#its like having two giant toddlers

[i-make-questionable-choices]

my horse and the horse i manage are in a competion to see who can be the most high maintenance and im about to kill them both

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Thinking about Meteors AU again and I thought “Hey what if I did Monty’s whole thing first and then Roxy’s whole thing which can be the breaking point and Vanessa has to step in as the long suffering only braincell to ever enter the Security Breach universe”

[ellecdc]

Part two of feisty slytherin reader where it’s just the boys being like kinda in love with reader and everything you can pick how reader responds

this ended up taking me way longer to complete than I thought it would! it also ended up way longer than usual. here's the lead up to our infamous poly!marauders x feisty!slytherin reader!!! 🫶

poly!marauders x feisty, fem slytherin!reader

p1 // p2 // p3

CW: head injury - not graphic or detailed but mentions blood.

“Okay Moony, if you’re going to help us win over Y/N, you should know she does not like dramatic public displays of appreciation.” James said sagely as he walked into their shared dorm room.

Remus spared Sirius a confused look from his seat in the chair, but from the way James was currently rubbing his arm Sirius had a pretty good idea of what just took place.

“Yeah, erm, I don’t think you have to worry about that with me, bubs. Thanks for the heads up though.” Remus added bemusedly.

“Let me guess.” Sirius taunted, rolling over onto his stomach so that he faced James. “The charmed roses following her around the halls wasn’t a hit?”

“No, but she did...” He sulked, pulling his uniform shirt off to expose a small albeit quite red welt on his upper arm.

“Awe, poor Jamie. Come here bubs.” Remus cooed at him, opening his arms to invite the boy into his lap. 

James obliged all too willingly and snuggled up to the werewolf like he was a small toddler and not a giant beefy man-baby. 

“Don’t mollify him when he’s out here botching our grand plans to woo the girl of our dreams.” Sirius said, causing Remus to roll his eyes and James to scoff indignantly.

“Well at least I’m working on it! What are you doing to woo her?” James retaliated.

Sirius offered him a wolfish grin. “Oh, I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve.”

You had to get out of the castle. You could still feel everyone’s eyes on you, ogling you like you were some kind of freakshow. 

You don’t know what kind of game those Gryffindor’s were trying to play, but you were not about to be the butt of whatever sodding joke this was.

Roses, really? Charmed to follow you around the castle as Potter smirked from the sidelines. Did he have any idea how humiliating that was?

       So, yeah. You walloped him. In the arm. With your fist. Hard. But what else were you supposed to do!? You’d confronted him and demanded that he end the charm and all he said was ‘you look so cute when your nose scrunches up like that’.

He and Black have always been a bother – seemingly having taken some kind of interest in you for whatever reason. Lupin had always been more reasonable; one would think that he’d have evened those two out during their relationship, but apparently that was an impossible task. You supposed it was because he was all but one man.

But lately, even he was starting to stare at you a little too long, smile a little too softly, find too many excuses to be in your vicinity. It was infuriating.

So, you were outside.

It was nice outside. 

Well, it was nice enough outside. 

You packed yourself some snacks in your book bag, two blankets and an extra jumper to go sit by the Black Lake. You figured you should be able to enjoy some peace and quiet out here on your own.

You unfolded one of the blankets to lay onto the ground before sitting on it and then laid the second blanket over your lap. You could hear other students on the grounds in the distance and the soothing sound of the water lapping gently against the shore. 

As luck would have it, a certain dog with long-black hair would set out to disrupt that.

“What are you doing here?” You asked the dog as it approached you calmly. You wondered for a moment if you should be scared before it stopped at the edge of your blanket to sit and tilt its head at you, his tongue falling out of his mouth haphazardly. 

He didn’t look too scary, ignoring his size.

You craned your neck to look around, checking if perhaps he was here with someone, but it appeared that you were, in fact, alone on this side of the lake.

You felt something cold and wet nudge your pinkie, and you turned to see that the dog had laid down beside you with his head between his paws, nose next to your hand.

“If I pet you, are you going to bite me?” You asked him. He answered by nudging your hand again and offering it a little lick.

“You better not have fleas.” You muttered as you scratched behind the dog’s ears. You would have sworn he had furrowed his eyebrows at your comment if dogs could do such a thing. You noticed then that the dog had startling silver-blue eyes. 

“Where are your people?” You asked, glad no one was around to see you conversing with a dog. He answered you by rolling over for belly rubs.

You scoffed out a laugh but acquiesced. “Fine, you can stay. But I came out here for peace and quiet, ‘kay?”

The dog seemed fine with that plan and let you read through two chapters of your book, only interrupting every paragraph or so for more pets. Eventually however, it grew too cold, and you decided to pack up.

Confirming your suspicions, the dog began to follow you towards the castle. You pretended like you hadn’t noticed or perhaps just didn’t care until you were near the greenhouses.

“For future reference, Black,” you said, turning to the dog who seemed to pause mid-step as you considered him. “I really am more of a cat person.” You smirked, turning to walk back to the castle alone.

“Here, let me get that for you.” James said, opening the door for you rather chivalrously in Sirius’ opinion.

“I’m not a delicate flower, Potter, I can open a door.” You muttered angrily, storming past him into the classroom.

James deflated a little as he followed you in, but perked up when Remus placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“I thought that was very sweet of you, Jamie.” He placated.

James gave him a half smile in response. “Thanks Moons.”

“I mean, what are we supposed to do? What bird doesn’t like dogs!?” Sirius grumbled, opting to ignore James’ whining. 

“Don’t call her a bird, Sirius.” Remus chided.

“Probably didn’t help you’re a big ol’ mangy mutt.” James muttered petulantly.

“Oi!” Sirius called. “That’s not what you say when Padfoot snuggles you to sleep.” 

James had the good graces to turn a little red at that.

Their conversation was interrupted (quite rudely if you asked Sirius) by Professor McGonagall as she began the instructions for today’s Transfiguration lesson: turning buttons into butterflies. 

Sirius stole a concerned glance towards James to see Remus doing the same; they were horrified to see a mischievous look adorning their boyfriend’s face.

“Prongs...” Sirius warned, whilst Remus whispered a “remember what we talked about.”

But they both knew it was too late; there was no stopping him once James set his mind to something. 

Sirius is quite sure it was the fourth butterfly that did you in; you seemed to consider the first a fluke, the second was annoying, the third made you suspicious, but by the fourth you’d had enough.

With little to no warning you turned and lobbed a large hard-covered tome at the group.

“I don’t know which of you tossers are behind this, but it reeks of Potter. So help me gods I will gut you and string you up to the rafters from your intestines if you don’t leave me alone!” You screeched. 

“But how else will you know I’m crazy about you?” James pouted, causing you to groan exasperatedly.

“If you’re looking for some cutesy princess who will swoon at your sodding roses and butterflies, then you’ve got the wrong witch.” You spat.

Sirius smirked. “Oh, we have exactly the right witch.”

“I swear to Circe if you don’t leave me alone, I’ll sic Barty on you.” You threatened.

Sirius and James both scoffed whilst Remus smirked. 

“Please dollface, you insult me. I’m not afraid of Junior.” Sirius taunted.

You narrowed your eyes at him menacingly before realization dawned on you. “Fine.” You said simply, giving Sirius a distinct uneasy feeling. “Perhaps I’ll tell Regulus.”

Sirius slammed his fist on the table and leaned forward. “You wouldn’t.” He seethed.

You smirked deviously. “Just try me, Black.” You sneered in response. 

Did...did Sirius have a degradation kink?

Sirius was ashamed to admit that he had to take a very cold shower after that.

You had been sitting in the library trying to work on your Potions essay. You had felt fairly safe here seeing as the Gryffindor’s (at least the most problematic ones) had been sanctioned from using the library during quiet study hours on account of their typical foolishness.

Except one.

“Mind if I sit here?” Lupin’s lilting voice sounded from your right side before he sat down without waiting for your response. 

“Why bother asking if you were just going to sit anyways?” You grumbled. 

“Well, it was the polite thing to do.” He said, turning to face you. You held his gaze (his gaze, your glare) until he finally sighed. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

You considered him for a moment. You couldn’t deny he was the least buffoonish out of the so-called Marauders though you’re not sure that amounted to much.

But he was quieter, kinder, softer around the edges. And he had been far more polite to you than his boyfriends.

“Are you going to flirt with me?”

One of Remus’ eyebrows (the one with the scar running through it, you noticed) raised expectantly as he considered you.

“Let me rephrase that.” You barked quickly, realizing your mistake perhaps a touch too late. “You may sit here, but if you flirt with me, I will stab you with my quill.” You punctuated your threat by blotting his hand which rested on the table with ink from the tip of your quill.

Remus smiled at the sight before returning his amber coloured gaze to yours. “Fair enough. I promise to try to restrain myself, but perhaps you ought to hold onto this hand for me just in case I slip up.” And he – the absolute sodding bastard – slid his left hand comfortably into your right.

You’d never seen someone make a move so assertively and smoothly before. There was nothing to say that any of this even affected Remus as he immediately turned his attention to his book. Was it hot in here? Your hand felt sweaty. Your throat felt tight. Your mouth was dry. Why didn’t you think to bring a bottle of water?!

“Erm,” you started, having to pause to clear your throat. “Just how am I supposed to get my work done with your hand in mine, Lupin?”

You had tried to sound threatening, but based off Remus’ smirk, you’d only managed to goad him further.

“You’re left-handed. Figure it out.” 

These boys were going to be the death of you if you didn’t end up killing them first.

“You held her hand!?” James screeched in their dorm room that night whilst Remus smirked to himself. Sirius would make fun of James for his dramatics if he wasn’t just a pissed off about this.

“I’ve been working at this the longest out of either of you, and she lets you hold her hand?” He continued.

“She doesn’t like dogs,” Sirius grumbled, gesturing to himself, “she doesn’t like James. But the werewolf? Really. No offence Moons because I absolutely get the appeal.”

James snapped his fingers as he had a eureka moment. “I’ve got it! Remus; bite me!”

“James!” Remus scolded. 

“It’s not fair.” James muttered as he fell onto his bed in defeat. “I’d be so good to her.”

Any ire from Sirius and Remus drained at that as they both moved to join their boyfriend on his bed.

“We know, bubs.” Remus conceded. 

“We just...have to give her time. I’m sure she’ll come around, yeah? I mean, with Remus’ smooth moves, my undeniable charm, and your muscles? We’re unstoppable.” Sirius added, eliciting a smile from Remus and a gentle chuckle from James, though his usual light was diminished.

“We’ve just got to be patient, Jamie.” Remus concluded, causing James to groan.

“Patience.” He spat spitefully.

“A 'James ADHD Potter' special.” Sirius winked before kissing any further protests away from James’ lips.

“We’ve got Moony on our team now, bubs. We’re unstoppable.” He whispered, truly believing what he was saying.

If anyone could break through your hard candy-coating shell to reach the chocolate inside, it was certainly Remus Lupin.

You’d had the lovely idea of sitting outside on one of the few sunny days that Scotland got to see this time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed that everyone else had the same idea too.

A few Hufflepuffs were playing with a charmed muggle football, kicking it back and forth between the two of them and chasing after it when it opted to fuck off on its own. You didn’t understand the objective of the game, nor did you care to.

Remus and Peter Pettigrew sat on a bench not too far off playing a game of Wizarding Chess that, from where you were sitting, looked like Remus was winning.

You got so caught up in watching Lupin’s game with Pettigrew - in the way that the tendons in his wrist and hands flexed as he moved pieces across the board, and the way that his honey blonde curls fell in front of his eyes causing him to have to blow air upwards so he could see the board - that you noticed something flying at you far too late. 

“Look out!” One of the dumb Hufflepuff’s shouted far too late as their charmed football soared into the side of your head, knocking you clean over where your head cracked painfully against a root of the tree you were sitting under.

You scrunched your eyes tight and tried to will your heart to start beating again and your lungs to cooperate, every part of your body seeming to have tensed out of instinct to protect itself.

“L/N! L/N! Come on, dove, open your eyes.” You heard a voice above you.

Why was the voice so worried? How long were your eyes closed? A gentle hand grabbed your chin and wiggled your head back and forth, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Sod...off.” You gritted through your teeth.

The voice chuckled and wiggled your chin once more. “There she is. Open your eyes for me.”

You hated being told what to do but decided to comply anyways.

You probably should have kept your eyes close because the sight made you feel dizzy for a completely different reason.

Hovering above your frame was Remus Lupin; his knees on the ground beside your elbow, one hand gripping your chin and the other gently moving hair away from your face and head.

“Atta girl.” He said with a smile.

“Get away from me.” You grumbled as you moved to sit up. Though Lupin hissed in protest, he helped you sit up nonetheless. 

“Is...is she okay?” a timid voice spoke from somewhere behind Lupin’s shoulder causing his expression to darken considerably.

“You stupid wankers are so dead.” You spat as loudly as you could manage, though in your current state – that wasn’t very loud at all.

Your message was received loud and clear, however, as the two Hufflepuffs took off in fear.

“My sentiments exactly.” Lupin muttered as he turned back to you, jaw still tense.

You snorted indelicately as you brought a hand to your head. “Please, don’t tell me you actually care about me, Lupin.”

You hissed in pain as your hand came in contact with something warm and wet and slightly sticky. You pulled your hand back in front of you to inspect, only for Lupin to grab your hand rather harshly and wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

“Is it so impossible to believe that we could actually care for you?” He muttered quietly, eyes focused on your hand, pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. You watched as his curls bounced with each wipe of his hand against yours. You thought of his gentle hands brushing hair away from your wound moments before. You thought of him begging you to open your eyes. You thought of him being the first one at your side when you were hurt.

And you thought about Black finding ways to be with you even when you staunchly refused his company. You thought of him taking time out of his day to tell you how ‘smoking hot’ you looked that day, even though he said it every day before that, too.

And you thought about Potter who always held the door for you, saved you a seat even though you never accepted it, showered you in affection even though it was public and quite embarrassing. And you thought of the way he always had a smile to give you, even when you gave him no reason to smile at all. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine the three of them caring for anyone, quite frankly. Caring seemed to come second nature to those boys.

“No.” You admitted quietly. “It’s not impossible to believe that you could actually care. It’s just impossible to imagine why.”

He stopped rubbing at your hand and met your eye, seemingly contemplating what to say.

“Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.” He opted for. “Pete, let the boys know where I’ve gone when they’re finished with practice?” Lupin called over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself, Lupin.” You grumbled as he helped you up by your elbow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled back. “You’re not a delicate flower, we know.”

The two of you more or less muttered back and forth to each other the entire way to the infirmary, Lupin supporting more of your weight than he likely needed too but you didn’t feel the need (nor desire) to complain.

Madam Pomfrey was in the middle of looking after a first year Potions class who accidently set off an explosion of incorrectly brewed Cure for Boils which ultimately left each student (and Professor Slughorn) covered head to toe in painful boils.

“Mr. Lupin, if you could clean the wound for me. And Miss. L/N, drink the pain potion. Do not leave until I’ve had a chance to do a proper examination, okay?” She ordered as you positioned yourself more comfortably on the bed after she determined you weren’t about to die (or currently crying, as most of the first years were). 

You took the pain potion dutifully and placed it back on the table beside your bed before you startled at the sudden cold wet cloth on your head.

“You are not seriously doing this right now, are you?” You spat.

Remus’ eyebrows drew together as his hands continued on in their task. “You heard the matron; I’m supposed to clean it.”

“I can clean it myself, Lupin; I’ll conjure a mirror.” You argued, causing the scarred boy to scoff.

“I do what I’m told L/N, and quite frankly, the matron scares me more than you do.”

“I must be doing something wrong then.” You sighed, thinking you hadn’t said that loud enough to be heard, but a startled laugh escaped Lupin’s lips. 

“Why do you act so volatile?” He asked amusedly.

“It’s not an act.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Well, you call wrong, then, Lupin. I’m an arse and I find everyone exhausting. Deal with it.” You snarked sharply.

Lupin breathed a laugh through his nose. “Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime, then.”

Rotten bastard and his smooth talk...

“WHERE IS SHE!?” a voice echoed through the corridor just outside the entrance to the infirmary. Madame Pomfrey needn’t even look up from the boil she was currently draining of puss to know who she was about to scold.

“Mr. Potter, I will have you banned from this infirmary so fast if you raise your voice above so much as a whisper, do not try me. That goes for you too, Mr. Black.” She barked; eyes still focused on the first year’s arm in front of her.

Sure enough, a mop of curly hair, impossibly more wild than usual due to the flight on his broom, poked around the privacy curtains a second before it was joined by a fuming looking Sirius Black.

Potter’s eyes flew to where Remus’ hands were positioned on your head and your stomach lurched at what looked like tears pooling in Potter’s eyes.

“Potter...please, erm, please don’t cry?” You asked awkwardly, leaning away from Remus’ touch as you suddenly became very uncomfortable with this amount of attention.

“She’s alright, Jamie.” Remus sighed, pulling you back over to him gently by the shoulder and continuing his prodding at your wound.

“Who did it?” Sirius spat, arms crossed defensively across his chest and jaw tight as he stared hard at the wound on your head. You were horrified to admit to yourself that he was hot. You’d never really seen it before, how all the girls in your year (and other years) fawned over the long-haired boy.

But he was currently standing in front of you still adorned in his quidditch gear, hair pulled back into a low bun - though he had many fly-aways on account of his recent time in the air - his cheeks still dusted pink from the assertion, and he was currently fuming on your behalf.

Yeah...he was hot. 

“Easy.” Remus warned.

“Answer me!” Sirius spat back.

“Pads. I mean it, leave it.” Remus said with finality.

Your eyes darted nervously between the two boys currently staring each other down, but Potter’s eyes were still steadfast on you.

“Let me, Rem.” He finally said gently – the most gently you’d ever heard from the rambunctious boy as he gently moved Remus aside and took over.

“I’m okay, you know.” You offered, not liking how worked up these boys were currently over you.

“I know.” He agreed. “I just hate to see you hurt.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why.” You pressed. James looked like you just asked him to calculate the distance between the galaxy of Andromeda and our solar system using the measurement of broomsticks.  

“I... I don’t want to see you hurt?”

“You want to see Snape hurt.” You countered, causing James’ face to harden.

“Snape’s a tosser.” He muttered darkly.

“I’m not any nicer than Snape.”

