#so blessed that this book cover exists

[robotvsheroinbattleofvietnam]

[noneorother]

The art director & the Good Omens book cover tier list of doom, part 1

part 1 l part 2

This is going to have to be a multi-part series because there are *checks notes* 64 different covers that I've found so far.

I am your resident Art Director/Good Omens enthusiast, and welcome to my completely meta-free book cover tier list. Listen, making a book cover is HARD. I should know. But while we salute these artists for their hard work and time, I think we can all admit that once in a while, the vision is just not on. And on very rare occasions, publishers seemed to have managed to commission the cover art directly from hell... 1. The original UK cover

Ahh, the standard by which all shall be judged. We're starting off with a nice & easy cover, with adorable woodcuts of Aziraphale and Crowley flanking a custom Good Omens font! While I have to take a few points off for the terrible kerning of the word "GoOD", the blockprint vibes and general bitchiness of Aziraphale's teeny weeny wittle face, along with the sick colour palette puts the orignial in my good graces. Tier: Great

2. The duelling US covers

Progress! Hail to the designer who figured out trying to make "GoOD" and "OMeNs" fit the same width was a fool's errand, and even managed to IMPROVE on the original handmade title by adding a little halo and devil's tale to the design. Aziraphale and Crowley are facing each other, while also managing to serve absolute cunt. Aziraphale is wearing EIGHTIES SNEAKERS. Crowley's little snake boots have HEELS. They've managed to keep the woodcut vibes and colour simplicity, while balancing out the full title of the book. Both authors get to trade off on who's name comes first! Dare I say, this is a work of genius. I could dock some points for Crowley's sad bat wings growing out of his right clavicle, but who am I to question greatness.

Tier: Blessed by God Herself

3. The Halo Master Chief(?) cover

How the mighty have fallen... As a Canadian child, I was subjected to maybe the most horrifying ad in existence by the War Amps warning children about machine safety. This cover is the paper embodiment of that ad. I am confused by the purple haze. I am frightened by the seeming ethereal flatness of Adam and Dog. I am strangely aroused by Aziraphale's eyebrows, and intensely saddened by the terrible outline/drop shadow they had to inflict on the type to fit "Pratchett" in that god awful space. Tier: WTF

4. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers

This cover inexplicably exists in two colour ways: red and teal. I put the audiobook cover here so you could experience the full illustration, and also how fucked up it is that they cropped the book version to include three horse-people of the apocalypse, but cut off DEATH on the regular cover. Points must be given for drawing a pretty slick Bentley, but I think we have to take even more points away for turning Crowley into a Ray Charles/Mike Wazowski hybrid. The ducks are nice. Tier: Not so Good (Omens)

5. Germany, Ein Gutes Omen covers continued

I don't know if the German designer of this cover *knew* that they were using western yeehaw cowboy woodblock letters when they made this cover, but judging by how they spaced the rest of the text at the bottom, THEY DID NOT CARE. And that seems to be a running theme for this one. We get kind of a duality thing going on with the black and pink background, but it just seems like somebody whispered the general themes of Good Omens into a jar, and threw it down a well, and this poor chap came along and picked it up. The baffling choice to align every piece of text on the cover *except* Neil Gaiman's name which is right aligned and rotated 90 degrees (not even real vertical type) will haunt my dreams, I think.

Tier: Bad

6. US, UK The Traffic Jam cover

For the love of Good Omens, WHY. I can think of so many more interesting symbols to put on the cover of this book than the ODEGRA SIGIL TRAFFIC JAM. Props for keeping the good colours and type, but like, I think this cover was secretly designed by @amtrak-official, or someone who just really, really likes public works. Tier: Does the Job

7. France, De bons présages cover

Leave it to France to make sure people know that Aziraphale and Crowley fuck severely. While I can't condone leaving out half the title of the book (and thinking a red carpenter's square counts as decoration), I can begrudgingly acknowledge that Ron Pearlman and Benedict Cumberbatch's love child is excellent Crowley casting. I think I give this a solid dark academia/10. Tier: Good (Omens)

8. France, De bons présages covers continued

Just imagine with me, if you will, the absolutely hilarious reality that this cover posits: Good Omens is exactly the same in every respect, but Crowley drives a pink 1950s convertible. Why do all of the colours on this cover look like they've been pre-digested? Why are the font choices and placement so bafflingly bad. My face is the demon's face holding that car. I feel his pain.

