#pinning for his husband

[apicelladonna]

Gellert, 1899: *starts a three way duel between him, Albus and Abeforth*

Gellert, 1932: *starts a three way duel between him, Albus and Abeforth*

(don't mind me shitposting, it's been a long clinic shift)

[larrylimericks]

12Jul24

Three hundred and fifty-six days Since last we saw Harry on stage, But tonight a duet! For Ms. Nicks’ Hyde Park set, And a Songbird who’s now flown away.

[moderndaypandora]

The LAYERS needed in a modern/human Dreamling au.  Some level of Endless family dysfunction, obviously.  Hob's family can be be dead or not, it's all good. Are they old enough to have individually gained the awareness they are off-puttingly intense and should hide it a bit at first, or still in that "no, why would I need to Elsa this" stage?

Option A is both of them trying to play it cool, like "don't scare him off" except they so badly want to go from zero to sixty.

(Death and Desire have ruthlessly drilled Dream with flashcards about how to react appropriately in situations.

Desire: it's your one-month anniversary, what do you do?

Dream: [hesitantly] NOT propose?

Desire and Death, conferring, because that's technically correct but the delivery was suspect.

Death, encouragingly: Good start. And?


Dream: a nice dinner and maybe a walk?

Desire: well done!

Death: and for a three-month anniversary?


Dream: give them a key to my flat.

Desire: [airhorn] NO. RED CARD.)

Option B makes them the classic anecdotal "my grandparents got engaged within seven days of meeting each other and still are happy together".

(Death, rubbing her temples: so you met this guy--

Dream: Hob

Death: -- Hob, and within 1 day you gave notice to the Registrar's Office and figured out the best day to get married. And Hob agreed to this?

Dream: NO.

Death: oh thank go-

Dream: Hob SUGGESTED this.

Death: . . .

Dream: are you going to be a witness or not?

Death, 29 days later in the Registrar's Office, to Hob's witness: Is he sane?

Johanna Constantine, drinking heavily from a large flask: unfortunately yes, by all legal definitions.

Death: fuck

Johanna: [passing the flask over] if your brother's even a tenth as intense as Hob, they'll be fine. Probably.

Death, brightening: Is Hob that bad?


Johanna: You know how sometimes you meet somebody and think "oof, they're a bit much, best give them a wide berth"?


Death: yeah.

Johanna: Hob's like a camouflaged hole in the ground of muchness. Except he's done the hole up all nice and he knows that sometimes you just want to be left alone in the hole to sulk and rattle the spikes for a bit, and occasionally get a F&M hamper tossed in.

Death: [hmmmmmmm'ing approvingly]

Johanna, morose: the bastard.

In the background, Hob and Dream are pressing their foreheads together and basking in each other's presence)

[p4nishers]

crowley is about to pull some "if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more" shit im literally telling u

[brainrotcharacters]

Have a romp in a Honda Odyssey now and fix your marital disagreements today!

[ratatatastic]

and may we find each other again just like we did before

[fighting-these-demons]

Divorce Saga Domon - A Haunted Honk Prequel

Hello Internet Stranger looking up G Gundam on Tumblr dot com!

This is an idea for a fic set in an Alternate Universe involving Queer Non-Canon Relationships between the characters of the series.

If you are not looking for this content please scroll on.

If you ARE looking for this content - and you're ok with reading my and other's Headcanons for this Alternate Universe I've haphazardly spun up -

Then go ahead and feel free to:

Check The Tags Of This Post For The Pairings

and click the Read More below!

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

Ended up outlining a completely different fic as a Segway for an explanation instead of making progress on the Royal Flush Haunted Honk AU's Clown Motel Fic like I wanted to but uh....

For y'all's review for the AU: A Prequel Outline - Divorce Saga Domon

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

Hey real quick - I'm thinking of maybe changing the timeline to 2 years post canon as opposed to 3 years and change post canon.

The reason being: I had a thought that this scene could either be part if the fic or if it's getting to big then it could be a stand alone tie-in prequel fic as part of this AU but - like

Immediately Post Divorce Domon Needs Space and runs off. As one does. And he runs to Earth because he just wants to Get Lost for a while.

He has Argo smuggle him out to avoid detection.

Argo has Andrew help stow Domon in a storage hanger of a Neo Canadian supply ship that's returning to the US - they have trade often enough and share agricultural resources - which leads to Domon ending up in New York when he hits Earthside pavement.

