!!! Theyre just flopping around!!!

Every single monster hunter monster with wings is uh. Very questionable. None of them have the patagium either which is A Crime. As much as I love the franchise TO DEATH the wings is something that irks me constantly lskdhsdfklj

They did actually do rathalos better for monster hunter world though! but its still got a bit of spoon wings. Its better, but still not very good

Malefor from spyro <3 what the fuck <3 we forgive him because its a stylized came but he's flying on sheer willpower those wings are doing nothing for him. Nor for every other dragon in the franchise

And last but certainly not least:

Why. Just why. That's not a wing anymore.

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

[apostaterevolutionary]

So. Veilguard impressions so far (I’m about 13.5 hours in). Most of these are mechanical as I don’t feel like I’ve gotten enough time with the companions/story to have many opinions on it, but I feel like I at least have some opinions worth noting lmao (mostly no spoilers but like. Maybe a little so read at your own discretion)

Things I like:

I’m honestly still shocked my computer can actually run it and overall very well too

Character creator is super detailed, I love that

I keep falling off of ledges lmfao so I’m glad there’s no penalty for that

You can pet all the cats and dogs!!!!!

Also love that there’s no carry weight to contend with but I still get to pick up a ton of random items. It satisfies by urge to pick up anything that isn’t nailed down. This is great, especially after bg3 sksks (which I also enjoy as a game but pls why does gold have weight 😭)

So far I like the new companions a lot and I do enjoy these early game little almost… domestic? Or just small scale? Quests you have with them? Idk I dig it. I wasn’t sure about the ‘bond’ thing at first but on further reflection I like that you can gain approval-equivalent just by bringing them along. Makes things easier

I don’t dislike the vibes tbh like I’ve seen people say ‘oh it’s too happy and positive’ and like. Okay yeah 2 of the 3 companions you recruit early on are very bubbly but we also got blight horror all over the place so idk, maybe this is a complaint I’ll understand later but right now I don’t agree with it

Oh and I love the lantern system for when companions have dialogue - it’s a clever way of signifying when they’re all in different buildings

Things I don’t like:

I kinda get what people are saying about the handholding. Why do I need a little tip to tell me ‘[companion] has noted that you told them [thing you just said]’ 😭

Also while the new companions are fun, I do think Harding got hit pretty hard with ‘previous game lore dump’ duty cause damn. Admittedly I don’t remember her personality in inquisition super well but a lot of her dialogue just feels. Off in that way. I get it was necessary to do it somehow but. Oof. I feel bad for her cause it makes me less interested in her 😔

This is minor but I don’t like how when you load a save, it’s not actually where you saved. It’s at the last fast travel point. So it’s like. I found this hard-to-find spot last night. Saved. Planned to continue the quest the next day. Except! I have to find the spot again! And I forgot where it was! Why!!! This is absolutely a remnant of when it was a live service game but woof, why keep that in

Also bringing back the 100 save limit - actual worst feature of inquisition, why the hell would they keep it 💀 if anyone knows a mod to fix this, pls let me know, I need to have like 800 saves per run or I’ll die okay

And this is the big one tbh. I’m sorry but I really don’t like the combat 😶 like. Every boss fight is just the arishok fight except with help. Getting Lucanis has given some improvement cause now there’s at least another melee target on the field but at this point, I’m looking for a stealth option on that giant skill tree (why is it so big! I have no idea what I’m doing with it!!!) so I can go full skyrim (stealth archer) lmao. I’m hoping when I actually get to recruit a warrior (why is this the last class you get, that feels backwards), it’ll get more playable cause I’ll actually have a tank. Right now I just cannot understand why everyone says this is fun, I have had pretty much no fun in any of the fights (I’m becoming the person I was poking fun at before when I said it’s weird to play games if you don’t like half of it skskdk. Also ngl I would not be powering through if this were not a game I already had a vested interest in). Also how did anyone play a mage and make it through the first 10 hours, like I have NO idea. I’m very glad I didn’t, it’s hard enough with a rogue

Neutral observations/thoughts:

I’ve decided to play rook as like. A discount version of hawke? Cause I feel like that’s the kind of person varric would seek out, like a spark of the familiar is what drew Varric to them. And that’s adding a bit of fun headcanon flavour

(Also I have some suspicions that things are not as they seem with Varric but. We’ll see on that I suppose)

Also it’s funny cause I’ve always been a Solas neutral person (like him well enough but never understood why he was such a big deal to either the lovers or the haters). But I do find him more annoying here lmao. Maybe cause I’m rping too hard and Rook finds him annoying but I just think it’s funny

Also genuinely could not imagine this being someone’s first DA game sksks they are going to have no idea what’s going on lore-wise

[moon-buggg]

Outside perspective

a bit of a look into how the townsfolk view YN and their curious new companions. I... may have gone a bit overboard with making it read like a classic gothic horror story lmao. eventually I will get an ao3 account up and running and start posting these there.... someday

word count: 1113

content warnings: brief mentions of grave robbing, Sun and Moon are referred to as 'it' by the narrator who doesn't know them

I do not know what drives a man to madness, what seed of evil must be planted to allow one to turn his back against all that is right and moral. Men far smarter than I have argued since time immemorial over the root cause of evil; whether it is some inborn trait, a dark miasma that consumes one whole, the work of devils, or simply the nature of free will. I know not from which deep recess of hell such wickedness sprung forth, but I know that I have seen its face. It is a face that haunts my dreams- my very being. A face that looms over the night and seeks to destroy all that righteous men hold dear. A face that is impossible to forget. A face I cannot possibly begin to describe here, for fear of calling it forth to haunt me further.

Should such evils have a singular origin, it is whatever dark corner spawned that wretched doctor. 

I still remember the fateful day they first appeared like a grim specter over our small village. The veritable calm before the storm. It had been raining heavily for several days, the roads transformed into a dense mud that threatened to consume any unlucky enough to be forced out of shelter. That day the rain had given way to a cloying fog, out from which stepped a stranger, cloaked in what might have once been a pristine white coat but was currently stained with the evidence of their struggle with the muddy roads.

