#so after a few more tries at smiting them

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

That’s What I Call Repressed Sexual Tension - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader (Paladin)

Warnings: 18+, Pining, Baldur’s Gate 3 Act I spoilers (I’ve only just now gotten to Act II), Smut (Sub!Reader x Dom!Astarion) – Fingering, P-in-V, Breast Fondling, NOT proofread, Astarion’s a bit of a perv – but still gentle, Fluff, Astarion is whipped (and calls you sickeningly sweet pet names), you’re kind of oblivious; I tried to make this as body-inclusive as I could, but still Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4,230

Summary: You were nearly certain that you hated Astarion and Astarion hated you. Until one day, after battle, you decide to partake in a wash. So does Astarion, much to your surprise. The truth of yours and Astarion’s true feelings towards one another is revealed.

A/N: Hey guys, welcome to the new hyperfixation! Right now I’m doing a playthrough of BG3 and I’m OBSESSED with Astarion. I’ve also read quite a few stories on here, and felt the need to provide my own as well. Please let me know what you think! Expect to see more Astarion in the future on this page!

God, you loathed Astarion. Or so you thought.

He was a selfish, reckless, devious pig. And he knew it too.

Little did you know, Astarion’s behaviors were exacerbated due to, well, you. Obviously his aura of cocky arrogancy radiated regardless of who was around, but around you he felt the need to… cover, more. Secretly, he was quite smitten for you. But obviously, he didn’t need you to know that. You had just finished battling it out against the goblins, which had been a tiring battle. Now, you were headed back to Emerald Grove. “Darling, you know, you didn’t have to smite him. That was kind of a waste of energy for you” Astarion sauntered over, making a quip at you. “You know, Ass, we won, didn’t we? Does it even matter? We’re going back to camp now; I’ll be resting soon.”

Ass was the nickname that you had so lovingly given him one night after he had drunk from you for the first time. You woke up to find him leaning over you, fangs exposed, ready to press them against your neck. After you had willingly allowed him to continue, you woke up woozy and drowsy, almost unable to walk. He came to check on you, making fun of your trembling. “Wow, darling. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who got lucky last night.” He winked.

“Shove it, you ass.” You snapped back. “Eh, I’ve been called worse, I assure you.” “Well, say hello to your new nickname, Ass.” “Quite clever darling, it’s almost as if it’s a shortened ver-“ you cut him off. “You ever want a taste of my blood again, you shut your mouth.” He clamped his mouth shut almost instantaneously, his lips forming into an impressive pout.

Since that day, Astarion had been relatively whipped by you. The sight of you trembling, the actual kindness that you displayed towards him in allowing him his first taste of “thinking” blood. God, he would trade all of his meals just for a taste of your blood again. He hadn’t gotten a taste again, but he frequently inquired about the subject and whether or not you’d be willing to allow him to indulge yet again. The real reason he had even said anything about your energy level post-battle was due to the fact that he would prefer you to save your energy for other circumstances, namely him drinking your blood – or other things. Other, dirtier things.

The trek back to camp was long and tiring. But you were alive, and that was all that mattered. You had Karlach and Gale along with you as well, thankfully. So you weren’t alone with the vampire. Although, he would have preferred it that way. He was hoping that he would have a chance alone with you later in the evening. Typically, other members of the group would jump at the chance to simply be in your presence, so he rarely got the opportunity. Tonight would be different, he reassured himself.

You decided that this late afternoon would be a prime opportunity for a wash. You had slept for about an hour to regain your strength, and Shadowheart had used her magic to mend you. Of course, Astarion had kept a close eye on you to make sure you were alright. So, when you wandered off, Astarion followed. “She needs supervision” he had told the rest of the group. Then, he sauntered off after you, careful not to make his presence known. He was a stealthy one, that’s for sure, and it came in quite handy in situations like these.

The nearby pond was mostly still water, despite the glorious waterfall that fell from the rocks that formed above it, clearly streaming from a larger body of water nearby. The rocks were all fairly dark and gray. The pond itself had strikingly blue-green water, that was still clear mostly. There were spots where algae had developed and broken off, but the water still cleaned better than the majority that you had witnessed in your travels. This place had become your own personal spa, in a sense.

He watched from afar as you began to strip your clothing off. He hadn’t been able to make a full assessment on you yet, as he had only seen slivers of your bare skin between the top and the bottoms of your pajamas, although he always hoped to see more. And now, he was going to. Finally.

You began at the top, peeling the shirt from your bodice, revealing your bra underneath. It was a translucent-white, which effectively made Astarion’s breath hitch in his chest. He could have taken red, black, blue, whatever other color you desired. But – white? Gods, it made his mind wander. And his cock harden. He couldn’t help the way that you made him feel. He had spent too many nights alone in his tent, at least for his liking. Next to be revealed were your legs, which looked beautiful despite various scrapes, bruises and cuts scattered about them. His only wish now was to have them wrapped around him – anywhere and everywhere. Around his head, around his pelvis, around his legs as he cuddled you softly to sleep in his tent. Ran his hands through your locks. Kept on high alert – just in case. He always did, but it would feel more important if he had something so precious to protect.

Astarion’s daydreaming almost tore him from the sight in front of him. Almost. The next time he looked, you began removing your bra. “Oh Gods…” Astarion spoke, thankfully quietly enough to maintain the secrecy of his presence. Your breasts were no longer under their cover, and Astarion could hardly contain himself any longer. He cupped the bulge in his pants gently, he needed the slightest bit of friction in that area. The next to be revealed was your glorious heat, not entirely cleanly shaven, but clearly well-maintained.

It was within the next few minutes that you decided to indulge in the water, laying a towel out on a nearby rock for after your dip. He noticed you head towards the waterfall, your hips swaying generously for his eyes, and he almost let his focus falter.  Astarion then made the decision to make his move, sliding his shoes off, then stripping himself of his pants, shirt, and underwear. He also made the conscious decision to sneak your own clothes away from the towel you had to delicately laid out, perfectly upon the rock. Just because he was mildly infatuated with you, didn’t mean he would play nice. In fact, it made him want to play even rougher.

You were fairly oblivious to the rogue in the shade, currently your only focus was relishing in the waterfall and running your hands through your hair, combing it out gently with your fingernails. It was the most relaxed you had felt in the past 24 hours. Little did you know, a certain rogue had set his sights on you – hoping to relax you even further.

The water was lukewarm from basking in the sun for the majority of the day. Exotic flora surrounded the pond, making it look inviting and tropical. However, some of the plants could be deadly, which kept both yourself and Astarion from getting close to them. Astarion glided himself into the water, careful to maintain quiet and stealthy as to not alert you to his presence – yet. He glanced at your bottom again, taking it all in. Soon, he hoped you’d be all his. If everything went as planned.

The water barely covered Astarion’s pelvis as he floated over to you. His fingertips played along the surface of the water, taking in the beautiful scenery. It wasn’t often that Astarion was able to do so. But now, he felt relaxed, yet almost – nervous? For what was to come ahead. It wasn’t often that Astarion felt unnerved in this way. You just meant so much to him. And he didn’t want to lose that. He began to contemplate his current choices and whether or not this would end poorly for you both. Perhaps you would be enraged, forcing him out of the party and never to speak to you again. Perhaps you would denounce his desires and state that you longed for someone else.

To his surprise, you yelped and jumped, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You had seen him. You hid behind the waterfall, sinking further and further into the wall of stone. You covered your bosom with your arms, much to Astarion’s disappointment. Astarion’s confidence rose again, approaching your form behind the waterfall. “No need to hide away, darling. It’s just me, after all” he tutted. By the time he had crept fully into the other, more secluded side of the waterfall, you had sunk into the water, on your knees now, merely your head poking out of the water. Your eyes looked up at him almost submissively, which nearly made his knees buckle in excitement.

“What are you doing here, Ass? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough, my sweet. Just out admiring the view, washing up, you know.” As much as Astarion longed to tower over you, he needed to get down to your level. He sank down himself, until his eyes were meeting yours, just above the surface of the water. You were always quick to spit back at Astarion, but given the nature of the situation, you simply couldn’t. Any thoughts that you had about snipping at him were completely and entirely blocked out of your consciousness. Instead, you uncertainly inquired “how much did you see?”

“Oh Gods, dear. I’ve seen everything.” His response made you shutter, although the smirk placed upon his lips led you to believe that he was indeed happy about this fact. You wondered why. “Let me help wash you, petal?” You shifted for a moment, pondering the possibility. Astarion had already seen all of you, hadn’t he? You wondered for a moment whether or not to decline. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful, you thought. Your mind raced through a variety of complex and simple possibilities, trying to track each one. Astarion caught on to this, merely catching your attention with a “dove?” “I- uhm- oo-kay” you responded slowly beginning to rise out of the water, and Astarion followed. You kept your arms firmly planted around your breasts, careful not to reveal yourself too much.

Astarion stood behind you, washing your back with handfuls of the waterfall that he so gently placed on your neck, shoulder blades, and spine. “Darling, you do know I have seen those breathtaking breasts of yours, correct?” You nodded hesitantly in response, still in moderate shock from the present situation. You thought you absolutely detested Astarion, and he you. But, here he was, helping you wash blood and dirt off of your back, so – intimately. You had been intimate with people before, however, this felt slightly different. And it felt different to Astarion as well, unbeknownst to you. Good different. Slowly, you began to drop your arms from your breasts. Astarion watched intently as your nipples were freed once more, it was pertinent that they were chilled from their prominence. “You know,” he whispered into your ear from behind “if you are scared of anyone happening to see them – I could hold them on your behalf.” Astarion’s voice sounded as if it was winking at you. Truthfully, now that Astarion was aware of how shell shocked you were, he knew he needed to be gentle with you. At least at first.

“Uhm – well I – uhm well sure” you managed to stutter out. “Good girl” Astarion whispered into your ear once more, bringing his hands to play with your nipples. You let out a soft mewl at the sensation. “Ooh, you like that, don’t you love?” Astarion teased, tutting his tongue again. You nodded feverishly, although this did not seem to please him. “Use your words, beautiful.” “Yes, I do Astarion. I-It feels g-good.”

Astarion’s hand molded and palmed your breasts, and he went to speak. However, you had beaten him to it. “Pl-lease m-more” you begged. He took one of his hands, bringing it down to your heat. You were nervous, as you were fairly sure you were embarrassingly wet down there, and your body began to reflect that. “Darling, why are you shaking? Please, don’t give in for my sake, I want you to want this.” Astarion spoke with more care than he ever had with you. You turned to face him “Ass, you fool, of course I want this…” you had built up confidence to divert back to his nickname, which he was glad for. But then you remembered the reasoning for your timidness. You were dripping. “I- just- well- I- I am really wet.” Your cheeks reddened as you spoke, you felt yourself sinking back into timidness in front of him, but you had nowhere to hide “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your desires, doll. I’m more than thrilled that I have been able to bring this out of you. That I have this effect on you. I was terrified of your rejection, darling girl.” Given Astarion’s newfound openness his emotions with you drove your desire for him to new heights. Your next move was to pull him into your lips, your hand wrapped around his neck as you did so. As your lips landed on his, you felt a rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your confidence built once more, using your teeth to pull on Astarion’s bottom lip before finally releasing it. You winked, while Astarion stood in awe of your previous actions, finally stating “you cheeky little pup.” He took this opportunity to grab your waist, picking you up and lifting you out of the water. You yelped, surprised at his action. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Astarion carried you over to where your towel lay, gently placing you down on it, then allowing himself to follow.