“See, Y/N. You’re so smart and lovely and perfect, but you are way off on that front.” James said through a laugh. “Snape is prejudiced, vindictive, and a racist blood supremist. You’re just combative.” He explained, punctuating the word combative with a gentle boop of your nose. 

You wanted to break his finger.

But that would be combative, and you would rather die than prove Potter right, so you opted to roll your eyes instead. 

“Did they even hang around to see if she fucking survived or did they just take off to avoid detention?” Sirius spat at Remus, not looking any calmer than he did when he arrived.

“They stayed.” You answered tiredly. “They took off afterwards, and not to avoid detention, but to avoid me.”

“And me.” Remus muttered quietly, looking dangerously close to going back out there to find them himself. 

“Did you threaten them?” Sirius asked severely, though you weren’t sure who exactly he had asked.

“Yes.” You and Lupin both answered exasperatedly. 

Sirius looked between the two of you before letting out a sigh. “Fine, but if I run into them, I’m hexing them into oblivion.”

“Not if I get to them first.” You growled.

Sirius’ face finally softened as he sat on the end of your bed and cautiously touched your ankle under the blankets.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

And you aren’t sure what did it. 

You weren’t sure if it was the softness you saw in Sirius that you were sure you could have never even imagined possible from a person, let alone someone related to the infamous Black family. Or if it was the eyebrows of Remus Lupin that were furrowed in concern as he dutifully watched his boyfriend finish plastering a bandage to your head, or if it was the unbelievable softness of James Potter’s touch – in complete contrast to his fast, rough, bouncing personality that you were usually subjected to.

But dammit, you felt a tear slip down your cheek.

You wiped it away quickly and nodded your head in yes.

You braced yourself for the teasing, the cooing, the dramatic displays of affection. But Sirius quickly stood and disappeared behind the curtains, James began pouring you a glass of water, and Remus reached into his bag for something.

Remus returned to you first, breaking off a square of chocolate for you. “It’ll help.”

You were too embarrassed to argue and took it, popping it into your mouth dutifully. 

“Here.” Sirius said as he appeared back at your bedside, handing you a vial. 

“What is it?” You asked, your voice taut with emotion.

Sirius’ eyes softened again as he offered you a sad smile. “Calming draught. You can’t have any more pain potion, but this might make you feel better.”

“And if not, maybe you can convince Moony to share more of his chocolate.” James commented with a soft smile.

You grimaced at the taste of the potion and chased it with the water James had poured for you.

“Thank you.” You admitted quietly, shame colouring your tone as you looked to your lap.

“None of that.” Remus said as he handed you another piece of chocolate.

You took it skeptically. “Why do they call you Moony?”

No one said anything for a moment, but you could tell that neither James nor Sirius were moving a muscle as they watched Remus who in turn watched you.

“Because of my lycanthropy.” He said plainly.

You looked at the various scars before you started to laugh. Sirius’ face drained of all colour while James visibly tensed.

“Of course you are. Remus Lupin. Named after a man raised by wolves and the lupus, or wolf constellation. Oh gods, it was predestined, clearly.”

“Are...are you laughing at me right now?” Remus asked incredulously.

“It’s a little funny...no?” You asked back.

He looked as if he were torn between laughing and crying. “I pour my heart out to you – my deepest darkest secret, and you laugh at me?” He asked again, some amusement colouring his features.

“I told you, I’m an arse.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Does it bother you?” Sirius asked cautiously from the end of your bed, face appearing impassive for all intents and purposes. 

“I don’t see why it should, it’s none of my business.”

“It could be.” Remus input.

“You don’t want me. I’m no good, Lupin.” You stressed, looking back down at your hands.

“Neither am I.” Sirius agreed.

“Me neither.” Remus added.

“I’m n-” James started.

“So what if the only one of us worthy of love and affection here is James?” Sirius said, cutting James off. “It’s not going to stop me from cherishing what I can get - deserved or not.”

You groaned and threw your head back onto the pillow, cringing at the effect the fast movement had on you and the pain that the movement elicited in your neck.

“Okay, what about this.” James conciliated. “You don’t have to agree to be with us, just give us a chance? The time of day? One Hogsmeade trip to let us fawn over you.”

You looked up at his deep brown eyes that felt so warm you wanted to make a home in them. Sirius, in all his bravado, looked pained as he waited for an answer, and Remus smiled encouragingly at you.

“Fine!” You acquiesced with a groan. “One Hogsmeade trip.”

Much to your chagrin, though not really at all, it ended up being way more than just one Hogsmeade trip.

Thank you to @unstablereader who gave us the library handholding prompt 🫶

[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! AFAB! Reader) Part 5, MDNI 18+

Synopsis: Finally out of the Underdark, the group takes a rest day. You and Astarion go swimming. Astarion shows you his scars. "No shoes, no shirt, no service" ends up working out pretty well for you.

CW: SMUT, virginity loss (not glorified), PiV, Oral (F! Receiving), Dead Dove

*can be read independently

Author Note: Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all the love and support!

Part 4: Part 6 : Master list

 You could not be more grateful to be out of the Underdark and away from Minotaurs or to have a true rest day. 

On the other hand, you are borderline loopy if you are being entirely honest with yourself. Your entire body feels excruciatingly heavy and you kind of just want to sleep. 

 It’s been a really long and difficult trip. You are over it- mostly because you really don’t want to go to the crèche. Shadowheart and Lae’zel have been like two toddlers throwing tantrums back and forth regarding the whole thing and at one point you lost your marbles.

“You!” You pointed at Shadowheart, “STOP BEING A RACIST JACKASS!

 You turned to Lae’zel, “AND YOU! Stop threatening her with a good time!”

 You and Astarion went on the hunt for Blackberries. It was initially just you going, but he asked if he could go with. He was rather shy about the whole thing and you are still trying to figure out what his feelings towards you are- which is also very confusing and tiring.

  A hand wraps around your bicep, interrupting your thoughts, and Astarion just barely pulls you before you walk off a larger rock and go tumbling to the ground.

 The only one who has taken any real notice in your emotional distress is Astarion, but you don’t know he realizes that and that he is very hyper aware of your needs and potential stressors. It’s part survival technique and also part absolute obsession with how wonderful you are. He feels like a giddy school boy and it’s weird. 

“Darling,” he scolds you, “why didn’t you say you were dangerously tired?”

“I’m fine,” you fib, not wanting to inconvenience him with worry.. 

 Astarion rolls his eyes and takes his bow and arrow off his back. He straps them to you before guiding you up a rock. 

“Well?” He asks with a shrug.

 It takes you a moment and you blush extremely hard. You can’t keep doing this to yourself- it’s getting pathetic. 

“I am fine, really, I -“

“Says the person who damn near walked straight off the cliff,” he chastises you again, “besides, I drank our last elixir of giant hill strength so I might as well put it to use.”

 You eventually agree and you are grateful that he carries you on his back with ease. You wear mostly light armor- preferring to be able to move swiftly to support healing your companions or fellow selunite’s. 

 Astarion smells like his cologne with a hint of salt. You can hear his barely existing pulse thrumming through his skin. Sometimes it’s odd to realize your blood is what runs through his veins right now. 

 It feels oddly intimate and dare you say… special? 

 You had woken up this morning to a very frustrated Astarion. He had reported that his hunt didn’t go well so you offered your neck. 

  Astarion hasn’t fed from you in a while so when his teeth broke skin- he had to be very mindful of his every action. You, on the other hand, were fighting off the faint moans that you refuse to let escape your lips while he feeds.

 You have no desire to sexualize him- it’s the intimacy of the act itself. Nothing more, nothing less. You haven’t been touched in a while and you haven’t touched someone in a while- not in that way anyway.

 Your hands had tangled in his hair and you were about to let him bleed you dry. He thankfully had enough restraint for both of you. 

 You thought everything was black and white- unrequited love at its finest. 

 The kiss is confusing and you keep trying to convince yourself it’s merely because he was caught up in the heat of the moment or you imagined it. The proximity isn’t helping and all you want is to do it again.

“Star?” You murmur.

 Astarion perks his ears up, “hm?” 

 “I need a nap.”

 He rolls his eyes and smiles, “well, maybe someone wouldn’t be so sleepy if someone asked for help every once in a while.”

 “I-I… ask for help,” your voice going from indignant to a grumble. 

 “You are disgustingly selfless,” he remarks, “you should do something for yourself for once.”

 “Like what!?” You exclaim, “should I try mushrooms again? Is this what you are suggesting?”

“Absolutely not,” he tsks, “I prefer when there is a smile on that lovely face of yours and I saw far more of your frown than your smile during that whole debacAle.” 

 You are so grateful he can’t see you blush like a schoolgirl right now. You wouldn’t be able to explain yourself. 

 You look around in the environment and try to come up with something fun you can do to fill your cup- which, surprisingly enough- you do so rather quickly. 

“What if we went to that waterfall?” You offer, “the water was clear and the area was cool. It would be a great way to cool off.”

“You mean the water down the insanely large cliff?” 

  You nod and are suddenly being put down- Astarion puts both hands on his hips and leers at you- then shrugs.

“Fine, but no falling or drowning- please. I don’t need oxygen, but I have no idea if I can swim or not. “

 Your original excitement wanes and turns into a different kind of excitement entirely. You cast Feather Fall and are quickly leaping over the side of the cliff- you love your silly flying magic- both flying and feather fall. You are one of the few clerics you know that actually knows how to cast fly, but you typically prefer to use a potion to avoid having to concentrate on it. You have fallen a few times before because you forgot to keep focusing. 

 Before you know it, you have dragged him towards the shallow part of the pool of water below the waterfall. Astarion looks like he may be sick, but you are certain you can teach him how to swim if he doesn’t know how to. 

 However, what you didn’t think about was the lack of swimwear. 

 It can’t possibly be that big of a deal. You are both perfectly mature adults and it’s not like seeing your friend in his underwear is that weird.

 Sure he kissed you, but he hasn’t said anything else since or tried again. It was probably an accident- even after everything he said. You know he isn’t someone to shy away from what he wants.

Besides, you try to see this as a positive rather than the excruciating negative it actually is, he isn’t even attracted to you so you don’t even have to worry about how you look! Your hair can get as mussy as it needs to be!

 You begin to get rid of your armor and Astarion almost seems to get taller suddenly- you look over and raise an eyebrow at the obviously shell shocked man.

“What? You can’t swim in your armor- you would be stuck at the bottom,” you exclaim as if the man in front of you is gawking because you are using common logic, “and I would drown- which I certainly do not want to do.”

 He blinks several times- almost too fast to be human, if you are being entirely honest with yourself, before he snaps out of it and puts on his usual confident smirk.

“I am glad we can agree on something for once,” he teases, you don’t notice the amount of effort he is putting in to not looking further from your face, “but if you wouldn’t mind turning around while I strip into my un-“

“Oh! Duh!” You feel wildly embarrassed, “I am so sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Gods I didn’t even think about that before I began- I will do better next time.”

 Flustered, you turn around and slowly submerge yourself in the water to get used to the coolness of it. It’s significantly colder than the water near Emerald Grove and you really miss it. You really liked the weird harpy beach (after the Harpy’s were removed) and the sand had been soft. 

 Maybe you should travel back some time. You are certain Karlach would be absolutely thrilled to go back after her and Wyll had their “epic cannonball” competition. Gale had cast feather fall, but it still didn’t stop the belly flop Wyll performed to hurt any less.

 That was a fun day, you think to yourself, I wish Astarion had been there, but still. I think these are the first people I feel like I belong around. 

 You smile to yourself and take a deep breath. 

 You are very proud of yourself for stepping up- you feel eons away from the person who woke up on the Nautiloid and significantly more confident in yourself. 

 You are a smart, funny, and charming individual. You are someone worthy of love and you are grateful to have boat loads of it now. 

  The water splashes from behind you and you wait for several moments. You begin to feel a bit worried when there is some silence and then teeth chattering begins. 

 You turn and Astarion is hugging himself- leering at you with his lips set in a pout.

“It is MISERABLE IN HERE!” 

 You giggle and cast a warming cantrip that Gale taught you. The water becomes significantly more comfortable, but Astarion still groans and complains. 

“What if I just watched you swim?”

 “That would be weird, Astarion.”

“Is it?” He questions, “mothers and fathers watch their children swim and don’t join them all the time- if my memory serves me correctly.”

“Are you saying you’re my mom?” You snort and relish in the way his entire face turns pink- his ears especially.

“I- NO!” You have never seen him this flabbergasted before, “I have no desire to be your mother.” 

“Oh, so you are my dad then?”

“Ye- NO!” 

 You throw your head back with mirth and laughter. It’s fun on the rare occasion that you catch him off guard first. Astarion is usually making you trip through sentences. 

You wipe away your tears and your face hurts from smiling. You feel like your face may split in half when you look at his face. He looks equally as happy and he is still embarrassed- it makes him look softer and he blinks very slowly. 

 His lips… look… so… kissable!!!!

Swimming! You scream at yourself, you came to teach him how to swim, not imagine making out with him!

 “Alright,” you submerge yourself until you are neck deep, turning to face him, “I believe in you peepaw!”

 Astarion glares at you and you give him a shit eating grin.

“I am going to fucking kill you,” he yells over the waterfall.

“PROMISE!?” 

 Astarion rolls his eyes at you before nervously looking down as he watches the rest of his upper torso disappear. Another drool worthy aspect of him that you, begrudgingly, will never get to see outside of this capacity again.

 Shadowheart saw him in that capacity. 

 It’s almost enough to derail you and want to run back to camp.

Almost.

  Where you are up to your neck, Astarion still has quite a lot water clearance. 

“Look at that!” You wipe away a fake tear, “they get older and older everyday.”

“Oh will you knock it off with that already!”

 Astarion splashes you in the face and you sputter- spitting the water that got into your mouth out. 

“EEWWWWWW!”

“HAH!” 

 It takes a few more childish splashes before you eventually get to the initial matter at hand. However, you didn’t anticipate it taking thirty minutes to convince him to even doggy paddle.

“Maybe Scratch would be a better swim teacher,” you scratch the back of your head, “maybe he would demonstrate better.”

 Astarion is tight lipped and you have noticed that he refuses to turn around in front of you or allow you to get behind him. 

 Does he have some kind of nasty mole or something?

 No, you shake your head, it’s not your place to ask. 

 “What if we tried a backstroke?” 

 Astarion takes to that very quickly-  becoming faster than you even. 

 Everything is going “swimmingly” (Astarion splashed you again for that one) and you are pretty bummed that you have to leave. You are getting tired and your stomach is growling so loudly he can hear it.

 “Wait,” Astarion pulls you back before you get out of the water- it is now just below your shoulders while Astarion almost has his entire torso above water.

 Don’t look. Don’t stare. Don’t look. Don’t stare.

“Yes, Star?”

 A ghost of a smile flickers on his face, “I- I want to show you something.”

 You are a bit confused, but nod anyway. Astarion grabs your hand this time- a shock to your system- and pulls you out while looking at both of your hands. He refuses to look your way and he seems to struggle with letting go. 

 He closes his eyes with a shaking breathe and turns around, his fists are in tight balls and you are beginning to worry there may be a creature that wishes to consume you coming out of his back at this rate.

 Thankfully, the situation isn’t that dire, but you still take a sharp breath. 

 You can see why he didn’t want to turn around earlier. The scars are so precise and deep- it looks horribly painful. You cannot imagine how long it took for this to occur- considering he has vampiric healing. 

 The skin has been healed over a thousand times, but your heart feels broken when you think about how many people have taken advantage of his situation and never stopped to ask how they could help. Those who dug their nails into his back or found beauty in his scars- only wanting to enjoy his body and chase their own pleasure.

 You aren’t sure what you should do. You want to touch them and soothe every emotional and physical wound- even the ghosts of them- but you aren’t sure that would be accepted considering the nature of the scars. You want to tell him you think the world of him- that you love him and nothing could ever change that. Hells- you would kill Cazador tomorrow if you could- but you don’t think that would help either.

 You have never felt this angry in your whole life.

“A gift,” he says solemnly before his voice is flooded with venom and embarrassment, “from Cazador.

“He composed it over the span of a night,” his shoulders slump, “he made many revisions as he went.” 

 You recognize the language and it makes your stomach turn. 

 This soul swears no oath by fire 

Nor words does he speak

In the realm of death

“Do you know what it is supposed to be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I have never seen it. A poem or something like that.”

 A poem? That isn’t right. It’s poetic, but it seems more of a contract or curse.

 You shake your head, “this is Infernal and while it reads like a poem- it’s certainly not a poem.”

“What!?” He turns around and looks at you with panic, “infernal?” 

  This leads to drawing the design out of the dirt on the beach.

“What in the hells did he do to me?” 

 Astarion’s fear and horror soaks into your bones. You look down at the looping design. 

 It makes your own skin crawl and the message itself worries you deeply. It makes you worry that Astarion will never ever be free, but it wouldn’t make sense. This is a devil’s contract- you aren’t sure people can use those to bind themselves to someone.

“Karlach and Wyll may-“

“No,” he interrupts, “let’s keep this between us for now.”  

 You erase the evidence quickly and you are admittedly a bit surprised by the statement. 

“Doesn’t Shadowheart know? She may-“

“Shadowheart hasn’t seen them.” 

“I think she- wait really?”

“Yes.”

“But you-“

“Barely- neither party was enjoying themselves.” 

 Oh.

 Your perplexed mind must be showing on your face because Astarion smirks at you with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh please- I may be a worthless elven whore, but I-“

“Do not say that,” you cross your arms and Astarion’s sentence stops in it’s tracks, “you are not ‘worthless’ and you are not a ‘whore’ either. Even if you were- of your own volition- there is nothing wrong with that. Sex work is a very valid form of work and as long as you are happy, I will be more than happy for you.

“However, that is not the reality of the situation.” You feel your frown settling further into your face, “what happened to you is cruel and horrific. No one deserves to be treated that way- especially not you- and I can assure you that the Priestess and I are going to have serious words about including vampire spawn and helping them when I return to the temple! I am embarrassed on the behalf of the entire damn clergy.” 

 Astarion’s eyes soften significantly with a bit of warmth and humor. He also looks authentically surprised by your passion regarding the subject. He nods and turns away- continuing to get dressed and you do the same. 

 You aren’t necessarily thrilled with yourself because you neglected to think about what you are going to wear to sleep. You have a few pairs of camp clothes, but now they are soaked adjacent and you still technically have a tent mate. 