He's privately worked on his English the last couple of months and after being dropped in New York with a different hairstyle, outfit, and accent he's unrecognizable. 

He considers making his way west to get some solitude in the wilderness, but something about that initial plan feels off now that he's on the ground.

Chibodee is also Earthside for a special series of prize fights aimed at raising charitable appeal for the US in the eyes of Neo Americans.

Domon decides to hit up Chibodee for a fight on a day between matches hoping it'll clear his head and give him the clarity to decide on a course of action. What ends up happening is an unexpected heart to heart via blows and a breakdown.

Domon is happy for Rain and Kyoji, and he knows it's not true; but he feels like he lost a piece of himself when his relationship with Rain fell apart.

Domon's instinct is to run after that but Chibodee knows this city and Domon doesn't hide out for long before Chibodee drags him back to his place to stay and just "Chill out and breathe. You don't have to be anyone but yourself here. You can take as long as you need to find out what everything changing means for you." Friends and teammates stick together.

So Domon spends a few weeks with Chibodee sparring and hanging out in New York. Chibodee does a frankly awesome job at containing his feelings because he's focusing on Domons feelings and being a good friend first and foremost. Whatever he's feeling can wait until after Domon is done going though it.

There's a bit of a twinge in Domon's heart as he leaves that he can't really place.

After he returns to Neo Japan and gets settled back into life with his family, The Dreams start.

They're mainly set in New York. Small things first like noticing Chibodee's smile and his eyes. Then sparring sessions that begin to turn lurid.

He thought these kinds of dreams would stop after he was married.... he doesn't know what to do about this.

I just figure it gives more clarity and sense of time for the journey from Comphet Marriage Dissolution to Feelings to Confession. Idk.

But I got stuck on a bit and then had this thought and needed to get it down before I lost it and it was so long it made sense to make it its own post as opposed to several replies.

The Maize and Clown Motel will probably still be 3 years and change post canon for clarification.

@thedragonchilde @amplexadversary @youreaclownnow

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I think of so many stupid shenanigans between Wriothesley and his daughters in the Addison Lee verse. They tell Wriothesley crazy shit all the time, their daddy-daughter secrets, and it drives Neuvillette nuts that Wriothesley won't snitch.

Sigewinne, whispering into his ear: Today at school I punched a boy because he was being mean. I waited until it was recess, and made sure that no one was watching, and I punched him. Everyone knows he is a liar, so noooo one believed him when he cried about it. And Sigewinne is aaaalways a superstar so Mr Vautrin didn't suspect a thing !

Wriothesley, mildly concerned: Uh huh.

Sigewinne: Papa would say Sigewinne has to be nice to everyone, but, Sigewinne thinks bullies need to get punched sometimes, b'cos, b'cos otherwise, they think everyone is just gonna let them be mean

Wriothesley: Y'know what. That's fair

[clansunsharp]

another oldie from my clan. one of the few who hasn't become jaded with the changing times, but he withdraws considerably in order to do so

[beepject]

quick mephone4 gijinka...huff....huffs.......

Stupid

[tcfactory]

There's an idea to me that in og!moshang sqh is a bit of a lady Macbeth. Look like the flower but be the snake underneath, he'd kill whoever and whatever if it meant getting ahead (avoiding exact words from the play cause you said you didn't like gore), pushes his husband to be the same and then gets jumpscared when the guy is willing to kill HIM to get ahead. Oops. Except narrow escape by the skin of his teeth and he shows up on the sect doorstep glassy eyed, shellshocked, covered in blood and a VERY mad armless cat-jiu with him. Hey guys. Can he call sanctuary. Is that a thing cause he'd really like to call sanctuary rn.

Kind of you to remember, anon, but I'm fine with written gore and even most illustrations too. It's photorealistic pictures of gore that squick me out real bad - one of my high school classmates emailed me photos of roadkill and people who died in car accidents and that sort of things instead of the project we were supposed to work on because he was unhappy that he got grouped with me in computer class. (He like, very awkwardly admitted a few years ago that he had a crush on me and he was mad about that, that's why he did it, but like??? WTF.) So yeah. Unless you start to send me photos of like torture victims or dead animals, I'm not bothered.

ANYWAY that's also a very good flavor of Moshang. I'm kinda wedded to the idea of MBJ being very loyal, for a demon (which might not be too out of the ordinary, now that I think about it, just look at ZZL) but like

Super pragmatic MBJ who always watches which way the wind blows? Hell yes. He will set up that death trap if LBH asks him to kill SQH and if he dies, bit of a waste but oh well. If he lives? That's his husband all right! Escapes and he does so with LBH's precious prisoner in tow, now that's a man worthy of the future Northern King!

