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sparrowlucero · 7 days ago

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i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

#does this not make sense or sound mean. I'm not trying to sound mean. it's fine. you'll like it if queernorm magic school sounds appealing #which it will to many many people #I think what happened is that they were studio mandated to make some changes that weakened the initial idea #but then the writers #all again tumblr art students #were just as interested if not more in making their own played entirely straight YA magic school thing #probably more than i even grasp as according to a friend who loves the show there's like.#cassandra claire harry potter fanfic references I'm not picking up on

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theminecraftbee · 1 year ago

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task: answer the following question. do you believe in curses? respond as completely with relevant information as possible.

Grian: Well, that's a lie. This isn't a task. I know it's not a task, I set the things up! Not sure why we're getting a question as pointless as this one, but sure, mysterious scroll, I'll answer. There's no such thing as curses, unless you're Timmy, in which case it's funny, yeah? Besides, I didn't actually kill Etho. Even if that did count, self-fulfilling prophecies aren't the same thing as curses, and I know which one I fall under.

Joel: Do I believe in bloody curses what kind of question is that? Do I really get hearts just for answering this? This feels like a prank or something... well, whatever. There are no such thing as curses, except the Boogeyman curse, which I sort of had today, but it wasn't actually the same at all. A lot of the bloodlust, sure, but a lot more... Etho had to be the one to do it, huh? And it's not the same. Not comforting. That's a stupid thing to say actually. Take it out of wherever you're putting this. Cut it out of the recording. Comforting. Please. As if it were ever... Yeah, I'm done actually. Don't have a good answer. Go away.

Scott: What, other than Jimmy? Bless that man, he may not have died first, but he sure tried his best. Sure, I'll believe Jimmy is cursed. I mean, mostly he's just kind of stupid. Lovingly so. I mean, despite him being stupid, I put up with him, right? That seems like a complete answer to this question. Jimmy's an omen but we put up with him anyway. That's all.

Mumbo: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Pearl: Oh, I mean, I'm probably cursed. That's what everyone liked to say at one point. I think... I mean, I think this time I have good friends, which is nice. They don't think I'm cursed. And it's not like I--I mean, it's surprisingly fun, acting cursed! And I am just acting. Acting scary, blowing up dance floors, all of that. And I don't really have to this time, so... Maybe I'm not cursed? And since it's acting, it's not real? This is a weird question.

Etho: Oh, man, that's a question. Um, do I have to answer? Because I feel like if I say no, that's really just asking for it, but if I say yes, I have to explain myself. Uh, I think I'm abstaining, unless the zombie thing from earlier counts. That was scary and I hated it. Curses are scary and I hate them in general, but apparently I'm good at them, if you ask everyone else. Um, it's not the only thing I find scary that apparently I'm good at.

Scar: Why, of course I believe in curses! Look at poor, poor... Timbert? Timmy? Jim? Gosh, sorry, I'm very tired right now. That's more proof of curses, by the way! That I'm tired. I've been tired straight since the desert, let me tell you what. And that, my friends, is a curse like no other. What a terrible beast, loneliness is. Wish me luck breaking it, because it's not happening this season!

Cleo: Oh, you mean the thing people like to blame instead of their own actions? Nah. My soulbond was kind of a curse, I guess, but even that's at least half just... bad people. Bad relationships. Good ones, too. We're all just doing what you can, you know? No script, no curses, no characters, just... Oh, I hope everything turns out tomorrow. Sorry, that's unrelated. It's just nicer to hope than to preemptively blame things on curses that don't exist.

Impulse: Well, I mean, I didn't until you just asked me that, but now I feel like I should. Wouldn't that be nice? Being cursed instead of just sort of unlovable? Sorry, no, that's mean to Gem. I shouldn't say that about Gem, she's been good this season. Super, super cursed, mind you, in the like, game mechanic sense? But she's been good, no backstabbing or inability to get love involved. Um, and I guess that's not fair to Bdubs, kind of, except it also totally is and I haven't forgiven him. So I guess if they ask I said I believed in curses, and that's why my life keeps circling clocks? Don't put any of that other stuff down, I'm trying to work on that.

Lizzie: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

Gem: I was just cursed for a task, but that probably isn't what you're asking about, right? I'm new, so I don't know! A task is a concrete thing to believe in, like bloodshed or victory or fun and games. You don't have to believe in those to know they're real, either! They just are, whether you like it or not. I understand that much!

Tango: Gah, don't talk to me about... Deep breaths. Look, I don't care if it's a curse, or if it's just me being really bad, or what, I'm not going out pointlessly this time. Jimmy managed not to die first, I can manage to not go out to a stray arrow or my own bomb or a misstep this time, right? Is that so much to ask?

Skizz: Huh? Curses? I mean, I don't think so, and to be totally honest I think it's kind of mean the way people sometimes rag on people about them. Everyone's got so many good things about them! Why do people like to focus on the unfortunate luck, huh?

Bdubs: Hah! Curses! Let me tell you about curses. When I see curses, I eat them for breakfast. I don't got curses, I've got better things to do! I've got my buddies with the Mounders, and I've got-well, I'd say keeping Etho safe, but he's being weird at me again this season. Not that it matters. It never matters. Etho and I, we're... The point is, that doesn't matter anyway, because I have the Mounders, and they're the ones who matter here. And because I'm a strong, independent Bdubs, who doesn't need anyone but my bow and my perfect, flawless fighting prowess! Sorry, what was the question? I've been thinking so much lately that it's just sort of made everything else pop out of my head, so it's hard to keep track. I'm sure I answered it flawlessly, though.

Martyn: Of course there are curses. That's half the fun for you lot, isn't it? Putting your little curses on us and watching us rail against them. Bet you think it's real cute to ask us what we think of the things, too. "Oh, what do you think of curses," like we have any control over them. Please. If I had any control over curses, Jimmy--or, well, no, I guess that one was technically broken, wasn't it? Sure doesn't feel like it. Point is, curses are bad, and they're definitely real, and I hate you for them, got it?

BigB: Look, man, if you're trying to get me to write my character out for you, just say so! I won't tell anyone. We can come up with a hole thing about holes and red tasks and the Backrooms together! It'll be fun! After all, you probably don't know what kind of curse to say I have, right? Haha, just kidding. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Luckily, neither does anyone else, so I think that evens out between the lot of us.

Jimmy: NO RESPONSE GIVEN.

#secret life smp #a bee fic #not tagging everyone in this because it's. everyone #anyway i have wanted to write this for like TWO WEEKS so i figured that now's as good a time as any #anyway this is probably as thinly disguised as my character meta gets #we talk a LOT in this fandom about curses #we talk about whether we like them as fanon we talk about whether we dislike them we talk about who has them we talk about why #we talk about if they're here or broken or anything else #so i'd like to think the characters have an opinion on curses too after how much talking about them we've been doing #...at least the characters around to tell us their opinions do.#(anyway for all I claim this is thinly disguised character meta it IS actually of note that this isn’t actually about if they believe)#(but instead about how they’d respond if they were asked)#(hence why half of them don’t even answer the right question)#(this is why I’m not good at character meta btw)

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holidayinhell · 4 months ago

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CWs: discussion of future torment/ alludes to noncon

“How are you going to— h-how are you going to kill me?”

“Why?”

Whumpee shrugged weakly.

“Dunno. Lots of ways, Whumpee.” He traced Whumpee's hollow cheek lightly with his index finger. “I can’t pick only one. Gotta see all the different ways I can make ya squirm.”

The younger man wasn’t phased by the answer. He was used to the psychopath’s brutal honesty.

“What’s your favorite way to kill someone?”