I wish I could say I had sensed something was wrong the moment they stepped foot into my tavern, but truthfully I had felt sorry for the wet, muddy thing slumped over my counter looking for a hot meal. I know now the error I made welcoming them not only into my establishment but our town.

They were moving into the old manor in the woods, and, unable to locate it in the fog, had resigned to seeking warm shelter and a meal, both of which I was readily able to provide. They avoided talking about themself as much as possible, simply stating that they had business which was to be tended to alone. I assumed they were a melancholic artist or poet looking to escape the woes of city life. It was not until much later I learned they were a doctor, of all things.

They did not leave their name.

Fed, rested, and provided with the best directions I could manage, the stranger was gone. I had tried to offer them board for the night seeing as the rain was picking up again and was sure to make their trek all the more difficult, but they were adamant they did not mind the weather and would rather settle in sooner than later.

I was left with the distinct impression they were an odd sort, an eccentric type, but largely put the stranger out of my mind. Little did I know at the time what would come of that fateful meeting.

Soon enough, a routine was formed. The first of every month the doctor would emerge from their isolation, buy barely enough food to last one person a month, and pick up an order of all manner of strange tools and supplies imported on their order from the grocer, purchase one sweet pastry from the baker, and return on their lonesome to the woods.

No one has ever seen them in town on any other occasion, for any other reason.

No one has ever seen who digs up the graves, no matter how many souls take watch over the graveyard.

So, needless to say, people were unsettled when this familiar routine was so completely altered one spring morning. When on their monthly entrance into town they were shadowed by two towering automatons. The metal jesters, for they were curiously fashioned after circus clowns, followed after their master like loyal dogs.

The first, whose face was fashioned after the sun with large bronze rays that reflect the early morning light in pale imitation of the real sun, moved most jovially down the street, practically bouncing with each step in a manner most discordant with the confusion and dread slowly spreading amongst the townsfolk. As if for an invisible crowd, every movement was performed. For what reason had the doctor fashioned such strange creations, and what fresh terror would they unleash upon our town? It strayed from its companions as the group continued into town, moving its face as if taking in the streets for the first time, its face an unnerving grim permanently etched into painted porcelain. Though uncanny in face and movements, this first jester seemed almost welcoming when compared to its twin.

As if a dark mirror to its solar companion, the second automaton seemed to soak up shadows like the night itself. It hovered just behind the doctor, its face a tragedy mask warped into lunar shape. Rather unlike its brother, this jester seemed to take no interest in observing the town, simply following its master with movements far too fluid and precise to be of man. Whenever a concerned bystander would stare too long or stray too close, the lunar automaton would, without a face capable of expression, turn and stare at the offending party, leaving the distinct impression that it was glowering at you. A most unnerving effect best compared to an overzealous guard dog.

I watched as the trio disappeared into the store, and, as if the spell keeping me in place was broken, remembered my purpose in being out so early. I could not linger and gawk at the mad doctor and their metal entourage any longer, though I was later told by the grocer that the solar automaton was quite chatty. I went about my day, resigned to putting the strange occurrence out of my mind until late at night, when solitude and darkness draw out the shadows of one's mind.

I could not help but ponder the nature of these frighteningly human automatons, and I am sure many of my peers laid away doing the same.

Bodies are going missing, that is the only thing we know for certain, and it only started once that doctor came to town. No one knows what they do sequestered in their manor, isolated in the woods, until suddenly they appear with strange creations that move and talk in a pale imitation of man. Laying awake, staring at my ceiling and overcome with a dread that seeped into my very bones, the nature of these beings haunting me. What wicked deeds mar their creation, what secrets are hidden in their metal exteriors.

[seventeenpins]

take me higher

pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: You run into an ex at a party. You never learn.

content/warnings: weed use, dubcon (if you want? read it however you prefer), Lucien's a selfish lover and a fuckboy, shotgunning, fellatio, getting too high, a complicated and undefined relationship

a/n: Turns out I am not immune to Lucien Flores. Wanted to make him hot, but a fuckboy asshole, and definitely a mistake. Whenever The Uninvited is released, I cannot wait to see how off or on the mark we've been for these characterisations lmao. This was written quickly, now i'm posting and bouncing for a few hrs. Hope there are no major errors 😅

If you're honest, you can't remember how you ended up here.

You remember the party. Some of the party? And you went--somewhere. You're not sure, but you think you were on his lap for a while, but your limbs went away. Maybe you slid down? Now you're on the floor. This is probably the floor.

Your head is foggy, and peeling open your eyelids takes more effort than it should, but when you hear the bubbling of a bong, you turn your head lazily to look at him.

Lucien.

Fucking Lucien.

"Open that pretty mouth," he runs his thumb over your lips and presses it just between your teeth, making a satisfied mmm. "Love lookin' at those gorgeous lips."

His hand traces along your jaw, holding you now by the back of your head. Your lips are guided to forward and you forget where you are for a moment. You expect to feel flesh. Instead, when your mouth presses against something, it's cool glass. The bong. You had heard bong noises. By muscle memory, you reach forward as if to light it. Then you realise, it's already been lit and filled, the chamber already swirling with thick white smoke.

It's a ridiculous bong. Bright and gaudy, just like his ridiculous silk shirt. The piece is probably hand-blown. Artisan crafted. Almost certainly cost a fortune.

You want it.

Maybe, depending on however long your relationship lasts this time, you can get him to buy you one. Or you can just steal his.

Without any more direction, you start the inhale, trying to keep the breath smooth.

"That's it, now. Take it slow. Just a little more-"

You clear it.

Just as you're about to exhale- "Good girl. Hold it there, baby. Don't you dare let it out yet."

He leans himself down and pulls you up. Parts his lips, your mouths so close they're almost touching.

"Let it go-" he commands, and you do, breathing the smoke out and into his mouth.

He holds the smoke for a moment himself. Then blows it back out, letting it waft up into the atmosphere.

Or, towards the ceiling?

You're actually not sure if you're inside or out.