Which does mean that inevitably, MBJ will casually show up at the Sect with all the fucking info and plans and maps they could possibly need to take LBH down because he figures out that maybe an unstable half-demon with the insanity-inducing sword is not a good horse to bet on long term, as you do. He will claim that SQH's escape was all part of the plan and SQH knows it's bullshit, but he can't do shit about it because MBJ is too useful to let him go back to LBH's side.

He can be really fucking angry about it, but that's about it. And MBJ is infuriatingly nonchalant about the ordeal he put SQH through, the bastard. Why did he even put up with this damn demon in the first place?! SQH regrets ever marrying him.

...and then they angry fuck about it and I'm not saying SQH will be less angry afterwards, but he will remember enough of MBJ's better qualities to maybe tolerate him. For now. He is going to nail MBJ to the bed for a few more rounds of angry fucking before he decides.

[wildsaltair]

hi everyone, I am delighted to present to you the worst quality photos I have ever found of Maximus Decimus Meridius. I'm so unreasonably happy to have found these

[slusheeduck]

Kidnapped

Astarion's siblings succeed in getting him back to the manor--but he's stronger now. Plus he has a very, very pissed-off partner. Another canon deviation because I was NOT happy with how this scene played out in game. Warning for egregious dialogue-lifting.

One lucky shot. Just one, in the blink of an eye. That was all it took for Astarion to go down, and Leon was on him in an instant.

“I’ll take Astarion to the master. The rest of you, deal with the witnesses.”

“No!” The word came out as a snarl, and Falerin lunged at Leon. But he and Astarion were already gone, and Aurelia was able to get a lucky slash in to send him stumbling back. “Astarion!”

He slammed his glaive down, sending a Shatter through the remain vampires. From there, it was easy work making them puff away to safety. Once the last of the spawn were gone, he bolted to the door, only to get caught by several pairs of hands.

“Let me go,” he shouted to the others. “We have to get Astarion! He’s…Cazador’s going to…”

“It’s the middle of the night, Falerin,” Gale said, trying his best to be the voice of reason. “Storming a vampire’s fortress now is suicide.”

Falerin grit his teeth. “We can manage it. We’ve managed worse. If we can just go now, we—”

“We will rescue him,” Wyll said, straining to keep Falerin in place as Halsin readjusted his grip on him. “But in the morning. Otherwise Cazador will—”

“I’ll put Cazador’s head on a fucking pike myself!”

There was no getting him to see reason. With a pained look between the group, Gale quickly cast Sleep under his breath. Falerin fought it as best he could, but still, he could only do so much before the magic overtook him, going unconscious in Halsin’s arms.

~

The moment Astarion’s consciousness came back, he knew exactly where he was. The cold stone beneath him, the acrid smell of dried blood, the creak of bones—he was in the Kennel. He’d done something wrong again. If only he could remember what—he’d gotten fairly good at figuring out how long he’d be left to Godey’s whims based on how he’d angered Cazador.

“Nasty little runaway. But you always find your way back to Godey, hmm?”

Wait. Astarion’s eyes flew open. He wasn’t Cazador’s pet anymore, not with the tadpole. He’d been stolen. He scrambled up to his feet, breathing quickly as the skeleton looked over him.

“If I had my way, I’d saw off your legs—that’d put a stop to your wandering!” Godey spat. “But the master says no. Says he needs all your blood on the inside for the Mass.” He raised his hand, pointing at Astarion as he stepped closer. “But he needs you obedient, too. No barking, no biting, no struggling—a well-behaved little doggie.”

Astarion’s lips drew back. “I’ll never do what he tells me again,” he spat out, ready to strike. “I’d rather die.”

“Oh, you’ll do both,” Godey shot back, red light flooding his sockets. “You’ll do whatever he requires!”

With a flash of red magic, Astarion found his arms bound and raised up over his head, like they had been so many times before. A familiar fear clenched his throat shut, body already bracing for the pain. Cazador’s will probed at his mind, searching for just the right place to strike to make him his well-behaved little spawn. All Astarion had seen—the horrors, the wonders, the triumphs of battles, the comfort of the fire, a hand wrapped tightly around his—all of it was suddenly inconsequential. Only one thing mattered: Cazador. It was as if he’d never escaped him. Astarion grit his teeth, waiting for the bindings of servitude. Cazador would win. He always did. He always would.