Tier: WTF

9. France, De bons présages covers continued

Minus points for not managing to write the full title of the book once again. I don't know what it is with the French. They seem pretty set on Good Omens being demonic. While I do appreciate a good Bosch-style demon party, the dude in the middle confounds me. All-caps Museo Sans that isn't even *centred* in the frame is just so lazy. I am le tired. Tier: Bad

10. France, De bons présages covers continued

Uhh. The font. The font is okay.... I think? Yeah. The font and kerning are. Okay. OHHH GOD I LOOKED DOWN BELOW THE TEXT WHYYYY. Tier: WTF

END of round one. I need a nap.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

They're handing out patents for "inventions" that don't exist

Today (Oct 16) I'm in Minneapolis, keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing. Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. And on Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

Patent trolls produce nothing except lawsuits. Unlike real capitalist enterprises, a patent troll does not “practice” the art in its patent portfolio — it seeks out productive enterprises that are making things that real people use, and then uses legal threats to extract rents from them.

One of the most prolific patent trolls of the twenty-first century is Landmark Technology, whose U.S. Patent №7,010,508 nominally covers virtually anything you might do in the course of operating an online business: having a homepage, letting a customer login to your site, or having pages where customers can view and order products.

Landmark shook down more than a thousand productive businesses for $65,000 license-fees it demanded on threat of a patent lawsuit.

But that reign of terror is almost certainly over. When Landmark tried to get $65,000 out of Binders.com, the victim’s owner, NAPCO, went to court to invalidate Landmark’s patent, which never should have issued.

A North Carolina court agreed, and killed Landmark’s patent. Landmark faces further punishments in Washington State, where the attorney general has sued the company for violating state consumer protection laws in a case that has been removed to federal court.

Landmark’s patent contains “means-plus-function” claims. These a rentier’s superweapon, in which a patent can lay a claim over an invention without inventing or describing it. These claims are almost entirely used in software patents, something that has been blessed by the Federal Circuit, America’s most authoritative patent court.

A means-plus-function patent lets an “inventor” patent something they don’t know how to do. If these patents applied to pharma, a company could get a patent on “an arrangement of atoms that cure cancer,” without specifying that arrangement of atoms. Anyone who actually did cure cancer would have to pay rent to the patent-holder.

-A Major Defeat For Technofeudalism: We euthanized some rentiers.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

you know i've been thinking about the consequences of malleus's actions in book 7 and i realized how much he's fucked everyone over including his grandma. bc like other than the fact that he ob'd (which literally has NEGATIVE connotations one of which being is idk ""UNSTABLE"" which isnt necessarily a good look for a crown prince is all im saying) he's literally causing terrorism (??? can you call it that idk how else to call it) which is going to setback his grandma's efforts (and lilia's and baul's, and every supporter of his and his family) in keeping peace in their kingdom and the favor of the humans towards the fae. Like. i feel so bad for grandmother draconia rn i can only imagine the stress and pressure she's under.

Then theres also aside from PHYSCIALLY compromising everyone's healths in sage island (BECAUSE THE MAJORITY ARE HUMANS OR AT LEAST THEY DONT LIVE AS LONG AS THE FAE). He's also fucked everyone mentally twice over!!!! By booting them straight into a world where none of their problems exist. Now that wouldnt sound bad if it weren't for the fact that dreams have to end, and life isnt kind. It rarely ever is, and i can only imagine how distraught i would be if i were to say, hypothetically lost someone a year before and the wound is so fresh and raw and, in my dreams, they never died and everything is okay, then i wake up and realize that it was just that. A dream, they are still gone and i wish i never woke up which would be a LITERAL DEATH SENTENCE. This isnt just an event that takes place in NRC either BUT THE WHOLE ISLAND and that domain is GROWING, GROWING. I can't imagine just how many would be so emotionally ruined after this. Like.....

If Malleus does not suffer the consequences of his actions istg i will be so pissed, at least REMOVE HIM FROM THE PREMISE OR SOMETHING GODDDDDDD this cannot be remedied with a slap on the hand!!!!!

(Note: Sorry for the long rant. I felt the need to get this out of my chest bc i dont mind malleus's archetype actually nor do i actually hate him, bc i enjoy him interacting w other characters a lot (my fave ever vigenette is him giving deuce the equivalent of minecraft diamon for fixing a retrobit gaming toy) BUT GOD DOES HE MAKE MY BLOOD BOIL)

Yeah, I do feel like the scale of Malleus's actions cannot be understated. I know it's kind of a fandom joke that the OB boys are left off with a slap on the wrist + maybe some social ramifications at school, but this is the ONE time in the main story where things are getting super big and the effects could be cripplingly long-lasting.

I don't know if TWST will seriously address the consequences after book 7, but I sure hope they do!! There is a lot of interesting ground to cover (many points which this anon has already brought up) in a follow-up main story arc or the next book.

For example:

Malleus obviously has to regain the trust of his peers and staff. He didn’t really have it before but now has to work twice as hard to make connections since he just took a drastic action that confirmed the rumors some were already spreading about how he’s a monster.

He’s the sole heir to the throne and has just betrayed the trust of the people of Briar Valley. How are they feeling about him now? Do they still trust him to lead them?

