#none the measurements fit lol

[got-eggs]

i bought a shit ton of fleece expecting to be getting 36in by 60in pieces ( 1 yard width of fabric thats almost 2 yards in length)and i got sent more than that

[aw-bean-s]

Yknow I gotta say, I love sewing and a lot of ppl find a lot of body confidence or whatever from sewing. But for me I never felt bad about my body until every pattern I find is telling me I'm meant to have a 26 inch waist.

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[oh-shtars]

Lol I meant like Anny’s Nightmare Asha and Black Hole Aster but I also love your nuanced take (+bonus points for Nimona)

Ahhhhh okay. Sorry I’m dumb 😭😭

I’ll be honest, I haven’t given much thought to the alternate possibility of what the dark version Hopes and Dreams would be like. But DAMN, you guys are starving for angst crumbs aren’t you??

Fine.

For Sueño, I think he’s the one with the loosest thread. Maybe somewhere in an alternate timeline, he does lose it and really snaps at Magnifico’s cruelty. His dark aura and desire for vengeance and hatred corrupts his core and instead of pure Wish Magic, it becomes Curse magic.

Because with the cost of using this kind of dark magic, he loses all rationality and goes mad. And I MEAN very mad, with a hatred towards all humans other than those he deems worthy. After all, all these mortals ever want is ‘more than this,’ isn’t it? Instead of a Wishing Star, Sueño becomes something that the rest of starkind fear would happen. A Curse Star. A Star that grants desires in a way that they think is best instead of letting fate and the wisher’s strength decide.

He’s not going to let any stranger, regardless of who they are, good or bad, to get near him and his friends. Especially Asha. He’s not taking any more chances this time, because you’ll just never know what happens in this world anymore. It’s best to just strike anyone who gets close enough for good measure.

………….

For Asha, it’s a little more difficult to come up with something that still fits her character. Her main trait is love, which can be both her strength and weakness at the same time. Maybe I could use that?

She’s torn between choosing to protect her kingdom or Sueño. She believes he’s just scared and fed up with everything and needs help to find the light again. But then, what about Rosas?

Wouldn’t it be also an angsty alternative if she’s forced to fight him? To defeat the one she grew to love for Rosas’ sake? Just putting the thought out there :))

But what if she were to choose Sueño? To choose to side with him?

Maybe she’s doomed to be stuck in the middle of that decision. Forever. Sueño is in a state where he’s dangerous to everyone else except Asha and certain others he’s grown close with. Her friends and other people could see that but Asha refuses to listen. She begs them to leave the kingdom if they can’t stand it, but she won’t leave someone like him alone just like that. But neither does she want to force them to endure it for their own safety.

It’s a toxic kind of protection where none of her options win. If someone were to try to strike Sueño down, she’ll do whatever it takes to get them to leave Rosas and leave him alone. For Sueño and that person’s own safety. Even if it means she has to turn to dark magic to do it.

(Btw, I’m NOT encouraging this. If you’re in a toxic relationship, please don’t think that’s okay and that you should defend your partner at your own expense. You should always take good care of yourself.)

[noblebs]

oc profile tag

tagged by the talented @tragedycoded wow <3 I was like "maybe I shouldn't just do Orion by default" so I used an RNG and it landed on Orion anyway lol--NO WAIT FUCK THAT. DEV TIME

Name: Devilant

Nickname: in-universe, Orion's the first one to call him Dev

Kind of Being: demonic

Age: ???? was summoned 50 years ago, he considers that his age

Gender: masculine, sort of ambivalent about it tbh

Appearance: 8' tall from the top of his head, horns coming out of his temples (shaped kinda like upside down ?) make it closer to like 9.5' or so. he's fat, his skin is made of obsidian, and he has burning eyes. clothes are very basic and old/ratty, nothing fits unless he stretches it out beforehand. I think wifebeaters and sweatpants are his go-tos, and if that doesn't scream "long-term undiagnosed depression" then damn idk what does

Occupation: retired Annex agent/monster hunter

Family members: the person who summoned him and sort-of-maternal figure, Aisha

Pets: none. I bet he'd enjoy keeping goats or cows though

Best friend: oh don't even bother asking, she's long gone

Describe their room: cramped, bed takes up most of the space. a few bits of trash (mostly beer cans) lying around and a little dusty, but he doesn't own enough stuff for it to be disorganized

Way of speaking: usually has a very even and measured tone, doesn't inflect a whole lot

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): tends to slouch and try to make himself look smaller (doesn't really work), doesn't gesticulate much and has a hard time emoting with facial expressions (skin too thick/stiff) so he can be very hard to read

Items in their pocket/purse: one key and some cash. talk about traveling light

Hobbies: woodworking

Favorite sports: not really a big sports fan, but I guess if you made him choose he'd say baseball maybe?