His leg hooked underneath you, and you willingly allowed it to push your legs apart so that he could hover between them. He leant down to place a gentle kiss upon your lips, which you welcomed. His lips were breathtakingly sweet and supple, you had felt them on your neck before, but that hardly amounted to the feeling you had now. Although his lips on your neck certainly did have the capacity to drive you mad. “Please Astarion, take me.” He wasn’t used to hearing the entirety of his name spoken from your lips. But it was a welcome thing to hear his full name fall from your lips. To know the full extent that you wanted him. Because he wanted you too. Desperately.

“Patience, my sweet.” He spoke, retreating from your form. You immediately tried to grab at him to pull him back, but then realized where he was headed. He tutted in response, speaking the word again “patience. Allow me to indulge in you.” Astarion’s lips peppered kisses along your upper thighs, before reaching his hands to assess the state of your heat. He used one hand to pull the folds of your labia apart, and the other to bring a finger to your clit. You were right, you were very, extremely wet. You whimper as his fingernail flicks across your clit. You tense, but his words bring you back down “relax, my dear.”

He spoke once more, this time with a proposition rather than a demand. “You can say no to this darling. But I would love to taste you, while I taste you.” “Huh?” For the first time, you were confused by Astarion’s words. “I would just place a little bite ‘here’ and ‘here’” he pressed into your inner thigh with two fingers, displaying where his fangs would penetrate your skin and release your sweet blood. “Then, I would drink from you while also sipping on your sweet nectar.” You nodded feverishly in response, eager for this stimulation that this would bring you. “Use your words, love.” Deviously, he placed his finger upon your clit, humming in contentment as he watched your body convulse in ecstasy in front of his eyes. “P-p-ple-ee-a-se.” You moaned out, barely able to make a single word out at this point. “I’m sorry, what was that dear? I couldn’t make that out.” “F-fuck y-you… t-te-ase.” “Oh, you will darling. You will. All in good time.”

“Bite me, Astarion. Plea-.” You finally gathered yourself together enough to state it, and you felt his fangs sink into you before you could even finish your sentence. You whimpered as he fed from your thigh, holding it down with one hand, the other arm resting on your opposite hip. Gods, you were delectable. You had brought your hands to tangle within his hair, gently massaging as he began. He suckled your skin, allowing him to intake more blood, but also causing your skin to latch closely to his tongue, where hundreds of blood vessels burst and petechiae formed, leaving a carmine-tinged love mark. A small “hmm” of pleasure left his lips as he pulled away, the circular marks that his teeth left were prominent, and bound to leave a mark. You felt woozy, similarly to the other times he had fed from you, but almost blissfully so this time. “Mmmm” the moan left your lips easily, flooding Astarion’s ears with pleasure. “You alright my love?” He peaked up at you, and you nodded. “Just a little lightheaded is all.”

“Alright, my sweet. If you need me to stop, just say the word.” You nodded as he brought his tongue to your clitoris, circling around it in a perfect spiral, suckling on it whilst savoring the taste of your sweetness. “Mmmm” you whimpered, which made Astarion’s instincts nearly feral in nature. He brought a hand to play inside of your heat, which was still rapturously wet for him. He started with one initially, and nearly moaned himself as he felt your walls clamp around just one finger. He began to imagine what it would be like to have your core wrapped around his throbbing member. Even though he had released it from his undergarments, he was still desperate from the friction only you could provide him with, the only thing that could give him relief. But right now wasn’t about him. It was very much about you, and him providing pleasure for you.

As if you could read his mind, you used his hair to pull him away from you. “Astarion, please, get inside me. Now.” You demanded. “Although you are in no position to make demands here, my sweet, I wholeheartedly agree with you.” “Yes, sir.” You agreed with him. In this particular position, Astarion was completely and utterly in control. And you think you liked it that way.

Astarion towered over you for a moment, analyzing every bit of your form. He let his eyes roam over your breasts, stomach, thighs, and then back to your slick core that ached for his entrance. And who was he to deny you such pleasure? He hovered over you once more, placing a quick yet compassionate kiss on your lips. His penis sat in between the folds of your labia, the member wettened from the contact. He grinded down ever so slightly, allowing pressure to be placed on your clitoris yet again. Then, with one swift movement, he slid back, and then within the muscular cavern of your vagina. “Fuck” you responded, you were ready for him, or so you thought. He was huge, and you weren’t sure the last time you had taken a lover. He held himself inside of you, his tip nestled against your cervix, waiting until he could proceed. “Gods darling, you’re so tight.” Astarion prompted. His pelvis pressed perfectly against yours, your thighs spread to make room for his shape.

Once your muscles had accommodated him, you looked up at him with dangerously innocent eyes and simply nodded. He took this as his sign to continue, sliding his length out of you slowly at first, and then pressing into you once again. “Mhhm” you moaned wantonly, writhing in delight. Astarion’s movements became more fluid, rocking his hips so that he moved in and out of you with ease.

You moaned over and over with his rhythm, and he pulled your legs over his shoulders, somehow enabling him to pound into you even deeper. Your core quenched around him, tightening around him even further. “Oh, sweetness. Can you take me inside of you?” He asked, and your response was a ferocious nod. “Please do” you whimpered. “Are you close, my love?” he asked, seemingly very concerned about you reaching climax together. “Mhmm love.” Astarion’s heart fluttered, knowing that you too, were close, and that the pet name he so loved throwing out could also be received.

After several more pumps inside of you, your muscles began to convulse, writhing around Astarion’s member, holding him more tightly than before. Your shaking released Astarion’s own pleasure, and he flooded your cavern with ropes of cum as you finished together. You moaned wantonly.

Astarion pulled out, allowing his fluids to begin dripping out of you. He placed a swift peck on your lips, then sliding next to you on the towel. “Gods, Astarion, that was phenomenal.”  You spoke as you were finally able to catch your breath. You turned to face him. He placed a hand on your cheek, using his thumb to rub gently. “Thank you darling. That was… amazing.” His crimson eyes stared into yours, analyzing every breath, every possible thought going through that beautiful mind of yours.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, my sweet?” Astarion inquired softly. Even though the intimacy you two had shared was incredible, he was still scared of the feelings – or lack thereof – that you may harbor for him. “Gods, I just- I didn’t think that would ever happen.” Astarion looked at you with a puzzled face, so you clarified, responding “I thought you hated me, and to be honest, I thought I hated you too, from how much we bickered.” “Ohhh, darling” Astarion sounded exasperated. “That’s what I call ‘repressed sexual tension.’” You smacked your face into your hands out of embarrassment. “I suppose you’re probably right” you mumbled. Astarion pulled you back upwards, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re just fine, my love.”

Your stomach rumbled, indicating to you that it would be desiring to eat soon. Astarion pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around your bodice so as to keep you warm. That, and he knew that your time, for now, would be coming to an end soon. “Someone’s famished from battle today?” He asked, and you nodded. “I am quite much so, yes.” He savored himself in one final kiss on your lips. “Well darling, as much as I would love to lay here forever with you, I know you need nourishment to recover from today.” He winked.

“Yeah, yeah. One last thing before we go?” Astarion nodded, ushering you for your question. “What exactly are we?” You inquired. Your feelings were so jumbled you didn’t know what to think regarding the whole situation and where you were to stand with Astarion now. Was this just a once-off? What did he want from this? “Well, I had hoped that me marking you as mine would assert where I stand on the subject. I want you, in every sense of the word, my dear.” As he finished speaking, you had a giddy grin placed upon your mouth. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You almost shrieked in excitement, but then decided to restrain yourself. You were adorable. Truly. “Will you come to my tent tonight, after everyone has fallen into slumber?” Astarion asked. “As much as I would love that, I’m really worn out from today, and I don’t know if I could-“ he cut you off “just for a cuddle, my love.” You nodded in response to this.

You began to rise, moving your hands around you, trying to find your clothing that was scattered by your towel. “Ass, where the hell are my clothes?” You turned to look at him, and he merely looked at you with a cheeky, blushed look on his face. “I can’t tell you it wasn’t me.” He winked. “Come on, please…” you begged. “They’re by mine, over by that rock over there.” He gestured to the rock that he had hidden behind. Astarion got up as well, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your figures as you waltzed over to the rock and began to dress yourselves, Astarion taking extra time to admire you.

You walked back to camp, and Astarion shortly after. You didn’t want to make things so dreadfully obvious to your companions. The regular bickering commenced shortly after. But only you two knew what truly happened behind closed doors. Astarion finally had you, and that was like a dream to him. As he was unwinding for the night, and the stars had settled in the sky, he heard footsteps approaching his tent and your whisper, stating “Hey, love, I think everyone’s gone off to bed.” He eagerly approached the curtain, revealing your beauty behind it. “Come in, please, my darling.” Astarion was happier than he had been in 200 years, as long as he was with you.

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Good Omens: Lockdown and Crowley not mentioning his living situation in S2*

*till S2E6 when he asks if he can have his apartment back bc he's bored of living in his car but Aziraphale doesn’t hear bc mentally he’s in Alpha Centauri.

Having read the 'Crowley doesn't tell him' Neil Gaiman ask close to when I first listened to Lockdown (I lived under a rock until recently), my initial thought was HAS HE BEEN LIVING IN HIS CAR FOR YEARS?! but I think he was still in his apartment in 2020:

as far as Hell knows, Crowley just had a pool party in holy water (the holiest) so the higher-ups are probably willing to give him some space (plus Beelzebub is busy going on pub dates w Gabriel)

while there should be ~8 months between the end of Season 1 events (The Very First Day of the Rest of Their Lives on Sunday, Aug 25, 2019) and the Lockdown phonecall (on or near the 30 year anniversary on May 1, 2020), I can't imagine that's a very long time for Hell, especially if you're understaffed and busy dealing with fallout from Almostgeddon / going on pub dates

Shax dropping off mail and asking about the boiler seems like something one does in the first few months of living somewhere, not ~3 years in (if S2 is in 2023)

That said, I think the phone call underlines why Crowley never directly tells Aziraphale that he is living in the Bentley in S2, and it's just a great conversation (all hail Gaiman) sooo I wrote about it:

***Note: This post analyzes the Lockdown phonecall from Crowley's perspective only. Our heroine is feeling quite emotionally vulnerable at this point in time so things are going to hit him harder than they normally would.

I do not think Aziraphale meant to cause him pain (!!) but Crowley can't see that yet and I've written this post in a way that reflects that missing insight. (I explain in more detail in this reblog if you are interested) I am working on a companion post for Aziraphale's side of this conversation and how I think it affects his behavior in S2 because if we know anything about these two, it's that their exactlys are different exactlys.***

Crowley’s habit of sleeping to skip time like an RPG character by a campfire amuses me to no end, but in this context it feels heavy. Crowley already worries about losing time with what he loves and he probably hoped things would be different between him and Aziraphale after the events of S1. But things don’t change much. Then lockdowns start, and Crowley is trapped in his apartment alone, transcendentally bored, and unable to make his brain shut up. Sleeping a month away starts to sound less awful.

But Crowley hasn’t given up yet; he’s still awake when Aziraphale calls, and he’s even giving it two more days. Was he waiting for Aziraphale to call? Is it even possible not to at least kind of wait for someone’s call when you are cut off from everything and the caller has been your only friend and crush for millennia?

Aziraphale asks why Crowley isn't "out and about" tempting people or setting a bad example and he responds:

C: Everyone's so miserable and cooped up right now anyway, and I just… well… don't have the heart for it. A: *glowing audibly* I'm not miserable~ C: Really?