How does this impact their relations with other countries (since Malleus himself stresses how he represents Briar Valley)? This is a problem visible on a global scale, and surely this would damage their rep with other nations, particularly the predominantly human ones. It’s setting back what is hundreds of years of trying to fix the broken trust between their races.

Malleus’s UM potentially puts his victims in physical harm; in book 7, Ortho suggests that since everyone is sleeping, their bodies are not getting the food or water they need. As a result, they may physically waste away and then perish. (We have seen that there are sleep blessings that keep people sleeping for hundreds of years without detriment to the blessed though, such as the one cast on Silver—so we cannot be entirely sure if Ortho’s theory is correct or not.)

There is the possibility that Malleus’s dreams may traumatize or retraumatize his victims, particularly those with deep rooted troubles. An example of this is Idia, who had suffered the loss of his brother when he was like… 8 years old??? But then in his dream, Idia is living a happy false reality that Ortho never died. When he finally comes to this realization, he has to relive the trauma of the discovery all over again and breaks down sobbing. We also see in the most recent book 7 update that Vil had to face the evilest aspects of himself and a dark reality; Rook became very emotional upon waking himself. Admittedly, Idia and co. coped with it well enough—this is proof of their character development and the strength of the new friendships they’ve formed. However, all the people on Sage’s Island/Twisted Wonderland may not react so positively or be so accepting of their cruel realities.

Again, just the overall moral dilemma of one person robbing all of Sage’s Island (and soon all of Twisted Wonderland) of their autonomy.

Potential extra work for STYX and whichever countries Malleus’s magic manages to spread to (repairing any physical damage caused by the thorns + mental damage done to those that fell asleep). That’s money, time, and resources that aren’t going toward other everyday endeavors.

How will Malleus himself mentally and emotionally cope with what he has done? Is he going to show remorse and shame? How does he plan on rectifying his actions, if at all?

Will this change how his dorm members + family view him? For example, will Sebek become disillusioned with his liege/realize Malleus is not as perfect as he seems? Will Maleficia blame herself for not being there for Malleus? Will Lilia feel guilty for not teaching Malleus right from wrong? Etc, etc, etc.

I’d honestly love to read all of these! 🤔 It would add a lot to the lore and history of Twisted Wonderland, as well as serve as motivators for Malleus to change, “be better”, and actually earn the respect he’s so used to being handed by default. This would be huge for him, especially seeing as he has not really faced significant backlash or consequences for any other missteps he was responsible for or involved in. (I know I bring this one up a lot, but Endless Halloween Night is one such major example.)

[auras-moonstone]

OMG CAN YOU WRITE A ETHAN LANDRY BASED OFF WILLOW PLS 🙏🙏 I LOVE UR WORK SM

i was writing invisible string when i got your request and i thought i could combine both songs! hope you don’t mind <3

invisible string — ethan landry

word count: 1,696

pairing: slytherin!ethan landry x ravenclaw!fem!reader

summary: ethan, who does not believe in soulmates, meets y/n, a hopeless romantic who is obsessed with the subject and makes him change his mind. later, they find out that all along there was an invisible string tying them to each other.

warnings: none, just fluff <3 it’s a hogwarts au but you don’t have to had watched harry potter to understand.

EVEN IN THE WIZARDING WORLD, SOULMATES WERE EXTREMELY RARE. Very few wizards were lucky enough to have a person that was quite literally meant for them. The amount of people who claimed had found their soulmates could be counted with one hand.

Being the hopeless romantic that she was, Y/N had always been obsessed with the concept of soulmates. She had read every single book about the topic, and her fascination never ceased.

Legend has it, if you had been blessed by Merlin with a soulmate, their initials would appear on your wrists when you turned 18—the legal age for wizards—, and if you happened to be near your soulmate, the thread that tied you to them would stop being invisible and would show its golden colour. No one but the two parts involved would be able to see it, so that’s why some wizards—the majority of them—didn’t fully believe soulmates existed.

Ethan Landry was part of the sceptic’s group. The wizarding civilisation was enormous, and only less than five people had found their soulmate? He called bluff. They were just trying to get some attention. Besides, the entire concept felt really silly to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here? It's the only corner where the sun doesn't hit” a sweet voice interrupted his study session. Ethan raised his head and his heart threatened to leave his chest when he came across two beautiful bright eyes and an adorable shy smile.

“Sure, no problem.” the Slytherin smiled at the Ravenclaw. That’s the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen, Y/N thought as she sat across from him.

That morning the sun was shining brightly and the temperature was perfect—neither hot nor cold—, so Y/N decided to read at her usual spot next to the Black Lake. With a content smile, she opened her favourite book and started her daily reading as she twirled her fingers around the green grass below her.

Ethan’s curious eyes took in the book cover and couldn’t help but chuckle as he read the title: The tale of the four soulmates.