 Unless he decides that this is all too much? It feels like there has been a lot more emotionally intimate moments between both of you and you worry from time to time. It helps that you don’t have the pressure of a romantic bond, but you don’t want to make him feel trapped. 

  You walk back in silence- stretching and yawning as you go. 

 There is so much to do tomorrow. Laundry- big time. Probably need to try to secure more food before we cross the border… at this rate, we never know when the next time to restock will be.

 Ugh- especially with the Shadow Cursed Lands. We probably need to secure more blood for Astarion too. Oh and finding a way to store it so it doesn’t become disgusting. Maybe a few Restoration scrolls. I know I will be the primary source of food for him. 

 “You are thinking awfully hard over there, Darling.”

“I am just thinking about my chores.”

“Chores?

“Well, for one, I need to wash my clothes. I didn’t think about that before we went swimming. I am also trying to figure out the food situation- we are going to need to figure out how to store blood for you and try to collect as much food as we can before entering the Shadow Cursed Lands. I want to begin preparing for that now so we don’t run into trouble later. Hungry bellies and life threatening circumstances never end well.”

“Y-you don’t need to worry about me, Darling,” he stammers, “I am sure I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want to help. It will stress me the hells out if I know we don’t have something for you to eat or at least several potions so I can recover because you starving is not an option!” You exclaim, “and could you imagine Shadowheart and Lae’zel interacting while hangry? I like living, thank you very much.” 

 Astarion snorts and shakes his head, “I don’t know- I think it would make for a rather fun evening. My money would be on Lae’zel.”

“Really?” You are genuinely surprised, “my money would be on Shadowheart only because Karlach may get involved. Otherwise- Lae’zel all the way.”

“What if we made them ‘hangry’ on purpose,” Astarion offers, “we could see exactly how the situation goes? For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” you say, “just for research…”

 The two of you hatch a plan- the next day, you will refuse to take breaks and Astarion will throw a fit if you try. This means the two women won’t be allowed to snack throughout the day and Gale always takes forever to cook. 

 At some point, Astarion intertwined his fingers with yours and you notice, but you just hold on tightly. You really don’t want him to let go and it feels natural. You don’t notice the way he is looking at you or how he has to pay extra attention to the environment while he listens because he has almost tripped a couple times. 

 The walk home is calm and peaceful. You chatter back and forth about the various theories you have regarding Gith culture and the oddness of the crèche.

  Once you finally get back to camp- you practically skip to your tent to get out of your wet clothing. 

 It’s not until after that you realize you have made quite the error by getting caught up in your to-do list without informing Astarion that you don’t necessarily have clothes- your laundry situation is far more dire than you mentioned- and he may want to sleep in his own tent tonight. Your laundry didn’t just magically do itself in the last 10 minutes.

 You groan- thankful you have at least found a pair of underwear that are clean, but what are you supposed to do about a top? You also can’t go out to the campfire exposed. 

 “Darling- I think I may have left my-“ he coughs suddenly, “shirt.”

 Your arms cover your chest by instinct although you are turned around. 

“Oh- uh- ya um probably over there,” you sound even more awkward than you feel, “I am probably going to spend time here for the rest of the night. Didn’t really think about the laundry situation.

“I suppose that means I will see you tomorrow-“

 As if on cue- a shirt is pulled over the top of your head and you naturally put your arms through the holes. He spins you around with his delicate fingers leaving the ghost of his presence along your hips.  

  Blood is rushing through your ears. You feel far too warm and you just try to focus on the floor as he ties the laces up the front of his shirt. 

“There,” his voice is thick with an emotion you don’t know, “I suppose we are both stuck in here then. No shirt, no pants, no service, or whatever nonsense. It’s never stopped me though, but I can imagine you are no more ready to die than I am.” 

“What do you mean?”

 Astarion looks at you with a roll of his eyes and takes off his cloak.

“Oh please.”

“What!?” 

  Astarion guffaws at you, “Gale would explode if he had the opportunity to see you without any pants. It would be instantaneous.”

 Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. That��s nonsense and absolutely silly.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” you huff, walking to your pack to get your brush, “I think it would be more so him dying of shock that I have skin to show.” 

  More silence as you brush your hair- styling it the way you prefer and praying to Selune that it dries correctly. Also that you don’t fall asleep so prematurely that it dries weirdly. 

 You are distracted though. You very much like how you look in Astarion’s shirt and it is very nice of him to be lending it to you. 

“I’ll make sure to wash your shirt with my laund-“

“I would prefer you didn’t,” he muses, “I rather like it when my clothing smells like you in your natural state, Darling.”

 You run straight into him as you turn around in your confusion, his fingers tilting your chin up until your eyes meet his.

 Ruby eyes send a massive infernal wave through you- this is how you imagine Karlach feels after consuming a soul coin. 

 You burn for him- whether he lights you on fire or sends electricity through your body. Only, you feel powerful in the way he looks at you. 

 It’s a somewhat possessive look, but not in the way you would have anticipated. It’s lustful and wanting, protective and gentle, heartbreak and hopefulness. Maybe even a bit of a fear. 

“Would you be with Gale like this if he asked?” 

 You shake your head wordlessly. Your cheeks are flushed, your heart is thumping erratically against your chest, and blood is rushing in your ears. Your entire body is quivering in anticipation.

 Astarion pulls you to him, his hands lightly on your ass. You can feel his finger curling- wishing to leave fingerprint bruises on your hips and thighs. You want him to so terribly it hurts.

“And Wyll?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. 

“Halsin?”

“Not without you.”

 He stops and chuckles darkly, “don’t threaten me with a good time, Lover.”

 You try to hold still as he kisses along the curve of your jaw- his other hand has become tangled in your hair. You want him to feel in control and to feel like he can stop if needed.

“What about the others?” 

 Gods- you can hardly believe he is serious right now.

“I only want you, Astarion.”

  This is not a confession you wanted to share ever again, but it’s out there now and you suppose it’s better to get your second rejection over with now than later. He’s probably just teasing anyway. 

 Only, it never comes- in fact- his fingers only seem to become more fidgety as they glide across your skin, sending shockwaves to your core. 

 You are in a trance and his grin is beautiful. Astarion is certainly a predator and you have quickly turned into helpless prey. You are right in his trap. 

 The whole world seems to just… stop. Your heart beat is thundering in your chest and blood roars through your ears. You wonder if he feels this way too- is this a universal experience or one sided? 

 His fingers travel along the curves of your face as if he is painting you, but his eyes are intense- it almost feels like he is trying to memorize you and your features. 

 Your breath hitches when his thumb swipes across your bottom lips, parting them ever so slightly. 

 You allow your eyes to meet his, and you have never wanted to be kissed more in your entire life. Something in the way he looks at you tells you that he feels the same. 

 It’s a silent consent- he watches your every move as he leans in and your eyes flutter shut the closer he gets to you. 

 The anticipation is killing you and you try to contain your huff of frustration, but you are desperate. This feels like a dream. 

 Astarion’s lips send shockwaves through you when he finally makes contact. 

 Every movement is slow and tender- your face is still cradled in his hands, but you aren’t sure where to put yours. Astarion seems to read your mind and his hands travel south, gently guiding your hands to rest on his chest before returning to your face. 

 You have kissed people before, but not a single soul could hold a candle to Astarion. Not that they could anyway, but this is just… incredible. 

 His lips like honey and wine are dizzying, you feel like a delicate work of art in his hands, and his skin feels like porcelain underneath your fingertips. 

 Astarion guides you to the ground, your hips straddling his, and one of his hands tangles itself in your hair, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other remains firmly on your hip and you feel exhilarated by the idea of the fingerprint bruises that are certain to be left behind. 

 One of your arms is propped up next to his head- helping you keep balance so you don’t fall on top of him by accident. The other slides in between both of you and rubs along the outline of his cock- you swipe your tongue along his lower lip when he moans, taking advantage of the temporary dominance. 

 It’s short lived- he pulls you back by your hair and you have to put your hands on his chest to keep from embarrassing yourself. The last thing you want is to topple over on accident and have the, “yeah so I have a dirty V-Card and haven’t gone all the way, but it’s no biggie! I am sure this whole position thing will make sense eventually!” Because that seems to just scare off men. 

 The hand that had been gripping your hair is now paying an artfully close amount of attention to your clothed clit, pushing away the fabric, and one finger slides inside you with ease. 

 You bite your lip so hard you draw blood and you basically growl- you don’t want to alert the entire camp to your activities. This is meant to be a private moment and yet, you could not be more embarrassed.

“I-“ you are blushing red, his finger still moving slowly inside you, “I’m- sor- just wanted-“

 Astarion has you on your back- sucking, nipping, and lapping at the blood on your lower lip. He reinserts his lithe finger inside of you- his thumb taking it’s sweet time to hit every single nerve followed by a second finger that makes you briefly see stars.

“I don’t want to hear you ever apologize to me over something like that- it’s a noise I would rather like to hear from you again,” he nips your lower lip and you groan, “you are absolutely divine.” 

 You are a moaning mess against his doll like lips and your core is tightening so much it’s bittersweet. You want your release so terribly and you are lost in the way his fingers feel inside of you. Astarion curls and scissors his fingers- eventually adding a third that makes your toes curl in pleasure.

 He begins to make his descent down your body- kissing along the vein in your throat and along your collarbones. 

 Every inch of your skin is littered in kisses or has been love bitten by the time his cold tongue circles your sensitive clit. His fingers continue their rhythm- occasionally changing speeds to either tease or ruin you. His other hand is holding your hips down- your thighs are holding his head in place and you have no idea how much he is enjoying being buried between your legs. 

 He really, really made a mistake going with Shadowheart. You are incredible- exceptional even. The way you are fighting to keep your moans quiet as the camp begins to stir to life makes his cock twitch painfully against the already strained clothing. It doesn’t seem to matter how much friction he provides himself with- all he can think about is being inside you, filling you to the brim, taking you and making you his once and for all. 

 When you finally have the wherewithal to look at him- you are taken away with the way he looks at you. It’s the same way a priest looks talking about his God. 

 You guide his face back up to yours by weakly grabbing his hair- evidently your mind is in the same space and wanting to feel entirely consumed by him. You bite his lower lip and the growl he releases tips you over the edge- stars explode behind your eyes and you feel the rush of bliss numb your entire body. 

 A low pitched whine leaves your throat when he removes his fingers. He chuckles, but you feel so incredibly empty. It feels wrong. You are desperate to know him in every way, if he wants that.

 His eyes are still blown with lust, but you can see the adoration for you that Karlach so often talks about. You are smiling like a schoolgirl as he slots himself between your legs and begins to kiss you again. 

 Astarion’s cock is hard against the inside of your thigh and your breath hitches- the implication of the next act suddenly hitting you. 

 It’s happening and with someone you care about. Only, it makes you freeze, because it’s happening and it’s with someone you care about. 

“Is everything alright, Darling?”

 Astarion is looking at you with concern and you are quick to assuage him- gently guiding his face down to yours and kissing him deeply.

“I haven’t quite- reached this step yet- if that makes sense, but I PROMISE I WANT TO,” you are trying to save it before it crashes and dies on the floor, “if you want to- that is. 

 Astarion looks a bit surprised- maybe even a little shell shocked. What do you mean you haven’t quite gotten to this step? Are you trying to tell him you are a virgin?

 It makes sense, but a part of him is worried he may be opening the proverbial Pandora’s box and you will only want him for sex now. 

 But this is you and… he can trust you. He can enjoy you. He can indulge safely.

“I very much want to,” his voice is low and thick with lust, “I want you so terribly it hurts.” 

 The act is far more beautiful than you could have ever expected- it feels like putting together two pieces of the same beautiful vase as if it wasn’t fixed or reunited until this exact moment. 

 His movements are slow and careful- he takes his time to ready you completely. Astarion kisses your whimpering lips and his hands are intertwined with yours. 

 It’s odd for him to be entirely in control, but he also loves every second of it. He loves how consumed with you he is.

 Astarion’s eyes are boring into yours with every movement of his hips and every time you blink- he is still watching you with hooded, lustful eyes.

 His own eyelashes flutter and Astarion’s eyes are fighting not to roll back- he wants to see every single second. Astarion wants to enjoy every moment of you.

 You are technically his first too- to an extent. You are the first person he feels something for and wants to be with. 

 Your pulse thrums through his cock and his chest- it’s intoxicating and enduring. You are so real- so undeniably wonderfully alive and it allows him, even if for a moment, to feel like he is alive too.

 You mewl against his mouth, you weren’t expecting so much pinching at the start, but you found it went away quickly- your arms are now wrapped around his neck and he rocks inside of you with a slightly faster pace. His lips coax even more sighs and gasps- his own becoming intermingled as you continue to indulge in one another. 

 You feel utterly full- disgustingly, beautifully, perfectly full. You are on cloud 9 or you may have died and gone to heaven. 

 This feels right- exactly what you had been waiting for. 

 Astarion is experiencing the same emotions- he can barely keep his composure as you kiss him. The mewls and keens that leave your lips are some of the most melodic sounds he has ever heard and you are all his. 

 You feel perfect- he likes the feelings of your hands on him, even if it’s still a complicated feeling. 

 Sex has never felt sacred or safe- he has never been able to forget himself in a way that wasn’t dissociative and here he is, entirely lost in the moment.

 Entirely lost in you.

 He is gasping and sighing shamelessly into your ear with each thrust of his hips. Astarion is fighting to keep is release at bay and it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be. It usually isn’t, but you are a lovely wonderful treat. 

“A-Astarion,” you murmur his name like a prayer with every moan, as if he isn’t the one worshiping you right now. 

 Your heels are digging into his back and your heart beat is erratic. He kisses and nips your neck- struggling with his self control. You smell incredible. 

 When he goes to move away from your neck- one of your hands holds his head in place and he growls in response. Astarion means it more of a warning than anything else- he will end up biting you if you keep him here any longer. You are far, far too tempting.

 You seem to read his mind.

“I-you can- if you want,” 

 It happens so fast, neither one of you really expects it when he sinks his teeth into your neck- his body responds for him and begins to thrust into you erratically. Astarion has both of your hands pinned above your head again and you- in all your inexperience- are trusting him.

 The sounds that leave his mouth as he feeds and ruts inside you are animalistic and oddly enduring- your adrenaline and lust flows through your body. 

 Astarion’s mouth begins to feel warmer as you grow colder and his movements seem almost even more fast and distant with each second he takes from you, but you find you don’t mind. You should, but you don’t. 

 Your cries are guttural, hushed, and filled with pleasure- your legs are shaking around his waist and he can feel your life essence getting weaker and weaker. 

 It is becoming harder and harder to move away with each gulp of blood he takes, but he knows he needs to stop before he kills you on accident. 

 It feels physically painful to do so- not even necessarily because he is hungry, but because it made him feel truly connected to you on every single level. Astarion has never been given the pleasure of doing that before. 

“You,” he kisses all over your face as you look up at him lazily, “are so lovely and you have been exceptionally good for me, my Dear.”

 Astarion rolls so you are on top of him again- he knows you need a second to recover and he thinks you may rather enjoy this. 

 He props you up with his core and legs- using his hand to help himself get back inside you while you weakly keep yourself upright. You are a blissed out, wanting, whimpering mess when you finally are sinking back down on him and your hands are on either side of his head.

 Your eyes are blown wide with lust, blood drips down your throat and down your chest, and Astarion wants to remember this moment forever. You look euphoric and your eyes are glossed over from the haze of blood loss and pleasure. 

  Astarion moves his core up and done- thrusting up into you while one of his hands keeps you from moving and the other is tangled in your hair. He wants to see you orgasm- he wants to watch your face when bliss takes you again. 

 It’s beautiful when it does. 

 Your face is peaceful with pleasure, but your eyes are filled with adoration for him, not just lust and hunger-sated. 

 There is no boredom or false infatuation. No Cazador or  looming death right now- just the two of you in your little sanctuary together. 

 A mixture of your rush and his seed coats his navel and it may be the most delicious feeling in the whole world. The sound of your bodies is positively filthy and he is thankful you are still caught up in your haze because there is no way no one didn’t hear the events that have transpired in your tent.

 He pulls you down to his chest, your legs are shaking around his waist and he’s slightly worried he may have done too much for your first time. However, you are lazily kissing his cheek and along his jaw so you certainly don’t seem displeased.

 “Thank you,” you whisper, “this is what I envisioned my first time being like.”

“What do you mean?” He whispers back, unsure of why that is. Did you envision being with someone experienced? Beautiful? Easy to manipulate into sex?

“Being with someone I care about,” you lay your head on his chest and yawn, “with someone I consider my closest and most favorite companion. My friend and…”

 It surprises him immensely and he honestly has no idea how to express his gratefulness, but he is able to respond in a somewhat normal way.

“One and Only Lover?” He offers flirtatiously, “exceptionally charming Vampire? Your deviously handsome rogue?” 

 You sit up weakly, rolling your eyes and place a kiss on his chin before curling back up.

“All of the above.”

“Thank the Gods- I was worried I was going to have to kill Wyll after all.”

 You snort and just shake your head. Your breathing evens out and his hands are playing with your hair- as is the normal routine. 

 The normal routine. 

 Astarion’s smile is massive- he feels happy tears begin to stream down his face and he wipes them away with his free hand. 

 This is his new normal- having sex with you, a person he wants to be with, and cuddling afterwards. He even gets to drink from you.   And he already can’t wait to be with you in such an intimate way again.

Tag list: @preciouslittlebhaalbae @xxgrimripp3rxx @alice4wonderland2812 @therobishow @m1ster1e @tragicdruid @katsutoria @aristenfromwarsaw @avabjorna36 @frankie-mercury @golden-baby

[gallusrostromegalus]

Ask game: 39, 39, 39, 39, oh and also 39

Blease give me more of your writing your brain weirdness is extremely satisfying to my brain weirdness in a way that few others understand or can replicate

Immediately after the battle with Aizen, in what's left of Fake Karakura:

--

Something neon pink appeared at Shinji's elbow At Speed and he startled, yelping loudly and having to fight the reflex to kick what appeared to be a small girl.

"HeyifyouseemydadIwaswiththefallbacktimethewholetimeokay?" She spoke at a speed Shinji had only ever heard from a dangerously overcaffienated Mashiro before.

"I'm not lying for you, Kusajishi." sighed Kuchiki.