It was the terror that he relished, not the act of killing itself. Getting them on the table was the height of the excitement for Whumper. The torture was enjoyable to a point, but by the time the endorphins kicked in the whole thing became work as usual. Not that Whumpee needed to know that.

“However I kill you will be my favorite, I guess.” His eyes grew wide, flashing wickedly in the fluorescent light.

“So, what’s your favorite way to die?”

Whumpee tried to fight the shiver that wracked his spine.

“Curled up in my bed at 95.”

“Funny.” Whumper remarked dryly.

Whumpee was painfully aware that the deadline was only three days away. He knew his family could never afford the ransom, even if they sold everything they owned.

There was no world in which Whumpee lived past the week.

“I just… I was wondering what happens when...”

“Time’s up?”

The gaunt man nodded.

“Ain’t long now,” the killer shifted his weight to stand. “You’ll see for yourself.”

“Wait!” Whumpee shot out his arm, impulsively clutching the bottom of Whumper’s elbow. “Don’t go.”

Whumper turned back to his captive, crumpled on the floor. It was late and he was exhausted from the day, but he couldn’t resist the desperation in Whumpee’s pleading eyes.

“Just tell me what’s gonna happen.” Whumpee begged. “I need to know.”

"It doesn't matter" Whumper dismissed.

"Come on." Whumpee wasn't budging an inch. "You're right, it doesn't matter. So tell me."

“All you need to know is this: when the ransom is up, you're mine, and I can do whatever I like to you.”

Whumper gently traced the curve of Whumpee’s bottom lip with his thumb.

“Maybe you’ll like some of it too.”

“I don’t think so.” He responded blankly.

“Mmm.” Whumper retracted his hand from the man’s face. “Good thing you won’t have any choice in the matter.”

Powerless to fight the deluge of tears leaking from his exhausted eyes, an aching sadness took hold of Whumpee. Tears rolled over his cheeks, but he didn’t sob. He was beyond hollow at this point, completely numb.

A piece of his heart broke for his former self when Whumpee had the cold realization that he would probably never see the sky again. He cursed his weakness, his inability to defend himself. His entire life he had been too shy, too soft. What a waste he'd been.

In a tone barely above a whisper, Whumpee pitifully murmured: “I don’t wanna die.”

Whumper scooped up the trembling man from the floor, his strong arms wrapping around Whumpee in a confusing display of dominance and affection.

It was a feigned act of compassion, but the warmth of human contact felt good anyways. This time, Whumpee allowed the touch to comfort him.

Whumper offered no reassurances to the shell of a man quaking in his arms, he didn’t say it’s okay I would never hurt you, you’re my favorite—he didn’t say it because it wasn’t true. He wasn’t holding Whumpee tightly in his arms to comfort him. He held him close to feel Whumpee shake with fear.

Three days left. Only seventy-two hours.

“I like you, but the same rules apply to you as everyone else here.”

Whumpee pulled out of the hug, shuffling backwards.

“You said I was your favorite.” He wiped his leaking face with the back of his hand, sniffling. “Was that even true?”

“Yeah.” Whumper chuckled lightly. “You’re sweet.”

"Then why would you—" The tears surged again, cutting him off. "—how could you...?"

“I won’t touch your pretty face. Does that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know.” He snorted loudly to halt the mucus dripping from his nose. Whumpee struggled to maintain a façade of emotionlessness, but his body betrayed him at every turn. He took in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, centering his mind.

“Just walk me through it. Just once. I need to know what happens.”

“Fine.”

Whumper crouched, locking his cold eyes with Whumpee's.

“It starts off the same for everyone. First I’m gonna have you go to the bathroom. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll even let you use the one upstairs, the nice one. Sometimes people refuse to go and end up pissing on the exam table-- don’t do that. If you piss or anything when you’re strapped down, I’ll rub your fuckin’ face in it, so just go.”

“Okay.”

“Then you’ll strip down. Don’t put up a fight on that either. You won’t win.”

Whumpee nodded.

“I’ll take you to the room at the end of the hall. You know the one. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up, but if you’re a good boy that day I won’t need the ropes.”

An evil smile spread across Whumper's face. “The table is gonna feel cold on your skin. I'll have you lay back and once you lay down... Use your imagination. Anything could happen. I haven’t exactly planned it all out.”

“Yes you fucking have.” Whumpee bit back.

Whumper was taken aback. He was right of course, but he’d never heard the man swear before.

“Sure. I’ve thought about it.” Whumper chuckled. “I don’t think sharin’ every minute detail is gonna help.”

“Just tell me,” Whumpee urged.

Whumper looked down and sighed, his impatience mounting.

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“Yes.” He answered truthfully. “Among other things.”

It felt like a train crashed into Whumpee’s gut. It was happening. It was really happening.

“Will it--will it hurt?”

“A little. But I’ll try to make you feel good.”

“No I mean. After.”

“Oh." He patted the man's shoulder. "Yeah. It’s gonna hurt, Whumpee.”

As much as he didn’t look forward to sacrificing his special, trembling boy to some faceless nobody on the dark web, the money was too good to pass up. The truth was, Whumpee was worth far more dead than alive. Even if his family had managed to pull together enough funds for the payout, it was miniscule compared to what his buyer was willing to pay for the video.

“That’s enough for now. It’s late.” The killer made his way to the exit, the heels of his boots clicking against the tiles.

“Am I allowed to make a final request?” Whumpee called to his captor's receding form.

"I don't do that," the man said coldly, glancing over his shoulder.

“Please. It’s not a lot.”

"What?" Whumper snapped, impatience evident in his tone.

“C-can I please write a letter to my friend?”

The killer rubbed his exhausted eyes, sighing as he eyed the reinforced steel door.

“Please.”

“Fine, Whumpee. Whatever. You can write to your friend. I’ll get you some paper. Write a fuckin’ novel for all I care.”

“Thank y--.”

Whumper yanked the heavy door closed behind him, silencing Whumpee’s appreciation with a decisive shove, the thick thud echoing in the corridor. He had no intention of actually delivering Whumpee’s letter to anyone; but at that point he’d do anything to shut up Whumpee’s insistent questioning.

Still, a flicker of curiosity burned within him as he wondered what Whumpee might write.

((sequel is in progress, here's more Whump))

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump drabble #whump #whump prompts

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cinnamon-stixs · 2 months ago

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TADC EPISODE 3 HAS DRIVEN ME INSANE SO HERES A REALLY LONG RANT ABOUT ALL THE THINGS I NOTICED!!

-The horror visuals fucking SLAYED. SLAY.

-I LOVE that Ragatha loves horror and Pomni HATES it.

-"Zooble turns straight" 10/10 line.

-2 new points of evidence for the NPC!Jax theory: He acknowledges the audience directly, and refuses to share what happens when he holds his breath. This could be shown as a similar clue to him not having a visible room on his enamel pin art.

-Caine made a scary adventure just to get zooble interesteddd 😭❤️

-Gangle's comedy mask can just be ripped off of her face??

-Ragatha's face, I love her

-Caine has a fundamental inability to understand other people's emotions and empathize. Neurodivergent coded king I love him

-Kinger says "I'm starting to think" when they first enter the scary room, and not only is it funny as hell, IT WAS ALSO FORESHADOWING?!

-Kinger is VERY aware of the game mechanics in the world around him

Oh how I love you, Pomni.

-I LOVE THE LITTLE 2D ANIMATED SECTION OF THE EYES

"You look beautiful honey.." KILLING MYSELF. AUGH. POOR BABY..

-"Any torture I inflict is 100% accidental! like any good war criminal!"