Crowley sounds genuinely surprised at Aziraphale's happiness and quickly assumes it's because the angel has been around people. He's so lonely/depressed/in his own head that he hadn't even considered someone enjoying being 'cooped up'. *sob*

Aziraphale goes No actually I put the closed sign up in the window and I'm having the Time of My Life, never had so few customers, not in 200 years!, etc. Although, he says:

A: ���There were a few young lads a couple of nights ago who broke in through the back and tried to steal the cashbox! But they soon saw the error of their ways~ C: *clearly amused* Did you smite them with your wroth? A: Well I certainly gave them a good talking to, and I sent each of them home with cake~ C: *annoyed, swooning* Cake? A: Quite a lot of cake, actually. C: *physically ill from having such a giant crush on this dumbass baker/security guard* eeeekkkgghhh I'm gonna regret asking but.. ...rrgh.. *30 seconds of Aziraphale joyfully describing his baking while Crowley probably tries very hard not to imagine the angel eating each item in sensual slow motion* I stg you can hear him struggling in the background once or twice

A: …And once I've baked them, I have to eat them all myself, which was why I was so delighted— C: To send your burglars home laden with baked goods, yes, nnyeaayeah I follow…

Crowley interrupts, finishing Aziraphale's sentence in his nervous hurry to say the next bit:

C: *loud inhale* You know, I could.. hunker down at your place. … Slither over and watch you eat cake. I could bring a bottle--a case of… something… drinkable…?

He's trying to sound so casual about it but this is someone who was rejected/abandoned by actual literal God after asking what he thought were welcome, uncontroversial questions. Asking makes him vulnerable. He's supposed to be the rescuer, not a demon in distress. He does not feel casual about asking.

Crowley knows it's unlikely but he's so miserable and desperate for company that he can't help but ask, just in case. Even the smallest chance of spending time trapped indoors with Aziraphale—with nothing to do but drink, watch him eat, and talk about things they'd normally avoid—is too tempting.

A: *panicking* Oh I— I— I— I— I'm afraid that would be Breaking All The Rules! *nervous breathing* Out of the question! I'll see you… when this is over. C: Right. gnnehh. I'm setting the alarm clock for July. Good night, angel. *dial tone*

And just like that, Crowley doesn't need two days to decide. The depression nap doubles in length. He doesn't hear how badly Aziraphale wants to say yes behind the fear, or maybe he does and it hurts worse because why isn't Crowley enough for him? You can almost hear the spiralling:

SHOCKING, asking made it worse. It always does doesn’t it? Why even bother? you just embarrass yourself.. SLITHER over? why did I say that *grumble grumble* of COURSE His Holy Holiness, your only friend in the universe, would rather eat cake by himself while everything goes to shit than ~deign~ to have you in his presence. "AsK aND yE sHaLl ReCeIvE" bugger this for a lark im going to bed

(a bit dramatic but we've all been there)

I imagine sleep doesn't come right away. Maybe his thoughts drift to when he sat beside the angel at a dark Tadfield bus stop after a rather eventful Saturday. Crowley must've felt a tiny bit hopeful when he invited Aziraphale to stay with him: Heaven had withdrawn its favor and the bookshop was gone; Aziraphale was like him now. Didn't that mean things would change?

"I don't think my side would like that." Apparently not.

In the end, Aziraphale did ride the bus back to Crowley's apartment and stayed till the next morning when he caught a cab, but only to sell the illusion. Crowley understood that as far as sides went, the angel was still on Heaven's, even if Heaven wasn't on his.

And now this: the entire world is shut down; there is nothing for Aziraphale to do but stay in and read and bake in his magically reconstituted bookshop and he still won't invite Crowley in. Burglars and un-fallen angels only—nobody who asks questions.

So... of course Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale when he loses his apartment. He already knows what answer he would get; the angel has told him so many times. Aziraphale is a company man first, a companion to one very sad owl when convenient.

If Crowley works up the courage to say 'please take me in, I have nowhere else to go' and Aziraphale goes 'sorry, no, far too political, but I WILL risk being erased from the Book of Life to protect this nude amnesiac former coworker who always hated me,' it's going to be too much. You can't sleep long enough for that type of hurt to go away. Better not to say anything.

"Then nothing has to change, does it?"

[halemerry]

hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly. 

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

[roseodelle]

Arcane Pt2 - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC

Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.

No use of y/n

WC: 1326

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

The forest is charred. Their wards are broken, and the glamours have fallen. The cottage is in shambles. Once a beautiful home for them both, smoke now drifts upward from the rubble. Trampled are the flowers and vegetable garden she’d tended to dearly for so many years. The smell makes him sick to his stomach, and he falls to his knees. There’s nothing left.

His chest heaves, his hands gripping and pulling at his short red hair. Tears begin to fall from his face as reality sets in and the sobs begin. It’d happened so quickly. In his quarters of the Forest House one moment, standing above his beheaded brothers the next. Beron will be after him; he knows. He’ll send the hounds and guards before he himself comes to smite him down. He has minutes, if that. He’d killed his brothers. He’d have killed his father, too, if he didn’t know better. But while Eris was strong, Beron was stronger.

Her body... her body lay ahead of him in the destruction of their home. What will Beron do to her, even in death, he wonders? He won’t find out. He will not let Beron desecrate her further. She deserves dignity in her death, and he will give it to her. His love. His grace. His empathy and compassion. His brilliance. His mate. He failed her. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t he feel the intrusion on the ward? Why didn’t he feel her through the bond? Why didn’t she call for him? Why leave her side of the bond closed to him, even near death? Why shield him from his failure, from her pain and fear?

Rising from the scorched earth, he takes an unsteady step forward. His right foot lands on a shard of stained glass that once belonged to the beautiful front door. She’d been so proud to have found it. A great discovery: a decrepit old wooden door with a stained glass window. His chest tightens again. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here. With uneven steps, he walks through the rubble. The sitting room was once such a beautiful space. They’d spent so many hours and so many years together in that room. Once lively shades of green and orange are now a burnt charcoal gray. The kitchen was the same. Only the innermost walls of the home still stand as he makes his way down the hall.

He needs to find her. He dreads finding her. He tries again to tug on that string, that bright orange thread, tying them together. Nothing. He feels nothing. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has minutes until the sentries come. Before Beron comes with vengeance. 

Their bedroom lay just a few steps ahead. The door was broken, leaning sideways on it’s hinges. The smell is stronger here. Putrid death mixes with the remaining scent of his life. Only faint hints of jasmine and sage rise above the remnants of an angry, relentless flame. The scent of his brother was a bitter aftertaste. He marches on.

Their bed was left unmade. The lxurious golden sham is now a horrid black. Down pillows burned to a crisp. Intricate woodwork smolders, and her scent is stronger here, but he still can’t see her. He passes their bed and her vanity. Flower pots and dirt litter the floor, and the burgundy rug he found on a trip to Adriatta is torn into shreds. She’d put up a fight. Good girl. His chest heaves, vomit rises in his throat, and he shakes his head, steadying himself again. He needs to get her out and take her somewhere Beron cannot find her. Where he cannot do her more harm. Where she can rest.

He finds her in the closet. She’s curled inward on herself, her beautiful dress bloody and torn. Her back is still, and the familiar rise and fall of her breath are nonexistent. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. He’s shaking again, tears burning his cheeks. Unsteady hands reach toward her burned body. The skin of her back was blistered and damaged beyond repair. There’s so much blood. From her face to her chest, her arms, and her legs. She’s covered in cuts and burns. His sobs become stronger and louder as he reaches for her. She’s not breathing.

“My love.” He brokenly whispers, begs, and pleads with her as he pulls her destroyed body into his arms. He turns her face toward him. Unmarred by the fire of his brother. Her eyes remain closed, the stillness of her chest breaking his soul into pieces. He rests his cheek on hers, his tears making their home on her skin. 

“My love, please. Please wake up.” He chokes back a sob, running his hand along her arm and along her spine in an effort to wake her, but he knows. He knows she’s gone.

“Please. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He’ll die here, he decides. How could he take his place as High Lord without her by his side? Let Beron strike him down. Let his father's fire end his life as he holds his mate in his arms. He’d die with her. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to her cold lips, and he closes his eyes. Let him die here.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years of safety. Serenity. Peace. Over. All over. His heavy sobs shake his shoulders and shake the still body in his arms, and as he holds her tighter, he still runs his hands over her arm and back. His hand finally rests on her wrist, checking for a pulse he knows he won’t find. 

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He repeats until the words run together in an incomprehensible mumble, his fingers digging too tightly into her wrist, hoping to feel something he knows he will not. He wasn’t here. He didn’t protect her. For two hundred years, he’d kept her safe. It wasn’t enough. He had failed her. 

His breath stalls in his throat, eyes widening in shock. Denial floods through him as he tugs again at the bond that remains silent, but he felt it. It was so faint, so faint, but it was there. Her pulse.

“My love, my love, please.” He straightens, pulling her tighter to his chest and forcing her face toward his once again. Her beautiful eyes remain closed, but he feels it again. It's so faint, but it’s there. She lives.

His demeanor shifts, his mask falling into place as he assesses the situation anew. She’s mortally wounded. She will not live, not unless she receives help he cannot give her. Cannot provide for her. Not with Beron’s sentries so close behind him. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has but a few minutes with her before they come for him. Before Beron comes from her. Seconds, he amends, another faint pulse coming through much later than the last.

He’s on the border of three courts. He has two options. He can beg for sanctuary in the Summer court. Tarquin is known to be just and kind. But Beron will follow. Beron will follow him across Prythian. Tarquin would not be able to provide the safety or care she requires. Nor Kalias in the Winter Court, who would likely attempt to freeze Eris on sight. 

There is only one true option, he realizes. The Night Court sees Eris as the ruthless, conniving killer he made sure he was known as, but his mate was not like him. Not like the mask he wore. The mask he perfected over two hundred years to protect her. Tensions between Eris and the court were harsh on both sides, but it may be the only place Beron will not follow.

It’s the only option, he knows. And as another weak pulse graces his fingertips and the rustle of leaves alerts him to the first sentry sent for him, he knows what he must do.

[7-wonders]

Literally, if Calliope held my face and gave the affection that’s described in World We Dream About, I would fucking die. All I can think about is how the reader could only wonder how Morpheus would ever separate himself from someone as tender, gentle, and utterly radiant as her-

(Read more of my Calliope/Morpheus/Reader stuff here!)

"Can I ask you something?"

You're sitting in the gardens of the palace of the Dreaming with the Lord of Dreams himself, who slowly looks up at you over the top of his book (some report on a nightmare doing who knows what) like you're a nuisance. You know that's not the case though, since he's the one that sought you out and invited you to join him.

After your...memorable first meeting with Morpheus, followed by a tearful goodbye with the woman goddess who had been your roommate for the past few months, you had never been expecting to see either again. They were important beings of myth and legend, after all—you were just a regular human. Practically nothing compared to them! That's why it was so surprising when you went to sleep barely a week later and found yourself face-to-face with the Sandman once more.

"I owe you a boon, whether you believe yourself worthy or not," he said. "And I imagine that you have many questions relating to the information you received that fateful night. Therefore, you may ask me your questions, and I shall do my best to answer them."

He was right, of course. You did have questions. So many of them that it almost made your head spin when you tried to think of the first one that you wanted to ask. But ask you did, and he dutifully answered each and every one of them.

It was definitely appreciated, and you felt that the conversation gave you a lot of answers and closure to this chapter of your life. In your mind, it was the end of a chapter. Calliope was gone, off to Greece and Mount Olympus and her sisters with no sign that you would ever see her again. Morpheus had deigned to meet with you once more, and now that his perceived obligation was fulfilled, you expected that to be the end of any sort of magic in your life.

But then you saw him again.

And again.

And again.

Now, you see him at least once a week. Each time, he comes to you in your dreams, and each time, he acts as though he's simply being charitable by offering Calliope's human friend some company. You know that's not the case, though. No, Morpheus will never admit it, but you think he's lonely. And now that you both have a shared person, that gives him a connection with someone...even if that someone is the mortal that his ex-wife found herself accidentally belonging to in what you can say in retrospect was a true comedy of errors.