"YACHIRU!" someone bellowed loud enough to make the few unbroken windows ring, and Shinji turned to the sound of Ominous Jingling to see a giant of a man with a peculiar vertical hairstyle and a captain's Haori approaching, livid.

"Shit." She muttered, turning to grin sheepishly at her father as he stomped over, expression dark and a tiny, teal-haired toddler on his hip.

"Where were you supposed to be today?" The Giant growled down at Yachiru, and Kuchiki excused himself to sit down on a nearby piece of bench-height rubble.

"...You told me to stay with the fallback team in Seireitei." She sighed.

"So why are you here?" the giant growled.

"BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH AND IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO YOU IN LAS NOCHES I'D NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF!" She shouted, reflexive foot-stomp blasting out a wave of enraged reiatsu.

"So, uh, who're Pinky and Punky here?" Shinji asked, limping over to sit down to watch next to Kuchiki.

"Eleventh Division Captain Zaraki Kenpachi and his daughter, Yachiru Kusajishi." Kuchiki nodded. "They're loud, but honorable and reliable."

"I'VE BEEN WEIRD ALL MONTH BECAUSE- Shit, it's- Its complicated, okay?" Kenpachi groaned.

"And the other girl?" Shinji asked.

"I believe Kurosaki said her name was 'Nel' or similar." Kuchiki nodded. "Not entirely sure why Zaraki is the one carrying her around but it's nothing to worry about. He's great with kids."

"SINCE WHEN HAS 'COMPLICATED' BEEN A REASON TO HIDE STUFF FROM ME?" Yachiru demanded, bristling at him.

"Great with kids, huh?" Shinji glanced over at Kuchiki.

"-BECAUSE I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS GOING ON EITHER UNTIL ABOUT TWO HOURS AGO! WHAT IF SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED TO YOU, HUH? IT'S *MY* JOB TO WORRY ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND DAMMIT!"

"Oh, nevermind, I see what you mean." Shinji nodded and there was the barest hint of a smirk on Kuchiki's face.

Yachiru sniffled, tearing up with rage. "WHAT? I'M NOT ALLOWED TO WORRY ABOUT YOU!?"

"YOU CAN WORRY ALL YOU WANT BUT YOU CAN'T RISK YOUR HIDE FOR MY SAKE, THAT'S NOT HOW IT FUCKING WORKS-!" he roared, jabbing his finger at Yachiru.

"Can I have a juice?" the teal-haired toddler asked from Zaraki's hip.

"-In a minute Yachiru, I need to-" Kenpachi started and stopped. He blinked a few times, then slowly turned to frown at Nel, then at Yachiru, then back at Nel, pointing between the two girls and expression shifting from rage to utter confusion.

"Did you see another abandoned baby and just pick it up because it was Yachiru-shaped and Neon Colored?" Kuchiki called, teasing.

Kenpachi looked up at him, bewildered "MAYBE??" and Yachiru rolled her eyes behind him.

"That’s the most 'Raised By Birds' thing you’ve done in a while." Kuchiki laughed, getting up to peer down at Nel with curiosity.

"Raised by WHAT?" Shinji asked, jogging up after him.

Kenpachi Stood up straight, shaking his shoulders like he was ruffling feathers. "One, I’m not putting her back, two, who the fuck are these assholes?" He asked, gesturing at Shinji and the other Visored who had started to gather in the rubble to catch their breath after the battle.

"Remember how half the captains had fallen in battle or otherwise vanished before you showed up?" Byakuya asked.

"No, because I wasn’t there." Huffed Kenpachi, rifling through his Kosode and producing a Juice Box for Nel. "-but I remember Ikkaku complaining about the employee turnover."

"-AND I WAS RIGHT!" Ikkaku bellowed from his stretcher behind them, too injured to stand but not about to stop fighting, as expected of someone wearing the 11th Division's lieutenant insignia.

"YOU'RE STILL IN DEEP SHIT FOR THAT BANKAI THING, CUEBALL." Zaraki holled back at his lieutenant, who only turned his head away, sulking.

"Apparently the assorted missing officers weren’t dead, they just caught an artificially induced case of hollowfication from Aizen, but managed to survive and stayed out here in the living world to recover and learn to control their abilities out of sight from him." Kuchiki explained. Beside them, meaningful eye contact was exchanged between father and daughter, and he gave her a juice box as well. "Tactical." Zaraki nodded approvingly. "Also, non-zero chance The Old Man would have killed y'all on sight."

"Er. Yeah." Shinji winced, looking over his shoulder to where a surprisingly non-apocalyptic-looking Captain-General was discussing something with Unohana.

"This man specifically is is Hirako Shinji, Aizen’s former boss." Kuchiki continued, introducing them properly. "Captain Hirako, Captain Zaraki."

"Hiya!" Shinji grinned, holding out a hand for Zaraki to shake, but instead, he too was handed a juice box.

Kenpachi eyed Shinji in a not precisely hostile but still unnerving manner, as he offered Kuchiki a juice box as well and when turned down, opened it for himself and drank, studying him.

"…This explains six or seven things." Zaraki finally spoke, nodding sagely.

Shinji glared up at the giant. "Excuse me?"

Kuchiki waved a hand between Shinji and Zaraki. "I promise, it’s technically a compliment."

"Yeah, if Ken-chan didn't like you, you wouldn't have a head right now." Yachiru giggled.

"Mostly explains the two sets of teaspoons in the 5th division break room." Zaraki nodded, holding his hands out to his sides. "You're, whatsit- tiger-tiger thing?"

"Huh?" Puzzled Shinji.

"Symmetry?" Tried Kuchiki. "I do recall Captain Hirako having immense talent with mirroring and reversing text and other things."

"That's the bitch!" Zaraki grinned. "Not a bad idea though, you always have enough spoons."

"Huh. I guess so?" Shinji pondered, eyeballing Zaraki in turn. "Kenpachi, so you're captain of the 11th? If I remember correctly, Kiganjo was the tenth Kenpachi- so how many Kenpachis did we run through while I was away?"

"Just him for the last century. Only the two serious challenges to his post." Kuchiki explained, looking almost... proud? There were strange political currents swirling here, leaving Shinji feeling adrift.

"For real?" Shinji asked with genuine admiration. Outside of statistical outliers like Unohana and The Old Man, it was rare for a captain to hold their post for more than two centuries, and the average in the 11th more like 60 years.

Kenpachi waved his hand noncommitally. "One and a half. Tetsuzaimon Iba was really challenging his Mother by proxy." he corrected, head tilting with a jingle and Shinji realized the vertiginous hairstyle was there to support a dozen or so small bells, before the rest of the sentence caught up with him.

"Tetsuzaimon?" Shinji blinked. "Wasn't that what Chikane Iba was going to call her son?

"Yah." Zaraki nodded, sounding like a sleigh full of presents.

Shinji stared blankly. "But- but- She was still pregnant when I.. left? He’s an infant!

"Nah, Lieutenant Iba's a whole-ass man now." Zaraki looked over his shoulder. "Ay Iba-" he called to a robust man with sunglasses wearing the 7th Division's lieutenant's badge, currently engaged in picking up Ikkaku and moving him out of the way for the 4th division triage. "-How come you're spotless when my vice looks like someone fucked up at the abattoir?"

"Hi Captain Zaraki!" Iba waved back, , Ikkaku slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "It's because he's a fucking idiot, sir!"

"FUCK YOU!" Ikkaku shrieked, flipping them off from where he hung awkwardly over his friend's shoulder.

"FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" Zaraki bellowed back.

Shinji watched the spectacle with wide eyes, slowly coming to an unpleasant realization, before slowly putting a hand on Kuchiki’s shoulder. "…Sojun." He sighed, using his colleauges given name with heavy morose. "I’m afraid we may be Old Men now."

Kuchiki turned and blinked at him, confused. "I’m Byakuya."

It was Shinji's turn to stare in confusion. "...Kuchiki Byakuya isn't even in the Academy yet?"

"No, I'm a captain now. Sojun, my father, died shortly after your disappearance." Apparently-Byakuya explained, arching a concerned eyebrow down at him.

"Fucking what." Shinji said flatly, feeling like he'd been drained of all color and redrawn with a sharpie by someone's off-hand.

"HAH!" Barked Zaraki. "Yer Old Fart, Tiger."

Byakuya scoffed up at Zaraki. "What’s that make you then?"

"An Ancient and Revered Relic, thank you." Kenpachi said, puffing up his chest in mock-pride.

"What's going on?" Nel asked Yachiru in a loud whisper.

"Bowlcut here is an old fart who is just now realizing that he's an old fart, but he’s younger than me, so he’s also a baby." Yachiru explained. "Either way, impressive bowel control for his age!"

"HEY!" Yelped Shinji.

"Drink ya Battle Victory juice, Tiger." Zaraki said, giving Shinji a consoling pat on the shoulder.

"...It's a bitter Juicy Juice I drink this day." Shinji sighed, disconsolately stabbing the box with the straw and drinking with despair.

[hungwy]

A small woman—or perhaps an adolescent boy—walks quickly across a landscape where giant beasts roam. The person holds a toddler on their hip, and their feet slip in the mud as they hurry along for nearly a mile, perhaps delivering the child to a safe destination before returning home alone.

Despite the fact that this journey took place more than 10,000 years ago, a new paper published in the journal Quaternary Science Reviews manages to sketch out what it might have looked and felt like in remarkable detail.

Evidence of the journey comes from fossilized footprints and other evidence discovered in New Mexico’s White Sands National Park in 2018, reports Albuquerque TV station KRQE. Toward the end of the late Pleistocene epoch—between 11,550 and 13,000 years ago—humans and animals left hundreds of thousands of tracks in the mud along the shore of what was once Lake Otero.

The new paper investigates one specific set of tracks, noting details in the footprints’ shapes that reveal how the traveler’s weight shifted as they moved the child from one hip to the other.

“We can see the evidence of the carry in the shape of the tracks,” write study co-authors Matthew Robert Bennett and Sally Christine Reynolds, both of Bournemouth University in England, for the Conversation. “They are broader due to the load, more varied in morphology often with a characteristic ‘banana shape’–something that is caused by outward rotation of the foot.”

At some points along the journey, the toddler’s footprints appear as well, most likely because the walker set the child down to rest or adjust their position. For most of the trip, the older caretaker carried the child at a speed of around 3.8 miles per hour—an impressive pace considering the muddy conditions.

“Each track tells a story: a slip here, a stretch there to avoid a puddle,” explain Bennett and Reynolds. “The ground was wet and slick with mud and they were walking at speed, which would have been exhausting.”

On the return trip, the adult or adolescent followed the same course in reverse, this time without the child. The researchers theorize that this reflects a social network in which the person knew that they were carrying the child to a safe destination.

“Was the child sick?” they ask. “Or was it being returned to its mother? Did a rainstorm quickly come in catching a mother and child off guard? We have no way of knowing and it is easy to give way to speculation for which we have little evidence.”

The fossilized footprints show that at least two large animals crossed the human tracks between the outbound and return trips. Prints left by a sloth suggest the animal was aware of the humans who had passed the same way before it. As the sloth approached the trackway, it reared up on its hind legs to sniff for danger before moving forward. A mammoth who also walked across the tracks, meanwhile, shows no sign of having noticed the humans’ presence.

Another article: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0277379120305722

[hockybish]

Scary Uncle Luke

l West Winds au l dad!trevor au l masterlist l

September 2022

Zephyr tends to run into people's legs, he thinks its funny. He'll do it anyone. There have been a couple of times where he's gone up to strangers and Bean and Trevor have to do some apologizing. But if it's one of the guys, they'll pick him up and give him the attention he wants.

One time Zeph was looking for Trevor and he was already slightly upset and tired. All he wants is his daddy. He walks up to the first person he sees that could possibly be his dad (because the person looked really tall like Trevor) but lo and behold it wasn't Trevor it was Luke.

Luke felt something collide with the side of his leg, immediately he knew it was the little boy who had been staying with them at the lake house. This was a common occurrence, so Luke just bent over and placed the child on his hip and continued his conversation with Quinn. Moments later a wail pierced through all conversations being had amongst the guest currently there.

"Zeph buddy, what's wrong?" he questioned Zephyr as giant crocodile slipped from his green eyes. The toddler hid his face in the tall hockey player's shoulder.

"Daddy" the two year old mumbled, barely audible. Zephyr gave Luke the side eye before crying into his shoulder again. This action was repeated a few more times sending Luke into a slight panic, whipping his head around looking for either of the child's parent.

"Dude what did you do?" Quinn questioned his youngest brother.

"I didn't do anything Q, literally just picked him up and he started crying." Luke told his brother what had taken place. The little boy looked at Luke and whimpered again, "and he keeps doing this and saying something I can't understand. Where's Bean?"

"hey Zephy want uncle Quinny to hold you?" he offered, rubbing the up and down the child's back in a soothing manner.

Zephyr shook his head no, leaning closer into luke in an attempt to get away from Quinn's hand, mumbling something unintelligible again. "hmm, what was that?"

"Daddy." he turned his face to the side away from Luke. if he had looked at Luke there would have been more tears.

the oldest Hughes nodded, reassuring the kid that he would go retrieve the person he was asking for. shortly he returned with trevor, and zeph practically left into his arms. he sobbed again curling into the comfort of his father.

"Don't sweat it moose. It's nap time, he's cranky and tired. and he probably thought you were me but when he realized it was you he got scared." trevor shrugged.

From here on out Luke was known as Scary Uncle Luke.

[wileys-russo]

“You look better in red” ficlet mayhaps🫶🏼

you look better in red

"no!" you laughed, shaking your head firmly from where you lay on the bed. "baby!" millie whined, stomping her foot like a toddler as she glared down at you. "please." the blonde pouted as you again shook your head.

"what am i then? chopped liver?" mary scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring at the taller girl beside her. "no! i just thought it would work best with three of us." millie huffed, having spent the last half an hour begging you to do a tiktok with her as you promptly refused.

"go on then snakehips. time's a tickin!" you teased, propping yourself up on one elbow and tapping your watch as your girlfriend gave you a mean stare and set up her phone to record.

you were away on england camp for the olympic qualifiers and of course that meant millie and mary had to record as many tiktoks as they could, millie dubbing herself the tiktok princess to marys tiktok queen.

"oi those are my shorts!" you realised as your girlfriend hiked her hoodie up a little, your favourite pair of shorts snugly wrapped around her muscular thighs. "our shorts baby." millie corrected, blowing you a kiss as mary fake gagged.

"best not stretch them with your tree trunk thighs or we'll be havin words." you warned her sternly, mary now ooohing. "ow mills!" the girl huffed as the chealsea player punched her, the timer starting as the music went.

"go on girls!" you cheered with a clap as they both started to dance, stifling your laughter behind your hand as they both went the wrong way and crashed into one another.

this seemed to be a common trend as the two of them routinely argued back and forth about who was doing which part, at least ten takes in and still not able to use a single one. "would you stop laughin!" millie scowled at you as you buried your face in a pillow to muffle the noise.

"sorry! just its like you've both got two left feet. like big clumsy giants!" you clutched at your stomach, now the laughter was free flowing it was unable to stop. "right! if it's so easy then you do it love, go on!" your girlfriend gestured, her and mary stepping back as you shrugged.

you made sure the camera wasn't recording as you clicked play on the sound, counting yourself in and starting to dance, both girls jaws dropping as you didn't miss a beat or a single move. "ta da!" you finished, giving them both a sarcastic jazz hands.

"mary get out." millie mumbled, jaw slack as she stared at you with a familiar look in her eyes. "what?" the keeper frowned, unsure if she'd heard correctly. "out, get out." millie spoke, jumping to her feet and pouncing at you, hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into a bruising kiss.

"ergh alright at least wait till i'm gone before you suck face!" mary groaned, grabbing her jacket and hurrying out of the room as millies large hands groped at you. "baby that was so hot." the taller girl mumbled into your mouth.

"don't laugh! i'm tryin to kiss ya here that's not very romantic." millie frowned as you pushed her away, body vibrating with amusement. "you are honestly like a teenage boy, the most weird and simple things turn you on bright!" you teased, shoving her suddenly as she fell back onto the bed.

"go on then baby. dance for me!" the older girl smirked, shuffling back to rest on her elbows as her eyes scanned you up and down hungrily. "you already got a free show. sorry love i'm a one trick pony!" you grinned, sending her a wink.

"alright! well then i guess i'll just have to dance for you." millie sighed, grabbing your hand and tugging you down on the bed, rolling on top of you and attacking your face with kisses before she stood.

"might want to get a head start and take your shorts and shirt off baby, cause this dance is gonna knock your socks off!" millie blew you a kiss and wiggled her finger guns, backing up as you raised your eyebrows at her confidence.

"count me in, from five." she flicked through her phone before she turned her back to you, pulling her hood up to cover her messy bun of hair. "oh my god." you sighed as pony blasted from her phone and you counted her in from five.

"millie!" you laughed as she turned, starting to body roll and bite her lip, mouthing along to the words. "call me magic millie baby." she flipped her hood off, dropping to the floor and rolling her body like a stripper as you laughed.

"baby this is not hot." you bit down on your lip as she wiggled and bucked her hips on the floor, shaking her head so much that her bun was clinging on for dear life to her head.

"scuse me, no talking from the audience." she warned, jumping up to her feet and quickly stripping herself of her hoodie, tossing it so it landed on your face. "keepsake darlin, from me to you." she winked and blew you a kiss as you peeled it off of you and dropped it to the floor.

"do we have a volunteer? oh you look willing for a good time!" mary yelled out, pointing to you and starting to stalk her way over. "millie!" your stomach hurt from laughing so hard as she stood in between your legs, grabbing the back of your neck and pressing your face into her stomach, rolling her body up and down as she continued to sing along.

"you want me? you can't have me!" millie yelled in a funny accent, suddenly shoving you away from her as she turned around and wiggled her bum at you.

you wolf whistled and broke out into cheers as the song ended and she dropped to her knees, peace signs in the air. "now that, that was dancing." millie breathed out, admittedly a little puffed from the effort.

"shut up and kiss me you big dopey idiot."

[fuckyeahisawthat]

While this article does not answer my #1 burning question of how you dismount from a speeding sandworm, there are a lot of great pull quotes, including:

On Paul and Chani:

"...I wanted to make sure the audience will understand that Paul becomes a dark figure, that his choices are exactly what Chani was afraid of. He becomes the colonizers the Fremen were fighting against.... He betrayed her in many ways. But the big thing for Chani is that it’s not about love. It’s about the fact that he becomes the figure that will keep the Fremen in their mental jail. A leader that is not there to free the Fremen, but to control them."