-Zooble's trans/dysphoria allegory with their digital body has my whole heart

THEY DID NOT DESERVE THIS.

"What you're saying could imply that I'm bad at.. they only thing I'm good at..." HE IS SO ME FR WHAT THE FUCK. I THINK I KIN HIM WHOOPSIES

-I think Mr. Mildenhall's story reflects kinger's more than we think.

-Living for Pomni and Kinger's father-daughter dynamic

She's hot.

Kinky! (looks like something Amy would do to him)

-THE POSSESSION SCENE WAS SO COOL?

-So he was hitting pomni! I remember a lot of debate about that.

-Kinger and Queenie were canonically married

-Kinger took 7 years of computer science

-Kinger has a SURPRISING amount of emotional intelligence.

-BEING IN THE DARK REMINDS OF HIM OF HIS LAST MOMENT WITH HIS WIFE I'M FUCKING CRYINGGG

-Kinger hated bugs, but now he loves them because they're a subconscious reminder of his entomology loving wife.

-The line "In this world, the worst thing you can do I make someone feel like they're not wanted or loved" paired with Mr. Mildenhall's story of mistaking his wife for the monster and killing her makes me think Kinger caused Queenie to abstract somehow.

"Don't worry about me. As long as you remember, things will be okay. You're very strong pomni." ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Pomni canonically hates physical tough, but felt trusting and comfortable enough with Kinger to hold his hand.

Fucking sapphics

"FUCK-"

-Caine turning Zooble's therapy session into his own is so him omg

-"Welcome back my meowing milkmaids!" CRAZY.

-Kinger's new side wasn't actually all that surprising. Neither was him being the 'supportive dad' type. but i LOVE it

-KINGER VINYL FIGURE AHH NEED!!

This is my fave episode so far!! I love this show augh

#the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #tadc kinger #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc gangle\#tadc jax #tadc zooble

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astarionancuntnin · 7 months ago

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Die For You (Chapter 2)

summary: following your encounter in that dark alley, you're faced with your old love. will you have the strength to stand up to him?

rating: T

word count: 2.5k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: kidnapping, reader is shackled for a while, starvation (both imposed by captor and self-imposed), manipulation.

a/n: a shorter chapter and no funny business this time around cause we gotta focus on the development of their relationship while reader is in captivity. also! look out for the additional a/n at the end of the chapter! im undecided on where i want to take this so i want all of your opinions !!

Masterlist

previous chapter

read on ao3

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or keep reading down below~

I fell in love with someone

I don’t know

Anymore, anymore

Sometimes I wonder if you

Think of me

Anymore, anymore

You can't make much of what happened after he appeared. You were too shocked by the presence of your past lover to acknowledge whoever cast sleep on you, knocking you unconscious at your most vulnerable moment. Cowards. When you awaken, you’re shackled, hanging to a wall in a dark cell. You pull against the restraints to no avail; you were securely locked in.

Your struggling must’ve made too much noise, as not long afterwards, the door opens wide, revealing Astarion, alone. He was standing proud in lavish clothing, different from the ones you had seen him in at the party a few days ago, but just as proper. As much as these last few months had been awful to you, it seemed like they had been the best in his last 200 years of existence. He approaches you slowly, head held high and arms crossed in his back.

“How’s your head, my dear?”

Hearing his voice again for the first time in months triggers a wave of emotions within you. Hurt, hatred, longing… lust. You shake them away as best as you can before questioning him.

“Why did you bring me here, Astarion?”

“I simply wanted to talk,” he says, his tone annoyingly playful.

“Was the kidnapping and shackles really necessary?” You slightly pull against them again to make your point; you can barely move in this condition.

“Can you blame me? Seeing how you ignored me so easily all night, and the fury in which you provoked my servants, I doubted you were going to follow me here willingly.”

You close your eyes and sigh, dropping your head, discouraged.

“Plus,” he adds, “I couldn’t take the chance to have you run out on me. I let you go once, it’s not a mistake I’ll be doing again.”

“Really? Now, after all these months, you want me back?” You chuckle, somehow finding a way to laugh at the situation you’re in as you raise your head back to meet his gaze. “I notice that your inability to move on wasn’t part of the many things that changed after your ascension.”

He smiles back, amused by your wits. “I told you, I only changed for the best. Besides, I know you've been missing me just as much.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, trying to conceal your reality. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.” “Am I? Were you not alone and miserable for all these months, flinging yourself at any stranger willing to spend the night with you? Or did my spawns lie to me?”

“Wait… How do you know that? Have you been spying on me?!” You exclaim in disbelief.

“Well, someone had to make sure you weren't off to get yourself killed in some stupid way.”

You scoff, offended at this image he had of you. “I can handle my own, thank you.”

“And yet, my servants had no problems cornering you in a dark alley.”

You open your mouth as you're about to answer back when you find yourself at a loss for words. He got you there, the prick. He notices your silence and sighs before commenting on your state.

“I’m sure you’re mad at me right now, and I wouldn’t blame you for it. But know that I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good? If you wanted to help me, you would disappear from my life, let me go and give me a chance to move on.” You feel like crying, and yet, the irony of the situation makes you laugh some more. “You have everything you’ve ever dreamed of and yet, you still couldn’t find someone new to replace me.” He laughs lightly. “I’ve only ever wanted you, my treasure. And now,” he walks towards you with a languid pace, his hand reaching for your chin, lifting it to meet his gaze, “You're finally where you belong, where you should have always been in the first place.”

You snap your head out of his grasp. “Shackled at your feet?” You spit out.

He forcefully brings back your gaze on him, his nails grazing your cheeks, making you hiss. “By my side.” He looks at your bared teeth, smiling. “You will make a deadly consort, that I'm sure of.” Your eyes widen as you understand the implication, and your voice rises as the fear starts to set in. “NEVER.”

He tilts your head aside and leans in the crook of your exposed neck, his breath hot against your skin. “You don't have to. I can just take what's rightfully mine,” he whispers and that last word sends a chill down your spine. You struggle in his grasp, trying to pull your neck away as you shout. “Don’t you DARE!”

He chuckles to himself. “Oh, don't you worry, I won’t bite unless you ask, very, very nicely.” He releases your face coldly but doesn’t move away from you. “But where are my manners? I almost forgot; I meant to invite you to eat.”

“I would rather starve,” you declare, leaning into that last word.

He sighs, seemingly growing tired of your attitude. “Fine, do as you wish,” he says, walking away from you.

He leaves and you’re left on your own for Gods know how long. You spend those first hours trying to free yourself still and eventually give up when you start to feel the bruises on your wrists. You drift in and out of consciousness, fatigue affecting you more with every hour that passes. Without any source of light, it’s nearly impossible for you to tell how much time had gone by since the night you were captured. But, judging by the growling of your stomach, at least a full day had gone by, maybe even two. Your arms and legs were starting to give out on you as well, when the door before you opened to a spawn you didn't recognize.

“Lord Ancunín invites you to dinner,” he says, composed.

“You can tell him to fuck off.” Your words don’t have the intended effect as they’re told with a shaky voice. In truth, you would kill for just a piece of bread right about now, but you would let yourself die before you complied to Astarion.

“I'm afraid that's not an option.”

Two more spawns appear behind him, and you instantly understand where this is going; this wasn't a request, it was an order. You're unshackled, although the spawns’ grips were so strong, you didn’t notice a difference, and were guided out of your cell. You reach an immense dining room, where Astarion has been waiting for you, a gold cup already to his lips. Knowing him, you suppose it’s either blood or fine wine, not that you care either way. You sink into the chair positioned at your end of the table, eyeing the food before you suspiciously.