"One more, baby, you can do one more for me," he coos as he prods the end of the lighter into the bowl, packs the greens again, re-ignites.

You don't know how many hits you've had. It feels like you've been smoking for hours. Your limbs are all gooey and loose, your head dense and unfocused. You can tell your heart's racing, but it's kind of a comfort. A consistent tattoo that you can ground yourself with.

You're dazed, happy, pliable.

"Open up," he orders, and you comply, pressing your lips against the mouthpiece again.

This hit is a little harsher, closer to the end of the bowl.

You try to do it right, try to breathe out slowly and gently, let the smoke pass right into his mouth. Instead, you erupt in a fit of coughs and you feel a hand on your back, rubbing up and down in gentle circles.

"Oh, you poor thing," he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. "That hit too rough for you?"

You can feel tears in your eyes from the tickle that's still in your throat. Then, a thumb brushes them away.

"I remember you right, though, you always did like it a little rough, didn't you?"

You want to respond, want to say something to him, but instead you just nod.

"Poor girl, so stupid she can't even talk," he mocks, "That's okay baby, we don't wanna make that throat too sore, do we? Ain't been used enough to tap out already, huh?"

It takes effort, but you shake your head in agreement.

"Are you tired, sweetheart? You can rest your head, if you need. Just for a minute."

You're not sure if you move, or if he pulls you, but now you're closer to him, tilting forward, resting your head on-

What are you resting your head on?

Oh.

Oh.

Your head is in his lap, his cock hard in his pants.

Any dry mouth you'd been feeling a moment ago disappears. You start salivating.

Unthinking, you press your tongue hard against the inside of your cheek. Given the way he groans, he definitely felt that.

You do it again, tentative, testing.

"Shit, baby-," his breaths sound more like shudders and you love how pathetic he sounds. "Need your mouth on me right fuckin' now."

You rock back and give him space as his hands work furiously at his fly, unbuttoning the waistband and pulling the zipper down with a satisfying swish. Hitches up his hips. Pulls his pants off.

He isn't wearing any underwear. Then you remember it's Lucien; it would've been more surprising if he had been.

He's still got his silk shirt, but it's open now. His chest is exposed, delicate chains glinting against his freckled collarbone.

His cock is heavy, thick against your cheek.

"Open up, baby, put that mouth on me."

You pull yourself up, still foggy, and run a wide lick along his length, ending at his tip. He's salty, musky, delicious. You've missed how he tastes. It's like coming home.

He seems to feel the same way.

"Missed that sweet mouth on me, baby," he groans, and holds himself by the base, smacking his cock head against your lips.

Slick has striped across your mouth and you dart your tongue out to lick your lips clean. He growls, watching you. Takes you by the back of the head again, guiding your open mouth to stretch around his fat length.

"That's it," he praises, rocking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper, "Look at you all stuffed full of me."

You start to gag but he pulls back, just the littlest bit. "Know you can do better than that," he admonishes, "Better try again."

He adjusts his angle just a little and starts thrusting into your open mouth again. The angle is better.

"Good girl," he breathes, letting each word be punctuated with a thrust, "My good- fucking- girl-"

You're able to take him to the base, throat full, nose pressed against the coarse hair between his thighs.

Mmmm. His thighs.

You can feel yourself drifting, losing focus. You're encased in him.

His thighs.

Soft and hairy and buttery-smooth, you stroke your fingertips along the insides of his thighs and let him fuck up into your throat.

Does he have a skincare routine for his thighs? You wish your thighs felt like his. Fuck.

A sharp smack lands on your cheek.

"Stay with me now," he tells you, "Back to work."

You realise you'd been slacking, your mouth still filled with cock, but he's not in your throat anymore. You're not doing your best work. You can do better.

You grab onto his hips and, to his surprise, set a new pace.

It's punishing.

Tears start spilling from your eyes, running down your cheeks and landing on his thighs.

You blow him like it's the only thing you were made to do. You want your mouth to be the best hole. Better than your pussy. Better than your asshole.

A mind-blowing hole that he'll want to use again and again.

A hole he won't leave.

You feel his balls start to tighten as he gets closer, and you keep moving on him, bobbing up and down, fucking his length with your throat so fucking expertly you should get a dick-sucking medal.

"I'm nearly there, baby," he gasps out, "Wanna cum on those pretty lil tits."

He pulls you off of him and yanks down your top. It's a blouse, one of your favourites, actually.

It's about to get stained.

You don't stop him.

He strokes himself once, twice- then lets go. He shakes, moans. Cum splatters across your tits, along your neck, a few spatters landing along your jaw and chin.

Lucien steps back to admire his work. The almost-pearlescent sheen of his spend glistening across you.

"Even better than I remembered," he smiles, and kisses you, not bothered to avoid the cum on your face.

The high has started to fade, just a little.

He pulls his pants back on. Buttons his shirt. Cards a hand through his hair.

"Better get cleaned up before you head back in," he grins, "Don't want everyone to know what we got up to, huh?"

You're still foggy, but you shake your head.

Lucien disappears. You wait for a minute, hoping he might come back with a washcloth for you.

He doesn't emerge.

You find a place to clean yourself.

You're in the garage, you realise. Must have been this whole time. But facing the open door, towards the trees and the night.

There's a sink and a towel near the door to the house. Hoping desperately that no one will try to come through the door, you wipe his cum off of your chest.

The blouse is stained, but there's a jacket on the chair you were near. You shrug it on.

The party, you discover, is still in full swing.

The head fog, the daze, the confusion, it's hard to cut through, but when you find everyone else, you see Lucien, drink in hand, flirting with a pretty young thing over in the corner.

He turns ever so slightly, catches your eye, and winks.

You realise how fucking wet you are, head swimming, panties drenched, and you hate how easy this is for him. That he can just walk away. Doesn't feel any need to satisfy you the way you always want to satisfy him.

He's a mistake you know you'll make again.

Time to leave, you decide. You call a lyft. Find a mirror to make yourself somewhat presentable.

You exit through the garage. His bong still there.

You take it with you on your way out.