On the duel between Paul and Feyd-Rautha:

"...we approached their fight at the end like some kind of symbolic union. The way their bodies get close to one another, there’s something animalistic, an intimacy, I was looking for."

On the infamous popcorn bucket:

"I’m at peace with the bucket."

Full article text under the cut, including Fremen sex lives, murder toddler adaptation choices, and the teeny tiniest of teasers for Dune Messiah:

Denis Villeneuve Answers All Your Questions About ‘Dune: Part Two’

He explains why Lady Jessica’s face is so heavily tattooed, whether Paul considers himself the Messiah and what he thinks of those Javier Bardem memes.

By Amy Nicholson

April 17, 2024

This weekend, “Dune: Part Two” muscles back into IMAX theaters with the verve of Timothée Chalamet rodeo-riding a giant sandworm. After nearly two months in theaters, the film is the current champion of this year’s box office race, with a total take of more than $680 million. (It’s also available to rent or buy on some streaming platforms.) The film’s success is thanks in part to audiences that have returned over and over to get lost in the rocky warrens and spiritual reckonings of the planet Arrakis. One admirer reports he’s seen the movie 25 times to date.

That there’s so much to explore in “Dune: Part Two” is a credit to its writer and director, Denis Villeneuve, who boldly reshaped Frank Herbert’s complex and cerebral 1965 novel “Dune.” Villeneuve split the book and its themes into two films: “Dune: Part One,” released in 2021, focused on the political struggles between two families, the Atreides and the Harkonnens. “Part Two” delves into religious fervor as the two surviving Atreides, young Paul (Chalamet) and his mother, Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), ingratiate themselves with Arrakis’s Indigenous desert tribe, the Fremen, by allowing the locals to believe that Paul is their Messiah — a prophecy that, if it comes to pass, will mean the slaughter of billions of victims across the galaxy.

Villeneuve has yearned to tell this story since he was a teenager in Quebec. His devotion is palpable; every frame feels steeped in monkish contemplation. Yet, he’s also a visual dramatist who doesn’t want audiences to get tripped up by too much exposition. His scripts give only passing mention to core concepts like spice, a psychedelic dust that powers everything from space travel to Paul’s clairvoyant hallucinations.

Though Villeneuve doesn’t want to overexplain, he was willing to provide some answers in an interview via video where every question about the film — even silly questions! — was on the table.

Does Chalamet’s Paul Atreides actually believe he’s the Messiah? What’s the meaning of Jessica’s face tattoos? Villeneuve also got into the erotic lives of his desert dwellers and the extra narrative weight he threw behind Paul’s Fremen love interest, Chani, played by Zendaya. As Villeneuve said with a grin, “Chani is my secret weapon.”

Here are edited excerpts from our conversation.

The last time we spoke, you weren’t sure what to make of the sandworm-shaped “Dune” popcorn bucket. It went on to be so popular that it sold out in cities before opening day and is being resold online for around $175. What do you think of it now?

I thought that the bucket was an insane marketing idea. I laughed so much. It is so out there. I don’t know who designed it, but they’re a bit of a genius. I’m at peace with the bucket.

In this film, Javier Bardem’s character Stilgar is reduced to a guileless follower of Paul Atreides, who Stilgar believes is the new Messiah. His conversion is tragic. But also, Bardem’s awe-face has become a funny meme, and the second time I saw the movie, people laughed at almost every line he spoke. Did that reaction surprise you?

No. I am very happy when you say that he is a tragic figure. For me, he is the most tragic figure of all. The idea to bring humor to Stilgar was to make him lovable, to feel the humanity in that character. He’s not an austere figure, he has a big heart. But his beliefs, his faith, his reactions bring humor — and that is something I love about making a sci-fi film, because I can talk about that without offending people because it’s a fake religion. I designed all the prayers myself, so I know it’s fake. I find Stilgar very funny. And when people laugh, I’m happy because that was the intention.

Someone makes a dig that Stilgar has found a savior again. This is not even his first time?

All his life he has been raised with that dream. So I suggest that every time a guy comes from outside with a lot of charisma, he hopes he’s found him. Like in the Bible, we have tons of prophets before Jesus came.

The arc of “Dune: Part Two” is Paul accepting that he must become the Messiah — and get billions of people killed. Does he truly believe that he is the Messiah? Or does he just decide to let the Fremen believe that he is?

I don’t think he believes that he is the Messiah. I think he feels the burden of the heritage that the Bene Gesserit [the mystical sisterhood that Jessica belongs to] have laid among the Fremen, and he sees the potential to use that religious power to survive.

Paul is warned that no man can survive drinking the spiritual water of life. But as that’s part of the lore of a planet seeded with manipulative propaganda by his own mother, I have to ask: Have other men actually been drinking the water and dying? Have they been scared off from trying? Is the warning just a setup for a magic trick?

There are people that have tried it in the past and died. In Frank Herbert’s world, femininity is a power. I think Herbert was fascinated by motherhood, by the power of creation. I love this idea that the power is held by women. It’s something that was ahead of his time when he wrote it and I tried to put the focus on it.

You say so much with Jessica’s costuming. In the first film, her look is immaculate and baroque. This film begins with her in rags, but she finds another path to being dressed and treated like royalty. And she gets a lot of tattoos on her face. Why did she get so many more face tattoos than the outgoing reverend mother?

She’s trying to play on the symbolism that was put in the prophecy. She’s supposed to be the mother of the Messiah, so I wanted to bring the idea that she was like the pope of the reverend mothers on Arrakis. There’s some kind of madness in writing elements of the prophecies on her face. Frankly, I think when you drink the worm poison, it affects your sanity — and the same with Paul. I like the idea that we feel she’s going too far.

Jessica is already pregnant when the first movie ends, and she’s still pregnant at the end of this film. Which means you had to condense this massive story into less than nine months because her body is a time clock.

The idea was to compress the book so that Paul will feel the pressure to get the Fremens’ trust, to start gearing up — but not to succeed, not to have the time to create a real war. Time is against him.

Because in the book, this takes years. Long enough for Jessica to give birth to a very unnerving daughter, Alia. We glimpse Alia as an adult — she’s played by Anya Taylor-Joy — but you skipped over seeing her murder people as a toddler. Was it hard to decide no “murder toddler”?

I think pregnant women look tremendously powerful. To use that power was very exciting. And usually when you see a pregnant woman onscreen, she’s always giving birth. To avoid that moment, to stay in the state of being pregnant, I thought was very Frank Herbert-like. I was going away from the killer toddler, but I thought that was more fresh and original. Honestly, it’s one of the things that I’m proudest of in the adaptation.

Speaking of female power, let’s talk about Chani.

Chani is my secret weapon. Frank Herbert was sad to realize that people saw the book as a celebration of Paul Atreides. He wanted to do a cautionary tale against messianic figures, a warning against blending religion and politics. I wrote the second movie trying to be more faithful to Frank Herbert’s intentions than to the book. In the book, Chani is just a follower. I came up with the idea of her being reluctant. She gives us the critical distance and perspective on Paul’s journey. I wanted to make sure the audience will understand that Paul becomes a dark figure, that his choices are exactly what Chani was afraid of. He becomes the colonizers the Fremen were fighting against. And then the movie becomes the cautionary tale Frank Herbert was wishing for.

Paul makes a choice at the end that will go on to kill billions of people. That’s so large and theoretical that it’s hard to grasp. But you structure your climax so that in that moment of betrayal, he’s also betraying the love of his life — a betrayal we understand.

He betrayed her in many ways. But the big thing for Chani is that it’s not about love. It’s about the fact that he becomes the figure that will keep the Fremen in their mental jail. A leader that is not there to free the Fremen, but to control them. That’s the tragedy of all tragedies. Like the Michael Corleone of sci-fi, he becomes what he wanted to avoid. And he will try to find a way to save his soul in the third part.

But “Dune Messiah,” the book your third film is based on, picks up 12 years later with a reunited Paul and Chani. How far did you feel you could push her anger? Because at some point, she’s going to have to forgive him.

That anger is tremendous. I don’t want to reveal what I’m going to do with the third movie. I know exactly what to do. I’m writing it right now. But there’s a lot of firepower there and I’m very excited about that decision.

In the spirit of no dumb questions, Chani says that Paul sand-walks like a drunk lizard. Which means Arrakis has booze?

Actually, there is spice beer. In the book, there are Fremen parties, even some orgies involving spice. I didn’t bring that into the movies because it’s PG-13.

Body fluids have significance to the Fremen. Spitting is the giving of water, a sign of respect. But tears and vomit are a waste. So what is kissing?

As long as you don’t lose your humidity, you can kiss. It’s an exchange of fluids — an act of love, when you think about it. Fremens love to kiss.

What about the, um, other romantic fluids?

You cannot have sex outside, for sure. But they are very sexual. I suspect that all sexual intercourse happens in environments that are protected from losing moisture. When they are in their sietches [or caves] underground, those are sealed. You don’t need to wear stillsuits inside them. We can deduce from that there is no problem to have sex in a sietch.

By the way, who decided that Fremen was pronounced Freh-men and not Free-men?

All the pronunciations, I took them from recordings of Frank Herbert’s voice. Frank Herbert used “Freh-men,” which I love. It makes it less on-the-nose.

You kept two major characters out of the first movie and only introduced them now: the princess Irulan, played by Florence Pugh, and the Baron Harkonnen’s nephew Feyd-Rautha, played by Austin Butler. The princess is the first voice in the books, the first face onscreen in David Lynch’s “Dune” [1984]. What made you sure holding them back was the right move, despite three years of fans asking, “Hey, where are they?”

When people ask me what was the biggest challenge in making those movies, it’s writing them. In order to make this adaptation, we have to make big, bold decisions. One was that the first movie should be seen from Paul’s perspective. I wasn’t able to do that entirely because I had to go to the Harkonnens’ side to introduce them so that the story will be clear, but I tried to find an elegant simplicity in the story structure. And I wanted, frankly, to keep some firepower for the second movie.

Why is Feyd-Rautha’s gladiator scene in black and white? And what are the splats in the sky above the dome?

Frank Herbert explores the impact of ecosystems on cultures, on humans. How it influences the way we evolve — our biology, culture, technology, mythology, religion. The psychology of a tribe is linked with their environment. If you want to know things about the Fremen, you observe the desert. I wanted to have the same approach to the Harkonnens. They killed nature. It’s a plastic planet. One thing left was sunlight, but instead of a sun that reveals color, it kills colors. When you are outside, it’s all black and white. It gives us ideas about how these people perceive reality, politics, violence in a binary world — it brings the idea of fascism. It also gave me the opportunity to bring images that remind us in our memories of World War II and the Nazi regime. So it’s an idea that I had as I was writing. Then I had the idea to have strange fireworks in the sky that will look like Rorschach drawings. It’s a nightmarish celebration. The perception of a dome is not accurate. It’s just that the fireworks reach a certain altitude and then they explode. But it’s true that it looks like a liquid that falls from the sky.

Forgive me if I am not being fair to sadistic, psychopathic Feyd-Rautha. But all of the gladiators were supposed to be drugged for his happy birthday massacre. The one who secretly isn’t puts up a worthy battle. So I assumed that Feyd-Rautha isn’t that great of a fighter. But at the end, he’s the only warrior who is Paul’s equal?

It’s a show. You see that the Harkonnens are very cruel and their society is very paranoiac. His opponent is known in the books as one of the great fighters, Lieutenant Lanville. I tried to show that Feyd is excited to have a real opponent. He has a code of honor, he respects the effort, and he has fun with it. That’s the idea I tried to convey — he’s not a coward.

Audiences might remember that the Bene Gesserit wanted Jessica’s child to be a girl, that Timothée Chalamet’s Paul Atreides was supposed to be female. And they specifically bred Feyd-Rautha to be a male. Were they hoping these youngsters would mate?

Yeah. They are trying to increase the potential of humanity by breeding the best specimen of each tribe or family. A baby between Feyd-Rautha and an Atreides daughter would have brought peace between Harkonnens and the Atreides, and created an über being.

Will you read any of the internet fan fiction spawned by the idea of Timothée and Austin hooking up?

[Laughs] But you know, we approached their fight at the end like some kind of symbolic union. The way their bodies get close to one another, there’s something animalistic, an intimacy, I was looking for.

I rewatched the first film again recently. It opens with a quote in another language: “Dreams are messages from the deep.” I love that quote. It feels like how a film resonates, too. But it wasn’t until I had subtitles on at home that I realized who said it. Of all the important characters and cultures to establish, you gave that major moment — the very beginning of your franchise — to an anonymous Sardaukar from the murderous imperial army that we’re cheering to see get killed. Why?

I love your question. The Sardaukar are the dark side of the Fremen. I thought it would be interesting to have a tiny bit of insight that they are not just tremendous warriors, but they have spirituality, philosophical thought. They have substance. Also, their sound was designed by Hans Zimmer. I absolutely loved how it feels like it’s coming from the deep, from the ancient world. Frank Herbert said beginnings are very delicate times. By starting with a Sardaukar priest, I was indicating to the fans that I was taking absolute freedom with this adaptation, that I was hijacking the book.

But you also deeply love the book. So when you make these bold changes, do you feel like asking Frank Herbert for forgiveness?

Yes. There’s so many darlings that you kill. An adaptation is an act of violence.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 13

Content Warnings: Torture, Canon Typical Violence, Cursing

Author's Note: This is short and straight up angst I'm so sorry, but I promise the next chapter will be longer.

Masterlist/ Previous Chapter

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You can’t reach him.

It’s all you can think about; the cold, quiet emptiness in your head, in your chest, it’s all encompassing. You’re too far out of reach to warn him. Hybern is here and no one will have any idea, least of all your mate.

You thrash against the hands that hold you--Hybern had winnowed you out of the Mountain and right into the waiting arms of his soldiers, four of which now drag you inside a temple on the outskirts of Spring’s borders, the old building badly burnt, as if someone had recently set it on fire--throwing your weight around as best you can until you hit the floor. Amarantha is not around to punish you, you let your claws slip out of your nail beds so you can gouge them into the worn stones of the Temple floor, trying to slow your progress. There is no manipulating, no smooth talking your way out of whatever Hybern has planned for you, your only chance is to run. 

“Bring her here,” Hybern orders. He sounds like an irritated father dealing with a toddler’s temper tantrum, his booming voice echoing off the domed ceiling. 

There’s only one Priestess about, her blonde hair slipping out from underneath her soft blue hood, a circlet atop her pale face. She frowns when she sees you, as if you are the worst thing in the Temple, even though its battered walls are full of soldiers bearing Hybern’s sigil. 

“No manners on this one, I see,” the priestess says.

Hybern frowns as he strokes a hand over his bearded chin. “Too much spirit in all the wrong places.”

“Get your fucking hands off me!” You scream as one of the soldiers snags your ankle and drags you across the rough stones. It’s only then that you get a glimpse of an altar, old as time, the stones covered in dripping candle wax. Atop the cracked, ageless stones, a giant, black cauldron sits, green mist slipping from the top.

You freeze, claws still digging into the floor, momentarily keeping you in place. Not any cauldron, the Cauldron. Just like your dreams. As if it’s sentient, as if it can sense your unease, a voice from within the bottomless chamber whispers, “Come, come Daughter of the Void, come and see what I have in store for you.”

A shiver crawls its way up your spine and you throw yourself away from it as best you can. No one else seems to notice the voice, perhaps it is a message for you and you alone. 

You poke at the bond again, making one last ditch attempt to reach your mate, but there is only cold, emptiness between the two of you. Despite all his promises, he’s too far away to save you.

“Stop this!” Hybern booms.

“Fuck you!” You shout back as you manage to free your ankle from a soldier’s grip and land a kick square in his nose. Blood splatters across your exposed leg as you twist, arms screaming in protest as you bring your knee into the next one’s groin. 

Despite your best efforts, all Hybern has to do is reach out, and some great, invisible hand yanks you across the floor until you slam into the altar. When you try to stand, that hand holds you down with enough force to make the air leave your lungs in a terrible wheeze.

“Enough, daughter.”

“I’m not your daughter!” You snarl. 

The priestess eyes you curiously, her pale blue eyes on your chest, where Rhys’s jacket no longer covers you, the too big sleeves sliding off your shoulders. She frowns as she steps closer. “Why is your chest glamored?”

Hybern’s power will not release you, even as he steps closer to get a better look.

The slide across the floor tore up the back of your thighs, your skin raw as you fight in vain to move away. 

Shit shit shit.

Hybern crouches in front of you, and it’s only now you notice how armed his soldiers are behind him, swords in hand, ready to run you through if they think their king is in danger. 

“Drop the glamor.”

“Eat shit!” You can’t move your hands, can’t kick out with your legs, and he’s not close enough to use your teeth, but that doesn’t stop you from spitting directly in his face.

In retaliation, that great power pinning you to the floor lifts you up, just to slam you back down, your head clacking against the altar so hard spots swim across your vision.

“Last chance to spare yourself,” Hybern warns.

You grit your teeth and snarl as many curses as you can think of and you're rewarded with an even more forceful drop, once, twice, and a third. You think you might have bitten your tongue, the coppery tang of blood heavy in your mouth, but the room spins so much you can’t be sure. But still, the glamor remains in place. You can hold it, you know you can, Rhys had prepared you more than you’d realized at the time. You hold onto that. Maybe Rhys cannot be here to physically save you, but all he’s taught you still remains at your disposal. 

That power holding you lifts enough for you to finally, mercifully, take a full breath, only for it to shift into something else. What was once a crushing weight quickly morphs into a blasting wind, whipping back and forth over your exposed skin so hard and fast it tears the collar off your jacket. Hybern’s soldiers crouch back, holding onto the walls for support as that wind wraps itself around you like a serpent. Like phantom hands, the wind tears at the magic you’ve bound around yourself, as harsh and sharp as the twins attempt to get into your mind. It takes all your energy to keep the glamor up, to fight against it. You have no real knowledge how to throw out your own power as anything more than a shield, but you do know how to take. You let those phantom hands reach for you, your eyes falling shut, your attempts at pushing it away forgotten. You draw a breath, steadying yourself, willing yourself to open up to the fall. 