"You just did," he points out cheekily.

You remain unamused and roll your eyes. "C'mon, you know what I mean."

He nods. "I do. Continue."

"Please don't answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but I'm curious. Why...why did you and Calliope break up?" How did you manage to so severely fumble the bag? is what you really want to ask. "I mean, she's Calliope."

What you mean by, "she's Calliope," is, of course, that she's Calliope. Beautiful and kind, wise and strong, charming and witty, and a whole dictionary's worth of other characteristics that can only hope to capture who she is. You had never met a person like her before, and you doubt you'll ever meet somebody like her again.

Most mortals wouldn't dare to speak to an Endless like you just did. Unfortunately, prior experience has made you bold, and you know now that Morpheus is begrudgingly fond of you and therefore won't smite you if you overstep. Somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling so wary of the Dreamlord. Now, you like to think that your relationship is something close to a sort of friendship.

(If you're being honest with yourself, lately your feelings for Morpheus are complicated, as are your feelings for Calliope. That's a conversation for another day, and it definitely does not factor into your current conversation, thank you very much.)

A small, small smile plays on his lips, Morpheus understanding exactly what you mean. "Yes, she is. We were both much younger in the days of our marriage, if one as young as yourself can believe such a thing."

You appreciate that he's trying to find a bit of humor in what is assuredly a heavy moment, so you smile encouragingly at him.

"Mistakes were made by both of us throughout the course of our relationship, myself more. Ultimately, it was..." Morpheus pauses, and when he speaks again, it's much quieter. "In the end, the loss of our son proved too much for us to overcome together."

Well, now you feel bad. Calliope had only talked to you about Orpheus a handful of times, but with what little information you have, you know just how loved he was by his parents, and just how devastated they still remain by what happened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He shakes his head. "When last we parted, Calliope suggested to me that it would be wise for us to talk about Or—our son together. That remembering him might help to be able to properly grieve." Morpheus says that last word like it's foreign to him. It probably is, actually. "I am starting to find that she is right."

"She's right a lot. It's kind of annoying," you commiserate.

This helps to break the heaviness that talking about death (not Death) and loss brings, and Morpheus lets out a breath in his version of a laugh. "She does tend to be right fairly often."

Now that your question is answered and you know that you didn't just ruin his day, you gesture towards his book. "Okay, I won't bother you anymore, promise."

"You are not nearly as bothersome as you believe yourself to be." He gets a look in his starry eyes when he says this, one that conveys there is much more being left unsaid within this single sentence.

His confession makes your chest feel warm, and you try not to act as pleased as you are. "I'll endeavor not to change that, then."

[ikeoji-subs]

Zettai BL Ni Naru Sekai VS Zettai BL Ni Naritakunai Otoko 2024 - Episode 2 Eng Sub

VS SMELLS and VS AGE GAP RELATIONSHIPS

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translation notes:

about Fish Cake Man (7:28)

As we state in the subtitles, this guy’s monologue isn’t something we’re equipped to translate and if we did, it probably wouldn’t make much, if any, sense to English-speaking viewers. We learned from Snow’s Japanese friend that he's a comedian who is famous for doing this particular bit. After we had already finished most of the subtitles, I rewatched seasons 1 and 2 of the show and found that he was also in the other two seasons. In the first season, when Mob is explaining about how he's a side character and intends to keep it that way, he looks at a gardener on his university campus who is pulling weeds, illustrating that the world of BL needs to include some people who are unlikely to ever become main characters. That’s this dude. He appears again in season 2, when Mob is scouring the university for signs of Kikuchi after reading his goodbye letter. In every appearance, he's shown wearing the same sort of nondescript work clothes and cap and seems to work in some kind of maintenance or cleaning capacity at National BL University. –Towel

His name is Nou Misoo (脳みそ夫) which means brain tissue. I believe there's a pun here I'm missing but you can check our his sillyness on youtube, instagram or tiktok. –Snow

about “the gods decided to smite me” (10:24)

The first version of this line said that Mob “received divine punishment” for his Mob Move. That was already a great line! But I thought it had the potential to be a little more specific and evocative in an English-speaking context. At first, I was just trying to think of something a bit more specific to replace “received.” I thought of a few possibilities, including “I was smitten by divine punishment.” But since “smitten” is barely used anymore except to describe someone who's in love, it had the wrong connotation. Then I thought about how another tense of the same verb, “smite,” avoids those connotations and has a kind of King James Bible quality. But if I was going to say “smite,” I’d have to change the sentence from passive voice to active voice (which is generally best anyway) and give the sentence a subject who is doing the smiting.

I thought a unitary, capital-G God would make it sound a little too Biblical, possibly tipping it over into sounding overtly Christian. I knew that some religious traditions practiced in Japan, like Shintoism, included multiple gods. So I tried “the gods decided to smite me.” This seemed to balance out the Old Testament-ish aspect of “smite” a bit. The end result seemed more vivid than the earlier version, and it seemed like something Mob would say.–Towel 

about “select shop” (11:30)

Observant English speakers might notice that when the guy who used the same shampoo as Mob talks about where he got it, he uses a term made up of English loan words. He says he bought it at a “serekuto shoppu" (in English, a "select shop"). While both parts of the word are borrowed from English, the term you get when you put them together isn’t commonly used in the US. I ended up replacing it with “boutique,” which gets across some of the meaning. But I’ll explain in more detail here. 

It turns out that a “select shop” is a kind of smallish shop with carefully curated items that all fit a certain aesthetic. A business like this might be called a “lifestyle boutique” in America, but it’s slightly different from any business model used widely here. The big selling point of a shop like this is the fact that they’ve already vetted and coordinated these products. Their offerings are tailored for a particular niche, so that if you’re into the general idea a select shop is going for, you’re likely to be interested in a lot of what they’re selling. The items for sale will also have been hand-picked by a professional who’s able to find just the right thing in a way that a typical consumer wouldn’t be able to. 

You can imagine what kind of college student would not only shop at this sort of place but declare it proudly. Even if Mob was going to fall in L with a B, this guy would be a bad fit.–Towel

about “a listless ne’er-do-well” (19:04)

The more literal translation of this part goes “a man like this, without ambitions or vitality.” It’s a nice turn of phrase, definitely, but I thought if I could localize it a bit it might evoke more of the right feeling. I thought it would be more typical in English to express this in terms of an adjective plus a noun describing the kind of person he’d appear to be, rather than saying he was without these qualities. From “without ambition” I got “ne’er-do-well” and from “without vitality” I got “listless.”–Towel

Tag list: @absolutebl @bengiyo @c1nto @come-back-serotonin @lurkingshan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @porridgefeast @sorry-bonebag @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[fickleminder]

the animal inside of you

Kirana bonds with a sea creature of her own at the aquarium, but the others have some Concerns.

I only just got around to reading the Aquarium event story yesterday so here’s a little drabble on what aquatic animal my F!OC might be paired with… 🤭

Sitting on a platform at the edge of the main tank, Kirana idly kicked her legs in the water as she brainstormed ideas for what Beel’s evil octopus could do to earn more Grimm. For such a spindly thing, it sure could rival the demon in terms of appetite.

A few of the more curious inhabitants of the tank swam closer to her while she sat there thinking, but none had really stuck around for long after watching their fill of the human.

Well, except for one.

Kirana giggled as her toes were tickled by the rainbow-colored creature, who playfully darted away when she wriggled her feet at it in response. It kept coming back to nudge at her legs, engaging her in what seemed like a mock fight, and its large eyes blinked excitedly at her when she managed to tap it with her feet.

The creature didn’t seem to have any major grievances with the aquarium; it was just bored and wanted to play, and Kirana was more than happy to indulge it.

“Kirana, the aquarium’s about to close!” Levi called out from somewhere behind her, his footsteps getting louder as he approached. “We can come back tomorrow and…”

The demon fell silent, so Kirana turned around to reply. “Okay, can you grab my shoes—”

“Don’t. Move.”

She immediately froze. Levi was staring at her, or more specifically at the tank, with wide-eyed horror, his palms facing out in a soothing gesture. Did he notice something dangerous that had shown up while she wasn’t looking? Kirana felt the creature she’d been playing with climb up her left calf and hug it reassuringly.

“Shit. Um, uhh, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay— LUCIFER HELP!”

“What is it now…” Lucifer marched over with a sigh. The rest of the group followed behind him, wondering what the commotion was. He took one look at the situation and stilled, his arm automatically shooting out to the side when Satan attempted to rush forward, blocking the other demon from any hasty movements.

“Guys, you are freaking me out. What is it?” Kirana’s mind was spinning. Was it a kraken? A megalodon? An ancient dinosaur?

“Smiting mantis shrimp,” Simeon answered, the calm smile on his face completely forced. “Native to the Celestial Realm, and an apex predator among aquatic beings of its size. It has claws that can literally punch a hole through walls and spear through the toughest of shells. Its rainbow-colored armor—”

“Oh, you mean this little guy?” Kirana reached down to pet said shrimp, who was as big and long as her entire leg. It waved its antennae in delight at the attention. “He’s such a sweetheart! I decided to call him Ali. Say hello, Ali!”

The crustacean’s eyes locked onto the group and it released its hold on Kirana to flex one of its large claws, daring them to come at it.

“I don’t understand…” Luke whimpered from behind a slack-jawed Solomon. “Kirana has nothing in common with that— that—”

“My Lord, we need to exercise extreme caution,” Barbatos solemnly advised the prince, who had grown steadily paler as Simeon described the creature.

Asmo tried holding eye contact with the rainbow monster to charm it into letting his favorite human go, but its large beady eyes made him crack first and look away with a shiver.

“Kirana, I’ve got your shoes right here.” Belphie held them up like an enticing treat. “Why don’t you come down and put them on and then we can all go home, hm?”

It was getting quite late so Kirana had to bid her new friend goodbye, but not without promising to come back and play again the next day. The second her feet touched the ground, Satan quickly bundled her up in his arms and planted himself between her and the tank, all while making hissing noises at it. Beel wordlessly put her shoes on for her.

“Take that, you stupid shrimp!” Mammon crowed as they made to leave. “Kirana belongs to us and don’t you forget it—”

Ali jabbed at the thick glass with a loud THUNK, creating a hairline fracture and causing Mammon to scream.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty One♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty One Warnings: profanity, threats, mentions of abuse Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty One]

“Valentino,” you snapped, Angel Dust’s hand still clutched in yours as you stalked over to the hideous moth man. 

“[name], no,” Angel hissed. “He’ll just-“ he glanced around nervously as he tugged you to a stop. “I mean, Charlie tried to stick up for me and it just made things worse so maybe you shouldn’t-“

“Angel, I hold far more authority over him than Charlie did,” you assured him, the princess's name turning sour on your tongue. “He can’t afford to hurt you again if I say no.” You patted his shoulder. “Trust me.”

Angel didn’t look assured, but bit his lip and nodded anyway.

“Yes, ángel?” Valentino drawled from behind you. You tensed up in disgust as the sickly sweet stench of his smoke filled the air. You spun around, forcing a malevolent smile onto your face.

“Listen, you sick bastard,” you chuckled, keeping your voice as calm a possible despite the profanities leaving your mouth. “I should have smited you for touching me just today- stomping on your head clearly wasn’t enough.” Your grin widened as you tapped the side of your own head, mocking the bandage wrapped around his skull. Angel looked at you in awe. “But since I have decided to be so generous and not get rid of you, the least you could do is treat this young man well.” You gestured to Angel Dust.