Y/N looked up from her book and frowned at him. “Share the joke so we can laugh together.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… do you read it for pure entertainment, or do you actually believe in soulmates?” he asked, scrunching his nose. And if he didn’t look so insulted by her beliefs, she would’ve thought it was a cute action.

“I do believe in them.” she answered, this time more politely.

“Why?”

“I don’t really have a certain reason. Isn’t it just so pretty to think that all along there was an invisible string tying you to your person?”

He wanted to scream ‘No, it isn’t!’, but he couldn’t, not when her entire being lit up as she talked about it. He wasn’t a monster, he couldn’t be rude to someone just because they thought differently.

“I guess it is… pretty, but I still don’t believe it. There hasn’t been any proof besides doubtful testimonies.” Ethan shrugged.

“That’s fair.” she said. “But, I mean, if you think about it, muggles think wizards exist sorely on movies and books. And yet, here we are. Why is it so hard for people to believe soulmates exist too?”

“You have a point. Unfortunately, I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“You won’t be able to see it, unless you have one.”

“I guess if it happens to someone I trust, I would believe their word.” Ethan said.

“I hope it happens. And when it does, remember when you laughed at the poor girl who sat by you next to the Black Lake.”

Ethan laughed, and it was the best sound Y/N had ever heard. “If it happens, I’ll look for you and apologise. How does that sound?.”

“Looking forward to it.” she smiled. “What’s your name, sceptic?”

The boy opened his mouth to reply when Chad, his best friend, strode towards him and grabbed him by the arm. “Snape is looking for you, and he seemed pretty angry.”

Ethan threw an apologetic glance at the girl. “See you are around, mystical girl.”

The girl rolled her eyes playfully “See you around, sceptic.”

NEITHER OF THE TWO TEENAGERS COULD STOP BUMPING INTO EACH OTHER SINCE THAT SHORT ENCOUNTER. If they hadn’t been so consumed by the electric spark that took over their bodies everytime they saw each other, they would’ve realized that maybe it wasn’t coincidental at all—it was their string pulling them together, because the time of the revelation was getting close and the tie grew stronger with the passing of days.

Ethan had already turned 18, and the unexpected happened—two initials appeared on the inside of his wrist. Y/N/I Y/L/N/I. There were lots of people with those initials, how the hell was he supposed to figure it out? He wished he could talk to that girl, the one who was constantly trying to change his mind about soulmates, but sadly they were on winter holidays.

Every encounter they had, she would tell him one fact about soulmates. And truth was, the more she said, the less he knew how to keep his sceptic mind. Her words had cut through him like a knife. And now that he had proof, there was nothing left to doubt. He couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts and spill everything, but he also couldn't help feeling a bit disheartened about it. Ethan had taken a liking towards the girl, and he couldn't see himself getting to know anyone else but her.

He didn't know why, but his thoughts always bent towards her. He couldn't help it, it was like being lost in a current he could not free himself from.

Y/N's feelings weren't different from his at all. It was exhausting. Everytime she laid her head on the pillow, she could feel him sneaking in. And it weren't just dreams about him, her mind wondered about him throughout her whole day, and it bothered her a little. Firstly, because she didn't even know his name. And second, she just found out she had a soulmate.

"Mom, I'm going to go for a walk." Y/N yelled as she grabbed her coat.

As she strolled down the lighted up narrow street that was filled with dive bars, she thought about the revelation. It was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life. She had been waiting for her 18th birthday for years, but now she wished she hadn't been blessed with a soulmate. The prospect of finding them wasn’t so exciting anymore, and it was all because of that sceptic, brunet boy with wide eyes and radiant smile.

Y/N lowered her gaze down to her wrist and traced her fingers over the initials. E. L. "Will I ever find you?" and as she voiced the thought, she felt a pull on her body that made her come to a stop. She looked around the isolated street, but she didn't find anything. And then, she saw a flicker of gold in her periphery.

Her heart trumped as she followed the trail of the golden string. It came out of her wrist and it was guiding her towards a dive bar. This was it, her soulmate was there. Before she knew it, she was opening the door of the small bar illuminated by neon lights.

Her soulmate was staring right at her, and he wore the same appalled expression as her. Like compasses, their feet dragged them towards each other, meeting in the middle. Of course it was him, she thought, it had always been him.

“Hi, sceptic boy. What a turn of events, right?” she smiled at him. She was static, clouded by happiness.

“The best plot twist to ever exist.” Ethan mirrored her smile. “I guess, now in handsight, it was pretty obvious, right?”

Y/N let out a laugh as she nodded “So many clues we didn’t see.”

Ethan felt his chest might explode from happiness as he look down at their hands. The golden string was sparkling almost as much as the soulmates, who couldn’t get over the discovery. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Me too.” she whispered, jointing their hands. Warmth spread through their bodies, and Ethan wrapped her in his arms.

“You wrecked my plans.” he said with a laugh, as he guided her to the stools. Y/N frowned in confusion, so he continued. “I was planning to wallow in sadness.”