“Come, come to me, Little Thief,” the Cauldron calls as your powers swim to the surface. “Come show me what you can steal.”

You are not helpless, you are not a mouse as Amarantha so likes to call you, you are a goddess caged in flesh, a storm housed within a body. This power can be yours as easily as it can be his. The thrashing of the wind stills for a moment, you can feel the ebb of it beneath your skin as it syncs to your heartbeat. You grab a tendril of it in your fingers, bending it to your will, and for a moment, for a moment all that terrible power belongs to you. 

“Do you think me so feeble, daughter?” Hybern snarls and all of a sudden that power tears itself from your grip and lashes against you in earnest. 

Your body jerks in its grip, the beating of it verging on pain now, your skin stinging. No matter how hard you try to grab it, it continues to slip through your fingers, leaving your only option to try and keep the glamor up at all costs. For maybe a minute or two you manage to fight it, pushing the wind away from the ink on your skin, but in the end, there is just too much of it. When the wind lets up and you hit the floor, the glamor is gone, and both your bargain marks are on full display.

“Night Court,” the priestess hisses.

Your heart drops into your stomach as Hybern studies the markings, his disdain palpable. Maybe you’re not so good at this after all.

“What deal did you make with that whore?” He hisses.

Your fangs slip out as your lips pull back in a snarl, “Stop calling him that!”

The priestess laughs, the sound shrill and irreverent in a space like this. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the bastard?”

“Ianthe,” Hybern warns and the priestess clamps her mouth shut. “Tell me what you’ve done, so I can undo it.”

Undo it. The words clang through you like an alarm bell and you push yourself upright, body screaming in protest until you’re flush against the altar. He can’t be serious. It could kill you! Worse, it could kill Rhys.

You instinctively clutch a hand over the flower inked into your chest. 

“What did you bargain?” Hybern demands.

There are no thoughts in your head, no clever lies to save you, there is only the bubbling panic that something terrible is about to happen and you’re powerless to stop it, no matter what you’re made of. 

“Please, don’t,” you whimper. 

“What did you bargain?” Hybern shouts.

The Cauldron continues to whisper and hiss above your head, the strange mist turning the room eerie shades. Everything looks a little distorted and hazy.

“I vowed to kill Amarantha,” you stutter. Maybe the truth will save you, he did say he wanted her dead. “In exchange for some help and training.” No need to mention the moving into the Night Court with its High Lord thing.

“And?”

Together. A promise that there would be an after to look forward to, a future with no Amarantha, no Mountain, no pain. Tears prick the corners of your eyes. It’s not supposed to be like this! You never should have gotten out of bed, maybe if you had stayed in Rhys’s room, Hybern wouldn’t have found you at all. You’d still be with your mate, still working towards your freedom. It would be a cage, but you’d be together, as you promised. But now the ink on your palm is strangely cold, compared to the warmth that should be there. 

“That’s all,” you lie and your reward is a backhanded slap across the face.

You grit your teeth; Amarantha has done worse to you, you can endure this.

“In the end, it doesn’t matter,” Hybern says, fixing the rumpled sleeves of his shirt. “If it kills Rhysand, I’m doing you a favor.”

“No!” It’s all you manage to get out before a stab of pain flairs beneath your skin. It’s subtle for a brief second, Hybern’s powers testing the strength of the marks, before it turns violent. Almost immediately, it begins to feel as if your palm and chest are tearing itself apart, splitting open. Black dots swirl across your vision, as the pain becomes white hot. At some point you begin screaming, for yourself, for the pain, for your mate.

“Stop! Please! NO!” The words jumble out of you in a rush. This can’t be happening! Dark mist seeps from your skin, claws and fangs tearing free from your hold on them as your body tries to fight him for you. The Temple rumbles and the Priestess starts muttering a prayer that makes the Cauldron bubble and hiss.

The room spins. Your body jerks, limbs twitching uncontrollably. “Stop!”

He’s going to kill you. All for his stupid war.

“Please,” you’re dimly aware that your claws are scratching at the flower on your chest, as if you can hold it in place, keep the bond from slipping through your fingers. Your tears burn as they slide down your cheeks. What will happen to your mating bond if he breaks this? The two are so tangled together, will it kill the both of you? “Please, stop!”

But Hybern pays your pleas no mind, powers holding you down as the pain becomes so unbearable you heave. Nothing Amarantha has done to you compares to this. This makes her look like a saint. 

With one final, mind numbing crack, both bonds snap, the ink fading from your skin as you collapse against the floor. It’s cold, the rough stone biting into limbs that no longer feel connected to your body. The rise and fall of your chest feels like something has been carved from your body.

“I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N,” Hybern says.

You’ve ended up on your back, teary eyes staring through a hole in the ceiling, where the first glitter of stars shine through. “Rhys,” you whimper.

“It would only slow you down.” Hands slide under your shoulders and knees, calluses scraping against the open wounds the stones have made against your thighs. You don’t have the presence of mind to squirm, to fight, limbs still feeling like they’ve come disconnected from your body. “This is the only way for you to be free.”

Free. It’s such an empty word. You’re never really going to be free.

“Come, come, come,” beckons the Cauldron as it comes into view. 

Hybern holds you over the rim, dark eyes impassive. “You will thank me for this one day.” And then he drops you in.

------

You’re drowning. Icy water tearing through your throat, pushing down your nose. Your arms won’t work, won’t let you flail back to the surface; legs unable to find a bottom. For something so outwardly small, there should be a bottom, but nothing ever rises to meet you. There are no walls to claw at, no bottom to push off of, there is only the icy water shoving its way inside your very being until it swallows you whole.

------

The world feels different when you come to, surrounded by a puddle of icy water on the floor like the Cauldron had been tipped over to dump your body out. You might be tempted to ask if you were dead, were it not for the pair of boots tapping against the stones in front of your head impatiently. Hard to imagine Hybern would be waiting for you in the afterlife. 

It hurts to breathe, like there are shards of ice in your lungs and throat as you cough up some inky, black water onto the King’s boots. He doesn’t flinch away, even as you hurl your guts out.

“Are you done?” He asks.

You glance up at him through the wet strands of your hair that cling to your face. “Fuck you!” Your voice is different, a booming echo that sounds like it’s being screamed inside a cavern. The walls shake when you speak. Stranger still, it is not a single set of fangs you feel scrape past your lips when you snarl, but a whole set of jagged teeth. When you raise your hands to poke at them, your skin is once again an empty, black void, contained within the shape of your body. Your claws are shrouded in a black mist that drifts from your depthless skin.

“What did you do to me?”

Hybern crouches as and grabs the chain that still dangles from your throat, but when he gives it a pull, it feels as if it has become attached to your skin! There is no room between the collar and your throat, as if it had fused to your body, the tug the same tingling sensation you’d get if someone had pulled on your hair. 

“You should show me your thanks,” he snarls. “I’ve freed you from the restrictions your uncle put on you as a child.”

You wince as he yanks you to your feet, limbs a little longer now than they used to be. Everything feels sharper. The pounding of the soldiers’ hearts are a drum beat in your ears. Their every breath feels like a scream. Your eyes burn under the faint candlelight, as if they’re not made to be in anything other than pure darkness. 

“And now,” he snarls, pulling you close. “You’ll do as I say.”

You have every intention to get your hands on his chest and shove him, to fight back against the harsh hold he keeps on you, but you can’t. Your body stills, mid snarl, like it’s frozen.

Hybern grins as he watches your confusion, callused hand reaching out to brush your cheek. “Do you understand why those bargains couldn’t be there now?”

“What did you do?” You hiss.

He tugs the collar, earning another hiss of pain. “Ianthe used some spells for me, while you were under. Since I touched you last, the collar fused my will to you. If those bonds were still forged, well, you might have only answered to Rhysand.”

Your mind spins, body trembling. What has he done?

“I think you need a demonstration,” he says, turning to glance at his men, then back at you. “Kill them.”

Warmth emanates from the collar in a steady thrum, prompting you forward, whispering like the Cauldron had before you had been dumped in. No matter how hard you try to escape it, the collar only allows you to move in the way you’re ordered too. Despite all your protests, your claw tipped hand raises from your side, dark mist dripping from your fingers. 

No. No. No! This is a bad dream. 

And yet, you can’t even force your eyes shut, to look away from the carnage your body creates when that black mist gets directed at the line of terrified soldiers pressed against the wall. One moment there’s twenty men gaping at you, the next, there’s nothing but a fine mist of blood splattered against the Temple’s wall.

Nausea rolls in your gut, but you can’t even bend over to vomit.

“Was that so hard?” 

This can’t be real. It can’t. You need to wake up.

Hybern tugs on your collar, demanding you look at him. “Was that so hard, daughter?”

You open your mouth to protest, but that same warm thrum from the collar stops the words in your throat. No matter how hard you try, you can’t raise your hands to try and pull it off your skin; if there’s a way to fight it, your body refuses to let you try and find it. When the collar, imbued with whatever spells they’d put into it while you were inside the Cauldron, doesn’t will it, your body will not push back against it. You can’t even cry as you want, all the emotions trapped within your body as if you’re inside your own walking tomb.

And Hybern, the man who’s supposed to be your father, laughs when you don’t answer. Laughs that he’s stolen your agency, your powers, you’re life for his own agendas.

“The Cauldron will need time to recharge before we get to the Wall,” Ianthe muses.

“We won’t need it to get through the Wall,” he returns. “Y/N will do all the work for us.”

She frowns as she takes you in. “What of Amarantha?”

Hybern tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he leans in, breath hot and unpleasant against your, now sensitive, skin. “For fighting me,” he hisses, “you’re going to go back Under the Mountain and kill all of them.”

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnnaaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomeevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewmanblog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msolider, @amara-moonlight, @darling006, @92404-blog1 , @genniecokkie

[van1llam1lkk]

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ Fawn is Thinking about...

Fem!Reader with a Bunny/Puppy/Kitty Hybrid!

[ CW | Talks of breeding and pregnancy, Kitty is sadistic asshole, and reader deals with their shit, Degradation, praise, Brats, animalistic behaviors, not proofread, biting, Heat cycle, brief mention of periods, overstimulation, might make a full post out of some of these ]

Bunny! Hybrid

Fluffy little bastard. 

Biggest brat, will stomp around if you say no over the stupidest of things. 

Like, No sweetie you can't tear up the new couch I just got, you can't throw plates out the window just because you like watching people getting hit, and no you can't chew on the cables.

Gives you the silent treatment for a couple of minutes, before realizing how much he loves your attention and ends up completely forgetting whatever he was pissy about. 

Depending on the type of rabbit this mf is either tall as hell or tiny. So imagining a 6'0 Flemish Giant rabbit throw the equivalent of a toddlers tantrum because you told him to NOT bite your fingers off is just funny. 

On the topic of biting, this mf bites EVERYTHING including you.

The first week you had him you had to use the lemon trick because everything that was chewable was in fact chewed upon, he'd probably eat insulation if possible

His ears are so... Cute??? Depending on the type of rabbit they can be floppy or straight up but it's adorable on em' anyways, 

I can just imagine ears turning in your direction anytime you catch his attention, pink nose slightly twitching as he watches you in vague interest. 

Steals everything, he probably doesn't even mean to because he just has this attitude of "Everything you have is mine, and everything I have is only mine." So he just subconsciously steals your clothes and what not. 

When he's not being an annoying little shit he's the best cuddler, all that fluff isn't just for the cold. He'll feel like the softest plushie in the world

— NSFW

Oh your first time dealing with a Rabbit in heat was hell, and he was trying so hard not to snap with you around.

He's all but confused why you haven't cracked yet, it's not like keeping Hybrids as pets is considered acceptable anyways. You'd just be fitting out your role if you let him fuck.

Taking the term fucking like bunnies to the max.

Every day, on any surface— you actually probably would be pregnant if not for the fact that you are two different species

I think his favorite position is missionary, not only does he get to watch how you react— Eating up every little emotion but he gets perfect access to your tits

And this may be my barely disguised fetish sneaking in but I feel like he'd be a titty man. A cups, C cups D cups doesn't matter— he just fucking love tits, using any excuse he can to be buried in between them. 

Thinkin' about how sensitive his ears and little fluffy tail becomes, almost Cumming in his pants (or in you) from just the feeling of you tugging on them.

On the days you couldn't too sore n' tired to go another round he resorts to thigh fucking, shaky hands trying so desperately not to accidentally claw into your thighs— Tapered tip grinding against your clit perfectly with each needy thrust

High pitched whines escapes him, his hips mindlessly rutting against you in his chase for pleasure. "Pleasepleaseplease let me fuck you." He pleaded, grinding his cock against your hole— whimpering at the resistance the damp fabric separating you two provided.

"'M sorry for bein such a brat— I'll be such a good bunny f' you." He slurred leaning down and burying his face into your chest. Nibbling and licking the supple skin covering your harden nipples in spit and saliva. "So please please let me in."

Puppy! Hybrid

Oh, baby is so sweet its insane

He's so expressive— Visibly lighting up when you enter the room, all smiles and giggles with his tail wagging aggressively

Fully domesticated boy wife. Cleans the house while your gone, packing you homemade lunch with the cutest little designs, has dinner and a bath prepared by the time your back home

Husky Hybrids are so fucking???? They're loud, they WILL team up on you, and shed every.fucking.where.

Guiltrips you with puppy eyes any time he does something bad, he does it even without the mistake- If he wants extra treats or if he's trying to convince you to stay home a little longer

He accidentally breaks a glass vase? Puppy eyes.

Vet visits are fucking horrible, cause at first he'll be so happy because he thinks you're going to the park, but the moment he realizes you took the wrong turn he's a whining mess

Refused to talk to you for a few days after because he had to wear the cone of shame

— NSFW

I think he'd actually be in more control during heat season, probably waiting for your own mating season to come before acting on any urges

Early on in your relationship he was so confused why you never go through heat. Literally would spend months watching you waiting for it to come just for it to never. And baby boy was so confused.

that was until he did research, pup was so worried about you— Genuinely wondering how your species grew to the size it did when apparently your 'heat' cycle was all year.

Cause how are you supposed to tell who's ready to breed and when??

It didn't take long for him to find out about a magical thing that exists before your period there's this magical thing called ovulation

And now you deal with a doggy who keeps track of everything in your menstruation cycle— in three different calendars + you get sniffed because he's slowly realizing that during ovulation your scent slightly changes

The biggest switch ever, sometimes you'll be riding him into a mattress while he's crying from overstimulation— Begging you to fuck him till he can only shoot out blanks

Or he's fucking you into the mattress, holding your hips firmly against his so he's able to reach and fuck with those spots in you that have you so needy beneath him

When he knotted you for the first time it was a little bit of a surprise— Like you seen the base of his cock swell up before but it was never in you

So the feeling of all that cum being trapped inside, a fat knot just keeping you plugged up was definitely a new and welcomed one

That experience probably unlocked something in him, because after that day he begs to breed you 24/7

He's some level of delusional cause he thinks that if he tries hard enough he can actually get you pregnant

Will spend hours on foreplay, especially if he's the Dom. Will forcefully hold your legs wide open, eagerly lapping and sucking your pussy. Fingers pumpin' in and outta you despite the fact you already came three times earlier

Thinking about a tall 6'3 doberman melting at the simplest of your touch— Crying and begging for your attention to be directed to the twitching dick in his pants

Or a tiny 5'2 Chihuahua somehow tying you up, and has your legs spread, arms behind your back, overstimulated as all hell because of the dildo squirming and vibrating inside of you— A cute pastel pink vibrator taped down to your sensitive, overwhelmed clit

Just so many possibilities...

The loving yet lust hazed eyes looking down on you almost made you wanna forgive him, but that thought is thrown out the window when you remember it was those same pretty eyes that put you in this situation— Pussy clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled up with something anything. "You're so pretty— Can you cum like that f' me one more time?" He asked, but by the way his eyes flickered down to your twitching cunt you doubt he' cares for an actual answer

Not that you can form any, mind too stupid and fucked out to fully register the weight behind his words. More focused on the way his thumb draws sticky shapes all over your clit, two fingers finally sinking into the warmth of your cunt and pumping in and out of you. "Just one more and I'll stuff you full of my cum, gonna make you my baby mama... you'd look so pretty with swollen breasts and a stomach round with my kids in ya"

Kitty! Hybrid

Meanest little shit to you

Not even in a bratty way, he's like an actually asshole— Conveniently bumping into vases and glasses 'on accident'

You have too many scars to count, you don't think he even does it in purpose. His claws are just naturally sharp, and any attempt at cutting them ends with him awkwardly apologizing while tending to the now bleeding scratch marks on your forearms

I think he's probably the only one who in general has a consistent height excluding the big boy breeds. Maybe a bit taller than you but no major height differences.

You have so many nicknames you're 90% sure he forgot your real one. But his most favorite ones to use are 'Peasant' and 'Slave'

He can't cook for shit.

Tried making you something as an apology but ended up almost burning the kitchen

And don't get me started on the dead rodents

A annoying asshole yet wants you to praise and focus all your attention on him

Scents you as well but it's a little more obvious

Nuzzling himself into your neck, wears all your clothes to make sure his scent sticks

Gets actually offended when you wash your clothes because of that.

— NSFW

The scratches and bite marks aren't limited to outside the bedroom

It's not even on purpose at this point, he is so overwhelmed that he can't help it that his claws dig into your skin.

Orgasm

A choked gasp spilled from your lips, the pressure on your throat as your cunt was being abused was enough to have your eyes Rolling back, Tears sticking to your eyelashes. "God you're disgusting, to get off being treated like trash—" He panted, his nails digging into the fat of your hips the stinging sensation mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. "Do you even deserve my cum?" He mocked, leaning down to bite and suck at the nape of your neck adding to the collection of bruises and bite marks that decorated on your skin.

[etirabys]

What were the major factors for you in deciding whether to have kids?

Unwillingness to forego one of the most intense and unique human relationships possible: "The key to the sociobiology of mammals is milk. Because young animals depend on their mothers during a substantial part of their early development, the mother-offspring group is the universal nuclear unit of mammalian societies."

When I was younger, my major objection to having kids was that it would interfere with my career. I cared a lot about my career and looked forward to transitioning from a student who worked really hard and excelled in classes to a professional who worked really hard and excelled in the workplace and also earned a boatload of money. But then it turned out that I wasn't a hard worker, I just loved studying and taking exams. I don't have a career or the relationship to a career I envisioned, so that's the major obstacle removed.