“You don’t seriously think I would poison you, do you?” He exclaims. “Oh no, quite the opposite; I only want what’s best for my precious pet.”

You scoff, briefly eyeing Astarion who is sitting opposite you before turning your attention to the contents between the two of you. You would lie to yourself if you said you weren't starving. The food laid out on the table looked delicious. The table was filled with different plates of food, each one looking better than the previous, making your stomach growl in appetite. You could practically drool all over the place, but you didn’t want to give Astarion the satisfaction of seeing you cave in. Not yet, not so soon. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you.

Astarion quickly understands your intentions, with you staring right back at him, and he sighs, rolling his eyes. “It wouldn’t be wise to let yourself starve, pet. You wouldn’t want to waste all this delicious food, would you? Don’t be shy, at least take a bite.”

You're tempted, but against your better judgement, you ignore the mouth-watering meal, crossing your arms in defiance. He rolls his eyes, matching your attitude.

“As you wish.”

He snaps his fingers and the two spawns that brought you here move towards you, reaching for your arms. You stand up abruptly, pulling away from them and swiftly grabbing a knife from the table, standing in a defensive stance. Astarion speaks up, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. “Trust me, you do not want to pick a fight here. My lovely assistants only want to bring you back to your cell for the night.”

“I know the way.”

“I insist.”

Your fatigue and hunger get the best of you; you simply don’t have the energy to fight.

“Fine.” You drop the knife on the floor in defeat; even if you managed to land a blow, you had nowhere to run off to, and they would probably catch up to you anyway.

“That’s my girl.”

You hate the effect he still has on you. He knows just what to say to get to you.

You shoot him a deadly glare and feel your breathing quickening as your heart races with anger and your nails dig through your palms. He smiles pretentiously at you, and you’re overcome with thoughts of jumping onto him and punching his stupid face, making him regret everything he’s done to you these last few days. If it wasn’t for the awful twist in your gut, you might have. You shut your eyes closed as you look away, frowning, before you start walking away and the two vampire spawns accompany you to your cell, where you let yourself slouch over the rock wall. At least, they didn't restrain you again.

Once again alone with your thoughts, your mind drifts to your companions. Specifically Shadowheart; would she still be waiting for you? Would she be looking for you? You wish you had a way to contact her, let her know you need help. Your thoughts are interrupted by a stabbing feeling in your gut, again. Maybe you should’ve taken a bite, just a small one, just to keep you going… No, this was a game to him, you needed to hold on. The pain is good, you try to convince yourself, it’s a reminder that I’m alive, mortal, and I’ll fight to keep it that way as long as I can.

Another wretched tenday passes and you avoid the food still. Every day follows the same routine: you’re woken up, Astarion’s spawns bring you to the large dining room where you’ll refuse to eat anything, until he gets bored of your attitude and you’ll be brought back to your cell, three times a day. You sense how Astarion is getting annoyed at you, and it strengthens your resolve. However, you hate to admit it, but you’re becoming weaker and weaker. You spend most of the passing days asleep, unable to think straight through your hunger, and too exhausted to do anything else.

Finally, you cave in.

As you're brought to the dining room for dinner, your gaze falls upon your favourite meal, presented before you. For the first time in days, your façade breaks down, you have eyes for nothing else other than the meal in front of you. Had this been given to you on the first day, you would’ve gladly turned it down, but you didn’t have that kind of resolve anymore. Astarion snaps you out of your reverie by speaking up, and you raise your eyes to meet his.

“You had asked me what my favourite meal was and I couldn’t remember.” His tone is gentle. “It had been so long that everything tasted like garbage. Even wine tasted like pure vinegar. It frustrated me. That’s when you told me about yours: Baldurian Mash. You described it in such great detail, I could almost taste it myself.” He pauses, and you look up to meet his gaze. “I wanted to give you what I couldn't have. A chance to remember.” You can’t stop the tears from swelling up. You’re famished, completely drained, and mentally spent; this was the last straw. You grab the gold-plated utensil with a shaky hand and dig into the plate, shoving that first bite in your mouth. It’s even better than you remember it. You chew on that first bite longer than necessary, relishing the taste of the meal. It’s comforting, filling, it tastes like home; it’s everything you’ve wanted and more. You are so hungry that you end up ravishing the rest of it, barely taking the time to savour it properly past that first mouthful. Your belly growls, this time content with the food you finally gave it. After so many days resting on an empty stomach, you can't afford to eat anything else. You smile unconsciously as you lay back in your chair, satisfied with your meal, before getting up to leave, following the usual routine.

You stop in your tracks near the door and slightly turn around towards the ascendant, pausing before the words escape your lips.

“Thank you.”

As you walk away, you miss the devilish grin forming on his lips, as you curse yourself for granting him the satisfaction of your words.

You know the way to your cell by heart now; you would probably be able to reach it with your eyes closed. You walk in front of the spawns, your mind wandering to your evening, to him. He remembered that little detail about you that felt so insignificant back then, and he sounded so sincere. What if he cared all along? Had you been wrong about him all along? Did you miss out on the signs, too blinded by your guilt? Deep down, was he still your Astarion? The same questions keep repeating themselves over and over until one of the spawns speaks up, snapping you out of your own world.

“Excuse me, my lady?”

Lady? The mention of the title stops you in your tracks and you turn around to face them, a question mark visible on your face.

“Lord Ancunín requested that you be moved to this room from now on.”

The spawn walks towards a door you had never noticed previously and opens it, welcoming you in. You look at the other spawn who nods at you before you walk towards the room. Inside you find a large bed, draped in luxurious blue and gold silk sheets, a lit fireplace creating a warm light all around, and a large window, covered by black curtains. The room alone is almost as large as the one you shared with your companions back at the Elfsong. The walls were filled with books that you couldn’t make out exactly, and a cosy blue velvet chair sat between the fireplace and the window. You’re still taking everything in when one of the spawns speaks up.

“Please let us know if you are in need of anything. Have a good night, my lady.”

You barely notice them as they both leave, closing the door behind them, too enraptured by the sight of your new room. You're confused. Could this be a trap? Was he watching you from somewhere like he had been all those previous months? You look around quickly but can't make out much, as the fatigue from your first meal in days settles in. The bed in the middle of your room looks so comfortable after spending days sleeping against the cold rock ground. You reach for it and as you lay down, you feel yourself drift to sleep almost instantly.

Familiar faces that look like you

They tend to

Mess with my head just like it's deja vu

It's always

Right when I think I’m getting over you

That it feels

Like I have salt inside an open wound

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lowkeyrobin · 3 months ago

Note

Can I get some Morgie x reader where he's trying to get them to join the VK'S? Like trying his absolute best, but gets a little bit nervous.

yesyesyesyes thank you!!! ; thanks for requesting, hope u enjoy!! ; also sorry this is so short, writers block has been killing me recently :(

MORGIE LE FAY ; join us

summary ; morgie desperately tries to get you to join his (ulianas) vk group

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; reader is allergic to peanuts for the bit

word count ; 637

masterlist

"Hi!"

"...Hi"

Morgie smiles, a little bad with social cues. Uliana shoots him a look from across the room. "Uhm, you're Y/n, right?"

"Yep"

"Uh, would you like to join my- our group? I, we, think you're really cool!"

"I work better solo" you reply. "Thanks though."

You quickly look back down at your paper, scribbling some nonsense onto the page to make him go away. He cracks his knuckle, out of nervous impulse, and quickly scurries back across the room to Uliana.

"So?"

"No"

"Jesus, Morgie."

"I tried!" Morgie defends

"Try harder next time. We need them with us if we're gonna pull this plan off."

"I thought you thought they were cool?"