Valentino’s eyes narrowed in fury, but before he could say anything you grabbed him by the furs around his neck and pulled him down to your height.

“Listen, cunt,” you hissed. “You don’t do what I say- and I will know if you don’t, so don’t even try- then not only will I leave the Vees, I’ll crush you all one by one.” Your lips curled into a satisfied smile at the look of fury mixed with fear on his face. “How would you explain losing someone as valuable as me to Vox and Vel?”

Valentino stared at you for a second, eyes blazing, then straightened up and spat the cigar from between his lips. “Come on, angel baby,” he beckoned at Angel. “Let’s finish the shoot, now, hmm?” He shot another furious glance at you as you left, waving at them from the doorway.

Angel grinned at you, face flushing with ecstasy as the door shut. 

-

The door to the hotel lobby creaked open, spilling the first of the cold morning rays into the room. Charlie perked up as Angel Dust entered the room.

“Did you see her? What did she say? Oh my god, you missed so much after you left yesterday.” Charlie babbled as she grabbed Angel’s hands, leading him to the couch and sitting him down on it. Lucifer groaned, running his hands through his hair as he took another gulp from his coffee.

“What’d I miss, toots?” Angel Dust asked, and Charlie immediately launched into a retelling of everything Alastor had showed them.

“And where’s Smiles now?” He asked, squinting as he looked around the lobby.

“He’s disappeared,” Vaggie sighed, crossing her arms. “We haven’t seen him since last night.

“Good riddance,” Lucifer muttered.

Angel Dust stayed silent for a few seconds. “Not gonna lie, that doesn’t really sound like her.”

“Huh?”

“The recording Alastor showed ya. I don’t think she’d do that.”

“Hah!” Lucifer jabbed a finger at Charlie. “See! I told you that the bastard was lying.”

Charlie stood up, crossing her arms. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

Vaggie sighed. “Yeah, people can be- people turn out to be different from who you thought they were.” She looked away. Lucifer curled his hands into tight fists.

But he knew you. He loved you. And you’d loved him. And the fact that no one else would see, or listen, made fury scratch at the back of his throat, begging to be released. He sucked in a deep breath, whirling around to Angel Dust.

“But you saw her.”

Angel shrugged. “Yeah. She’s-“ he stopped, as he realized the gravity of his words. “I think she’s workin’ with the Vees now.”

“What?” Charlie spluttered. Angel Dust spread his hands helplessly.

“I saw her outside the studio, we smoked a cigarette together, and she told me she worked with Val. I’m assumin’ that means she’s workin’ with the rest of ‘em too.” He sighed. “I said, “but ya ain’t an overlord,” and she said somethin’ like…” he waved his hand around, “‘Not yet,’ or uh…’not for long.’ Said she was plannin’ to show up on the news again, be an overlord by the end of today.”

“What else happened?” Lucifer said quickly. Angel Dust looked at him.

“Well, I told her about the whole redemption thing, the hotel I mean, and she totally blew up in my face.” He looked at Charlie. “She said you ‘had some explainin’ to do,’ whatever that means.”

“You didn’t think to ask her?” Vaggie groaned.

“I did!” Angel Dust snapped. “An’ all she said was that Charlie would know what it means.”

Everyone looked at Charlie expectantly.

“D-don’t look at me!” She spluttered. “I’m as confused as the rest of you guys.” 

“Anything else happen?” Lucifer urged. Angel Dust shrugged.

“Nah, not really. She helped me out with Val, though.” He looked at Charlie. “Basically did what you did that day, tried to get him off my back, ya know. Except she did it, uh… how do I put this…” he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Better?”

“What’d she do?”

“She just threatened him a bit, put him in his place, ya know. Except this time it actually worked, so. Props to her.” 

Charlie chewed her nails as Angel Dust went up to his room. “What do you think she meant by me having a lot of explaining to do?”

“I don’t know, Apple Pie, which is why I need to find her and figure it out, okay?” Lucifer sighed, pulling her in for a hug. “Now, if she doesn’t show up soon, I’ll go looking for her this afternoon.”

“I’ll come with you,” Vaggie said. Lucifer grinned and patted her shoulder. 

“Thanks Maggie.”

Vaggie smiled tiredly. “Of course.”

[theadhddimsenion]

Some ideas for helluva boss episodes and short that I have had for both a long time and a short time.

Episodes.

Guardian @$$hole!. The plot revolves around blitz by some mistake getting his very own guardian angel and more specifically a power of the second sphere an angel specifically designed to kill demons and dark spirits. After blasting through the same wall that is nearly always destroyed and explaining that he wasn't here to kill them the angel confesses that he doesn't understand why his higher ups want him to guard a demon but he's not the type to question orders. The angel in contrast to a lot of the cast has a very solem and sacred energy to him feeling much more like how you would imagine an angelic warrior as opposed to the comical cherubs and the hedonistic adam being very dutiful and tact but the problem is that he is a power so that means that he is very smite first ask questions never and that poses a problem because now blitz has to make sure for example the angel doesn’t smite loona over making a sarcastic comment towards him and this only become a bigger and funnier problem as blitz tries to go through life with this seemingly invicable and perfectly moral angelic warrior always a few feet away from him. Eventually blitz has had enough when the angel stops him and his crew from doing their job but another problem is the fact that they can't force the angel to leave stolas mentioned that even a full strength goetia would struggle to overcome a power so they can't make him leave and he won't leave on his own as he is committed to his orders so the team try and think up ideas to make the angel leave throwing around ideas but none of them can think of anything that would work but as the angel absently mindedly goes through blitzs desk after blitz told him to wait in the office he finds out about veroskias hate party and finds his next target.

The next day everyone is happy that the angel seemingly left on his own but when loona goes to her phone she finds on the news that the angel was going on a rampage and headed towards veroskias Manison smashing through the streets of hell like the doom slayer not ever responding to some of the attacks. The gang immediately race after the him but nothing they do even slows his advance smashing his way through the Manison determined to find and smite veroskia for her disrespect towards the imp he had been assigned to and just as his sword is about to chop veroskia in half he finaly got his proper orders and stops his attack he notes how blitz and his found family risked their lives for someone who had done nothing but cause trouble for them and with that he admits that he had underestimated helldorns potential for righteousness and after thanking them for helping him see beyond the world he was raised in he flies off back to heaven and the episode ends.

A few other ideas I had for episodes that are much less fleshed out are.

1. The team having to help a seemingly immortal human with (cw) assisted suicide.

2. Some alternative ideas for ways to teach stolas the errors of his ways pre mastermind such as having to deal with his angel counterpart shem malaphiatis (I definitely got that wrong) and his prefect "yaoi fanfic" esqu relationship with his lizard cherub boyfriend named bolt and trying to spitefully ruin their relationship out of envy but eventually apologizing for his behavior and learning his lesson.

3. A stolitz bodyswap episode inspired by a piece of fanart.

4. Various crossovers with franchises like doom, devil may cry, bayonetta, supernatural, ghostbusters, scp foundation, owl house, spawn, hellboy, trench crusade, Buffy the vampire slayer, bendy, my little pony, good omens, etc etc.

5. Ronaldo coming back for revenge in a role reversed verison of ghostfuckers where blitz supports millie this time.

6. A bunch of ideas about an episode where the boys are the smart and mature ones and the girls are the ones who need to be saved.

7. Octativa doing some detective work.

8. Stolitz is having their first healthy date at ozzies along side m&m as fizz and ozzies way of making it up to them after what happened last time but while couples are enjoying a nice double date the b team consisting of loona, fizz, octativa (who is here because while she still resents her father a little she isn't willing to let him die as proven in sinsmas) and vassago have to fend off an army of dhorks agents now fitted with proper weapons (they still have some edo period stuff on them of course but it's modified with sci fi gadgetry), Stella's personal legion of actual goetian legionaries but most of them couldn't stand her and quit so she hired a bunch of half rate Mercs to blostier her forces led by an exhausted striker and an army of mammons fizz bots led by the one from loo loo land! Bonus! Fizz gets to pull a megamind button of doom and defeat his past by blowing up an evil robot verison of himself.

9. Veroskia gets captured by the dhorks and the i.m.p team reluctantly save her with blitz and Vero finaly putting their past behind them once and for all.

10. Veroskia learning she had a half human (cambrion) son and having to deal with her own pre development loona. With gags like who I'm gonna call Daimen sarcasticly asking if blitz is his father.

11. Another one with veroskia has her fizz and blitz all work together to bring down glitz and glam.

12. One that involves the team getting stranded on earth of at least a week.

13.loona getting saved from hells animal control.

14. The team going up against a human magic user.

15. A trip to the real world non Canon episode where blitz argues then makes out with Brandon.

Shorts.

1. The i.m.p employees training tapes.

2. Paimons guide to daddying ft. Cash buckso and crimson knowlastname.

3. Loona vs emberlynns brother.

4. Mille vs her pregnancy. 0-1

5. Barbies adventures with Jimmy.

6. The team get summoned by a demonic cult and have a spa day.

7. They go to the shinto underworld and meet/annoy the local demons such as oni. Moxxie gers really into that anime about the singing music programs.

8. The team have a trip to Europe and meet the friend of the famous Lincoln imp who warms them about keeping those close to you safe and the dangers of messing with angels.

9. X fails the adventures of the dhorks.

10. The return of blitzs little goat friend!

11. The slur penguins strik back feat Andy!

12. Millie was wrong ghost are real and blitz finally gets to fuck them!

13. Loona just has one nice day out.

14. The life of Pringle.

15. Pixar bloopers!

16. Little stolas and little stella doing a chowder and pani skit.

17. Blitz recapping the series with his horse ocs.

18. Blitz goes to equestria and has to be forced to leave like in Mabel land (theirs potential for a crossover there) after fluttershy reassures him.

19. Sally gets an adventure all to herself in the hellish world of babysitting m&m's kid who is a demon child in more ways then one!

20. Bltiz hires a doom imp and things sure do happen!

21. Mammons sales pitches!

22. The cherubs trying to help people who really can't be helped.

23. A day in the life of your average imp.

[azacat-alias-lost]

Okay so artblock is being a bitch rn but i just had a BRAINBLAST of a crossover au idea

@sinisterspoon you're gonna lose your shit about this

So picture this. The TF2 Red mercs are getting back from yet another fight with Blu, and yknow its the typical banter n stuff. Then, out of NOWHERE, two people crash through their ceiling. One is a large, freckled man with whitening hair and a horribly stained blue sweater, knocked out cold. The other is a thin, dark-skinned man with salt and pepper hair and oh my god thats a lot of eyes. Holy shit. And they're all open. Dazed, unconscious, but open. He also has a stab wound that is healing unnaturally fast.

Medic is like "Well we should probably make sure they don't die" And so he does. He takes them into his clinic and is going to heal them, and maayyybe do a few experiments along the way. But before he can even make the first incision (he chose the smaller guy), the man's hand shoots up and grabs his wrist. In a voice tinged with the static of a tape recorder, he whispers..

"Where am I? I Know for a fact this isn't London"

Eventually, they both wake up, recover, etc. The Mercs are very intrigued as to where they came from, y'know with falling out of the sky and all. As they hang around each other more, it becomes exceedingly clear that they are Not Human. Fog, Knowing, the way the cameras move to watch them... Heavy is the first to point it out, and Engie is the first to confront them directly.

The Magnus Institute, London. The Fears. The Apocalypse.

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood are sitting at the table with 9 unrealized avatars of the Slaughter.

What do they do? Well naturally, they ask the two to help in the Gravel Wars. They give them gear, test their abilities, and train them in combat. They connect them to the respawn machine, and familiarize them with the proceedings. The first (and only) time Medic tries to experiment on Jon, he nearly bites his arm off. Yeah, the end of the world kinda made him feral.