Abilities/Talents/Powers: I mean just...very very strong/durable. wounds close fairly quickly, but he can't, like, regenerate (but surely that's irrelevant). decent aim with a handgun

Relationships (how they are with other people): very quiet and stoic around people he doesn't know well. relaxes a lot more once he feels like he's not going to scare someone away, and then he can be more jovial and earnest

Fears: he thinks he's not afraid of anything. but really: the past catching up with him. in the deepest recesses of his mind he feels like he has terrible things to answer for.

Faults: withdraws/self-isolates the minute he's uncomfortable; gets complacent and stuck in a rut when he doesn't have some external force to drive him forward; can be very stubborn

Good points: compassionate and conscientious; very easygoing and emotionally mature, it's truly very difficult to upset him most of the time

What they want more than anything else: a purpose

ALL RIGHT going to test out my snazzy new tag list (no pressure, ask to be added/removed): @saturnine-saturneight @tragedycoded @sodaliteskull @autism-purgatory @leahnardo-da-veggie

@rhikasa @varsbaby @badscientist @ashfordlabs @sender-paulson

@captain-kraken @aalinaaaaaa @author-a-holmes @cowboybrunch @wyked-ao3

[goosewriting]

Rise turtles with a gn!reader s/o who is very tall like 190 or 233 cm in height like some one piece characters bc if you watch it or read it yeah

My eyes are up here (pun intended) (rottmnt x reader)

summary: headcanons for the turtles with a very tall reader.

relationship: Rise Leo, Raph, Mikey, Donnie x tall GN reader (separate, established)

warnings: none!

word count: ~830

A/N: i’m assuming you meant a human reader, for which 233 cm is freaking massive so i went with 203 cm (6’8”). you can see the size comparison here (lmao splinter). i based the turtles’ heights on this chart; i’m fairly sure that’s the canon one. also sorry this one’s so short! i’m pretty short myself (pun not intended) so racking my brain to come up with these was particularly difficult sdjfhsdf

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

🔵 Leo

Leo discovered how much he likes being the small spoon when he started cuddling with you.

Most times he wants to feel like the “protector”.

He is a ninja after all.

But when he really grasped your size and build, that perception shattered completely.

Loves it when you tower over him.

He is 100% smitten with you.

Has definitely misjudged a distance or depth so that you end up hitting your head or shoulder somewhere because he pushed/dragged you with him, convinced you’d fit.

When Leo’s feeling cocky, he’ll probably try to kabe-don you, but will get too flustered every time.

Has begged you a million times to do the Dirty Dancing move where he comes running and you lift him up, spinning.

Whether you feel like you can pull it off or not is up to you lol

🔴 Raph

Our big boy in red is delighted.

He’s usually the biggest/tallest one in the room.

So when April introduced you to the group he was all starry eyed.

You’re so tall!

After you got together, his favourite thing is when you hug him and rest your chin on his head.

Forehead kisses 🥺

You’re the only one who can do the thing to him where you hold something over his head and mock him about not being able to reach.

His shell doesn’t really allow him to be the small spoon (which makes him a bit sad).

So instead your favourite cuddling position is you on your back and Raph on top, with your legs at his side as he rests his face on your chest/stomach.

You can’t help but gently trace the edge of his shell and spikes on his shoulder, he looks so peaceful!

Raph may or may not have purred at this while asleep.

Your cheeks burn up every time you think about it.

🟠 Mikey

Mikey is shmol.

And that’s a fact.

How he managed to pull someone as tall as you, he has no idea.

You always call him “pocket size” to tease him, but you mean it endearingly, not in a mocking manner.

He lets you get away with it, but will use the “how’s the weather up there?” joke if he wants to tease you back.

Mikey loves getting piggy back rides.

You may or may not leave things up high on purpose so you can come up from behind, offering to help him reach it.

No matter your body type, Mikey will 100% ask you to pose for him so he can draw you.

He’s fascinated by how far your limbs can reach.

Will often hold out his hand over yours to compare sizes.

Or stretch out his legs when sitting next to you, seeing how when your hips are aligned, his feet don’t go much farther than your knees.

🟣 Donnie

The purple turtle doesn’t really care about what you look like.

He has his spider leg thingies so he can reach wherever.

But with your height, he’ll still try to take advantage of it by having you help out in his lab somehow.

Either by holding several things in place at the same time.

Or using you as a measuring instrument when he doesn’t have his measuring tape at hand.

“Hey Y/n, come here and stretch your arm along this panel please.”

He aligns the tips of your fingers to the metal panel and marks where it ends on your upper arm with a pen.