[bonefall]

Golfy is literally one of my favorite cats of all time and I adore the way you’ve characterized her!! Any fun tidbits to share? I want to know more about the woman

There's a sketch of her floating around if you want to go on a treasure hunt! I don't have time to look for it right now (I am currently in the trunk of a clown car), but I've actually drawn a beta of her design and her big mane

Also note: BB!Goldenflower is part of the Doekin line. Speckletail's perception of herself and her family is tied strongly to being Doestar's niece. This association dies out with Thornclaw in BB!OotS as he's the last one to strongly value this legacy.

Golfy's mane is so poofy, unmanageabley poofy. She keeps it braided

Lionheart just surrendered to entrophy on that one lmao. "Dirt happens."

It's my little way of trying to show the difference between the siblings.

They're both proud and honorable, but Lionheart is more calm and patient. He's a Que Sera Sera kind of guy.

Goldenflower is more fond of the expression, "Fortune favors the prepared."

Note to self: Clanmewnize these expressions. Que Sera Sera is notably quite RiverClannish... Golfy's phrase is definitely from early ThunderClan

Not to get too distracted but I recently got this FANTASTIC idea for how to close out Book 3 of BB!DOTC on a bittersweet note, involving The First Boarhunt and Clear Sky being delightfully devious as always. Maybe it would be cool to put that phrase there... anyway.

She had three siblings total, Lionheart, Mistleclaw, and Snowkit. It's really difficult being the last one; family was extremely important to her.

Mistleclaw wasn't even a year out of apprenticeship; you're really considered an ADULT adult after being on your own for a year. Losing her was like losing a sibling who's college-aged. That was to the plague, before Firestar's arrival.

Smallear was openly the father of all four of them, but Goldenflower hesitates to call him Ba. Him and Speckletail had a really toxic on-again off-again thing.

Smallear was closest to Mistleclaw, who coincidentally looked the most like him. Goldenflower is like... "yeah thats what i expected of him, that fish-eared loser"

She's biased in favor of her mother though. Lionheart was more chill with Smallear; not CLOSE but, neutral-positive.

It wasn't entirely Smallear's fault that the relationship kept falling apart though, to be clear. I use toxic in this use very much on purpose, it wasn't abuse, they really cannot get along.

So when Goldenflower eventually picked a mate, she REALLY just wanted a stable lifepartner that would not be like that.

I would describe her relationship with Tigerclaw more in the terms of an "arrangement." Fishing for romantic information from her is VERY funny because she just like. Doesn't "get" romance.

Brambleclaw: "Mom... what did you... like about dad?"

"He was large, we were both very large. And he was a responsible warrior, respected and ambitious. Well... at the time we believed that. And he spoke with great confidence. He had a way of making you feel like you were both safe and powerful by his side."

It will not even click for her that most people don't open the answer to "why did you love x" with "he was tall like me"

(VINE BOOM AROACE FLAG)

She wanted kits and a partner. She doesn't regret the relationship, she regrets what he made her believe.

On Tigerclaw's end, it was mutual. They both liked each other as trusted Clanmates. He was attracted to her and reciprocated when she proposed a mateship, but I don't think he ever really got over Spottedleaf romantically.

Plus, getting into this family was a smart political move. Having Speckletail's approval was VERY useful.

I might stick Goldenflower as Head of Hunting through TNP to early Po3, until she trains a successor, since there's no rush. I have an allegiance list floating around but I can't remember off the top of my head if she's where she should be

She's actually super disappointed in Tawnypelt for her choice. I don't think they ever reconcile this, they're both too proud

So she's kinda iffy on that alliance with ShadowClan. Not to the point of spite, but she does easily believe stereotypes about them.

"A bunch of holdouts of TigerClan and duplicitous fiends over there."

Both Golfy and Tawnp miss each other a lot, but again. Neither one is going to apologize to the other or say the other was even slightly correct.

And Golfy wouldn't accept it if Tawnp even did. She made her choice. They're in different Clans now. She chose her father, who killed Swiftpaw and Lionheart.

And for that, Golfy will not forgive her.

If they ended up in a battle, neither would hold back. They both know this.

I'm really fond of her. She really is Speckletail's daughter and the whole family has a special flavor of pain and pride.

[writtenicarus]

AFTG Headcanon Series [2] Neil

part 1, part 2, part 3

So we all know that Neil and Mary would sleep with their backs to one another, right? Well from this I like to interpret as one of the main ways Neil likes to feel safe is by being held

Not because Mary held Neil, because she didn't, but because he was always so close to her every night and after years of pain not once did she turn to face him and hold him, and now he was in a safe environment, he ached to be held

Of course, when Andrew finds out about this, he is more than happy to hold him when he can and feels comfortable to do so

Neil doesn't share Andrew's love for ice cream. However, it's Kevin who introduced him to the world of sorbet. His favourite is raspberry.

Neil likes to play with fashion. Growing up clothes never had any gender, they wore what they found. Imagine Neil in neon tops and long, flowy skirts

HE LOVES TEA. HE CHANNELS HIS INNER BRITISH GENES OKAY? STUART SENDS HIM BOXES OF YORKSHIRE TEABAGS (im projecting again my bad)

Him and Allison go on weekly lunch dates every Saturday to catch up and gossip with one another, at first Neil is reluctant but he eventually loves them

Kevin comes to him whenever he's feeling anxious or upset

Has a really strong relationship with Jean after the Nest, they often call and text each other and love seeing each other at games, banquets etc

I'm sorry but I have always seen his hair as GINGER as in ORANGE not Auburn, he has ORANGE HAIR YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ITS JUST BRIGHT AND COLOURFUL LIKE HIS EYES

Cannot drink any form of soda/fizzy drinks or juice unless it's HEAVILY DILUTED. He actually recoils and squints. He hates it.