And so two new Mercs are created.

JONATHAN SIMS: THE INTEL - The Intel can certainly fight, although their damage is very weak. Mostly specializing in overseeing the battlefield, they give information and locations to members of their team. They have a spot on the map that they can go to view cameras, picking off Spies and warning of Snipers and Engineer's turrets. In this zone, they cannot be harmed, but no one else is able to get in range to be harmed by them. They also have the ability, (once per game) to pick one person on the enemy team and just absolutely obliterate them. Smite them, if you will.

MARTIN BLACKWOOD: THE WISP - A master of stealth, the Wisp has the ability to float around the battlefield like a cloud of mist. Just barely visible, they can hide in almost any place. The moment they materialize to fight, however, they become vulnerable. Extremely vulnerable. Their damage hits like a tank, but their defense is very poor. After materializing, they have a cooldown before they can turn to mist again. Their weapon of choice is a damage-heavy knife, much sturdier and more jagged than Spy's switchblade.

This is NOT what they thought their Somewhere Else would be like. But hell, it beats being stuck at the Supernatural Horror Collecting Factory.

"Where you go, I go."

"Always."

Anyway, please let me know what you think!! This has been rotating in my mind for a little bit and might be the best crossover I've ever come up with

[razrogue]

Baby, You're The Devil I Know (Ascended Astarion)

Ascended Astarion x Tav

Tags: Evil Tav, Post Rite of Profane Ascension, Canon Divergence, Light Angst, A Little Hurt and A Little Comfort

Chapter Summary: Astarion finally makes it back to their camp, hopeful that he would be able to make things right with the only person he wanted to share his future with

Notes: The music is winding down and we're finally at the last chapter! These two are flawed but so devoted and romantic, they deserve each other. I appreciate every one who has enjoyed and engaged with this small glimpse into the relationship of the Spawn turned Ascendant and the Assassin he fell hopelessly in love with 🫶🏾

Read what happened immediately after the ritual on AO3 Read all 4 chapters of what unfolded in that aftermath on AO3

Camp wasn't particularly lively but there seemed to be a buzz in the air nevertheless. He knew Gan had definitely returned judging by the mostly relieved looks on almost everyone's faces. He wasn't sure what she'd said to everyone, if she'd even said anything about their argument in the tavern. Minthara had not greeted him by smiting so maybe Gan had kept everything to herself.

When he'd stopped by temporarily the other day to drop off the staff and let everyone know they were okay, he could sense a change. Shadowheart had run over, her expression beset with worry when she didn't see Gan with him. Gale stood outside his tent, a faint smile dragged across his lips when he heard Astarion say Gan was fine, but his eyes wore a hint of sadness.

It wasn't lost on Astarion how almost everyone's behavior towards him had shifted. Shadowheart and Gale seemed weary and cautious, almost sad. Minsc was always in his own world while Boo seemed more prickly than usual. Jaheira's expression was her usual steeliness but she had made it a point to tell him how they'd be cozy neighbors after everything was dealt with. Lae'zel scoffed at his shortsightedness, as she called it, but she was behaving no different than before towards him.

Minthara though? She was a surprise. She seemed genuinely happy for him. Happy that he had seized the power and struck down Cazador. No chastisement, no sad looks, no veiled threats. Just congratulations and genuine happiness.

Sure these people weren't necessarily his friends but that moment in camp made him feel like the camaraderie they'd been building and developing over their journey had been conditional. Of course he was one of the gang until he'd done something they didn't exactly approve of. The ritual and its outcome seemed to bring out a side of nearly everyone that would have been devastating to him under his old circumstances. The spawn might have been hurt, lashed out at them, even shed a few tears over it when he was alone on a hunt perhaps. But now? Now it was merely annoying. Anyone who really mattered to him, they supported him. And their loyalty would be rewarded.

Her tent was empty but he figured she had to be in her little spot. The group had been camping near the port by an abandoned tower off the river. A tower that despite its dilapidated appearance, she’d claimed as her own. For thinking, for scheming, he wasn’t sure what for but she’d spent some nights there once they’d decided to lay low here. He carefully made the climb up, carefully stepping upon each rickety step, and found her perched on a precarious ledge overlooking the water.

She didn't even turn to see who'd come up after her, knowing it could only be him.

“So who am I talking to? The great and powerful vampire ascendant?” Her voice cracked a little as she tried and failed to mask the hurt she was feeling, “or has my Plum come to talk to me?”

Astarion sighed. She had supported him. Even when the rest of the companions were displeased he was even considering usurping Cazador's ritual, Gan stood up for and beside him. She never said to him he was wrong or right. She simply asked him if this is what he wanted and trusted him to do what worked for him. For the first time in a long time, he was free to really choose for himself. Astarion hadn’t had this sort of freedom in centuries and it was frightening at first. He’d even asked her outright what he should do. And Gan simply told him, you do what you need to do, I’ll be there whatever you decide.

So as he tried to push past the awful words Cazador was saying, deciding in that moment what he wanted, he turned to her for help. To help him reclaim his freedom and never have to live in fear, once and for all.

I can do this but I need your help.

She didn’t chastise. She didn’t mock. She did what she always did. Whenever they turned to her in their times of need, looking for guidance, she always asked if it was what they wanted. Some might have thought it foolish. Many would have said you should try to persuade your friends, especially when they’re faced with huge life decisions. But that wasn’t her style. Her style was always to leave their decision or mess making to them. It wasn’t her life to live, she'd told them and they’d have to live with their actions. She said the same to Wyll. To Karlach. To Lae’zel. To Shadowheart. To Gale. And now, it was his turn. He had to have faith in his choices and that was all she ever pushed anyone to consider. For better or worse.

She stood there, looking at him intently, only asking him one thing: is this what you want?

Cazador was in shock as he trembled on the ground, trying his best to get Astarion to walk away, foolishly thinking his belittlement would shake him like it had numerous times before. But he was different now. He stood there before him, dagger in hand, the same one Astarion recognized as the one he used to write the infernal on his back. Upon realizing what he held in his hand, Astarion knew exactly what he wanted to do.

The rest of their companions protested vehemently and their cries went ignored. He ignored everything around him, save for her.

Help me do this. Please.

Gan simply nodded and proceeded to let their tadpoles mingle until their minds intertwined. More than their minds really, their beings had become like one. Her eyes were his eyes. Their memories and emotions were one in that moment. They both drowned out everything but each other and began.

Astarion realized what he was blinded to earlier as they faced off in the inn. He didn’t need to compel her. He never did because she was always there. By choice. A choice he’d almost taken from her. Thinking about it, he knew where she stood. What she wanted. And for some reason, whether valid or foolish, she chose to be there with him.

Well he certainly didn't want to admit that to her just then. She was already giving him a look that he was beginning to waver under. Her eyes could melt him, probably literally if she put her mind to it. She trusted him and in a power filled haze he almost destroyed that.

"Yes, well there's no rush," he finally remarked, trying to appear nonchalant as he looked at his nails, "things can be sorted out after we've brought the brain under our control."

Gan closed her eyes, contemplating this “apology” he'd conjured up.

The two of them had really been through a lot, as far as their respective lives, and together with each other over the past few months. Both had done things and endured things in their lives that others wouldn't understand. When they finally started showing each other glimpses of who they really were underneath, they realized they'd found someone who could understand. Someone who saw the darkness and instead of asking them to come to the light or running away, they opened their arms and eventually their hearts. They embraced the messy, the bloody, the scary, and the shadows. They saw those raw edges and didn't say they needed to be sanded away. Instead they were all in for each other, ready to sharpen and hone, acknowledging the edges and that the world would just have to adjust to them or move out of their path.

She held up her hand, placing it gently in his open waiting palm, while he helped her up to her feet. He leaned back against the wall as she stepped in front of him, finally resting his hands on her waist.

As her brown eyes peered up at him, he cursed to himself that their argument was why her normally alert eyes were puffy and tinged with redness. Her cheeks still slightly damp from tears that he'd caused her to shed. He'd strike down anyone who brought harm to his Darling One but what to do when it was him. They'd both pushed each other but he didn't care who was at fault, he just wanted to make sure she was okay. He wanted her to feel better and red eyes and tears, no matter whether they were fresh or not, were far from that goal. Gan wrapped her arms tightly around him and rested her head against his chest.

"I don't like seeing tears in your eyes, love," he finally said as he gently stroked her back. She remained quiet, choosing to relish the comfort and closeness in this moment. He deserved to be slapped, maybe a small reminder of what Bloodthirst in the hands of an unholy assassin was capable of, but right then she just wanted his arms around her.

The two of them stood there embracing each other quietly for a few minutes until he stirred and raised her chin up so he could look at her. He needed to look her in the eyes. Needed her to understand. He did not like feeling the way he was right now and it unsettled him a little that this had affected him the way it did. He was the Vampire Ascendant, something new, something else, and he didn’t want to be burdened by this regret that was bubbling up in him.

"Do you hear me?" Though his expression and voice were stern, his touch was far gentler this time, nothing like the painful hold back at the tavern.

Her eyes searched his face, noting how his brow furrowed and his jaw held tension. He was remorseful, or at least she hoped he was, and for now she'd let things be.

"Behave yourself and you won't see them," Gan countered before closing her eyes and leaning into his touch.

"I guess that depends on you then, doesn't it," Astarion quipped before pressing a kiss to her forehead. Gan grabbed hold of his side strongly enough that he quickly uprighted himself, hissing loudly through gritted teeth as he glared down at her. His reflection in her brown eyes surrounded by a quiet ferociousness; that defiant side of her peeking through the sadness that had covered her face mere moments ago.

Astarion huffed and shrugged his shoulders, freeing himself from her grip and shaking off the moment. "Well now that that's dealt with, shall we descend this death trap of a structure and get back to solid ground?" With a swift smack to her ass, he released her and motioned towards the ragged stairs.

This partnership of two troubled souls who'd traversed the darkness alone before meeting each other was one of many firsts for both of them. By choice, hand in hand, they decided they would walk off into the future by each other's sides. A future they were seizing for themselves and woe to anyone who dared to get in their way.

[sulky-valkyrie]

Prompt: "I want to be there when you get what's coming to you."

For Fenders if you are so inspired <3

hallooo beloved! have 700 words of pre-relationship something for @dadrunkwriting

"-what's coming to you."

The words were muffled and distant as Anders swam back to consciousness. "What?" he asked. Well, tried to. Instead it came out a low inarticulate grunt, followed by reflexively spitting blood from his mouth.

He made a second attempt. "What?" This time, the word actually made it past his split lips. He reached up to wipe his face, and found he couldn't. His hands had been tied to the armrests. What happened?

"I said I remembered telling you I wanted to be there when you got what's coming to you." Fenris sat to his left, and his voice was full of bitter amusement. "I confess, this wasn't what I had in mind." He was tied up as well, and with far more rope than Anders.

"Where's Hawke?" He asked thickly. Everything was blurry, and Justice was gone. No, not gone; just quiet, like a man asleep next door, only next door was still somewhere in his mind. Something both sweet and bitter clung to the back of his throat, a combination of magebane and… perhaps deepstalker venom? Whatever it was, it made him feel sluggish, even as his thoughts raced in a body he could barely control. Is this how it feels for Justice?

Fenris continued as if he hadn't heard him. "I thought it would be in the Gallows. I thought you'd lose yourself to… him. That I'd have to cut you down myself. Some nights, I dreamed about it." He shook himself. "Nothing like this, just a misstep and a price paid."

Anders looked around and tried to focus. They were in a basement. A Chantry basement. He could see the stylized sunburst pattern on the robes peeking from one of the crates. "Where's Hawke?" he asked again.