Then guides you towards a different panel to get the right length to cut them the same size.

Really he’s just using that as an excuse to touch you, but don’t point it out or he’ll stop doing it.

And you’re amused as well so why confront him about it.

Donnie has definitely used something along this line* against you when he was mad about something.

When he’s feeling especially vulnerable or blue, he’ll take off his battle shell and sit back with his soft shell against your chest so you hug him from behind. Your arms are long enough to completely engulf him.

*Transcription: “What was that? Sorry, I just thought somebody above the national average height said something. (Dry chuckle) You’re disgusting, tall man. Shrink.”

Bonus:

🐀 Splinter (platonic, friendly kid-in-law kinda relationship)

Be aware that if you offer him a ride on your shoulders once, he will not hesitate to ask you for them when out and about.

For example when exploring the Hidden City.

If you’re nearby and he wants to talk to Draxum and is trying to make a point, he may climb you up himself and sit on your shoulders to be more on eye level with him.

Doesn’t like it when he’s trying to reach for something high up and you pick it up for him.

Instead has no shame in asking you to pick him up and towards the high shelf so that he can reach for the thing himself.

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @koalaray, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams

[pienhime]

welcome to pienhime's blog ૮꒰ ྀི ◞ ˕ ◟ ꒱ა

•̩̩͙˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙˚⁺‧.˚ •̩̩͙ ✩. •̩̩͙˚⁺‧. •̩̩͙*˚⁺‧. ˚ •̩̩͙ ✩.

About me:

*. - Likes: oshikatsu, yamikawaii, yumekawaii, monster energy, weed, vtubers, plushies, liz lisa, ryousangata wota culture, menhera art, nso, shoujo manga, jpop, jrap, anime, girly kei

*.- Dislikes: having labels pushed on me, ableism and sanism, attempts at justifying slavery bc "real jp brands are too expensive for my high school part time paychecks!!!", people trying to sanitize jirai kei by pretending its a fashion

* - More info: diagnosed borderline & autistic, jfash vet, nonbinary, spiritual kinnie, age regressor, profic, in ED recovery. the scary "sysmed" ur 12 year old mutual warned u about

content warnings oshis and kinlist below cut

💉this blog will contain vents about abuse trauma, nsfw, sh, ed, dysmorphia, dissociation, maladaptive daydreaming, intrusive thoughts, agoraphobia, and bpd episodes

💉this blog will never post irl sh or gore. ill never post my calories untagged even if i relapse into active anorexia. i might talk about cm measurements and my weight. my vents might get graphic. people who try to gatekeep the experience of bodyshaming or being "allowed" to be in the bodiposi community for any reason should stay away from me and see a psychiatrist.

💉ill reblog and maybe post artistic depictions of self harm, abuse, unhealthy dynamics, drug use, suicide, and violence, they will be trigger tagged as often as i can remember to tag them

💉i dont call myself landmine kei outside tumblr/where id be showing off my appearance even though i wear yamikawa styles and have problems with bpd and self harm because that term has always been about ILLNESS and BEHAVIORS, so posting myself to those tags would contribute to the whole jirai = fashion thing. im not going to use it in ways that would get me attention/likes for my appearance bc its not mine to "reclaim" (not like thats whats happening in japan either lol). i will sometimes tag jirai tags for non-fashion for reach and to find more mine/pien kei girls. i call myself pien kei because "pien" as a term originates with menhera girls and the feeling and the "pein kei" archetype are super relatable. i call myself menhera because i identify with the original meaning and like the art- im not using it derogatorily (but that meaning fits me too). again idc what u call urself as long as u dont push the label on others or lie about/try to change what it means!

💉ill post erokawa, SA survivor vents, nsft vents, and some fucked up fantasies but nothing irl. THESE WILL ALWAYS BE TAGGED. none of my shit is meant to condone getting worse, but if you think talking about getting worse or self destruction or artistic expression is anti-recovery thats on u boo

KINLIST:

💜pchan from nso

💜riamu yumemi from im@s

💜stocking from paswg

💜yohane from love live

💜sayori from ddlc

💜sayaka miki from madoka magica

💜yumekawachan from wristcut warriors

💜nijimin from magical girl site

💜harley quinn

💜opantsu-usagi

💜nagito komaeda

💜niito nemuko from neeko wa tsurai yo

💜fischl from genshin

💜denki kaminari from bnha

💜retsuko from aggretsuko

OSHIS:

🎀kasane teto

🎀vesper noir

🎀 randon neuring

🎀hajime hinata

🎀rin penrose

🎀kangel

🎀yohane from aquors

[miracles-and-butterflies]

Well if you want 😂😂

How were Reincarnated girls measured for bra for the first time?