"They're known to be a backstabber." Uliana rolls her eyes. "One and done job."

"Oh, okay..."

Morgie was not backing down to ask you about joining his group. It wasn't because of Uliana's pressure or Hook's inability for patience, or Maleficent's insistence, or Hades' obnoxious droning. It was because he honestly thought you were the coolest person alive.

He was set on getting you to join them.

He'd made peanut butter cookies for you, trying to now bribe you with food.

He approaches you at lunch, a plastic Tupperware in his hands.

"Hi, I made you cookies. Maybe you could rethink joining me?" He awkwardly chuckles.

You look up at him, slightly confused and annoyed. "What kind?"

"Oh, uh, peanut butter"

You chuckle. "I have one weakness. Peanuts"

His eyes quickly widen. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize, I didn't know-"

"It's fine." You giggle.

"Uhm, why are you sitting alone?"

"Told you. I work better alone"

"Oh, yeah"

Morgie, even after nearly poisoning you, was still not giving up. He didn't care about the weird, swirly feeling in his stomach or the ache in his heart when he thought of you. He wanted you. He needed you.

Over the course of the next week and a half, he'd been leaving little love letters in your locker. You liked them, feeling loved and appreciated, not having to be let down by reality. Anonymity was the great part about it. What wasn't so great was that you almost caught Morgie in the act after he'd left you another note.

Inside the safely sealed envelope rests a piece of paper, on it reading 'meet me outside by merlin's office at 3. hope to see you then ♡ -your secret admirer'

"Christ on a cracker..."

You couldn't make your mind up if you wanted to meet this person later or not. You didn't want to be let down by any internal, high expectations, but at the same time, curiosity nabbed at you desperately.

Once again, at your lunch table, you sit alone. Well, until that weird kid Morgie showed up again. He quickly sits down with you, ignoring your confused look.

"Hi" He awkwardly smiles.

"Hey," you reply nonchalantly, trying to hide the million thoughts wrapping around your brain.

"You busy this afternoon?" He asks.

"Uh, maybe" You shrug. "Why?"

"Just asking"

As the afternoon rolled around, you decided to just man up and go meet your secret admirer. Maybe you just had to think positive, maybe-

"Oh my God."

Morgie smiles and waves, standing under a large oak tree.

"Jesus Christ, are you the person who's been leaving notes in my locker?" You ask, standing a few feet away from him.

He shrugs and nods. "Yeah."

You blink twice, silent as you try to think.

"Look, I just really want you to join my group" He speaks, stepping forward. "You're really cool, and super smart and funny. Just please, please, please, think it over"

You sigh, knowing this boy won't take no for an answer. "Fine. I'll think about it"

"Yes! Thank you!"

"That's not a yes. Don't get your hopes up"

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #descendants x reader #descendants x gn reader #morgie x reader #morgie le fay x reader #peder lindell x reader #descendants rise of red x reader #rise of red x reader

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pokegalla · 1 year ago

Text

Requested by @tryslogic

Ok- this is fucking hilarious- and fits Killer so well. Trust me. You’ll love it- Thank you for requesting this man-

Killer reacting to his S/o saying “Can you just fuck the sad outta me?”

* Ok so how did this even start? Well you being sad obviously. You were just in the blues and well you were getting sick of it! No one wants to be sad forever! But what shall you do?! Ah yes! Call Bonefriend over✨

* He will be there with Chinese food (or whatever you’re craving really) and just snuggle and chat away, tryna make you laugh. And you of course joke too! “Heh Kills. Since I is so sad…..can you just fuck the sad outta me?”

* Dis shit made yo mans stop mid laugh just to process what you said. Then holy shit look at that glorious red blush on his face✨ perfect opportunity to tease his flirtatious ass- a taste of sweet revenge after all those times he teased you!

* Though don’t push your luck too far if you think you’re getting away with it. Ohohoho you’d be dead wrong- he will GLADLY take you up on the offer and pound you into the mattress~

* Can’t feel Dah sad if yah can’t feel Dah legs✨

Mini story time:

Killer was laughing only to stop out of pure confusion. You…..you said WHAT-? Nah he must be hearing shit now. But…..what if you’re not joking-?!

He sat up quickly, “Woah wait- babe? Babe? You for real?!” You started laughing at his reaction, “Baaaaaabe! C’mon yah can’t just throw that at me like that!!!”

“Why?” You ask in a teasing tone, “Let me guess…..you were ready to pounce on me the moment I confirm that weren’t you?” What’s this?! A tint of red has appeared on your Skellie’s cheekbones!

“Heh…..h-hey Y’know a guy gotta make sure…..,” Killer said, rubbing the back of his skull. Is he…..nervous? Oh he messed up-

“Awwww my sweet baby boy is getting all shy on me~? Awwww look at that pretty blush! I bet I can make it glow even brighter~” You circled around him teasing him nonstop until Killer’s whole skull was beet red. When you finally decided to get away while you still could, you were suddenly yoinked back and pinned on the bed.

“Yah think yer so funny huh kitten~? Well I got just what the doctor ordered~,” He cupped your chin, thumb grazing your bottom lip, “One extra hard fucking to chase the blues away coming right up~”

And you ended up having to call out of work the very next day due to….the inability to walk~

#my writing #undertale au #funny #fluff #slightly suggestive #killer sans x reader #undertale au x reader #undertale au headcanons #killer sans #sans au x reader

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suzukiblu · 1 year ago

Text

Day four of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Dead," Tim says, because it's not like it's a secret in the community or anything. "Joker happened to him."

And a lot of other things. Sheila Haywood and Felipe Garzonas and Bruce's eternal control-freak paranoia and constant inability to just talk, to name a few. But Joker, in the end.

Still, Tim can't help thinking about the chances to have avoided what happened to Jason. Especially when thinking about what's currently happening to Kon.

If Kon gets taken advantage of or hurt or killed because no one's paying enough attention . . .

Tim takes another drink.

"That sucks," Kon says with a grimace. "No wonder Batman goes all weird mama Bat on you all the time."

Tim chokes on an incredulous laugh and also a mouthful of soda, because Bruce is definitely not that and this isn't something to make light of either, but–

But also, he thinks about how no one ever goes "weird mama Bat" on Kon. No one ever has, as far as he knows.

No one takes care of him at all.

Tim really, really doesn't like that. Kon shouldn't have to rely on working for people who think they can build custom-designed personal-use superheroes based off of stolen dead bodies and are constantly making clones that are just inhuman-looking enough to not be able to blend into society outside the lab, and therefore don't have a choice about where they live or what they do with their lives.

Maybe it's not as bad as it sounds, or at least not as malicious as it sounds, but it's still the results of what Cadmus is doing either way. Kon has the option of being a superhero, at least, but he also has a custom-designed face that looks exactly like the face of one of the most famous heroes in the sector and was given absolutely no idea how to either establish or support a civilian life, so that's just about his only option.

Aside from, again, just working for Cadmus for the rest of his life.

Tim definitely hates the world.

"Please don't call it 'going mama Bat'," he says to distract himself.

"Please tell me what else you'd call it," Kon says.

"Micromanaging," Tim replies matter-of-factly, and Kon chokes on a laugh of his own.

"What, is being Robin your after-school job?" he teases. Technically it is, Tim supposes, but he doesn't exactly think of it that way.

"I consider it more of an unpaid internship," he says, since explaining the whole "emotional support sidekick" thing would probably damage Bruce's Bat-mystique, and if he tells Kon the full story there he's basically telling all of Young Justice. Kon barely seems to understand the concept of secrets, much less the concept of keeping them. "Like I get an expense account but not a paycheck, you know? And sometimes we get cookies in the Batcave."