Uses he/him pronouns but doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He only started thinking about it when he discovered people can identify however they want to. But when he's asked what people should refer to him as, he just says he doesn't care (he would prefer if you didn't refer to him at all)

You may think Neil is the one doing all the rambling? You're wrong. Apart from exy, Neil is a listener. He grew up being quiet all the time and sometimes going days without uttering a word. It's Andrew who rambles to him about his day, his hobbies, a bird he saw on the way home etc. Neil smiles, nods, and tries to remember every word

Ends up having loads of fidgets and little things to play with on a lanyard he uses in class because he just has to be doing something. Whenever he's in an open environment he has to be moving constantly

Jumps when the toaster goes off every fucking time lmao

Does maths for fun?! What a weirdo but he definitely likes how organised and calm writing out all the steps makes him feel

Can do that weird thing where you make your tongue into like a flower shape

Wherever he is his laptop is not far behind. That kid always has it on him and is almost always using it for something whether it be studying or watching exy reruns

Gets lots of piercings!! It's how he starts reclaiming his body whilst also playing it safe with the FBI

Had the softest most beautiful most gorgeous most oh my god did you hear that? Laugh ever.

I'm telling you his laugh is just genuinely so elating that it makes everyone around him feel at ease

Just generally the type of person you can be around and never feel uncomfortable, Neil always likes to make sure people feel safe around him. Not that he tries really hard to find out what people do and don't like, but he's so calm and passive he never does anything to push anyone anyways

ABSOLUTE BADASS some of the things he mutters under his breath are so fucking funny it's shocking sometimes

Overall, just an amazing human.

But he could kill you. Remember that.

[yonemurishiroku]

(tags via @smartichokes) In light of new addition to my Luke & Nico replacement post, I have so much to say about this.

Firstly, there is a fanfic in which Kronos switched to Nico as his host halfway through the series. I said fic, Nico went to Tartarus wayyyyy sooner than he should (which is sometime right after TTC I think?), and got captured by Kronos' force. The Titan considered seizing him, so Luke left the Titan Army and returned to the light side.

With that being said, the Nico in said fic didn't become the host, as Luke (and Ethan) got him out before the taking-over.

In another fic, which is about Nico's apotheosis, It is established that Kronos has been taunting Hades to become his host since he is his eldest child, and as a result, Nico would suffer the same fate should he become a God. Nico didn't, of course, but we can see that he can be a great candidate for the position of Kronos’ host Due to the potential he possesses as a child of Hades. I have talked so much about how powerful he is so I suppose this goes without saying.

On the other hand, the child of the prophecy was supposed to be the son of an eldest god, so let's imagine: Nico is a child of an elder god and now is basically One of the main factors that dictate their fate being the central of Kronos' power. Can you imagine the thrill of having both the antagonist and the protagonist a child of the big three, knowing both of them have the power to change the flow of the story? Nico might as well be the child of the prophecy and now he is in the hands of the big bad villain? Who is to say he wouldn't choose to raze the Olympic to the ground? Please, I cannot be the only one seeing the thrill of second-guessing yourself and watching Percy second-guessing himself, page by page.

Back to our AU.

- Absolutely invested in Nico with Kronos' golden eyes.

- Idk if you have noticed, but there are a number of people who would very much be delighted to see Nico joining the Titan Army - so that's a plus. Though we haven't thought as far as putting him directly in Luke's place, this is such a fun territory to play with.

On the other hand, we should have thought about that lmao what's with Minos having done exactly like this in the canon. The King did manipulate Nico in order to accelerate his uprising (tho Rick wasn't unhinged enough to give the Underworld ghosts the benefit of possessing living things except for the eidolons).

Minos failed ofc. But surely the scenario is there. Furthermore, a big reason that hindered Minos was Nico's true control over him, which returned to him upon his enlightenment, thus breaking the fake power balance. But Nico didn't have any control over Kronos. Once he's in, there's no way out. Kronos is on another level compared to Minos. Luke had one way out and that was his death. Who to say the arms of Hades wouldn't be Nico's ending should he succumb to Kronos anw.

- I like the way you mention Percy - because as it turns out, Nico can perfectly mirror Luke regarding how Percy's fatal flaw is portrayed.

Percy's fatal flaw can be summed up in one sentence - "You would sacrifice the world to save a friend". Now, for Luke, it was thanks to the guy's friendly facade at the start that Percy had trouble deeming him as the enemy at first. For Nico, that's a little different. It's not friendship - bc surely Percy didn't consider 'friend' at that time. So what could it be?

The guilt. And the Loyalty from which it sprouted.

But loyalty to what?

To Bianca's promise.

And this varies between perspectives, but I suspect this can be much, much worse than what transpired with Luke if you know how to play it right. Why? Because it weighs on Percy's kindness, his conscience, his loyalty, his morals. It feels heavier. For Luke, it was a personal betrayal. For Nico, it would be a repeated failure that resulted in two deaths.

And I doubt Percy is fond of failures and deaths.

Do you know the saying that we tend to remember bad things rather than good memories? That. Failures stuck with us, whilst success paled in comparison (Not to mention the vague depiction of Percy's lost self-esteem, but I digress).

For Luke, it might be easier: the guy's now an enemy, Percy just had to put him down - straight and clear. For Nico, it's a little bit different. The kid's obviously an enemy - but he's also that: a kid. Whose sister died in front of Percy, whom he blamed still. You can tell that the setup itself might make it harder for Percy to just straight-up consider Nico an enemy - because as it was, Nico could very well be a victim of Percy's broken promise. Percy is half a reason he fell into the hands of Kronos - as you've said.

And Percy isn't evil. He's a protagonist and he's kind. His morals would prevent him from seeing Nico as an enemy that must be taken out - not before trying restlessly to bring the kid back.

- Percy aside, Hades’ support - and all the little benefits gained from Nico's side quest - should also be taken into account. Without Nico, there wouldn't be the Curse of Achilles. Without Nico, there would be no undead army rushing to save them in the last minute in the last Olympian, but rather a flock of unbeatable enemies that would persist like Nico’s grief for Bianca.

I wouldn't say that guarantees their failure but you have to admit that it would make things hella more difficult for them to win this war.