So obviously they never had bras in their previous lives, they would have had some form of corset. (Which no, wouldn’t have been painful - fashion history 101, corsets weren’t death machines, they were made for working in). Most likely had never even heard of bras until now. They were both horrified and curious about the strange undergarment, and the fact they would have to be measured for them. Because, oh great, another ridiculous size system they need to learn.

Is the next ask going to be about shoes? 😂

Isabela had gone first. Was probably complimented a ton. She didn’t have any kind of shock to the system upon being measured and given her size. Just accepted that because she is the beauty, she must have some big, perfect size and probably came out playfully bragging to the others.

This would backfire horribly on her after her sisters got measured.

Dolores had gone next. She definitely did some research beforehand, wanting to be prepared an all. She had made a guess of where she would be on the size chart, and subsequently was very dismayed to know she was wrong and her breasts were on the smaller scale. Isabela definitely teased her lightly about it, in typical sisterly fashion.

Luisa was pretty much the opposite to Dolores, yet just as dismayed. Realising she still wouldn’t be able to find things in her size. To the point, she couldn’t actually buy a bra that day because they had none in store that got anywhere close to her size. She was pretty much bra-less for the first couple of months because nothing fit. She did eventually find stuff, but it was probably not from a big brand and would have been something almost custom-made.

She bragged to Isabela for hours afterwards though, now having dethroned Isabela for having the biggest size.

Mirabel definitely tried to avoid this. She hadn’t lived long enough to wear a corset - it wasn’t socially acceptable for girls to wear them until they left school or reached 15/16 or so - why the hell would she want or need to wear that thing? But was bribed to go and at least get measured.

The woman was very nice and patient with all the girls but Mirabel especially. The employee recommended that Mirabel get a bra, however, because she wasn’t as small as she thought she was. It would be easier on her to wear a bra.

Mirabel argued the toss on this, stating she would be fine - “they just look big because I’m tiny.” But after having it made clear that her cup was bigger than both Dolores and Isabela… yeah, she realised she wouldn’t get away with it. Purposefully, she never told the others her size.

Well… until she grew out of her bras and had to drag someone out to get her more. She did not appreciate this. How come her breasts continued growing but the rest of her body just went “haha, fuck you, stay small lol”? She complains about this often. Isabela and Dolores didn’t take it well, somewhat jokingly. Luisa happily assured Mirabel that she had nothing to be ashamed over.

Body positivity reigns in this household. Even when the sizing system sucks!

[themetalvirus]

thinking about shadow and surge. surge shows up and shadow's like. wanna talk. and she goes i'm sick of talking and baps her fists together with electricity and shadow just doesnt move, maintains measured eye contact, narrows his eyes at her. and shes like (exaggerated sigh) (giant exaggerated arms down movement)

shadow has dealt with memories that arent his own, has gone from doing what others told him to forging his own path, and has Medical Trauma. hes seriously the best fit for actually talking with her about what she's going through and how to move forward. shadow DOES have a past, and surge has none, which is where they chafe (on surge's end anyway). but being stuck on that "past" and "doing what you're told to do instead of forming your own identity" stuff is exactly the kind of thing shadow has dealt with and overcome so he could provide some guidance.

i think he would stress that he isnt telling her what to do and the decisions she makes in her personal life arent of his concern, but if she continues to be violent, he will intervene. he isn't like (specifically idw) sonic, wanting her to have freedom of choice no matter what without consequences. there will be consequences for wrong decisions and he will see to that. he wants her to make the right ones, but knows he has no control or real say over whether she does or not, and has no interest in forcing ideas on her that she isn't interested in (he's gone through that before).

he also sees himself in her and identifies with her anguish surrounding her identity. i think he would try to express that it's okay to not know what you really want (aside from killing sonic lol), but it's important to search for what that is, to embark on that journey instead of following existing self destructive patterns

surge, of course, is not immediately receptive to any of that shit and is frustrated that people keep trying to give her life advice, but she senses something different about this particular guy and doesnt resort to fisticuffs. she'd stress that she really does have a helpless fixation on killing sonic and feels as though she can't have peace and will never have peace until he's dead so she can finally fulfill that one "prime directive" and move on with her life. the conversation makes her think, though. she didn't really think about the "after" piece, what she would do. she starts to think about it, but it's difficult, hazy, and she isn't sure where to begin. the conversation doesn't fix her but it does plant seeds, give her stuff to think about for later. she peaces out and shadow feels like hes done his good deed for the day and needs a nap. surge goes back to wherever shes nesting with kit and has a lot of thinky time

[multifandom-worlds]

My First Noel

Genre: Angsty fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Angst (duh, it's me LOL), feelings of loneliness and inadequacy,

Authors Note:I'm sorry it's so angsty! I really tried! It is written from Loki's POV

Tagging: @simplyholl @holdmytesseract @lokiprompts @dryyoursaltyoceantears @buttercupcookies-blog @ladyofthestayingpower

Sitting amongst the group can still lead to a world of loneliness. I was “included” in the group, sure, but I still didn’t belong. That much was obvious. Everyone got these thoughtful, well-intentioned gifts, while I got simple, meaningless, trivial nonsense. Even my brother, the one I foolishly believed would break the mould and get something meaningful, let me down. I found my attention returning constantly to her. 