"Cookies. In the Batcave," Kon echoes, his eyebrows shooting up. "Are they bat-shaped?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Tim replies with a pleasant smile. Alfred doesn't usually bother with anything quite that on the nose, but according to Dick there are Halloween cookie cutters in the kitchen that he's not above bringing out when Bruce has been being especially ridiculous, so . . .

"Oh my god," Kon says delightedly. "Does he make them himself? Is there a Bat-apron? A Bat-oven? Or does he just order them special from the Bat-bakery?"

"There is not a Bat-bakery," Tim says, trying not to laugh again. Goddammit, Kon shouldn't be so fucking funny all the time. He's not even that funny, objectively; Tim is just a smitten idiot.

"So there is a Bat-apron?" Kon says with a smirk.

"I plead the fifth," Tim says, since explaining the novelty Halloween apron Jason bought Alfred when he was thirteen is not actually on the table. Details compromise identities, loose lips sink ships; all that.

"Listen, man, Cadmus doesn't have a bakery unless you count the test tubes they cook us up in," Kon says with a snigger, grabbing himself another slice. Tim thinks thoughts about incendiary devices. "They buy our cookies frozen or just get the industrial-sized pudding cans. Or make bread pudding, the bastards. So you gotta tell me about the Bat-cookies."

Tim winces at the thought of industrial-sized pudding cans and bread pudding, because that sounds absolutely horrifying and he never, ever wants to taste industrial pudding. Ever.

"Well, they're definitely not frozen," he says. "But Nightwing started being Robin a lot younger than I did and the last Robin started younger than me too, so I think I'm just reaping the benefits of younger kids needing after-patrol snacks and everyone else getting in the habit of it."

"I could get into that habit," Kon says musingly as he tears a bite off his newest slice. Tim immediately resolves to order takeout after every possible Young Justice mission that he can. Or they could go get ice cream or something, he doesn't know. "What do you think, wanna make me Bat-cookies sometime, Rob?"

Every weekend for the rest of their respective lives, although Tim would never actually say that. He's not even a good baker. He doesn't even like to bake.

This crush is definitely a problem.

"You're not Gothamite enough to handle Bat-baking, Kon," Tim says dryly, and Kon sniggers.

He also ducks his head a little, looking . . . oddly soft, for a moment. Tim doesn't understand why, until he realizes–oh. It's because he just called him "Kon", isn't it. He wasn't even thinking about it; just did it reflexively.

Tim is pretty sure he needs to ruin the credit of every single "responsible" adult in Kon's life for not naming him sooner. Well–Dubbilex can have a pass, considering he was also made by Cadmus and his own name is Dubbilex, so it probably never occurred to him that "Superboy" wasn't a perfectly acceptable name. And also he probably doesn't have credit either. But all the rest of them, definitely and for sure.

Superman is getting an envelope of powdered Kryptonite in his fucking mailbox, to start. Or maybe Tim could aerosolize it and pepper-spray him with it. That might work.

"You don't know, I could be," Kon huffs, putting on a mock-offended expression. "I was born and raised in a lab, I'm way tougher than the average guy."

"A Metropolis lab," Tim says pityingly. "Might as well be a kindergarten science class."

"Oh fuck you, Batboy!" Kon protests with a laugh. "Tell that to the next alien invasion."

"Aliens know better than to invade Gotham," Tim says. Kon laughs again. It's–weirdly nice, honestly. Usually Kon's too busy trying to act cool in front of whatever "audience" he thinks they have to actually, like . . . just talk all that much or anything. And also usually he gets offended really easily or starts being annoying about something he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does about or just . . . something.

Tim admittedly is less and less annoyed and more and more endeared by that kind of stupid behavior these days, but still. It's the usual pattern their interactions follow.

He guesses they're actually just, like, hanging out right now. It's not like there's a bad guy or a crisis or even any teammates around or training to do, so . . .

Yeah. He guesses they're just hanging out.

Kon decimates the pizza and wings, Tim pretends to be helping and takes a few mental notes on how much Kon is eating and what that may or may not say about his required caloric intake, and they just kind of keep . . . hanging out, really. And they talk, at least as much as Tim lightly interrogating Kon and subtly evading providing any personal identifying information counts as "talking".

Tim really doesn't know if the guys at school or Young Justice are more authentically his "friends", at this point, but at least Young Justice knows there are things they don't know. Everyone from school . . .

Not so much, with them. They all only know Tim Drake, and none of them have any reason to suspect the existence of Robin. Young Justice only knows Robin, but at least they know there is a Tim Drake somewhere, whether they know him or not.

Maybe they are the ones who are more his friends, thinking of it that way.

It'd explain why things never really go anywhere with civilians and he's developed this stupid inadvisable crush on Kon, at least. Though not why things fizzled with Steph, since she knows Robin better than anyone in Young Justice. If he should be having a stupid inadvisable crush on anyone, at least it could've been someone with an equally stupid and inadvisable crush on him.

Unfortunately, he and Steph have officially friend-zoned each other and also Kon exists, so Tim is having his stupid inadvisable crush on an alien hybrid metahuman clone in a terrible living situation with stupid taste in sunglasses and a mysteriously infinite-seeming supply of leather jackets. So now Tim is in this situation and his supervillain timeline needs recalculated, and also he's going to be buying Young Justice so much takeout to make sure Kon gets to eat something that isn't cafeteria food in a way he won't get offended by.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Well, I'm glad the new job's working out," Tim comments eventually, after some very careful conversational maneuvering, and Kon . . . pauses.

"I guess," he says after a moment, picking olives off the remains of his current slice and not quite looking at him as he says it. Tim resists the urge to absolutely pounce on the blood in the water and makes himself wait. "I mean, it's fine, it's not like it's bad there. Like, I don't love that it's my only real option and I don't love the same lab that made me out of DNA that it literally got out of a literal grave being in charge of me, but it's not like Westfield's still running the place or anything. So like, could be worse."

Tim hates the world. All of it. Seriously. Alfred's snickerdoodles get an exception and that's it. Nothing else.

"I'm sure it'll all work out," he says, because yeah, he officially needs to actually do something about this. He doesn't know what something, but something. If he doesn't, who else is going to?

Kon puts on a fake grin and says something stupid and easy in reply, the comment lighthearted and dismissive and a screamingly obvious coping strategy from someone who doesn't see any way out of their current situation but through, and Tim . . .

Tim finishes his Zesti and starts to think.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon #long post

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theresthespark · 3 months ago

Text

Okay Lestat is canonically a Scorpio and Louis a Libra which are both painfully accurate. I wanted to play Estelle and share my astrology headcanons

Claudia:

Leo rising – the hair, the general slayage, her association with yellow aka the sun

Aries sun – she’s so bold plus libra and Aries are sister signs so they share traits that present different which feels right for Louis and her’s kinship

Taurus moon – not prone enough to over emotionality to be a water sign but not overly practical in the way the other earth signs are. Very stubborn and does canonically enjoy beauty and luxury. Also if you know a Taurus I feel like it just makes sense

Madeleine:

Virgo Rising – She just gives demure when we first meet her and yet no bullshit either. Virgos just seems very put together almost unassuming which is funny since every Virgo I know is crazy lol

Aquarius sun – the decisions she’s made in her life feel the best suited for an Aquarian. Also her talking to Armand? That woman stopped giving a fuck about what everyone else is doing years ago

Cancer moon – Almost did Scorpio here but her loyalty and intensity didn’t feel suited there. Cancer still has some of Scorpio’s snap but its homey and soft too. I also can’t see Claudia gravitating towards someone similar to Lestat at all lol

(Bonus: suspected Aries Venus. The intensity of her!! Her directness when she cares! How she chases life and joy!)