"The Keep, most likely, for all the good it'll do," Fenris answered, still sounding dazed, or maybe in shock. Blood trickled from bruised and broken skin on his cheekbone. Few things could leave mark like that, and gauntleted fist was the most likely source. "The Templars only obeyed the Viscount's orders because he never gave any that they saw a reason to ignore. Until now."

Panic was starting to rise in his chest, making his heart pound, sending whatever was left of the poison to his liver, where his Warden constitution would cleanse it from his body faster than their captors could possibly expect. The fabled Warden stamina of popular rumor was only one of the many side effects of the Joining, and, for once, he found himself glad of his order's secretive nature.

He scratched his cheek on the edge of his shoulder as the fog cleared. The magebane would still linger, of course; the taint had no effect on a mage's connection to the Fade, and therefore, couldn't undo any damage done to it. "What happened?" He asked.

Fenris glanced at him curiously. "You don't remember?"

Anders shook his head, then stopped as the bile rose in his throat. "Alrik. We - I almost… then I ran." He frowned as another chunk of memory slotted in place. "Then you followed me?"

"Right into the most ill-timed black market deal in all of Thedas," Fenris confirmed. "A dozen lyrium-drunk Templars and a dozen more Carta. I thought you would turn and slaughter all of them." Fenris paused, then added, "I was ready to let you, after what he said to that girl. Ready to mop up whatever was left of them, and you. But you didn't. You were… " he trailed off uncomfortably. "You asked me once if I ever thought about killing myself."

"What's that got to - oh." A fractured recollection kneeling in front of them, ready to pay for what they'd nearly become, what they'd nearly done. Weapons had been leveled at them in surprise, then the smites had rained down, battering them senseless, and accepting it for the just punishment they deserved, all before a streak of ghostly blue had cut through them, rending flesh and breaking bones.

His memories stopped there, and Fenris' voice dragged him back to the basement. "I watched you decide to die, and I couldn't allow it," he said softly. "I wanted to be there when you got what was coming to you. And I was." His markings flared, and he stood up as the ropes fell through him, then reached over to yank Anders' hands free. "And now, they will have it returned tenfold."

[blood-red-hummingbee]

The End...?