So that is for the advantages. Now let's talk about the drawbacks. Because obviously things wouldn't be so fun if everything goes that smoothly. 👍

The most noticeable difference between Luke and Nico is their ages, and further, their experiences. At the time he was chosen, Luke has lived until his 17, 18 as a demigod, has seen the mythological world more than Nico ever did. He would know better how to navigate the system, which would benefit Kronos more than a clueless Nico. You can argue that Kronos can properly train him as Minos did, but the fact remains that Luke has experiences that can only be gained through living, aging, and seeing.

On the same topic, after losing his sister, Nico was just a rage-driven, angry, lost 11-12-year-old kid. He could barely take care of himself. He obviously cannot govern and command an entire army. Luke, on the other hand, has many skills required to be a leader. I have talked about this once. He has the tongue, he has his charms, he's manipulative enough. As a tool and a weapon, Luke proves to be a better choice to be the pioneer of Kronos' revolution.

Of course, unless you need a puppet, in which case Nico proves to be a better choice. He was naive .he didn't know better. Luke try to resist because he saw how devastating his actions were/ would be. It should be much easier to fool a kid like Nico rather than an adult, thus limiting the chances of rebuke. I cannot recall exactly what Kronos was trying to do though, so I'll just leave this here.

The best method is of course to keep Luke while getting Nico ready, however, it would put kronos plans back a few years and I'm not really sure the guy would be that patient provided that he has been waiting thousand years to make a come back. So we will just leave it like that.

All in all, it's fun to think about a scenario in which the one whose contribution directly leads to their victory in the original series now becomes the main antagonist, the main reason they will likely fail. Thank you @smartichokes for the delightful idea!! 🥺🥺🥺

[nicegaai]

im attempting my fic reread today. im announcing this bc i will be liveblogging to keep my morale up, NOT THAT anyone cares but i personally need this, like ill only commit to do the thing if theres an imaginary audience holding me accountable. & i like to have fun :3

anyway. captains log, its a beautiful sunny july weekend. i just finished my morning coffee, and, i am dreading this so much. i dont like rereading my own writing but i shall get over it. ok here we go.

Þetta Reddast vagueblogged directors commentary edition

Ch 1:

*opens fic and starts convulsing immediately* god i wish i smoked weed rn. i cannot chill out ever for the life of me

My Mission For Today Is: to remember what plot threads I’ve left hanging so I can resolve this story properly. And also try n remember where the flow is going. I have the end plotted out, I just am a little lost … it’s been a while :-(

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

Abrupt beginning!!!! I’m not mad because I have . I HAD. Almost no writing experience when I started this. it isn’t ideal but I refuse to be one of those fanfic writers that starts rewriting early chapters without finishing the last ones. Ive never seen one of those types actually finish a longfic. …I’d already rather yap than actually read LMAO AHH

Oh this is worse than I remember. thats cool that s great ok alright *coughs up blood*

"20 somethings" WOW I really did not know where I was going with this when I started huh

LKJSDLKSJDLGKGDJSLDGJK ??? Who authorized this. Who let me cook. What the hell

I could write this better now. I could edit this into something beautiful. <- devil on my shoulder

FORGOT I WAS MAKING RICE BRB

"generously offered nothing to the exchange." wait STOPPPP. I’m so funny

GRAMMAR ERROR DETECTED why is there two periods. I’ll be coming back to fix that …………………. :-(((

Fuck. This is a lot. Marge Simpson Hiding Her Face dot Png

Oh this is stupid this is gayyy this is fukcinnn . Who fucking did t his. What was wrong with me,. This is so good actually. what was i ONNNN. 

Im gonna throw up and I don’t know if thats like/. A complimentary thing or if im just cringing that hard . Im feeling emotions. I love my OTPs..OT3~5? I love them so so much

Ok as much as im like “eww bad writing” this is .. dare I say, rly good in places. Not to suck my own dick but maybe all hope isnt lost and imposter syndrome is an illusion

Grammar mistake #2. Goddddddd. they should ban me from the archive for this

EMILLLLL EMIL EMIL EMIL HIIIIII BABYYYY EMILLL I LOVE UUUU AWWHUUGHH everyone clap for my bewoved baby bruvver right FUCKING now

Urghhh gritting my teeth… Im fully expecting the flow of events to start not making any gd sense. There’s no way this came together the way I hoped in my head and .... For real I was never able to read this all the way thru. this is my first time, lol. and it was all disjointed on the authorial end to say the least. Im scared T-T

Jlxjvklsdkjfsjlkdkjlsjklkljzsdkjlgaskljdgjklasljkgdljkasljkdgjklasjlkdgljkaskljdgjakl?????????? 

Im not liking the ratio of dialogue to whatever the other stuff is. scene-setting I guess. prose maybe. i could have dragged this out way longer... By which I mean made it a more satisfying read. But WHATEVER !!!! 

TIMO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIMOOOOOOOOOO NUMERO UNOOOO DO MUNDOOOOOO I really need to utilize him more. As soon as I finish this fic I need to write a Timo POV spinoff where he gets cancelled on furry twitter for proshipping in real life

Hmmmm chapter ending didn’t hit as hard in practice as it did in drafts. Oh well. God damn that was a lot to happen in one chapter LMAOO???

OH SHIT MY RICE IS STILL COOKING —— 

[nkirukaj]

Word Count: 307

Title: Deerly Beloved

No Summary because I want you all to be confused lmao

“I don’t know, I just thought you would want to see her!”

“She doesn’t even remember me! And even if she did, she’d see me down here and wonder why, and then I’d have to explain why. To tell her all the things I’ve done. I want her to remember me as her little boy, not the monster I’ve become.”

“Well, I’m sorry! I didn’t think about that!”

“I know you didn’t! You always act without thinking!” He turns around, steaming

“I know…” she says softly “I’m sorry. Do you still love me?”

Alastor glances back over his shoulder softly. He turns to face her and cups her chin “How could I not?” She leans into his palm and he gazes at her softly “You’re an angel now,” she nods “You’re my angel.” Alastor’s expression turns angry

“What’s wrong?”

“I refuse to let them have you,”

“What?”