Armand:

Pisces Rising – those big ole eyes are a big marker for this one. Also Pisces have big baby energy despite being the oldest sign which feels perfect for him

Gemini Sun – Please what else could he be? There’s the 27 different faces but more so, the love for technology and knowledge, the urge to always strategize. The near inability to ground into his emotions. The perpetual anxiety. Also Geminis are so funny without even trying but that’s just me

Capricorn Moon – Caps are ruled by Saturn which is in short a struggle bus placement. Fits well with the forever 27 thing (stuck in perpetual Saturn return) and his tendency to self flagellate. Also it being represent by the devil card in tarot. Iykyk

Daniel:

Capricorn rising – When you first meet him he comes off quite no bullshit in a way that only makes sense for Capricorn to me. Also fits for the workaholic tendencies (our risings tend to be a truest to self energy aka us at our best). Also feel that may be what draws Armand to him hehehe

Sagittarius sun – If you look up famous Sags all of them are silly goobers (and lowkey problematic 💀). Like him being a Sag makes SO much sense to me for San Francisco. Only a Sag would make that many dumb decisions just bc it was a vibe lmaoo

Aries moon – Thinking about Eric’s comment about Daniel not taking kindly to bullies. Also how similar him and Claudia feel to me I feel they’d share some major signage too

(Bonus: Gemini Mercury bc his got the gift of the gab, the quick wit)

Louis: (i couldn’t resist finishing their big three)

Libra rising – Ruled by Venus, Helen of Troy, Malena coded. What else could he be really?

Libra sun – Painfully canon

Scorpio moon – With how he talks about himself and his life versus how he moves through the world it makes perfect sense to me. So much emotion but also a lot of passion all bottled unless in the right company. Also he would loooove SZA (plus plus you’re more likely to become heavily attached to people who’s sun is your moon)

Lestat:

Aquarius rising – Leo’s sister sign (perfect for him and Claudia’s dynamic). She’s a rebel she does her own thing she does not give a flying fuck about the rest of yall. Only an Aquarius could be responsible for the events in Queen of the Damned

Scorpio sun – Again debilitatingly canon

Leo moon – Do I even need to explain it? Pull any TVL passage if you want an explanation lmaooo

I hope you enjoyed my analyzes I love astrology and would kill to get a proper birth chart for these characters. The house placements! The Aspects! The CHIRONS!! I need to chill

#interview with the vampire #astrology #i’ve been sitting on this one for a while #armand #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #daniel molloy #claudia #madeleine eparvier

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wol-fica · 2 years ago

Note

if you are taking requests can i make a request where the reader and jenna ortega play a video game or watch a movie together and in the middle of the game or movie the reader kisses jenna and they spend the rest of the night together (both are already dating)

YES PLS TY TY MUAH

gonna write like sonic rn

————————————

-𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕜𝕤-

pairings - jennaortega x fem!reader

summary - you spend the night at jenna’s and she decides to make you watch scream 5 with her [fem! reader]

warnings - slight angst, pure fluff, making out, jenna is a softy here, y’all can fight me later ;) not proofread

an - who’s ready for scream 6 btw, 2023 boutta be a lit year ong ong

———

Normally when you would spend the night at your girlfriends house, it would be peaceful and full of kisses; that was not the case tonight.

You were not a fan of scary movies, in any form. The last horror movie you watched was The Conjuring and you ended up pissing your pants. So how you ended up seated on the couch about to watch Scream 5 was beyond you.

“Jenna, love, can we not watch this?” You pleaded as your girlfriend proceeded to rent the movie on Amazon Prime.

Now, you weren’t opposed to seeing Jenna on screen, but you really didn’t like seeing her all bloody and dead on screen; from what you knew about Ghostface, he kills a lot.

“Cmon Y/N, it’s just one movie.” She replied whilst sliding back into the comfort of your arms after paying for the movie.

“It’s a scary movie. I don’t like scary!”

Jenna sighed and looked up at you, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. She always knew that if she did that, you would give into anything that she asked of you.

“Pleeeeaaassseeee.” She whined, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the underside of your jaw.

You stared at her, contemplating your response. You could either say yes, and have nightmares for the next few weeks, or say no and get the cold shoulder for eternity. You opted for the first option.

“Fine, but I blame you if I can’t sleep tonight.”

She squealed in excitement and grabbed the remote to press play, bouncing in your lap while she did. The intro to the movie came on and you knew you’d be in for a wild ride.

—time skip—

Wild ride was an understatement for the most part. You had screamed, whined, shed a few tears, and even had to leave the room for a moment at a certain scene.

Currently, you were sat on the couch as the movie was paused on sheriff walking outside. The faint glow of the screen illuminated your blank face as your girlfriend laughed at a video she took of you screaming like a child.

“It was so high-pitched, oh my god!” She wheezed, wiping away a tear of laughter.

“Glad you found my fear amusing.” You snapped, turning away from her.

“Aw baby im sorry.” Jenna said, throwing her phone onto the table so she could give you her full attention.

“Hmph.”

“Y/N I wasn’t trying to make fun of you.” She said, now straddling you to try and see your face.

A funny trait about you was that you were incredibly stubborn. Your sarcasm plus your inability to be bold has strung up your childish behavior of not wanting to give into whatever is throw your way.

“Baby, can you look at me?” Jenna tried again, attempting to turn your face.

You obliged but kept a stern look in your eyes as she smiled warmly at you.

“You know I would never mock you for being afraid of something.” She said softly, twirling a piece of your hair between her fingers.

“I know, but you know that I hate being scared. Let alone seeing you get stabbed like nine times!” You complained, completely forgetting about being mad.

“It wasn’t real sweet cheeks, it’s just a movie.” Jenna cooed, now caressing your face as a way to soothe you.

You whined in defeat, pouting while Jenna just giggled at you. She paused for a moments, leaning in so your noses were touching. The faint smell of her breath hit your senses, filling up your sinus’ with the scent of spear mint.

Soon enough, her lips were on yours as she pushed you into the couch. Your mouths locked together, teeth tugging at lips and tongues forcing into the others mouth. Your little make out session was going smoothly until you heard the sound of a ringtone going off. Jenna pulled away to see that she was getting a call, but before she could answer you took it and hung up.

“Wha-.” You cut Jenna off mid sentence with a kiss.

“I don’t wanna take any chances.”

—————-

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x r #jenna #ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega fluff #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you

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mara-tevith-solo · 2 years ago

Text

Fate Thinks She’s Funny

Screw it, I might make this a series. Part of the One Enchanted Evening fic. Reader here has a recycled OC background I made for the MCU. Essentially came to Earth after Order 66 in the 90′s, was forcibly conscripted in the US Military and she gets tangled up in everything because of the Ancient One, the Jedi inability to not meddle, and Billy. It’s a 43k word fic that is no where near complete and probably will never be

Pairing: Adam Warlock x ex-avenger/guardian! reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence, love at first sight, prospective death, Adam pulling his punches just for you because he hates the idea of hurting you after 0.001 seconds, reader compares him to a Rancor of all things

Words: 1.8k+

Rated: 18+ as always

It was the crashing that alerted you initially, pulling you from the half-sleep you had managed to finally fall into. You didn't even bother shutting the door to your apartment behind you as you went to investigate, Groot wrapped around something on fire shooting past without much preamble. You were fully awake before he was out of sight, already trying to calculate his trajectory to be there to stop him. You ran over walkways and tight wires, not truly looking where you were going besides making sure the way was clear, making sure that no one would get hurt from the debris. It barely occurred to you that you were only dressed in one of Stephen's old shirts and a pair of sleeping shorts, your main concern being the citizens, and then the attacker.