Except…not with him.

He was his own master now. His agency, his will, his desires, all of it was stronger than anything Cazador could do. As he felt the tendrils of Cazador’s command try to take hold of him, he shrugged them off, easy as breathing, and he wrenched his hands free of Godey’s restraints.

Godey stumbled back in shock. “Impossible,” he growled out. “You’re a spawn—know your place!”

Oh, he so wanted to give some pithy little comeback to that, but this moment was two centuries in the making. He was stronger, smarter, and free, and the first thing to do with that freedom was to get rid of Cazador’s favorite dog trainer.

As red flooded Godey’s sockets again, Astarion was quick to cast mirror image—three Astarions in the kennel, and the skeleton didn’t know which one to hit. It bought him a bit of time to think—his weapons were probably locked away, and with his shirt gone, he was terribly exposed. But he had a few things he could work with.

As Godey went to strike one of the mirror images, it dissipated. Before the skeleton could whirl around, a sharp “Ignis!” sent a fireball right at his skull. As he stumbled, Astarion grabbed a rusted mace from the ground—he had no idea how to use it, but that didn’t matter. It was heavy, it was swingable, and it would hurt. He slammed it right into Godey’s ribcage, and the skeleton went to pieces on the ground.

Astarion stayed tense until he was sure the bones stayed still. Well. Godey wasn’t all that durable, was he? But then, he never had to be.

He dropped the mace, then walked over to Godey’s skull. It had rolled a few feet away from the body, sockets staring overhead. He stared down at it for a long moment, then, with a snarl of rage, he slammed his boot right onto it, shattering it. Then he stomped down again, and again. Over and over until the bone was nothing more than dust under his feet.

Astarion panted as he finally stepped back, chest heaving. That felt good. That felt so immeasurably good. He wanted to bask in it, but there was no time for that. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then went to the rest of Godey’s remains, searching through them. There, a key for the chest. That was all he really needed, but he couldn’t resist sliding off the Szarr signet ring as well. A little trophy for himself.

Now to see about getting the hells out of here. ~

Falerin had been silent as they went through the streets of the Lower City, leaving the others to ask about the whereabouts of Szarr manor. He was having a big to-do soon, apparently, so getting answers wasn’t as hard as it should have been.

“Heading to Szarr’s place?” one man had called after a woman pointed them in the right direction. “You’re just in time. He’s about to ascend, and he’ll be raising up all those with his favor.” He grinned. “I’m one of ‘em.”

“Then if I were you, I’d leave town now,” Gale said flatly.

The man scoffed. “And miss the eternal gift? Hardly.” He gave a little chuckle. “One of the whispers going ‘round is we’ll be able to get some quality time with his favorites. One of ‘em’s a prissy little elf—curly hair, smart mouth. Wouldn’t mind putting that mouth to some good—”

He didn’t get to finish his thought. As he spoke, Falerin strode right over to him, grabbing him by his shirt. Before any of the others could stop him, he slammed his head against the man’s forehead with an unpleasant crack.

The man went down, and Falerin stumbled back, hissing in pain as he cradled his head. “Ow, ow ow. Fuck, that hurt.”

“Well, what did you think would happen?” Gale said, though he wasn’t nearly as exasperated as he’d normally be. Karlach went to (gently) pat his back.

“He deserved it. Wish I’d thought to do that myself.” She gave a little smile. “Bet Fangs’ll love hearing about this.”

Falerin let out a sharp breath, then stood up straight. “Then let’s find him. We know where we’re going now.”

~

It was odd, and he’d never be able to explain it, but there was something almost giddy in Astarion as he let himself out of the Kennel. He smoothed down his shirt, looking around. No sign of any of his siblings, just the fanatics tending to the manor. It must be daytime, then. Good.

It wouldn’t do to stride about like he’d been doing out in the wilds. Even the servants would know that he’d gone missing—they probably lost a few from the fit Cazador had no doubt had—and so seeing him back would be noticed as well. And there was no doubt that some eager vampire-hopeful would mention that to Cazador.

But they still deferred to “the favorites”, and none of them would interact if there was nothing suspicious about him. So, as he stepped into the hall, he made a show of holding his arm awkwardly, as if he were nursing a break, keeping his chin high but eyes hollow. He’d walked just like this plenty of times before.