Three's a good number :)

~~~

It had only been a couple hours, but the sense of relief that rushed through her at returning to Twisted Wonderland was immense. After her first few trips through Dark Mirror portals, the woozy feeling that came with the rush of magic went away. Her family, however, was feeling it heavy. Even the dog!

They had sat down, looking around the Mirror Chamber in awe.

Rose was just reveling in being home.

Her joy didn’t last long though, Crowley sweeping into the Chamber in a flurry of feathers. “Miss. Prefect! What is the meaning of this?!”

She tried her best not to let her dislike of the man show. For three years he’d put off sending her home, to the point that she’d given up. Not to mention all the shit she’s been through because of him. She took a deep calming breath. “I’m back.”

He huffed. “Yes, but why?”

She crossed her arms, glaring at the man. “Because.”

His glowing green eyes narrowed to slits. “Prefect, even my bountiful kindness has limits! It’s one day to graduation! If it were just you I could make do, but you’ve brought people with you! I can’t allow this!”

She grit her teeth. She’d figured there’d be a time difference between the two worlds, but graduation hadn’t been for a week! It’s… honestly better than she’d expected considering time had been frozen before. At least a couple hours in her world didn’t equal thousands in this one. Focusing on her current problem, anger surged up in her chest.

“Are you kidding me?”

This was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

“Are you actually serious right now?”

She was going to die.

“You horrible, narcissistic prick! I have dealt with so much shit because of you! From the Overblots, to organizing events and handling your duties while you fucked off to God knows where, not to mention the thousands of thaumarks I spent - on a limited allowance, might I remind you - on renovating that dump of a dorm; you owe me so much more than letting me and my family stay in the house that I made livable with my own two hands!”

He was going to smite her on the spot. Bravo, genius, you do the impossible just to die within minutes of returning, stranding your family alone in another world. Fantastic.

She waited for the blow to come, but it never did. Instead, the bird man said, “One night.” and disappeared. Falling to her knees she tittered nervously.

“Who was that?” Her mami asked, a confused look on her face. 

“Oh, no one. Just the headmage.”

Her mother stared at her for a moment, contemplating existence. “I see.”

At that moment, Jack came racing in like his tail was on fire. He immediately spotted Rose, still on the floor, the dog on the lead attached her wrist nudging her worriedly. 

In a heartbeat, he scooped her up, hugging her tightly. Her dog, Loki, started barking, startled by the sudden appearance of her boyfriend, but she didn’t pay him any mind, just enjoying being in Jack’s arms again (even though it’s only been about four hours for her).

Behind them, her mother cleared her throat, shooting Rose a look. Oh. Yeah. She regretfully eased herself out of his hold, though didn’t let go completely, and turned to her mami. “Right. So, I remember what I promised, but in my defense, I didn’t two and a half years ago.”

Seeming to just notice the other people in the room (and the dog intensely sniffing his pant leg and shoe), Jack blinked and looked at Rose, confused. “Uh… what?”

She giggled nervously. “Well, I promised Mami I wouldn’t date ‘til I was eighteen. Though, I am almost nineteen…”

Her mami faltered, her face scrunching up. “Right. I forgot about that…”

Rose rushed over and gave her a hug, yanking Loki away from where he was trying to get Jack’s attention.

Noticing the puppy, Jack knelt down and was immediately attacked with kisses. “Ack!”

Rose gave a watery laugh - when had she started tearing up? - and knelt down to help him. “Loki, off!”

The large puppy listened, sitting back and utterly content. She helped Jack up, subtly rubbing at her eyes. “Uh… phew, okay. Mami, this is Jack. Jack, this is Mami, my brothers and Loki.”

At his name, the dog’s tail started thumping the floor, and he yipped happily.

She watched as Mami’s eyes snagged on Jack’s ears and tail for a second, but ultimately regarded him with approval. “It’s nice to meet you. It better stay that way.”

His ears swiveled and his eyes went wide for a moment, but that was all there was to his moment of surprise, before he stuck his hand out for a shake. “Of course. I can’t imagine it any other way.”

Mami nodded and shook his hand. “Well. Today has been long, and I’m still unsure it’s even been real, but how about some food?”

~

Wheeee, onto to more brainrot!

@screamintoad, @babyghoul138, @skriblee-ksk, @gimmeurmoneyagh

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Lost and Found

Beatrice loses...and finds Zevlor. SFW.

Seeing many familiar faces at the Last Light Inn was comforting to Beatrice.

Then she spoke with them, and her heart shattered.

“A pity. You pulled them out of one death-trap only for me to land them in this one.” Cerys said, still looking over the cleric and her party.

“What happened? Where’s Zevlor?”

Moonmaiden, please hear me. Please, not him. Not him.

“Gone, and more than half the others with him. We were ambushed in the cursed lands---cultists of this Absolute. Zevlor froze, begged us to surrender, but…they were toying with us. Making examples. And we’d had enough of taking it. Those of us who cut free just kept running ‘til we found this place. The others…maybe the cult got them. Maybe the curse.”

No.

No.

No. No. No. NO.

She smiled despite feeling like I’m about to sob in the middle of nowhere. “Have hope. You survived---I’m sure the others did too.”

Cerys glared at her. “Zevlor had hope. It didn’t save him. A little sense will serve us better, I think.” Her gaze softened slightly. “But…thanks. It was sweet of you to try.”

Alfira then told her about how Rolan (the grumpy one who’s currently plastered and hates me for convincing his siblings to stay in the grove) saved her and the children from the cultists.

“Zevlor betrayed us.”

“Zevlor froze.”

“He’s gone like the rest of them.”

“I hope he rots.”

Many nights afterwards, both in the Shadow-Cursed Lands and around Roseymorn Monastery, she cried herself to sleep.

Always thinking of him.

***

What the fuck?

When Beatrice, Wyll, Halsin, and Gale entered yet another exceedingly creepy room in the ilithid colony, she was not sure what she was expecting to find.

She did not expect to find her missing lover in a pod.

“Zevlor!”

Thank you, Moonmaiden. He still lives. Thank you.

Nor did she expect that when she touched his pod, hoping that it would release him, she would see his memories of the Descent. Zevlor. My poor love. I’m so sorry. I promise…I swear to you…you will never go through that again. Never.

“There must be a release surely?” Gale asked impatiently, glancing around and then pointed. “That’s it!”

Without a second thought, Beatrice hurried to the controls and released the prisoners and a few mind flayers. Whatever, we’ll kill them.

“Zev—”

“ENOUGH! MY MIND IS MY OWN!” Zevlor screamed as he smited a prone mind flayer.

Ooo that’s hot.

NO, BEA. FOCUS.

After the mind flayers and intellect devourers were taken care of by her party and the freed prisoners, she rushed to Zevlor’s side, taking his hands in hers.

My love, what happened to you?

“Hells…I didn’t think I was going to make it. Thank you…”

She squeezed his hands and tried (and failed) to stop herself from crying. “Zev, are you alright? What happened?”

He continued as if he had not heard her. “I…owe you an explanation. Much more than that. But first, please…The others. The ambush---tell me they survived.”

Oh no.

Oh fuck.

“They found refuge.” Beatrice explained, still holding his hands. “But what the hells happened out there, Zev?”

“You’ve heard some of it, I’m sure. That I froze, or broke, or some other lie that is kinder than the truth. We were ambushed by cultists, yes. And then I heard…Her. Their false god, whispering promises in my mind.” Fucking hells, he was being enthralled. “I would be a paladin again---with a god’s purpose, a god’s power. Everything I needed to protect my people…and you.” Gods, Zev. “And all the while the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me, while I imagined myself their savior. By the time I regained my senses, it was too late. I did not just surrender to the Absolute. For a moment, I welcomed it.”

No.

“Zev, listen to me. You were being enthralled—” She began but he shook his head.

“It would be nice to think so. But whatever these monsters twist us into…I believe it begins in us.”

Beatrice opened her mouth to tell him he’s wrong, but he shook his head again.

“I won’t make excuses. I can’t make amends. But I know something of what you came to do---I want to help, if you’ll let me.” Anything. “Ketheric is below. He thinks you’re no longer a menace.” There’s the fire in his eyes. Those beautiful flames I want to get lost in. “Descend and show him how wrong he is.”

A breathless “yes” was all she could manage without letting her emotions overwhelm her.

“Good girl.” He murmured so softly that at first, she did not think she heard it. Then he cleared his throat. “If there are any more survivors to be found, I’ll find them---and lead them out of this place.”

She nodded, knowing that her time with him was coming to an end. We need to find Ketheric. Kill his undead ass.

And then find Zev and tell him it wasn’t his fault.

“Promise you’ll find me after. Promise!” Beatrice stared into the flaming eyes she loved. “Promise, Zev!”

He gave her hands a squeeze and then let them go. “I promise. Now go, Bea. Finish him.”

I am the Moonmaiden’s righteous fury.

For my lady, my love, and everyone---Ketheric will die.

[rems-writing]

Easter drabble

Pairing: bunny hybrid!Seonghwa × witch afab!reader

Summary: You went back to Wonderland to do your oldest sister a solid. You came back with the cutest bunny ever

Warning(s): Cursing, mentions of being controlled and manipulated, mentions of hunting and killing

Genre: Fluff with a bit of angst. But mainly fluff

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society

"Why the fuck are we in Wonderland again?" You asked your sister as you walked alongside both her and your other sister. "It's not for me. It's for Zelena. Lately, she's been stressed since she feel she hasn't given little Robin the childhood she deserves even though it isn't true." Regina explained.

You were the youngest of the Mills family. Regina Mills was the middle child, the mayor of Storybrooke and the Good Queen. Zelena Mills was the oldest of the three of you and the Wicked Witch. The Good Witch was already taken so Zelena stuck to her original title despite not being wicked anymore.

"I mean the little girl seems fine to me. She's always smiling and telling me how Zelena is a good mom. So why go through all this trouble?" You asked Regina and the queen shrugged. "I'm not too sure honestly. But hey. She did help us with that one mission so consider this like an IOU or something." You nodded firmly and shrugged off any more questions you had.

As you trekked through the seemingly restored landscape, you tried to lock away the painful memories that pertained to this realm.

There was a reason you ran away from here and became a wanderer.

You zoned out for a few minutes until you heard a twig snap. You immediately stood back-to-back with Regina as you both summoned fireballs in your hands. You were alert and prepared. Something rustled in the tall grass above you and the two of you set your eyes on it.

"I know you don't need the reminder since you grew up here, but be prepared, sis. Just because this realm is ruled by good people now doesn't mean that the dangers here stopped lurking around." Regina advised you and you nodded firmly in agreement. A head popped out of the grass and you were ready to aim

Until you saw two large pink bunny ears poking out of the top of the critter's head. Or should I say

The hybrid's head.

You were no stranger to hybrids, but Regina was. Hence why you stepped in between her and the quivering bunny. His big boba like eyes were shiny and almost brimming with tears. He seemed so lost and you'd punch yourself if you ever saw a tear go down his pretty face.

"Let me handle this."

Regina nodded slowly and diminished her fireball before stepping away a bit upon hearing your voice. You stepped forward and the bunny relaxed a bit yet remained apprehensive at your form.

He knew you. Or knew of you. After all, you still remained the most powerful person in all of Wonderland. His fluffle cowered in fear every time you walked past them. They heard rumors that you changed. They didn't believe it. Or at least half of his fluffle didn't believe it. Three other bunnies believed it. He was the only one that was debating.

Until you reached out and pet his ears, lightly patting down the soft pink fur.

The bunny relaxed under your touch and started thumping his foot a bit. His tail twitched and he visibly relaxed. He cursed himself internally for giving in so easily. Then again, he was a bunny. And perhaps his subconscious wanted to trust you.

"Hey. I'm sorry if we both scared you. We're on a mission right now and we happened to run into you. You know who we are huh?" You saw the bunny nod cutely, finding it endearing as his ears flopped along with his head.

"She's the Good Queen and you're the Demonic Ace."

A weak chuckle escaped at your title and he grew afraid since he thought you were going to smite him for messing up. When you saw the fear in his eyes, you sighed. "I may be the Demonic Ace, but I've turned my life around. Merlin cured me of my self-inflicted curse and our mother is long gone. So it's ok. We're the good guys now."

Regina saw the way you looked heartbroken and her own heart felt pain when your voice wavered as you tried to reassure him that you were a good person. Cora may have turned her life around in the Underworld, but it didn't excuse the pain and torture you went through when you used to live here and make Wonderland a living hell thanks to her. Stepping forward, it was her turn to speak.

"You look like you're on the run from something. May we help?" She asked him gently and he nodded quickly. He pointed behind him and whispered shakily.

"The Queen of Hearts may be gone, but some of her card soldiers still remain since they don't like the new rulers. They went rogue and they're rabid. Like... Lost Boy rabid."

You grimaced and you felt your powers rise to the surface of your palms. However, you remained calm. "Where's the rest of your fluffle? The queen will protect you. Are they hunting you down?" He quickly nodded.

"Our leader was taken by them and they won't stop until they kill all of us. Please help me!" He was crying now and you felt the urge to hug him yet you stood still and just watched him with sad eyes. Then he surged forward and hugged you tightly, which caught you off guard. Nonetheless, you hugged him back and glared at Regina when she sent you a teasing look.

"What's your name and what's your leader's name? We will help you." You asked the pink bunny and tried not to blush when the sweet critter nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck.

"Our leader's name is Hongjoong. My name is Seonghwa."

You smiled at him gently and held his face carefully when the bunny looked at you with shiny eyes. "Well it's nice to meet you, Seonghwa. The queen's name is Regina and I'm Y/N. Now go with her and lead her to where the rest of your fluffle is. I'll track down the card soldiers and rescue your leader. Ok?" The bunny nodded and reluctantly let you go.

"Be careful please."

You cooed softly at the way he was so concerned about you and you patted the top of his head gently. He giggled and you just about combust with cute aggression.

"I will."

With that, you teleported to the deepest parts of Wonderland to rescue this proclaimed leader of the hybrid's fluffle.

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

It was a mess.

Well, the rescue went fine. You took down the card soldiers with ease.

It was getting the orange furred bunny back to the location of Seonghwa's fluffle that made it a mess.

Hence, the way that Seonghwa was scolding Hongjoong when you came back with him covered in bites and scratches. Regina was busy telling tales of her adventures to the other bunnies to quell their fears while you were in the corner healing your wounds. After the loudness settled down, you saw a familiar head of pink fur hop over to you and sit in front of you. You smiled weakly upon seeing his pout when he gave you a once-over.

"Joong sends his apologies. He would've done it himself like I advised him to, but he feels embarrassed." He took the rag from you and patted your face gently.

Those card soldiers were a bit strong.

"It's ok. I forgive him. And I don't really blame him for what he did to me. But hey. At least I proved to the rest of your fluffle that I'm trustworthy."

Seonghwa nodded and hugged you again. "Thank you for protecting us." He said softly as he rubbed your back. "It's no problem. All within a day's work I guess." You reassured him. He then looked at you. His eyes were sparkling with wonder.

"Is Storybrooke nice? My fluffle and I heard about that place and we tried to find a way to get there but to no avail." You nodded and he smiled. "Can we go with you and Regina? Please?!" You were about to answer when you saw the others crowd around you with sparkling eyes as well. You saw the approval on Regina's face and nodded when you looked at him once again.

"Yes you can."

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

That was months ago. You recalled that day randomly as you sat in your new apartment that overlooked the quaint town of Storybrooke. As you stood there and leaned against the railing of your balcony, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and you saw the familiar mop of pink fur nuzzle your neck and give light kisses.

You fell in love with Seonghwa and he returned your feelings.

"Hey."

He muttered against your skin and you greeted him back softly.

"Did you finally escape little Robin trying to tug at your ears after screaming over the fact that the Easter bunny does indeed exist in excitement?" You teased him and he blushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah. The rest of the guys are currently hiding right now. Did you seriously have to tell Zelena's kid that there were eight Easter bunnies? I figured this favor we're doing for you was easy but it isn't. And it doesn't help that Wooyoung is being a little shit by helping her, especially with Yeosang."

"Well can you blame her? Orange, pink, blue, purple, yellow, black, and brown are pretty common colors for bunny hybrids. But indigo? That's rare."

As you listed off the fur colors of Hongjoong, your lover, Yunho, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho, you can't help but giggle at the thought of poor Yeosang and his uniquely colored indigo fur. Seonghwa simply sighed and held you closer to him.

"Happy Easter, my jack of spades."

"Happy Easter, bun."

[accultant]

Name: Iago Darlington

Nickname(s): Ia, Clover, Sunshine

Relationship Status: Single (Default) and pushing my Wylliago agenda with most of the hypotheticals here

Gender: No, thank you.

Romantic Orientation: Bisexual / demisexual

Preferred Pet Names: For themselves- They'll pretend to dislike them all and will require you go through a vetting process in order to find the Best One if you absolutely insist. They'll critique your choices with a little blush on their face. The pinker their ears get, the more they like it. Not that they would ever admit, but their absolute favorite is when Wyll half-ironically, half-affectionately calls them 'Sunshine'. They would Smite anyone else who tried to call them that. For others- genuine, sweet pet names are very, very rare. They'll teasingly call their most liked companions a nickname on occasion (Wyll gets 'Golden Boy,' Astarion gets some variation of 'bat', Puck gets 'Dandelion', etc.), but not so much in a romantic way. Unless alone. And even then, very rarely. Once a blue moon, Iago will call their partner "my love" or "my heart", very quietly, easily missed. They will not acknowledge it again.

Opinion on True Love: Rare, if it exists at all. They see True (romantic) Love as something that might exist, but surely not in their case ('What would be the odds?').

Opinion on Love at First Sight: As someone who has trained themselves to be suspicious of and afraid of everyone they meet, absolutely not. Unrealistic.

How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: Not at all until after they're already romantically involved. Even then, it is rarely anything traditionally romantic. Their romance most often comes out as their display of trust- they will let down their guard with you, hold your hands, tell you secrets unprompted and give you (admittedly blunt) honesty. They see romance as a return of the unfathomable faith and trust their partner gave them. More obviously, they give gifts that they will spend hours on beforehand, making sure it is meaningful and perfect.

Ideal Physical Traits: They adore a pretty smile.  

Ideal Personality Traits: Someone patient and kind-hearted, but with honesty enough to call Iago out on their shit. They very much appreciate that even if, in the moment, they would want to bite someone's head off about it. They appreciate conviction and passion, but this is something they're less aware of. They tend to confuse their admiration for jealousy and dislike.

Unattractive Physical Traits: There's nothing super specific that comes to mind, but they don't like stern features very much. Funny to say as the queen of looking perpetually pissed off and/or bored. Displays of aggression and unkind looks set off their prey instincts sorry hotties :/

Unattractive Personality Traits: This is about to be so hypocritical. We don't have time to unpack all of that. They dislike complete apathy, cowardice, and disingenuity.

Ideal Date: Going on a nature walk (getting to know them) or breaking into The Counting House (winning over their heart).

Do They Have a Type?: Someone brave stubborn enough to win them over.

Average Relationship Length: . Depends on if we count the on-and-off situationship that lasted a few years. If not, then whoever manages to make Iago fall in love with them is with them for the end of time.

Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Holding hands, taking naps together, making each other laugh.

Commitment Level: Iago is a practiced liar and cheat. When they fall in love, this falls away completely to the whole other end of the spectrum and they will be devoted to their loved one until the end of time. Good luck with that!

Opinion of Public Affection: They don't mind subtle gestures- hand-holding, a very, very occasional kiss on the cheek or hand (they are especially weak to a kiss on the knuckles...). But ultimately, they prefer privacy and will be very flustered with grand affectionate gestures. Not a total dislike, it just makes them blush quite a bit and ruins their suave demeanor !! This entertains the romantic of all time, Wyll, endlessly.

Past Relationships?: So. Hair tuck. There's this Guild leader.................. The aforementioned situationship may or may not have been with Nine-Fingers Keene in the time they worked with the Guild before leaving for the Bhaal Temple. And then a little bit after having joined the cult. Increasingly messy toxic yuri. Act III is a hilarious rom com reunion to me where Wyll finds out they've got to work with his crush's one and only ex who is the possibly most infamous crimelord in the city. There is nothing normal about Iago.

Writer’s Note: A lot of this is almost completely unknown to Iago themselves and requires many, many realizations in the process of falling in love. Iago spent so long not even entertaining the idea that they would have A Life at all- love was so beyond what they could have ever imagined or hoped for for themselves. It was simply not something they thought possible for a very long time. When they start to fall for someone, it takes them completely by surprise (and they think they might've fallen ill...). I also love the idea that this feeling is somewhat mutual with Wyll, who likely has such an idealized, beautiful, courtly romance in his mind and is absolutely appalled to find he's somehow head over heels for this freak (HE WOULD NEVER ADMIT THIS. but all the companions are so thinking it....... Like really?? That one???).

Tagged by @bloodtwin

Tagging YOU THERE!!!!!!!!!! YES, YOU!!!!!!!