She sat in a chair closest to the fire, a blanket wrapped around herself, gifts and declarations of love surrounding her, yet none mattered; her attention was focused solely on the notebook in her hands. She would look up occasionally but nothing more than a quick glance. When she concentrates, her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth, what I wouldn’t give to feel that tongue against mine.

Hours pass of the same things, being neglected by the group, on this, the day of supposed merriment where friends and enemies are one. I silently rise from my chair and retire to my room. Why grace them with my presence when it’s not wanted or required? Deep in my soul, I had hoped that today would be different, but it appears I was wrong again. 

I settled into my chair by the window with a book, trying to distract my brain from the overwhelming feelings of loneliness, when the faintest knock came at my door. A war raged between my head and my heart. Perhaps it was her coming to check on me? But then again, maybe it was Stark, drunkenly asking why I was no longer with them. Ultimately, my heart won out, hope sparking in my soul.

I rise from my chair before taking measured steps over to the door and pulling it open, only to see an envelope on the floor, my name scribed on the front. I know that handwriting; she was here. I quickly looked down the hallway, but I had taken too long to open the door; she was gone. 

I pick up the envelope and turn to the solace of my room, sitting down to rip it open, careful not to destroy the contents therein. There were two pieces of paper, one evidently from her sketchbook; the other was a mystery. I decided to open that one first, revealing a handwritten note.

Loki,

It hurts me to see you neglected when you deserve so much. Seeing how the others look right past you when it’s clear you need today more than anything. I’m sorry it appeared I was ignoring you, too; I promise I was not. I was actually working on your gift - you are the only one to receive a gift from me this year. It is enclosed in this envelope if you are interested. If not, do with this letter and gift as you see fit. Worldly possessions mean nothing to you; that is why I had hoped this gift would bring you joy somehow. I had hoped this view into my mind would be enough to make you feel wanted.

Over this year, I realized I have fallen so in love with you. You carry yourself the dignity and poise of a King but possess a scholar's knowledge. You have the humour of a court jester and the heart of a maiden. It is that heart of yours I have been drawn to. It’s that heart that makes me weak. If my feelings for you are mutual, meet me in the lounge at midnight once everyone is asleep. 

She had not signed the letter, but I have seen her writing many times to know who it belongs to. I draw out the second paper, opening the carefully folded parchment to reveal a detailed sketch of me; sitting in the chair, I spent a fair portion of the evening downstairs. The way she got the drape of my clothing, the sparkle of the lights in my eyes. 

A soft smile draws on my lips, holding the portrait to my chest, my heart thudding at the realization that someone cared. Someone looked at me like I mattered, like someone wanted me. The 12 chimes of midnight drew my attention. It was now or never. I swung my door open before walking towards the elevator. How long would she wait for me? Would she still be there when I got there? 

A million and one things rushed through my head when I stepped foot into the elevator, her note and her drawing clutched tightly to my chest. This was my one chance, my one opportunity to have something good, to feel wanted - I can’t mess this up. If only this damned elevator would hurry up!

12:02. 2 minutes since the designated meeting time. I round the corner into the lounge, hoping to a god more powerful than I that she would still be there. There she stood; the only light illuminating her was the tree's lights. She turned around with a brilliant smile on her perfect lips as I entered the room.

“You came…” She said softly, looking me up and down. I could feel her eyes on me; the very feeling alone set my soul ablaze.

“You asked me too,” I answer, walking towards her. It took all my willpower not to kiss her right then and there. “Thank you for this..” I add, dropping my hand from my chest and showing her the note and drawing. “This is more than I could ever ask for. For someone to see me as something more than a monster. I will cherish this drawing.”

“Did you just come here to thank me for your gift? If that’s the case, you’re welcome. I’m going to be going now.” She said, her voice broken. 

She pushed past me towards the door before I stopped her, grabbing her hand as she passed. “Dove, please don’t leave… I’m not ready to watch someone I love walk away from me. I will cherish this drawing, not because it was a gift but because you drew it. Every time I look at this, I think of the note you wrote me, how you love me. I will never find someone better for me than you, Dove. I would love to show you all of me if you would have me.”