“Why? What happened?” she asked worriedly. Ethan smiled at that, and then extended his right hand, showing her the initials. The girl’s eyes filled with sadness. “You didn’t want a soulmate?”

“Not if it wasn’t you.”

Y/N sighed in relief, pinching his ribs. “You scared me, asshole.” he laughed and muttered an apology. “By the way, we never exchanged names.”

“I’m Ethan Landry, ex-sceptic.” he winked at her.

“Y/N Y/L/N, and you, sir, owe me an apology.”

He stood up, putting his hands on her waist. She was sitting on the tall stool, making them be at the same height. “I’m really sorry for laughing at you.”

“Mmm… I don’t know if I should forgive you. Soulmates had always been a big deal to me.” she said playfully, fixing the already fixed collar of his shirt.

“Maybe I can bribe you?” he smirked, his hands trailed slowly from her waist to the back of her neck. “I’ve been told I’m a great kisser.”

Y/N frowned. “I don’t wanna know what your exes say about you” not to be toxic, but picturing him with other girls made her want to throw up.

“You’re so cute.” he laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I want you to know that ever since I met you, I have been all about you. No one else.”

“Good.” she said with a sufficient smile.

“You stink with jealousy.” he scrunch his nose in a teasing manner.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Shut up and kiss me, asshole.”

Ethan laughed and pulled her into a soft and magical kiss. “I’m in heaven.” he muttered between kisses.

“Wow, you went from aromantic to a sappy boy.”

“I know.” he sighed, acting frustrated. “I’m not ashamed though, I’m obsessed with you and I plan to show it everyday.”

“Now that sounds like heaven.”

[nrdmssgs]

can you write something with reader and gromsko and how gromsko would treat her if she was his wife? i’ve heard some seriously questionable things about polish people from my boyfriend, he could be biased but from what i know they are super misogynistic and gromsko gives off traditional vibes yknow.

Masterlist

Wow, that is a very interesting request, actually!

First of all, I am very sorry, that your boyfriend had bad experience with Polish people and I really hope, that things get better. My very first work was in a Polish company, and I've met the sweetest, nicest people there. There was literally one issue - I was young, tiny and underweight, and they all felt sorry about that and constantly tried to feed me.)) So the reason I'm telling this here is to highlight, that there are so many different people in every country.

I don't have anything against authors, who chose to depict him as very traditional (in a negative way) person. It is always important to not forget, such people exist. But I want to offer you a slightly different approach to him. Let's just call it an experiment and see, if it works both for you and me, ok? We will keep this guy traditional more or less, but shift him to a non-toxic side.

Husband Gromsko HCs

Long before the marriage, he takes you with him on a trip across Poland to meet his relatives. Won't stop until you meet everyone. Grannies, aunties, nieces - everyone. You are about to become part of his family and it's important to him, that you are truly integrated in the family and shown love from every single part of it.

He asks his parents to bless your marriage, and definitely asks your parents to let him make a proposal to you. It is not that he is dependent - he was raised in a culture, where respect to elderly is everything.

Regardless of how devout he and you are (even if you are an atheist), Gromskо will persuade you to a traditional wedding ceremony.

If you do not belong to any church or are simply a representative of another faith, he will not rest until he persuades the priest of his native church to allow you two to marry.

Yes, this guy will start to fight for your marriage long before it even starts. He doesn't try to force you into faith though. If needed - he is ready to pray for you both. Because you are his love and Sobieslaw has enough faith to keep you in Gods good books.

Once you are his, truly and finally his - Sobieslaws mind is all concentrated on two objectives: domesticating you and welcoming children in your family.

His biggest fear is to fail you. And in his mind, keeping you on your work equals failing you. If you worry about money - it means to Gromsko, that he doesn't provide well enough.

It will take a lot of talking to change his mind. But eventually he will understand. No matter, what he is taught to believe - you, his wife, love of his life, come first. Always. If you are 100% sure, this is the way, you want to live - he will support your choice to keep your work.

He wants children. Not a single child - children. It will break his heart, if you are not in the same boat with him on that one. He won't push you too hard, won't give ultimatums - but he will constantly try to bring the similar wish into your mind.

He is a 'look how adorable these little ones', 'look how tiny this baby beanie is' type of guy. Watches his friends kids on the playground, while embracing you lovingly and whispering 'they are sweet, but our little treasure would be the sweetest'.

If you are as enthusiastic as he is, and you get pregnant - prepare to meet doctor Gromsko. He won't leave your side, not for a day, even if it affects his career. Who gives a f**k about work stuff, when the most important person out there prepares to gift him the second most important person in his life?

He will monitor you constantly, take you to every single check up, make sure you get all the essential vitamins, have enough of fresh air daily and NO stress.

Will welcome his child with tears, will cover your face with frantic, desperate kisses afterwards. "Dziękuję kochanie... dziękuję, dziękuję,dziękuję*!"