Alastor pulls his wife close to his body “They cannot have you. I do hope you enjoyed your time in heaven. You’ll never see it again,” he tilts her head up and slides his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with a fervor like a starving man eating his first meal in decades. “You are my wife. You are mine for eternity. I will not let you go. If they want you they’ll have to go through me. I will slaughter any demons or angels that think they can keep you from me. You may be an angel, but where you belong is in my arms.”

She stares up at him “I want you so bad right now.” Voe lunges at her husband, who catches her and embraces her with his arms and his lips.

“You… you are going to be the death of me. You know that, darling?”

“Well you’re already dead, so no need to worry about that,”

@man--eater @starlightsacrifice @beezkkos-number1 @michaelasworlds-blog

[luffysprincess]

Helloooooo Amira my princess! I am here to play your game if that’s alright?

For Kiribakumarq?

Three fun facts:

Eiji can instantly make me laugh no matter what by doing a near perfect Swedish chef from the muppets impersonation.

To relax, Katsu likes to rake his fingers through Eiji’s long hair. It’s like petting a cat to him I guess lol.

I’ve trained our dog Rex to greet the boys at the door by Giving them high fives. They cannot enter the house until they high five the dog.

Umm three things I love about me? Blahhhhhh ok

My humor. I’m funny as fuck.

My dimples. They are my favorite thing about me.

My fashion sense. My outfits slay. Daily. Lmao

OK BYE LOVE YOUUUU💖💖

a/n: text is color coded (sorry) and bolded for an easier reading experience (bc i was too lazy to properly write the dialogue)

“Before we start, I want to remind you two, Bakugo especially, that prior to this you signed a contract to not harm the interviewer, correct?”

“Great!,” the interviewer continues with a grin after seeing both heads nod in agreeance. “So first question: Who loves Marquie more?”

“THIS FUCKING BITC–”

“ –Woah hold it Kats,” Kirishima grits through his teeth, using his strength to pull Bakugo back down to his seat. “Keep it cool, man. It was probably meant as a joke.”

“Well…”

“Shut up. We both love Marquie equally.”

“Yeah, we used to fight about it in the beginning of our relationship, but we realized we’re both too whipped for her to care about fighting about it.”

“That’s sweet! What a lucky woman.”

“I’d say we’re,” Kirishima points his finger between him and Bakugo, “the lucky ones.”

“Hard agree, I’m jealous–”

“What? You better not make any moves on my woman.”

“Our woman, Kats.”

“Right.”

“–Anyways, next question: What do you love about her the most?”

“Oh I can go on and on about her. First, have you seen her smile? She’s got the cutest dimples. And when she wears glasses I just wanna kiss her so hard. Then there’s the way she bosses people around when she needs to. But she’s also so kind and warm–”

“He’s gonna talk your ear off for an hour. So I’ll keep it short. There’s really no one else like her. She’s got it all, looks, humor, strength, ass–”

“Wait sorry did you say ‘sass’ or ‘ass’ at the end there?”

“Both,” Bakugo smirks.

“Kirishima, are you with us?”

“Huh–oh sorry! I started thinking about her and got distracted ha ha.”

“Does that ever happen when you two are on patrol or fighting a villain?”

“Only a couple times”

“For who?”

“For the both of us.”

“Would you care to elaborate? When did this happen? Give us details!”

“It happened to me while I was patrolling. Was supposed to be walking around the Nakagin Capsule Tower but I saw a little girl dressed in a sunflower dress and I couldn’t help but think of Marquie, or rather a future with her. Found myself subconsciously walking to the flower shop four blocks down to buy her some flowers for when I returned home to her.”

“Aww did some baby making happen that night?”

“None of your damn business,” he replied. Meanwhile Kirishima had discreetly nodded his head yes.

“And what about you Kirishima?”

“For me, it happened when I was fighting that one ice villain. That battle took place in the mall, if you remember, and I happened to see a lingerie ad. Now those don’t affect me but then I started thinking about Marquie in that–I know, so not manly– but next thing I knew I was frozen in a block of ice.”

“You’re missing the best part of the story.”

“What part?”

“When they found him in the ice block, he still had an erection.”

[donnabenevientosimpingzone]

Complex feelings and absolute pandemonium about my mental health aside- going back to reread and look at old posts to relive memories (mostly the very bad cuz I was not a good person when I was in the fandom and am beyond embarrassed about it-) has been an absolute disaster of a healing journey.

May be redrawing some old sketches as a checkpoint of that, so comic updates are going to slow.

I ask that everyone remain polite to my wishes and not tag anyone who you see my art addressing. For example if a draw or redraw fanart from a fanfic, do not reblog tagging the author.

Most certainly I am not remembered fondly by those people, and that’s okay.

In my answer to the Donna headcannons ask, I included one very specific relationship headcannon. It’s not a coincidence- that was me. Back when I was part of this fandom during its peak- I was that lil toxic jerk that ruined shit for other people. I have no excuses for this- young and dumb, pretherapy, unknowingly, flat out being stupid- it doesn’t excuse my actions. As much as I wanted to be a good person- I was not- I did good things- but at my core I was rotting. I still am tending to parts of it.

People are going to remember me as that lil toxic jerk. That’s why I hope ya’ll respect my wishes as I redraw old stuff. Everyone deserves to enjoy their passions without someone, something- a memory- ruining it (again) for them.

I’m sharing these redraws because there’s a story here I hope people take inspiration from. Whether the story is about forgiving others for their past mistakes, learning that you’re not alone, or embracing your embarrassments- that’s different for every person. If that story is lost on people, I have every right to delete it all.

And as for that headcannon, Donna has and always will be the person who trekked beside me through this hellscape that is my mind. As I’ve written stories and drawn more where she gets that happy ending, I see a road for myself- as corny as that could have possibly sounded. There are weights I carry that I must learn to let go- memories of people who have come into my life for a season and changed me forever that probably even despise me now- and one of them is going to be Donna eventually.

Eventually.