She looks at me questioningly, “What are you saying, Loki..?”.

“My Dove, my freedom, my hope. Will you be my partner on this day, my first Earth Christmas?”

[darkfictionjude]

Etymology nonnie here!

I have come back. And well, I almost regret writing what I did about the names in a previous ask. This is because most of the names that begin with "Luc-" are names that I do not like that much, or that often got replaced by an English variant by Italian Americans (during the 1950s, since that's when Luce was born, if my calculation was correct they were born in 1952, but the data I found wasn't so specific).

Worse, I ended up with a selection of three names. None of which had nothing to do with Luce. In any case, I believe the nickname has more to do with personality or how the character is seen by others. Or it may be related to the incident. Who knows? Not me, but you do, dear Jude.

Those names are:

1) Angelo: While it was often replaced by an English name (like Andy or Andrew), it was used enough at the time for me to consider it. I enjoy the contrast with the story and setting. And I always have liked the name. More so than the Spanish version (I do like Ángel, but I prefer the Italian 'g' sound most of the time). Also, I think it fits with the idea I have of Luce so far. Yet I may be wrong, so I may give it some thought before picking this one.

2) Michele: In most circumstances it would be readily replaced by Michael (which I'm also technically considering, but I want to consider Michele the main choice instead of Michael). But I like the Italian version better.

*I did consider the combination of Michelangelo, but I think too much of the artist, and I don't feel worthy. Lol.

3) Ernesto: I like Earnest better, probably. And I find funny both Italian and Spanish have the same spelling and pronunciation. Similar to Angelo, I enjoy the contrast between the meaning and the story and setting. And the meaning seems to make sense with the Luce I'm imagining in my mind given what little we know of them.

Now, I'm not making you choose (although any commentary about your preference is welcome). Rather, I'm curious about something more open and that can help other players figuring the name they want for their Luce.

See, it was common for Italian Americans to use a translation or a similar English sounding name of an Italian name. Although, there were still some who used the proper Italian name. What I'm wondering is what Luce's parents would prefer? Would they go for the original Italian name, or would they prefer an English one because of how convenient it can be for Luce in their daily life?

Now I'm also remembering that Luce is probably customizable, which means their ethnicity is not necessarily just Italian American. In that case, would Luce's parents consider a name that resembled the other ethnic/country origin (of the mother, I would believe)? Or an Italian one? Or an English name both out of convenience for Luce and as a compromise between the two heritages?

Also, maybe unrelated, but feel free to ignore it if that's the case: Do you have a name for the MC you play when you are playtesting? Does it change based on IF? Do you go with a gender neutral name for all those MCs (since I assume some interactions based on gender require a different MC while testing), or with a specific name for male MCs and female MCs?

So yeah Luce doesn’t have to be Italian American, they can be mixed. Their father is Italian, he’s pure Italian but Maria can be from any background. As I’ve said the Italian heritage is strong in the family and it is traditionally patriarchal and so the children’s names are Italian names, not English variants. Antonio chose his children’s names.

I actually don’t have a specific name, I choose the first name available for each gender just to see how gender influenced flavour text is looking. So by that measure it does change for each IF since the suggested names are all different. For WWC, it’s normal yet old names, for EC it’s traditional Italian names, for OYHS it’s names that real Hollywood actors had. From what I’ve seen most players don’t think that much about their character’s name, really. Many people use the same name across many IFs

[star-going-supernova]

I saw fan art of bear cub Gregory from pixlokita on tumblr, so I hope that I can request a prompt where Gregory becomes a bear cub (still can talk and looks like Gregory) and Freddy is happy to have an actual bear and son. Please write this please, for a birthday wish. Thank you.

I took these two prompts and came up with something in between, lol. This is pure fluff. Happy belated birthday, friend! 🎉

Like Father, Like Son

None of them were technically supposed to be able to access the internet. All relevant knowledge to their jobs, the kids, the pizzaplex, etc. already existed within their databases, and all information stored across the servers was available to them. But Chica had gotten bored one day and spent a bit too much time tinkering with herself via the upgrade cylinder. Monty had demanded his own internet connection after that, and before long, every animatronic in the pizzaplex had access. 

It was not long before Roxy discovered online shopping, and after a few mishaps in trying to figure out how to get the packages to themselves without management finding out, there was not an animatronic among them who had not secretly ordered something or other. 

Sun in particular seemed to enjoy finding new things to add to the daycare—rightly so, considering management was slacking in that regard—and as a result of his frequent digital window shopping, he often sent links to the rest of them, sharing things he had found that he thought they might like. 