Gromsko loves it, when everybody knows, that you are his and he is yours. So please, if you take off your wedding ring for any reason - wear it on a chain as a necklace. Otherwise, he will be terrified, that it is a sign, you don't want him by your side anymore.

He is constantly worried, you might get sick, so he makes sure, you are always warm, you eat well (no matter what your body type is, his granny will still call you too thin, so Sobieslaw will worry about that), you get health checkups every now and then (even if you are feeling perfect!!!).

The most supporting guy, if you decide for any reason, that you don't want to work actively and choose to stay at home.

Gromsko won't just settle with 'ok, good, now I finally have a stay at home wifey'. He will make sure, you like every part of your home, have enough time and space for your hobbies, feel safe and loved.

By the way, the guy looks like the 'I'll build our house on my own' type. Who, if not him, knows better, what makes an ideal home for you and him? Of course, you can choose all the decorations, materials and so on. But he is the one, doing the building.

Dziękuję kochanie… dziękuję, dziękuję,dziękuję - Thank you, love... thank you, thank you, thank you.

[fiddles-ifs]

[ID: a banner-style image with smudged, grungy text. The banner says "blog update" in bold, capital letters. The background is textured green and white with a film border around it. The upper left corner says "official photograph not to be released for publication." /end ID]

Happy update day!

Greenwarden, Eryinys, and TKP's chapter 1 updates are all coming along very smoothly. (Except for Greenwarden. Firstborn problem indeed. I ended up losing a ton of work -- including the whole library update -- and I got so mad I started working on a whole other route. Coming back to the library route soon, though. I have enough salvageable material, I just need to be Not Mad about it.) Here's some snippets!

CONTENT WARNING: Gore

GREENWARDEN

Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Sprinting down the street doesn't even hurt, even if you do leave a long blood trail behind you. Your one hope is that the coyote is too preoccupied tearing chunks out of Eddie to pay attention to you. Hope is dangerous -- makes you cocky. Makes you make mistakes. You keep running toward what you think is safety, and you end up right at the edge of Warden Forest. Definitely not safety. You stop just before the mouth of the woods, breathing so hard you gag, your stomach half-open like a yawning mouth. Deep breaths hurt too much -- you can't bring yourself back to baseline. You risk losing your adrenaline rush if you do that anyway. Looking around looks the same. Woods and parking lot, woods and parking lot. There's a trail right ahead of you, tempting you inside. The click of nails against asphalt makes you whirl around. The damn coyote is right behind you, still licking gristle from its teeth.

ERINYS

Marik leads you to a corner covered in paper thin monitors. Cords feed into the biggest computer you may have ever seen, protected from the water and soap by thick rubber casing and a raised platform surrounded by guardrails painted yellow and black. The ramp vibrates under heel. You realize, with a start, that the computer and monitors are much lower to the floor than you'd expect, just as the engineer wheels around to face you both. "Sorenson," Marik says. The engineer grins with a mouthful of pearly white teeth and leans back in his chair, arms folded over his stomach. He's all hard planes. Built with lean muscle, broad-shouldered like DANIEL is, but with a shock of curly red hair and a mess of dark freckles. He has a dimple on his nose. "Marik," Sorenson says, wheeling his chair back to make room for you both. "All systems good. I'm running tune-up software now, just to make sure. Everything is brand new, but still. Can't be too careful." He glances at you. Nothing escapes Marik's notice, even bent across the desk to glare into screens running codes and diagnostics and other things that make you dizzy. Absently, he introduces you to each other. The engineer's name is Doctor Matthew Sorenson. He looks awfully young to be a doctor. "Fury, huh?" Dr. Sorenson raises his eyebrows. You flex your hands. "Whatever keeps you alive, I guess."

THE KING'S PHYSICIAN

The Maw is a jagged white chalkscape. You have to march in single file, careful to avoid the razor sharp juts of rock. The horses are nervous -- the wolf packs and cave lions living in the Teeth have perfected the art of the ambush. Not just that -- the endless bone white expanse can cause the distracted to become easily lost. You keep close count of everyone -- you, Sibir, and Leniza -- their aunt. She gives the whole company water blessings on the way in. Salt water from the Archipelago, to fine their ways home. -> Not that you believe in blessings. You are a person of science. -> You give your own blessings when you can. You can never have too many gods at your disposal. -> You don't have an opinion on religion -- it's something that exists. Annoyingly prevalent, but what can you do?

I'm hoping at least one of these guys will be ready to publish by next month -- but I'm also writing another book! Because I'm crazy. So we'll see!

[ghuleh-witch]

Title: Memories Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, p in v sex, Relationships: Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Copia, Female!Reader Additional Tags: ghovie spoilers, no beta WordCount: 1,935 Summary: After your promotions, you and Copia go back to where it all began. Author's Note: This fic contains spoilers for RHRN. This is part of a collection of one-shots.