Seven years ago, I went to a meetup hosted by an economist who liked historical reenactments. His three adult children were in SCA garb, served the guests food from a medieval Persian cookbook, and sat around arguing with him (and the rest of us) about economics. It was my first encounter with a family where the children shared interests with their parents and talked like peers. It fundamentally changed my mind on what families could look like.

Similar story: I visited my friend's family two years ago, and stayed in his teen daughter's room because there had been an in-house auction to determine whose room would go to the guest. She won and was monetarily compensated for it. In addition to having another example of a Relatable Family Where The Members Actually Like Each Other, I found my friend and his spouse's financial philosophy appealing and will be compensated for pregnancy and childcare by my spouse. 20% of my objection to having kids was objection to the financial arrangements of traditional marriage (which imo fucked over both of my parents when their relationship broke down... but more so my mom), so it shifted me on the kids issue to see & adopt a financial arrangement that to me feels more autonomy-preserving, egalitarian, and respectful of my labor and opportunity costs.

I knew I didn't want to be pregnant, didn't particularly like infants, didn't want to interact with toddlers for more than an hour (I like them but get very fatigued and have to go lie face down to recharge), which seemed like a good argument to not have kids. But I also simulated being 70 and childless and it felt distinctly bad. Among other reasons I noticed for the first time that I want a connection to the coming generations, which was startling.

It was hard not to notice that the giant would make an excellent dad, and also that we have complementary skill sets and preferences qua parents.

I read "Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids" after I'd already decided to have kids, but when I was discussing the decision with friends, multiple of them brought the book up. Its basic argument is that we (I suppose I mean Americans and East Asians here) invest in our children well past the point where it matters, which increases the quality of life difference between parents and nonparents, which sucks because lots of people would enjoy raising kids if the unnecessary expectations were dropped. Once I actually read the book I found it suspect (I stopped reading when Caplan described a study and then drew an inference that didn't logically follow), but the conclusion seems true based on observation and common sense. My own parents and I had a lot of conflict over piano lessons because proficiency in an instrument was expected in their milieu. My mom regularly fought me to make me eat breakfast (to this day I don't eat in the morning, my body just isn't made for that) even though it would have been fine to send me off to school with a banana to tide me over until lunch. People trade away health and career points to breastfeed even though the evidence is shaky that it matters. My sister is pursuing a zero screen policy with her child and said this choice significantly increases work and emotional toll. Once I noticed I was the type to be an overworked neurotic parent and that I'd priced my own terrible personality in when simulating how hard childrearing would be, I also noticed I could (with effort) not be that person and have an easier time. So my expectations of parenting changed.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 13

“I 

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You were teleported across the globe in an instant, away from your crew. Your body was badly broken and beaten, thrust into the harsh landscape of a Northern island. You are discovered by the Heart Pirates and brought back to health. Startled upon waking up in a foreign place with an unfamiliar crew, you are shocked with the news that you’ll be spending two years there. Trafalgar Law, the captain of the Heart Pirates has made a promise to train you, but will it become something more than a mentor relationship?

**MINORS DNI** ADULT CONTENT

TW: Kissing, dry humping, clothed sex, smokable plant usage.

WC: 3100 LOL

Taglist: @zoros-fourth-sword @cottoncandyloverrrr @nothing-but-brass

Burning Hearts Chapter 13: Accidental Dosage

— — 

“You keep dropping your shoulder, leaving yourself open for attack.”

“I’m not dropping shit, you’re nit-picking- UGH!” You were knocked backwards into a tree trunk. 

“You were saying?” Law cheekily grins from across the clearing. 

You roll your eyes while you catch your breath from the impact. 

“One of these days, Law, your mouth is going to write a check your ass can’t cash.” You sputter as you lunge towards your opponent, blade in each hand. 

Your attack is predictably blocked by Law’s giant katana and he forces you back again. 

“I have no problem putting my money where my mouth is.” 

*GRWWOOAAAR*

Both of your heads snap in the direction of the sound emanating from the dark woods. 

“The fuck was that?” You turn to Law and ask. 

“Probably some sort of-“

*RRRRAAA* 

A giant brown bear no less than 800 pounds bursts through a gap in the tree line and lumbers into the clearing, teeth bared. 

“Bear.” Law finished with an unamused expression. 

“What do we do?” You asked, heartbeat in your throat. 

“It’s fine.” Law states casually. “Room. Shambles.” 

At once, in a flash of blue, Law is right in front of the bear and rapping it harshly on the nose with his blade. The bear yelps. Before you could even comment, Law was back at your side at the edge of the clearing. 

“No need to show off.” You huff. 

Suddenly, the bear does something you don’t expect. It brings its front paws up to its nose in pain. The bear flops backwards holding its muzzle and starts to wail and cry like a toddler. 

“What’s it doing…” You cock your head, confused. 

“It’s… throwing a tantrum?” Law speculates. 

*GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA* 

A much louder, deep sound resonates through the forest around you. 

*crash* *snap* *thump*

*ROOOAARR*

You notice the tops of trees being felled in the distance, but not comfortably far away. You realize what it was. 

“You fucking moron… that was the baby bear… and we just pissed off mom…” You look to your right and make eye contact with Law. 

“Oops…” Law’s eyes widen. 

With a thunderous growl, an unimaginable beast emerges into the clearing. This brown bear was no less the size of a two story building and looked ready to swallow the both of you whole. 

With shocked expressions the both of you take several steps backwards. 

“Well? Any brilliant plan here, Mr Warlord?” You snap without taking your eyes off the face of the snarling creature. 

“Unless you have any bowls of porridge on you… I think we have to fight this thing.” Law draws his blade. 

“Great.” You sigh and unsheathe your swords as well. 

“You’ll take it from the top?” Law asks. 

“Got it.” 

*Grrrrrr*

The massive bear growls lowly and stalks towards the two of you, readying itself to attack. 

“On my word…” Law was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and you held yourself to his go. 

*sniff sniff* 

The bear was so close you could smell the salmon on its breath. You shuddered. 

“Now!”

You spring up into the air and unfurl your wings and launch an attack on the beast from above the nape of its neck. Law was working at disabling the creature from its legs and arms. The two of you fought for what seemed like ages against the hulking monster. 

During your assault on the back of the animal you hear Law groan from somewhere underneath you. You land back on the ground and see Law pinned to the dirt by one large paw, fighting off the bear’s jaws from piercing his neck. 

“Law!” You see red and your vision blurs. You find yourself no longer in control of your body and are hurtling towards the beast at an alarming rate, driving your head straight into the side of the animal. 

The giant beast groans as your slam it off of Law, leaving two gored holes in its side where you had made contact. 

“Hhaaaa!” You scream as you turn to slam your black spiked tail into the creature’s head. You don’t remember changing forms, all you knew is you had to make sure Law was safe. You sigh as you realize the mother bear was now finally unconscious. You notice the smaller one out of the corner of you eye and you let our a bellow that was far more beast than human… 

Upon hearing your cry, the baby bear retreated back into the woods. 

Your chest heaves and you finally come to your senses, looking around to find Law. He was already up on his feet and making his way towards you. He looked… shorter?

“Holy shit… look at you…” Law looks up at you. 

You look down at your feet. They weren’t yours anymore. Huge black, scaled and clawed haunches were where your normally slender tanned legs would have been. This must have been how you launched yourself at the bear so forcefully…

Your head was swimming… what ugly features… 

“Daisy? You okay?” Law’s voice sounded like he was underwater to you. 

You look over at the giant bear’s body and notice the two puncture wounds you had made in its side. You gingerly pat at the top of your head. You feel something that isn’t just your hair… two curved horns protruded from your skull.

“No…” You gasp. 

Everything goes black. 

— — 

You wake up alone in your own bed at the base. You try to process what had happened in the clearing but you felt sick thinking about it. You couldn’t help but think that this training was more than you could take. Maybe you were just naturally weak, unable to handle this powerful of a Devil Fruit ability… maybe you should renounce the pirate life and tell your crew to go on without you after the 2 years is up… 

*knock knock knock knock*

“Hiiiii bitch good morning! Just kidding good afternoon. Heard you kicked a bear’s ass into next week?” Ikkaku comes into your room without waiting for a response. She carried a pile of clothing in her arms. 

“It was way bigger than just a bear…” You sigh as you sit up in bed. 

“Well either way, the weather’s going to change soon so we need to get our tan on before we’re stuck offensively pale for the rest of the season.” 

“You want to go tanning? In the yard? I don’t have a bathing suit. I don’t exactly go swimming often…” 

“You don’t think I thought of that? That’s why I brought you some of mine to choose from. Hurry up, we’re burning daylight!” 

— — 

What incredible power she held. If only she wasn’t so afraid of it. She saved his life today. 

Law sits at his desk pouring over more books about ancient devil fruits. She could take on the world with this ability if only she would push herself to harness it. Law felt partially responsible for her stubbornness to use her abilities, he had become softer on her since… acknowledging the feelings he held for her. He battled with the idea of pushing her to harness her full strength and the thought of cultivating a romantic relationship with her. 

Law pushes back in his chair and rubs his eyes. The smell of warm baked goods hits his nose. Law sits up straighter. Man… that smelled nice…

“Captain! Daisy made brownies, come have some!” Penguin calls from outside his office door. 

Brownies. 

How could anyone resist that luxurious aroma?

Law is brought out of his office by the smell of sweet treats like a cartoon character being drawn by a pie cooling on a windowsill. He makes his way to the main living area and finds his whole crew minus Daisy and Ikkaku shoveling chocolate brownies into their mouths. 

“Here cap, have one! I’ve already had 3! They’re so good!” Penguin hands him one as he enters the room. Law inspects the confection before taking a bite. The flavors were immaculate, even he couldn’t deny that. Daisy truly had a knack for baking. They tasted a little different from the brownies he had eaten before in his life, but they were beyond delicious. Law quickly gobbles up the rest of the square. 

“Hey you two.” Shachi approaches Law and Penguin. “Seen the garden recently?” He says with a smirk on his face, pointy teeth poking through. 

“Why?” Penguin asks. 

“I dunno. I think you should check it out, though. Sooner rather than later.” Shachi’s grin grows and he heads back to sit on the couch. 

Law’s curiosity is piqued. He turns tail quietly and heads to the back door of the base that headed straight out to the yard. 

“Wait I’m coming too!” Penguin hollers and picks up his pace to follow his captain at his heels. 

The two men exit the base through the back door and round the corner towards the garden. 

Law gasps and throws his arm out to the side to block Penguin from proceeding any further. 

“Holy shit…” Penguin breathes out heavily. 

Several yards away, seated on lounge chairs were Ikkaku and Daisy taking in the sun. 

They both held magazines and beers in their hands as they laughed about something they were reading in their gossip rags. Ikkaku wore a low cut pink one piece swimsuit while Daisy wore a black string bikini. 

This was clearly Ikkaku’s bikini, seeing as how Daisy’s breasts struggled to maintain their position in the tiny top. Law couldn’t help but notice the way they jiggled when she laughed. The small triangles holding in her supple flesh strained against her ample chest. 

Law felt the crotch of his pants tighten. He remembered he wasn’t alone. 

“we… we should go back inside.” Law mutters.

Penguin said nothing. Mouth still wide open. Law grabbed the sleeve of his jumpsuit and dragged him back inside the base. 

“pervert…” 

— — 

“The sun’s almost down. We should head back in.” You said to your friend. 

“Ugh, back to that sausage fest? I could stay out here all day.” Ikkaku lays back in her chair. 

“I almost got eaten by a bear this morning. I’m ready to eat and go to bed early. What’s with you and Peng anyway?”

“Nothing really. We hook up sometimes but it’s not serious.” Ikkaku says casually. 

“you’re hooking up???” You sit up on your elbows.

“I mean sort of! He goes down on me, that’s it.” 

“THAT’S IT? You’re getting licked and I’m just hearing about it now?” You gasp. 

“When was I supposed to tell you! You’re always playing nurse ratchet to the captain.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Well is it good at least?” You lift your sunglasses and ask. 

“Not really… but he’s learning.” Ikkaku chuckles. 

“Men are very trainable.”

“That they are.” 

As the two of you clink your beers in agreement, Bepo stumbles out into the garden. He looked disoriented.

“Woah, what’s wrong big guy?” You rise to your feet. 

“Miss Daisy! We need your help! Quick!”

— — 

“YOU FUCKING ATE ALL OF THE BROWNIES?” You scream at the crew of white jumpsuit clad pirates in front of you. “I put a god damn note on these saying these were MY brownies and for NO ONE ELSE to eat them!”

“Yes but we just thought since you make us other stuff to eat we could have these too!” Bepo was panting and looked very nervous. 

“No way…” Ikkaku holds in a laugh.

“Are you guys that fucking stupid?! Do you have ANY idea how much herb you’ve all just ingested?!?” You continue ranting at the men. 

“I don’t really think they need yelling right now, D…” Ikkau puts her hand on your shoulder. 

You look around the room. Jean Bart was asleep in the middle of the floor, Uni and Shachi were huddled together on the couch looking terrified, other crew members were pacing the floor, Penguin was rambling to himself in the doorway. Even Bepo was having a hard time holding it together… he must have eaten a lot…

Your eyes were drawn to Law, who was seated on a singular cushion in the corner of the room with his knees pulled up to his chest and eyes bugged wide. 

“Fucking idiots…” 

“Miss Daisy what do we do… please help…” Bepo digs his claws into your shoulders. 

You rub your eyes and sigh. You clear your throat.

“EVERYBODY! Go to bed! Lay down! Turn on the TV or some music and just sit the fuck down! The sooner you go to sleep the sooner this will be over! And once this is over I can beat the shit out of you all for eating all my weed!” 

The room is silent for a moment before the group of terrified men heed your orders and head to the door. 

“Can you make sure everyone makes it to their rooms okay? I’m gonna check on your greened-out captain.” You ask Ikkaku as you nod towards Law huddled in the corner. 

“Got it.”

“I’ll come check on everyone in a bit.”

Ikkaku nods and follows everyone out of the living room. 

You approach Law and kneel down next to him slowly. 

“Hey… how’s it going?” You speak in a soft, gentle voice. You get no response. 

“Whatchya doing, pal?” You ask. 

“Breathing.” Law states, not making eye contact, still staring wide eyed at some unknown point across the room. 

“Right, right okay good! Breathing is good!” You were trying so hard to hold in your laughter. “Can you maybe come with me and we can get you into bed?” Law nods and you help him rise to his feet. He follows you wordlessly to his room and you get him seated on his bed. 

“I’m going to check on everyone else, how about you change and get into bed, okay?” You ask carefully. 

Law nods. You leave him to go do rounds in the rest of the state rooms. Most of the rooms were full of very happy or very sleepy men, but you found quite the interesting situation upon reaching Penguin and Shachi’s room. 

You open the door and find Penguin curled up like a toy poodle in Ikkaku’s lap as she strokes his hair. Shachi was peering out the windows and breathing heavily. 

“This one’s fine…” Ikkaku nods down at the man in her lap. “But the other one thinks the government is here to murder us.” She rolls her eyes at you. 

“Shachi if you don’t get your ass in bed right now I’m going to beat your ass worse than a Marine Admiral would and I MEAN that.” You growl at him. 

“They’re watching us right now! You don’t hear that?” Shachi exclaims. 

You huff and grab the mans face in your hands. 

“You’re fucking high, you idiot. If you don’t chill out I’ll make sure you’ve got bigger issues.”

Shachi, terrified, tucks himself into bed. 

You give Ikkaku a thumbs up and return to check on Law. 

After making your way back to the captain’s quarters, you find Law laying on his back in bed, shirt unbuttoned but not off, pants off, briefs on, socks and hat still on, staring at the ceiling. 

“Feeling any better?” You chirp as you quietly enter the captain’s bedroom. 

“Daisy!” Law sits up and pulls the comforter over his exposed legs and thighs. 

“It’s fine, Law, just relax. You okay?” You move to sit on the side of the bed at his hip. You look down and look into his eyes. 

To your shock, he bursts out laughing. 

“Yeah? What’s funny, huh?” You smile, seeing the normally stoic, anti-drug pirate captain high out of his fucking mind. 

“Remember when I almost got eaten by a fucking bear this morning?” Law chokes out between fits of laughter. 

“You’ve got a sick sense of humor, man, because I did NOT think that was very chill.” You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. Instinctively, you place a comforting hand on his chest. 

Law grasps at your wrist with his right hand. He strokes it gently up towards your shoulder. 

“You kicked its ass, though. Saved me.” 

“You would have been fine.” You blushed. 

Law’s hand makes its way up to your neck, pulling you closer. 

“Your skin is so soft…” Law says lazily through hooded eyes. 

You laugh. 

“You’re high.” You smile down at him. 

“And you’re hot.” Law smirks up at you. 

“Oh stop it.” You try to brush him off. 

“No seriously…” Law runs his fingers through your hair and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “When you grew those horns and those claws, you were like some sort of angel…” 

You scoff. 

“Not sure what kind of angels you read about… but I’m certainly not one of them.” You sigh and avert your gaze. 

“Let me kiss you for a little, please?” Law, while still dazed, pleads with you. 

“Ask me again after you’ve come down, you aren’t thinking right.” You move to stand up. 

“Need you now, though. Don’t wanna be alone. Please?” Law grabs your wrist as you try to stand. 

Holy shit he was hot when he begged. Every logical thought in your brain told you to leave but he was pleading for you so sweetly… you had to give in against your better judgment. 

“Fine. A few kisses and then you’re off to bed.” You hop up onto the bed and straddle his underwear clad waist. Law smirks and grips your waist with both hands. You lean down and capture his lips in a soft kiss. You feel Law groan into your lips and it sends shivers straight down your spine. 

As the kiss became more heated, you feel Law push your hips down onto his. Wait… was all of that him? Gods there was no way… 

You were just in a tank dress over your swim suit so you could feel the hardened length against your core so distinctly. You were so shocked at his sheer size that you yelp in surprise as Law pushes his tongue into your mouth. You couldn’t help but notice his kissing skill was improving.  Law grabs the back of your nape with one hand and pulls your backwards so he could plant wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck.

“Oh!” You gasp in pleasure, feeling his lips on your skin and his throbbing cock underneath your wet, bikini-clad sex. Law used his other hand to guide your hips back and forth across his clothed manhood. 