All that to explain why Freddy opened a link from Sun with the caption you HAVE to get this :D and discovered that yes, he had to get it. 

It was a child-sized onesie with little footie boots and gloves that could be folded out of the way or velcroed into place and a hood with ears stitched on. It looked wonderfully soft and fuzzy. It was a warm brown with details depicting a bear cub. 

And it had excellent ratings. 

• • •

Gregory laughed when he saw the onesie, but he also snatched it up and took off to go change into it, so Freddy did not think he minded the gift. The others would probably tease him once they caught sight of it, but it would be worth their jokes.

Make no mistake, Freddy did not wish Gregory was any different from the way he was. Nor did Freddy wish he himself was human. But it still tickled something in his code to imagine silly little impossibilities, like he and Gregory being a family by blood. Of course, Freddy was as much a real bear as Gregory would be in a stylized onesie, but that was hardly the point. 

It was only a minute or two before Gregory returned, and he must have stopped by one of the others’ rooms because his nose had been carefully colored in and a line drawn beneath it down to his upper lip. The onesie was a perfect fit—naturally, as Freddy knew his son’s exact measurements—and Gregory’s glee was near palpable. 

Freddy made a little involuntary sound of delight. He crouched down, feeling his eyes brighten to match the building warmth in his chest. 

Gregory came to stand in front of him and did a jaunty spin to show off the little pom-pom tail. Freddy had never understood the human urge to squeal from seeing something so utterly adorable as much as he did then. 

“C’mon,” Gregory said, showing off the toe beans on his gloves, complete with felt claws, “tell me I’m not the cutest bear cub ever.” 

Laughing, Freddy swept him up, and Gregory did not even scramble to hold on, so great was his trust that Freddy would not drop him. 

“You are certainly the cutest bear cub I have ever seen,” Freddy assured him, and Gregory smiled smugly, head leaning on Freddy’s shoulder. “And the best bear cub in general. My bear cub.” 

How odd that mere months ago, Freddy would have said he would not want a child of his own. He could not imagine, now, not having Gregory in his life. When he looked back on pre-Gregory memories, the absence of his adopted son almost shocked him sometimes. He had been happy back then, yes, but in a very mild and content way. There was little variation in his day-to-day, though he had not minded at the time. 

He did not think he could go back to that way of life. It fell far short of the joy that each new day brought now. Gregory made things unpredictable and lively in a way Freddy would be loath to give up. 

And best of all, his love, his gratefulness, and his happiness was matched in Gregory. 

Beaming, Gregory wrapped his arms around Freddy’s neck in a tight hug. “My papa bear,” he said, and it was only a bit teasing. 

[hoshi-y]

Fluff Headcanons

Genre : Fluff

Characters : Yugi Amane, Yugi Tsukasa, Mitsuba Sousuke

TW : None

A/N : omfg I did it again I accidentally deleted the original process 😭 I mean great cause I absolutely went off track with the forst one, bad cause I won't be able to show the request DAMN IT HAUSHSHA I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF

Also, I made these three alive cause I have a brilliant Idea in mind

I hope you enjoy 😞💗

I love you too.. Dummy..

Mitsuba would be the type to shyly give you back hugs

Long hugs even

LIKE He doesn't wanna say he wants hugs, he shows you through his facial expression

"??? Sousuke... Why are you making faces at me.."

"N-NEVERMIND DON'T LOOK!!"

You'd purposely act dumb so you can see how much he can last without your affection lol

Which he didn't last for long of course

The duration of hugs and cuddles is based off how tired he is or how needy he is

He just wants you to hold him

I just know this guy loves Forehead kisses

When you move his bangs just to give him a kiss on the forehead 😭😭

HE'D SECRETLY MAKE YOU HIS SUBJECT FOR TAKING PICTURES I DARE ANYONE TO TRY AND ARGUE WITH ME

After schools, you two would head to the convenience store

Maybe yk take candid photos of each other before almost getting kicked out by the owner—

You two would stroll around the park sometimes

Totally wouldn't stop every second to take a photo—

Mitsuba absolutely hated crowds, so you two woulf sometimes hang around his house or yours

and its one of those day where it was raining and you're in the sheets with your boyfriend cuddling while watching a movie

an experience and a memory you wont ever exchange for

I Miss You!!

Its not a drill, you already know how he is

Very clingy, 24/7

No matter where you two are, he is always clinging onto you

There was a time he whined that you let go of him just to go to the bathroom lawl

Tsukasa was a very extroverted person and just loved being in the crowd

But where you're not within the crowd man he'll just go home

He LOVES to cuddle with you

Hug you

I just know he gives out the best long hugs by gow clingy he is

You want something? He'll get it for you ASAP

He doesn't want his beautiful S/O waiting now does he

HE LOVES YOUR HEAD PATS

Especially when he lays down on your lap omfg

He absolutely loves it when you run your fingers thru his hair and give him pets

did this mf just purr?