Ao3 || Masterlist

The way he walked was different, you noticed. You’ve known him since he was a cardinal, and with each new promotion, his walk changed. It grew more confident—more sure of himself with each step. You knew the transition from Papa to Frater was difficult for him. He agonized about it for weeks, pacing his new chambers and worrying if he’d be the downfall of the Ministry. You held him tightly as he buried his face into the crook of your neck and cried, confessing that he didn’t know what he was doing and that he just wanted to be Papa once more.

The man approaching you now was a completely different person and it was hot.

You were proud of him and all that he had achieved. You didn’t think there were enough words in the English language to express the pride you had for him. He might have felt he didn’t know what he was doing, but he took charge of his new role and wielded it with certainty. 

“Amore,” he said when he got to the table you were studying at. He looked at the books scattered around you, trying to make sense of what you were actually doing before his eyes rested on your face. “I’ve been looking for you. You were gone when I woke up.” 

“Sorry, baby,” you said looking up at him. His painted eyes and upper lip were nothing new to you. It was his casual look as Papa, and now was his signature look as Frater. “I wanted to get an early start to this ritual.”

He hummed in response, looking over the books. “The blessing for the new Papa and the ghoul summoning?”

You nodded. “I wanted to ensure we have everything covered since this is my first time doing this.” With Copia’s new promotion, he promoted you to the head of the occult and magicks department within the Ministry, removing the person his mother had placed in charge. It was a position you wanted and never expected to get, but you supposed being married to the new Frater had its perks. But as much as you wanted the position, it was overwhelming. You had so much to learn and not a lot of time to learn it. 

You felt his gloved hand under your chin, lifting it so you were looking up into his eyes. “You can do this,” he said. 

“Can I?” You asked, your voice wavering slightly as your self-doubt made itself apparent.

“If I can do all this—” He gestured to his new suit. “Then you can do this. I have faith in you.” 

And just like that all your worry and anxiety seemed to be lifted from you. You smiled as his hand left your chin to cup your cheek. You nuzzled into the soft leather of his glove. “I love you,” you said softly. 

His eyes softened and it was like you were looking at the cardinal he was when you first met him. “And I love you,” he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to your forehead. “Come on, take a break. Let’s go for a walk.” 

You took his now outstretched hand and he gently pulled you up from your seat, leading the way out of the library and to the doors that led to the gardens Primo had once maintained when he was still alive. You watched as Copia’s eyes took in each rose bush and each lily along the path. You knew how much he missed his brothers and how much he once feared his fate would be the same as theirs. Neither of them talked about the one remaining brother Copia had left, his twin. Copia knew his twin existed and vaguely remembered him, but for the most part, they grew up separately and were strangers. 

“I’m proud of you,” you said as the two of you walked hand in hand. “I don’t know if I can say that enough.”

“I know, amore,” he responded, his fingers squeezing yours. 

The two of you came to a secluded section of the garden surrounded by brightly flowering bushes and hidden by the low-hanging branches of a weeping willow. 

“Do you remember this place,” Copia asked, turning to face you and taking your other hand in his.

“This is where we first met,” you responded. “I was out here hiding because I thought I made the biggest mistake coming here.” 

“And I heard you crying and found you sitting against the tree,” Copia said. “I think I fell in love with you then and there.”

“Even though I was ugly crying?”

Copia chuckled. “You could never be ugly, tesoro.” 

You laughed. “Oh, I was definitely ugly that night,” you said. “But you were so patient and sweet. I knew you were special.” You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles. “And for the record, I think I fell in love with you that night too.” You dropped his hand and cupped his cheek, pulling him down to meet your lips. “And here we are, six years later, married and with you the head of the whole shabang.” 

“It’s certainly been a ride, eh?” His lips met yours in a sweet peck as his forehead rested against yours. “I don’t think I could have done any of this without you.” 

You smirk. “Definitely not,” you replied, teasing him and poking his belly.

“Oh-ho, cocky now all of a sudden,” he laughed, his mismatched eyes staring into yours. His hands found themselves on your hips. “And here I thought we were having a moment, amore. We shouldn’t let your head get too inflated now, eh?”

“And what are you going to do about that?” You asked, egging him on. 

Before you knew it, he had you backed up against the wide trunk of the tree. His rested on either side of your head, caging you in. 

“I’ll fuck that ego out of you,” he purred, head dipping to place a kiss on the spot just below your ear that always drove you wild. One hand left the trunk of the tree and ran up your thigh, pushing the skirt of your habit up as he did. “I know you’re already wet for me.”

“Look who has the ego now,” you breathed, heat flooding every part of your body as his lips continued to kiss your neck.

“Ah, but I’m allowed. I’m Frater Imperator after all,” Copia murmured as his hand left your thigh. Both hands began to open the buttons of your dress allowing your breasts to spill out. He was pleasantly pleased that you forwent your bra. He ducked his head to kiss down your chest and the tops of your breasts. 