A mother and child huddled on main street gave you pause, the mother trying to shelter her screaming child as debris began raining down towards them. Protecting them with the Force was reactionary, no really thought put into it until they were safe and you were on the move again. You skidded to a stop on a catwalk as Kraglin's arrow smacked the man harmlessly across the cheek, making him stop angrily in his tracks "Who threw this thing at me?" He demanded sharply, looking around the rubble he'd created. No one dared to answer him, all of them hiding and fighting to remain silent despite their fear. He looked, disarmed by the fear, choosing to move on "Baby." He chided before continuing on his path.

Landing on the attacker was easy, he was strutting through main street like he owned the place, like he wasn't trying to tear it apart bit by bit. He fell to the ground under you with an annoyed yell, your claws sinking into his shoulders before you were moving off of him, twisting and throwing him over your head and down into the ground with a shout. You didn't wait for the dust to settle to grab him again, hoisting him up to his feet as he tried regaining his barrings. For a moment, one single solitary moment, your eyes met, gold giving way to his pupils as they dilated, his breath stuttering as his golden lips dropped open the barest fraction. There was something star struck in his expression, something you forced yourself to not dwell on as you let go of his tunic just long enough to Spartan Kick him further away from where he'd thrown Nebula. He didn't go far, landing on his back with a forced exhale before he was clambering up to his feet with a bewildered glare "Do that again and I'll be forced to kill you." He was warning you as he shook the dust from his person, not taking his eyes off your form.

"Pity." You huffed, calling my saber, reaching back towards your apartment.

"What's that? What is the purpose of that?" He asked, genuinely curious, tilting his head like a puppy. It genuinely caught you off guard, both the fact that he genuinely didn't know what you were doing, and the fact that he seemed so innocent in that moment. You didn't answer him, instead taking a ready stance as soon as the hilt was in your hand, the familiar hum and yellow hue a comfort. He blinked, taking in your position and your weapon before deciding that you were still intent on being a threat, powering up with a frustrated grunt and a silent snarl, his hands engulfed in blades of light. It was like dancing, fighting with him, meeting him strike for strike even though it didn't feel like his heart was fully in it. He depowered one hand enough to grab your saber hand, immobilizing it no matter how hard you struggled, making you grab his arm that was still powered up, holding it above both of your heads in a struggle of wills. "I do not want to kill you." He admitted with a grunt, trying to break the hold you had on him.

"Not the first time I've heard that." You growled back a little bitterly, straining against him for a moment before you saw an opening and took it. Your forehead collided with his, a resounding crack! echoing through your head and the square as he cried out in pain, stumbling blindly back in retreat. "Fucking hell." You groaned, doubling over as you pressed your freehand to your forehead, trying to sooth the ache that was still blooming there. You could feel the tale tell tickle of a small track of blood dripping down the bridge of your nose, but didn't think much of it as you focused an eye on him, watching him recollect himself with that snarl of his.

"Are you always this stubborn?!" He asked you indignantly, throwing his hands out with exasperation.

You couldn't stop your expression if you wanted to, open bewilderment taking your face by storm as you just stared at him "You're trying to kill my friends! Of course I'm 'being stubborn'!"

"I just want the squirrel." He rebutted as though it was so simple.

"You can't have our friend! He's not property!"

Before he could say another word, Drax grabbed him and began throwing him around "Pick on someone your own size!"

You wanted to just hide somewhere as you backed away from the two men, your heart pounding deafeningly in your chest as Drax threw him into the headquarters sign "Y/n!" You could hear Mantis calling desperately from the med center, tears in her voice spurring you into action, ignoring the suddenly very determined man as he lifted himself from the dirt. You had to stop, your eyes glued to the scene, as the man met Drax hit for hit, matching every bit of his strength easily. It made you want to throw up. You watched, helpless, as beams of light came from the man's hands again, Drax barely able to stop them, holding the man at bay with groans of strain. "Y/n! Help!" Mantis wailed again, but you couldn't tear your gaze away as the stranger's power began to whine audibly, getting brighter and brighter until he was blowing Drax back with it.

As soon as he straddled and began pummeling Drax you were in motion, charging without a thought of your own safety. You dove at the last possible moment, only loosing a cry when your shoulder collided with his ribs, ripping him off of Drax and into the dirt with you. Scrabbling for dominance in the dirt with him, you didn't care to use finesse, or any true skill. He'd already proven that he was ridiculously strong, that you had to fight dirty to get any advantage. You barely paid attention to the darkening of his cheeks and neck as you straddled his waist and tried to punch his lights out, your fist raining punishment into his pretty face over and over again as your other hand kept you anchored to him, fisted tightly into the collar of his tunic. He seemed more concerned with trying to fend off the blows than fight back "ENOUGH!" He roared under you, almost succeeding in turning over under you as he tried to protect himself. You didn't listen to him as you pressed him back down, driving your fist into his sternum as you continued to punch the daylights out of him. "I said," He grabbed you by the thighs, his hands engulfing them by nearly half before he was usurping your position, driving your back into the dirt, his weight pressing down between your legs "enough!" It was only at that moment that he seemed to realize the position he had put you both in, making you feel like you were on fire as he stared down at you with those wide doe eyes that just screamed innocence.

You blinked back up at him, suddenly uncomfortable with the vulnerable position, your grip on his collar almost slackening with the shock that you liked it, until Drax groaned in pain, snapping you back to reality. Your legs tightened around his lower ribs, locking at the ankles behind him as you squeezed for all you were worth, not letting up as he sucked in a panicked, ragged breath. His hands found your thighs again as he sat up, dragging you up with him as you resumed punching and he tried pushing, his fingers digging painfully into your flesh, trying to pry you off before you constricted him to death. In a split second he gave up trying to get you off of him, his hand molding around the column of your throat like it was made to be there, cutting off your own breath as he pressed you back down into the dirt with a heavy glare. You tightened your hold on his ribs defiantly as you tried to pry his hand off, snarling right back up at him as he reared his fist back to finally fight back. A glowing blade erupted from his chest, instantly taking the fight out of him as he incredulously looked from you to it "That... hurts!" He breathed as golden blood dripped from the tip of the blade and down onto your shirt, immediately standing out from the blood sweat and dirt that clung to it.

"What a pity." Nebula growled from behind him as his hand loosened around your throat, allowing you to suck in a greedy lungful of air that had never tasted so sweet. The man looked back down at you as you gulped down ragged breaths past your burning throat, a small trickle of blood dripping past his lips as he grunted in pain. You let him go as soon as the blade retreated, letting him fall to the dust beside you. You couldn't look at him, it hurt to and you couldn't figure out why, why his imminent death was going to bother you. He'd been trying to kill your friends since he'd arrived on Knowhere and yet... "Still alive down there?" Nebula's voice broke you out of your thoughts and slammed you back into the moment as the man continued to suffer quietly beside you.

She was fighting a ghost of a smile as she offered you an arm "He hits like a Rancor." Your voice was still rough as it passed your burning throat, your healing taking its sweet time as you accepted her help to climb to your feet. She just shook her head with amusement before going to Drax, leaving you there. You didn't want to, but you looked down at the man, acknowledging his gaze as he turned onto his back, his eyes begging you for help "I'm sorry, I didn't want it to end like this." The words felt right as they hit the air, your chest aching at the idea that he'd die there. You were quick to turn away from him and limp to the Med Center, your thighs shivering with every step. You didn't want to face his death, didn't want to acknowledge it and you couldn't figure out why.

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock #adam warlock x you #gotg vol 3

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