Whenever your sad, Tsukasa would roll you up into a sushi and cuddle with you as the both of you watch your favorite movies it's just adorable

I'll stay

Amane is also very clingy but not to the extent he'll even follow you to the bathroom—

He is a very affectionate guy

He recharges by your touch absolutely mhm

He wants to hold you everywhere you go

No matter the place he just wants to be close to you

HE GIVES OUT THE BEST CUDDLES

Amane also loves it when you pet him and brush his hair your hand he thinks it is very soothing

Amane will also spoil you ROTTEN

Affection? Kisses? Gifts? Oh you name it

You won't be disappointed hehe

I just know Amane would play with your hands and purposely measure them with his so he can sneakily hold your hand

"Hey, Love, Your hands are alot smaller than mine"

"Ehh?? What do you mean?" He held out his hand and you put it ontop of his as Amane suddenly held it tenderly making you blush furiously

"See?~ Mmm I was wrong it fits perfectly with mine~"

"WAAHHH" He laughed at your flustered state

He loves to kiss your hands, your face, neck oh boy he will not leave any spots untouched

I feel like Amane would be the type pf guy who will make sure if you've eaten, how you're doing or what you're doing yk

He'll send the most cutest texts too hehez

When your sad, He'll hold you so close until your sadness evaporates

"Smile for me yeah? I'd much rather see that beautiful smile of yours than it turning into a frown.." Amane kissed your forehead as he held you tight

"I'll stay until you're now feeling better.."

Hello, I'm sorry it took so long but I haven't been feeling okay the whole month

[aldantler]

My first Grimoire Noir is done. Which makes him the 28th grimoire in total I’ve built so far. And it’s the most difficult. There’s so much measuring & hand fitting that really pushed my ability as someone that makes things to my limit in terms of what I can do with the tools I have. But he is DONE. The stitching of the cover to the text block isn’t pretty, but he has a hollow spine like the in-game model, so it’s a trade off. None of the cord overlaps because running cord through a strand and pulling tight only causes trouble. I’m happy, sad, annoyed, satisfied, and just...I need to rest lol. I’ll do more photos later.

[jgvfhl]

Song Poem Tag Game!

Put your entire song collection on shuffle, then write down the first line from each of the first ten songs that pop up to create a poem. You must then dedicate the poem to the blorbo or OTP that it most reminds you of! Then tag or send asks to three others that you think might enjoy the challenge! I was tagged by @padme--amygdala 🫶

God made the mountains; God made the skies -- Paint Your Wagon musical

I slept with another guy, just for you! --Desperate Measures musical

I've been good and I've been kind, Mother, doing only what I learned from you --Into the Woods musical

I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT'S BEEN SAID! --Spamalot musical

Six hundred men. Six hundred men under my command with only one goal in mind --EPIC: The Troy Saga

So Jacob came to Egypt, no longer feeling old! --Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

A-way out here, they got a name for Rain, and Wind, and Fire --Paint Your Wagon musical (again)

A little gossip! A little talk! --Man of La Mancha musical

I am a sentimental man, who always longed to be... a father --Wicked musical

And it's home, boys, home! 2, 3, 4! --The Jolly Tinker Boy (Hadrian's Wall)

Dear god, that truly exposed me for the musical theater NERD that I was raised to be 😭 I swear the other half of my song library is sea shanties and Irish and Scottish folk music????

Umm... Blorbo... uh... okay the lines from Into the Woods and Wicked are throwing me, bc NONE of my blorbos wants to be a parent of ANY kind lol... my favorite book character Count Vega???? Maybe????? Again, has both mommy and daddy issues but IT'S THE CLOSEST FIT!!!!

@theultimatesandwich @lucidz-dreamz @23-bears @worldseer HAVE AT IT, FOLKS

[ratanarchist]

i watch a lot of youtube videos about autism and employment (for obvious reasons) and i get really frustrated by them because so many of these content creators will say stuff like "i realised i couldn't handle employment so i started my own business" "i live off my partner's income now" "i found this autism friendly job [insert job that wouldn't even cover my rent] that fits with my schedule" and i'm like ??????? the amount of privilege associated with all of these things is so obvious like none of this is accessible to me lol. i'm on government assistance that legally obliges me to comply with their "measures" which includes proving that i'm looking for work. i don't have a partner that financially supports me. idk i guess i'm looking for some actually realistic advice on how to survive as someone who can't handle long term employment and also doesn't have the class privilege associated with just starting a business lol.