For now she’s still very much on the forefront of my mind lmao.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk<3

And for you, you know who you are- the one who was the largest victim of my toxic foolery and had the unfortunate responsibility where I crashed upon you from tumblr dms and just wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone because of your work- if you’re by any slim possible fucking chance you’re reading this: thank you for moving on. It sounds so silly, but abandoning me was the right choice, despite all my abandonment issues. I cannot ask for forgiveness after the manipulative bullshit I did to you- the best that I can ask is that your best is an even better person then before for those that’ll have the blessing to be let into your life. Which, from what I’ve read on the latest update to said work, I am reassured you have.

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

Hello, i'm cheese anon's evil (not really) alter ego, theorist anon and i've come here to tell you my theory or uhh... actually personal hc of what happend to bruno (headcanons are like theorys but less fancy shut >:[), (i tweaked it a bit to fit your context just a tad better as i have some ideas with how you portrayed bruno (or well part of him))

SO. First of all i have to say i liked the uniform you gave bruno, very cute tbh, but more than pizzeria it's giving ice cream or candy shop thb, not that is a bad thing just saying so uhh fuck it pizzeria no more he runs an ice cream shop now in me mind

OK WITH THAT OUT THE WAY NOW WE FR THIS TIME.

Ok so. Once upon a time this italian guy called Bruno runed an ice cream shop with his wife, pizzahead saw how succesful they were on their own and said "shiiid imma need that" so he made a deal with the happy couple. BUT then he tried to bribe and trick them into giving up pretty much all rights to uhh.. i don't have a name for the ice cream shop actually lmao, just think of amything. anyways, they said no bc the ice cream shop was something they hold very dear to them, they have been saving for this for literal years and risked it all to get it running so who would want to give it all out like that really? But pisshead can't accept a no for an answer so what did he did? He just killed them in the spot. If they aren't gonna sing these papers might as well just kill the guys so they stop growing you know? He cannot afford ANY sort of competition (even tho he sells horrible pizzas and they are a fucking ice cream shop). But then he realizes "shit i fucked up imma get sued" so he just tried to recreate bruno using his brain as a base, couldn't replicate the wife tho, he accidentally shot her in the brain without thinking he would have to clone her too oops.

Anyways they go thru the cloning process but uh oh the clone isn't perfect, guy doesn't even remember who he was. The solution? Lie that they sold their shop and flew out the country with the money without telling anyone, aslo they changed their numbers you cannot find them ^-^. Btw the shop closed down literal months after he "acquired" the shop, the ice cream was bad it tasted like pizza :(.

That gets us to today, pizzahead now found some new guy to torment and since he had the clone laying around he just kind of managed to make it change looks so it can look like peppino and then used them as a boss on his tower.

Ok i'm done talking :] hope you like this mess of a theory imma go, cheese bitch wants to take control again mkay bye was a plessure to speak to ya'll <3

(Ohohoho, Theorist Anon! What a delight to read!

I cannot confirm nor deny your theory, but I will say that part of it is pretty spot-on! And it's generally an interesting story regardless!

Just some silly and goofy pizza man absolutely snapping and killing a couple bc he's a jealous bitch, and then he goes 'whoopsie daisy' and remakes one of them, and uses them to torment another guy??? Incredible

If dear Cheese Anon allows you to return, I'd love to read any more theories you have! (And I will continue to smugly grin as I do not confirm nor deny them)

ALSO, I totally get the ice cream shop vibes from the outfit, not intentional, but it is very funny to imagine Pizzahead taking over a non-pizza related place and making bad pizzas or pizza-flavoured ice cream!

Who knows! Maybe the tower warped Bruno's Ice Cream to Bruno's Pizza, bc it is Pizza tower and not Ice Cream tower hehe

Also, Pep does love ice cream, but that's maybe unrelated!)

[uservarric]

peter jason star-lord (if you’re nasty) quill!

• favourite thing about them

I’m sooooooooooo normal about him you have no idea my favourite thing is not everything about him because I’m soooooooo normal

• Least favourite thing about them

I think he can be a frustrating character to read, with the self-sabotage and the inclination towards lies, but that’s part of the fun. So can’t even say I dislike it. I love it when he manipulates

• Favourite line

This exchange

Rich: I remember you said to me once, you said “If death ever comes your way and won’t let you pass, make sure you scream right back in his face.”

Pete: I said that?

Rich: You did.

Pete: Rich, you shouldn’t trust anything I say. Most of the time, I just make stuff up.

Rich: I know. Let’s scream in his face anyway.

also me and my friends used to quote “I HAVE A SHY BLADDER, SO WHAT?” at eachother all the time lmfao

• brOTP

Rocket obviously. And Mantis

• OTP

Rich!!! Where’s that post that was like sometimes men’s relationships with women go bad because their real soulmate is a man. That could go for the two of them easily lmao

• nOTP

Kitty pryde I hated it hated it hated it!!

Stupid ones where it’s like thor and quill cause the MCU (yaaaawn booooooo hissssss)

or like, Peter and just any random (usually white lol) earth dude. he doesn’t like earth, that’s been made abundantly clear. It may as well be alien to him at this point. I just cannot see him ever settling down with another human, except for Rich. Because it’s also alien to Rich now in so many ways.

also Mantis cause they’re besties 🥺

• random headcanon

He’s never really lost his drawling accent, but at the same time his accent is no longer 100% recognisable to a place on earth. Certain words have certain lilts that are ever so alien.

Kind of a jokey one but also true: i KNOW he manspreads and hogs up whole sections of benches and chairs and it’s like. really super fucking annoying. and yeah. can’t argue with it at all tbh. he’s a big dude anyway but he doesn’t make any effort at all to make himself small

• unpopular opinion

he’s not some bouncing golden retriever in human form at all he’s more like. a big scraggly wet cat with an attitude problem who on rare occasions tries to pass himself off as a goofy big dog but it doesn’t work and it’s just vaguely unsettling for literally everyone who knows him

• song I associate with them

You and Whose Army? by Radiohead

also Thick Skull by Paramore is so grounded Peter

• Favourite picture of them

mwah!!!!!!!!!!!