He just had to get out to the sun. He’d be untouchable during the daytime—and if he could get to the others, he’d be safe. They could plan their next move then. He didn’t dare try and think of anything in detail. He’d thrown off Cazador’s control, but who knew what he might glean if he tried again? Gods, if he found out about Fa—

No. No names. If he must think, he’d do it in Thieves Cant. If it worked against the Absolutists, it’d work against him.

He nearly made it to a door, but was stopped dead in his tracks by a dwarf bustling in, cleaning like her life depended on it. She looked up at him and gasped.

“O-oh! Master Astarion, you’re back!” She clapped her hands together. “Master Cazador will be so pleased.”

Shit.

He could kill her, but that’d leave a mess. Talk his way out of it? He’d been known to be cruel to the fanatics—all of them had, from time to time—but that might still get around. Wait. Oh, he was an idiot—he had a tadpole.

He fixed his eyes on hers, feeling the familiar surge of power in his head. Just a little Charm, just to get her to back off.

“I’m surprising him,” he said, voice low. “He’ll be so glad I’ve found my way back. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, would you?”

The dwarf’s eyes went glassy; the charm took. Thank fuck.

“No…” she said vaguely.

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s why you’ll forget I was here. Now, scurry along. There’s lots to do before the Mass, isn’t there?” He shooed her off, watching intently as she bowed her head and went back through the door she’d come through, muttering about how much work there was still to do to make the Mass perfect.

He waited a moment more, listening, then quickly opened the door. The bright gold of daylight greeted him, and he slipped out into the sun.

~

“Let us pass,” Falerin hissed at a halfling lounging against the ladder in the property’s south tower.

“All are welcome,” he said, voice sing-song with drink. Apparently Cazador’s favored had started the celebration early—everyone in the tower stank of cheap ale. It was easy to get in; it was harder getting them to register anything they were saying.

“I know I’m welcome. Let us pass,” Falerin said through his teeth.

“Mm, you’re fine right here,” he said. “All of Baldur’s Gate’s gonna get to see it. I can’t wait. Been scrubbing down this tower for nearly a decade, and it’s paying off.”

“Listen here, I am this close to…” Falerin trailed off as Karlach patted his shoulder.

“I’ve got this one, soldier,” she said. She nudged him back, then heaved up the halfling straight into the air. He didn’t seem all that bothered, even as she dropped him off to the side. The others in the tower just laughed—what great fun.

Falerin made a note to thank her later; for now, he climbed straight up the ladder. Where would Astarion be? There must be some…torture chamber or prison cell or something, but would that be beneath the castle? Or maybe a tower? Gods, what if the ritual started? What if Astarion was…?

“Falerin?”

He just barely caught the voice, but he knew that voice better than anyone else’s. His head shot up, and his eyes widened as he caught silver hair glinting in the sunlight.

“Astarion!”

He didn’t wait for the others to come up the ladder; he sprinted across the top of the wall, nearly stumbling in his haste to get to the vampire. Astarion ran to meet him, and the two collided in a hug so tight it was nearly painful. Falerin’s hand immediately went to stroke Astarion’s hair as the elf buried his face into his shoulder, clinging to him.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “My gods. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” For a long moment, he simply held Astarion as tightly as he could, cradling his head and pressing his cheek to his temple. Finally, he let out a shuddering breath as he gently brought Astarion’s head up to look over his face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Astarion shook his head. “I…I pushed back against him,” he said, giving a weak little laugh. “Cazador tried to take me back, and he failed.” He pressed his cheek against Falerin’s hand, looking up at him. “I really am free…for now, at least.”

Falerin swallowed, thumb stroking Astarion’s cheekbone. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. “Let’s just go. Get away from this. He can’t do the ceremony without you.”

Astarion looked up with soft eyes. He was considering it. But his mouth went into a straight line, and he shook his head. “No. No, we’re ending this before nightfall. Every second that cunt breathes is another chance he’ll try to do this again. We have to kill him now.”

Falerin looked over him for a moment, then pulled him in to press a long kiss to his forehead. “Okay. Let’s end this. I'll be at your side the whole way.” Casual Banter Masterpost

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Val bought it as a joke, and Mitch won't stop wearing it.

Inspired by this post. Thanks, @hawkeshep.

[p4nishers]

aziraphale: his wet cat looks and loser behavior have captivated me

[copiawife]

finally updated my ref sheet with some new outfits,,the first one is my proposal outfit and the second is my post-rhrn look