Law digs his teeth into your neck and purses his lips to suck on it. 

“Gods, Law!” You cry out. 

“Nggghh!” Law groans loudly and grips your hip impossibly tight and presses your core into his pelvis. 

Suddenly his hand on your waist loosens and he releases your flesh from his mouth. His head flops back onto the bed, hat askew. He was panting heavily. 

“Wait.. did you?” You cock your head from your position above him. 

Law covers his eyes with his arm that was just around your body. 

“Shit.. yeah… I’m sorry…” He whispers out softly. 

“Hey…” You move his arm and kiss his lips, his face stained beet red. “It’s okay. You’ll sleep better now right?” You chuckle. 

“Ugh…” 

You pull his hat off his head and set it on his bedside table. You cup his face for a moment before you rise from the bed. 

“Get some shut eye. I’ve gotta check on the rest of your crew. I’ll be back to-“ You move to the archway and look back. 

Law was already snoring. 

You smile and head out. 

— — 

*Author’s Note* SORRY THIS WAS A BILLION YEARS LONG. I HAD A VISION. Omg he’s gonna be so embarrassed I can’t wait. At least he’s finally getting some sleep? Idk y’all give me some feedback here because we’re getting to the MEAT! 

[radiant-cowgirl]

I'm Gonna Get Out of Here Someday

i changed a couple things from the snippet, incl the pov and some of the wording but here's the full first chapter

(ao3 link and full chapter below the cut ;))

ao3

For as long as you could remember, you’d been compelled to run. 

Run until your lungs burned and your feet broke through the soles of the cheap shoes that had been passed down to you by older adoptees. Run until you found the rocky shores and keep going, as if you could outrun the salty wind that blew in from the sea. As if you could keep up with the battering waves that altered the coastline until it was altogether unfamiliar to you. Then, you would run back, day after day until it was familiar again, only to one day find it completely new. 

You would climb to the top of the dunes and yell until your voice gave out. Most days, that salty wind would whip the sound straight from your lungs and carry it far, far away. Some days, a break in the wind and waves would cause the surfers down below to cast wary glances up the dunes, as though some sort of wraith was inhabiting them and sending war cries down to the shore. 

You were no wraith, but you were a monster. Andrea had told you so. Beast, brute, monster. They all meant the same thing. That you were a problem and fundamentally incapable of giving or receiving anything good. 

You were young, too young to be trusted in the gas station by yourself, let alone to be running through the woods of coastal Washington on your own. But the wet air and mossy trees were the only home you’d ever known. That three bedroom apartment with yelling voices, a giant barking dog, and a dilapidated ceiling wasn’t home and it never had been. Hell, that dog was treated better than you were. At least it didn’t have to share its bed with toddlers that kicked and cried all night long.

 Something had always been inside you. Something that wasn’t quite human, but not entirely animalistic either. Something that caused you to bristle when you were backed into a corner or when Mike grabbed you by the back of your neck. Something that cried to protect what was yours, hide your things away so no one else could find them. Something with an instinct to run, run, run. Something was inside you and it wanted out. 

You were twelve and you were a monster. 

—

Delta was the name you’d been given, when you’d been taken in by Andrea and her fiance, Mike. Delta, D, fourth letter, fourth kid. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been called by your given name, not that you had any sense of ownership of it in the first place. Ahead of you were Alpha, Bravo and Charlie, though Alpha had left for college the year before. You’d half expected the whole lineup to be shifted and you’d suddenly be Charlie, but that was one thing Andrea had been merciful about. You’d be Delta until you left her care. Behind you was Echo and Foxtrot, who were five and two respectively. 

When you moved in, you found the military names to be startlingly impersonal and a little cheesy, but Mike had been discharged from the air force and had insisted it was easier for him to remember than anything unique. Not that he was ever home to remember that he had five children to take care of. He was always at the factory or at the bar. He only came home for dinner and a place to sleep. And he sometimes found that passing out drunk in a ditch was preferable to his living situation. As far as you could tell, he hadn’t been on board with the whole adoption idea. 

You’d never known any of the kids’ given names, aside from your own. And you weren’t entirely sure that they did either. You tried to talk to Charlie about it once, being closest in age to her, but she’d just given you a look that screamed ‘don’t ask me that’ and quickly retreated to the room she shared with Bravo.

You were the only kid that bucked the system, the only kid that fought back. You asked questions and said bad words like ‘no’ and ‘why’ when you were told to do something. You were the only kid that didn’t let yourself be pushed around or walked all over. 

You’d like to say that school was a different story, but it really wasn’t. Unless you managed to get yourself into trouble (which happened from time to time), you were largely ignored. The only difference was you didn’t have to fight for the shitty food they put on your plate at lunch time. And the lunch ladies were kind enough to look the other way when you stuffed anything pre-packaged into the pockets of the oversized jacket that never left your back. 

—

It wasn’t anything new or special that triggered it. When you’d woken up, everything felt tightly wound, ready to snap at any moment. You considered faking sick to stay home, but even when you were sick, you were expected to take care of the toddlers. If you were home, you needed to be asleep or useful. So when the bus picked you up in the morning, you sat in the front row and pulled your hood up over your head and squeezed your eyes shut so tight that it hurt. You clenched your fists too and when you got off the bus, what you thought had been sweat turned out to be a thin layer of blood from shallow cuts in the meat of your palms. The tips of your nails were stained reddish-brown. You washed it off before anyone could see. 

That tight, pressurized feeling only got worse as the day wore on. Everything was bright and loud and grating on every sense you had. Even smells were getting to you. Preteens didn’t smell great on the best of days and right before summer break, when everything was hot and humid again was anything but the best of times. Every form of stimulation felt amplified, turned up to 11. And it wasn’t long before that annoyance turned to anger, your old friend. It burned, hot like coals, at the back of your throat. 

When lunch rolled around, you grabbed your food, shoved a handful of granola bars in your pocket and resigned yourself to the farthest corner of the room, right in front of an emergency exit. You tore into your food, suddenly aware of how hungry you were. When your food was gone, the tight feeling eased a bit, but everything was loud, too loud. You lay your head down on the table for a few minutes and when you felt comfortable enough to lift it again, there was a boy. You recognized him, he was in your grade. 

He was talking. He must have been. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t pull his voice apart from any other voice in the room. Everything sounded like it was underwater and your head was swimming dangerously. He paused, looking at you expectantly. You opened your mouth but all you could get out was a weak, “Huh?”. The boy smiled kindly and started speaking again, then paused, clearly expecting a response. When you didn’t give him what he was looking for, he frowned, maybe concerned? It was hard to tell. But then, he smiled again, waving his hand in a ‘come on’ motion and reached for your backpack next to you. Your backpack full of all your things and extra food.

The tight feeling snapped. Everything was suddenly in startling clarity and you felt more focused than you had all day. You felt like someone had pulled cotton from your ears. The logical part of your brain reasoned that maybe your backpack was in the way, that he was trying to reach something behind it or get past it. But the something in your head was in control now. You felt your skin stretch and move, like the something was trying to get out, but couldn’t quite figure out how. Then you growled, honest to god growled, your chest rumbling with the effort. You darted between the boy and your things. 

It happened quickly. In the blink of an eye, the boy was on the ground, curling in on himself and clutching the back of his head where it had smacked against the polished concrete flooring. And the whole room was silent and staring. The something backed down, like it was satisfied with what it had done. You lowered your lip where it had been raised, flashing flat teeth at the boy. They’d felt so big a moment ago, you’d felt so big. 

Your heart pounded. But you couldn’t show these people you were scared. They’d walk all over you. So you grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder and stomped out of the room, towards the front office before any teachers could grab you and drag you there themselves. 

—

The tight feeling was back. 

You were staring down at your taped up shoes and your backpack between your feet. Foxtrot was crying in the backseat and Echo’s iPad was turned all the way up, the sound of her cartoons filling the van. Andrea was scolding you, but it was hard to pick apart exactly what she was saying. You felt like the cotton had been stuffed back in your ears. Everything was loud, but dull, making your head pound. Every single smell that had ever seeped into the fabric seats was swimming around your head. Stale fries, spoiled milk, and cigarette smoke. A cigarette always hung from Andrea’s hand, like it was a part of her. She held it near the open window but smoke still wafted around her head and yours. It was probably why Foxtrot was crying. You’d snagged a couple before, when your heart beat so fast you couldn’t see straight and your hands shook. You always kept a lighter in your pocket. 

When the van finally pulled into the driveway, you were out and flying down the long driveway between the mailboxes and the apartment complex before it even stopped. You could hear Andrea shouting, but you slammed the door in her face and ran. It seemed like the only option. You didn’t trust yourself around the little kids after what had happened. And you were scared if the anger kept burning through you like it was, you’d do something to Andrea next. So you ran. 

The more you ran, the more the tight feeling increased and the anger raised higher and higher. Your bag slapped against your back. You’d almost growled like some wild animal at the principal and counselors as they searched it. They’d taken all your extra food and everything else you hoarded away for future use.

“It wasn’t my fault,” You told yourself. “It was the something, and the something isn’t me.”

You stopped in a clearing and tore off your bag and jacket. You felt as though your skin was moving and stretching again. And deep in the woods, you weren’t afraid to cry out. Voice your confusion and frustration. Even if anyone could hear you, it wasn’t like they would care. You screamed every curse word you knew and then just yelled. You pounded your small fists into tree trunks until blood welled to the surface and dripped down your fingers. Embarrassingly enough, tears started flowing too, clinging to your jaw and making your nose run. 

Nothing helped.

Finally, you fell to your knees, not caring if pine sap got on the hand-me-downs. Overwhelming pain rippled through your body, unstopping. The feeling pooled in your jaw, behind your eyes and the tips of your fingers. You clenched your eyes shut and another strangled yell tore from your throat. The pain lingered and some of it turned to nausea. You coughed hoarsley, but nothing came up. Everything itched and burned and, and, and…

And it was all gone. You were no longer in the body of the child you were. Everything was loud, but not overwhelming. Every scent on the wind was clear to you. When you opened your eyes, the vibrant greens of the forest had dulled though the sky was every bit as blue as it had been. Your breaths started catching in your chest as you struggled to get enough air. 

You were in a body, but not yours.

Andrea was right. 

Andrea and Mike and every counselor and every adult that had ever even tried to get to know you was right. 

And you were wrong. 

You were a monster. You were the something that had always been in you.  And the something was a wolf.

tags:

@professionallyyappinabtangst

@themeridian

@dukecollinsbf

[delta-pavonis]

Hiii, I would love to know about you dreamling inception au :0

So I actually have two separate concepts for this NEITHER OF WHICH I CAN FIND THE TUMBLR POSTS FOR, but I have one of them copied to that doc in the picture for this meme, so here it is:

The King of Dreams is starting to get angry with the humans meddling in his realm via this PASIV device. At first it was cute, like a toddler with Play-Doh in the presence of Rodin or a sand castle at the feet of the Leshan Giant Buddha. It is easily contained and barely needs monitoring. Then humans start layering dreams, one within another within another within another. It is stressful for Lord Morpheus' dreams and nightmares, requiring three, four, five of them at once to maintain stability. Further, they start to subvert the very essential function of dreams, twist them into something no longer helping humans, but in some cases outright harming them. Dream decides that he must move to protect his creations and humanity at large. He enters some of the layered dreams himself. Enter a dream architect, one Hob Gadling, who not only is in-demand for the most elite and elaborate cons, but creates some of the most beautiful things Dream has ever seen in the Dreaming. They're usually in the background of the dreams he builds, little things, a new constellation here, or a piece of artwork there, an absolutely perfect sunrise, or a devastatingly graceful willow tree.  Hob takes his time with each of these bits, a sort-of signature of his, a little private gift to himself. Except a dark figure starts appearing in the dreams he builds, always in the background when the dream has been made its most complicated, when they are actively using it to run a job. And he is always always looking at Hob's signature.  The Stranger starts appearing more and more often in Hob's work. No one else on his team sees the man in black and Hob thinks he might have truly knocked his last screw loose. Until this... being... his Stranger... not only allows Hob to approach, but speaks to him…

Alternatively, a version that is more crossover than AU, would be canon Hob becoming a dream architect...

PASIV technology was developed while Dream was in the fishbowl and shit hits the fan-ola when he gets out to find humans mucking around in his realm, digging shit up, moving things around, just making an absolute mess of the place. He is able to get most of them out when the ruby breaks and he is able to rebuild his realm, but Dream is worried that new technology will soon allow humans to invade once again. Feeling a strong tug at someone(s) interfereing with the Dreaming, Dream storms into the manufactured dream to give the interlopers a piece of his mind and possibly to rip them to shreds, but finds only Hob, gently creating these sweet little pieces of dreams that he doesn't have any purpose for yet, but just loves building dreams so much that sometimes he goes under with the PASIV just to create. Dream realizes it is Hob far sooner than Hob realizes that he is being watched, which means Dream gets to observe how carefully and artfully Hob crafts things of dreamstuff. It is... stunning... to see someone care for the Dreaming almost as much as Dream himself does. He pretty much falls in love then and there. Now what does he do about all the other humans he does not want to have access to his realm?

[bellatrixnightshade]

Earthlings and Aliens

@liketwoswansinbalance

here it is!

Well, this was actually an experimental bit of writing I published so it isn't technically finished, and this AU is more "free range" for now. It has endless possibilities and plots I would like to use, so I don't think I will write a strict storyline to it.

Midas couldn't believe his eyes when he found the Rhian from the stories standing right in front of him.

An actual extraterrestrial being.

Midas had always heard that aliens were grotesque and strange creatures that looked nothing like human beings, yet here Rhian was, no older than he was.

Granted, Rhian still had certain vibes that could not be from this planet. Unearthly beauty. His blue eyes had some sparkle in the irises and the puplis, like miniature stars in the evening sky. His wild blonde hair and his skin also had touches of sparkle and shine. And were those antennae? Midas was not hypnotized or impressed, to Rhian’s misfortune. In fact, he was filled with distrust. He didn't trust this stranger, much less one who was ogling at him.

Rhian, on the other hand, was enchanted by Midas at first sight. The boy didn't look like the other Earthlings– so common and uninteresting. He could have been the child of either sun or moon: his sweet looking gray eyes and his terracotta skin and copper curls made him look otherworldly.

"I don't want to go to your school," he snapped. "It isn't worth leaving Bongo or my home."

Rhian smiled, and this made Midas bristle. What was so funny? Was he really so inconsiderate? Being kidnapped by an alien was an Earthling's worst fear.

"Don't worry," he said, aiming a glowing finger at Midas to stun him, "you will be treated well on the way there. Wouldn't that be nice, to ride in an actual spaceship?"

"I don't know. I'm warning you, don't let my father or a safety official see you. Once they see an alien, it's over. The governments of Planet Earth are terrified of aliens. They think people like you will bomb us and annihilate us. They believe you will bring strange drugs and your people here." 

Rhian was about to laugh. 

These Earthlings were the most stupid people he had ever encountered. A toddler from his planet could easily destroy this neighborhood. And Rafal, RAFAL, the logical, cold, calculating, intelligent twin actually believed in these idiots, in their so-called potential. Maybe Rhian needed to take Rafal to the doctor. Maybe he was becoming sick in the head.

A snake slithered across the grass and Midas bent down to stroke its head. He glowered at Rhian. "I'm telling you, my dad's coming home any minute and when he sees you, he will-" He was interrupted by screams and his neighbors calling each other.

Midas left his backyard to his front door to get to the source of the screaming, stamping,  and unusual noise, traveling two blocks away. Arabella's house? Midas thought. Did she purchase drugs or something?"

Rhian was about to trail after him, but he turned to a giant screen. On display for the public view, were three disabled androids on the street. 

Rafal, he thought with despair. Rafal would fight like this. Rafal was in trouble. Rhian vaguely remembered Rafal heading in that direction for his special Earthling…

Rhian desperately wanted to go to the spaceship and leave with Midas. Let his brother fend for himself. Yet, Rhian didn't have Rafal's key and it wouldn't let him activate it without the key. Plus, he didn't know how Rafal got here and what directions he used. He didn't pay any attention. As he approached the house where his brother must undoubtedly be trapped in, he heard obnoxious yelling inside. Rhian remembered to use his disguise, and his antennae curled in his hair. This was more stressful than he thought. He could even feel them become more and more purple. No wonder his brother always hid them, even at home. 

"We need to scan your chip," an android said. "For your resistance, we have called extra forces."

A woman was sobbing. "My daughter told me everything. She told me this foreign freak wanted to take her away. To God knows where!" 

Rafal refused to go near the android. He was doomed if they scanned his chip, anyway. The android came to him, scanning it without his consent.

"Identity not recognized," it said. "You are under arrest for suspected terrorism, attempted abduction, and illegal entrance into our planet. Please follow us."

"I am not following you," Rafal snapped. "If you make me, I will make sure you share the same fate as those other stupid robots."

The woman looked up, glaring at him. "They already called humans against you. They will track you down and kill you, just like your people deserve. How dare you enter our world! We have had enough wars. We don’t need anymore, much less from invaders like your kind."

Rhian was silently watching. Midas was right. He hoped his dad wouldn't watch.

"Is she your friend?" Rhian asked, pointing to a redheaded girl, enamored with his brother. To his disgust, Midas' attention was also turned towards his brother.

"We are classmates and neighbors," Midas said slowly. "You brought more aliens, didn't you? More creatures to take our people to your home."

"Oh, he's just my brother," Rhian said quickly. "He was the one who brought me here. This wasn't my idea in the first-" The helicopters landed, and Rafal ran outside as far as he could, Arabella following after him. Someone in the crowd held a jar with a tiny Marialena inside. "They are infiltrating our home!" He screamed. Rafal eyed Rhian's disguise  in the crowd. Arabella headed in that direction. Suddenly, gunshots rang out and the crowd stepped back.

Rafal was hit. The police dragged him inside their plane. He was certainly doomed. He also found Rhian with another handsome boy. Again? He instructed Arabella to go to the ship as soon as possible and he gave her the key. She made a huge mistake in telling her mother, but she didn't know any better. Now she did. In case Rafal died here, at least Rhian had the key. At least he could fly home to safety.Arabella's mother had stabbed him in the stomach with a kitchen knife, then screamed "911" at her virtual assistant. Rafal wished he had obliterated that stupid computer program. He wished he had bombed this whole neighborhood.