You let out a soft sigh, hands coming up to his hair. You felt the soft strands being held back with just of bit of gel and carded your fingers through them. He was grayer than when you first met, but you adored the way he aged. 

His mouth left your skin and came back to your lips as his hand slid down your body. He hiked up the hem of your dress and found your panties. His hand cupped your mound, putting just enough pressure on you to make you moan into his mouth. He pushed the fabric aside to slip his fingers between your folds and to your clit. He broke the kiss, staring down into your eyes with a satisfied smirk.

“Knew you’d be wet already,” he said as his fingers moved over your clit. 

“Copia,” you moaned softly, head falling back against the trunk of the tree.

“Yes, amore?”

You were at a loss for words. You felt like your brain was short-circuiting. “I—” you began but didn’t finish. 

His chest rumbled in a chuckle. “You?”

You were so close already. Your moans escaped in breathy pants. “I’m close, baby,” you managed to say. As soon as you said the words, his fingers left you. You whined as your eyes popped open. “Hey,” you protested. 

“I told you I was going to fuck the ego out of you, didn’t I? I don’t want you coming just yet,” he said, turning you around and positioning your hands on the tree turnk. He gripped your hips and moved your legs how he wanted. “I want you coming around my cock.” 

You glanced over your shoulder to see him fumbling with his belt and zip of his pants. After a few seconds, his cock was free and his pants pushed down his thighs slightly. His hands returned to your body, pushing your dress up and pushing your panties aside once more.

“Do you want this?” He asked, leaning over your back and brushing your hair aside so he kiss your neck.

“Yes,” you said. He didn’t have to ask you every time you two were intimate, but you loved that he did. “Please.” 

“ La mia brava ragazza (My good girl) ,” he breathed in your ear before gripping your hip tightly and pushing into you. 

You moaned in unison as your nails dug into the bark of the tree. “Fuck,” you panted as he bottomed out in you. 

“So tight,” he groaned, a hand coming up to palm your breast as his forehead rested against your shoulder blade for a moment. “Always so tight for me. Prendilo tutto (Take it all) .” 

“Please move,” you begged, knuckles turning white from your grip on the tree. “Please, Copia, I need it.” 

“Beg for it again, amore,” Copia said, squeezing your breast.

“Please,” you begged again. “Please move please.”

“ Sembri così carina quando implori (You sound so pretty when you beg) ,” he said before pulling out and thrusting back into you. Each thrust was punctuated, hard, and deep making your moans and whimpers grow louder and louder. You clenched your eyes shut, reveling in the sensation. You felt a hand leave your hip and come around to your front, circling your clit. The white-hot coil in your belly grew tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Copia,” you gasped. A desperate whimper left your lips. “Baby, I’m gonna come. Please let me come.” 

“Feeling humble now, are we, tesoro? Vieni a prendermi bambina (come for me baby),” he growled as the pace of his thrusts quickened.

The change sent you over the edge. You came hard, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in one long moan. Your nails were ruined by how hard they dug into the bark and your legs shook as they struggled to keep you up. Not even a second later, you felt Copia release in you, his thrusts losing the pace he established as he pulsed inside of you. 

His arms encircled you as he leaned across your back. “You okay?” He panted.

“I’m perfect,” you said breathily as you turned your head to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, eyes shining with adoration and warmth for you. He gently eased himself from you and pulled your panties back in place and your dress back over your hips. 

You turned around slowly, leaning back against the tree as your heart rate returned to normal. Copia tucked himself back into his pants and redid his belt.

“How about we go get cleaned up and I’ll help you finish up your research,” Copia suggested, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. 

You smiled and nodded before intertwining your hand with his. “Let’s go,” you said before the two of you made your way out of the gardens and held even more memories now.

[lara-kaminari]

The benefits of the modern era

(Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)

AU University / +18/ ONE-SHOT / Explicit Language / Fantasize.

-----

Note: I had this thought and I had to write it down

----

Sebastian Sallow is a great lover of the modern era.

He loves advances in technology, medicine, music and art. It has evolved enormously in different aspects of everyday life. Who would think that today you press a button and you can communicate with a person twenty countries away? It is exquisite. So much to learn just one click away from achieving it.

However, above all the existing achievements of the human species, what Sebastian Sallow loves most about modern times are short skirts. Blessed invention of this new century, amen to freedom and free expression of bodies!

Perhaps, in a bleak time where light is produced only by candles and not by electric bulbs, Sebastian would be content to see the ankle of some neglected damsel. Now he pities those ancient customs full of false decorum and little skin-to-skin contact.

In fact, if it comes to that, Sebastian also loves the university library: It's comfortable, spacious, has those soft armchairs that are usually backless. Covered by a rigid fabric that can be made of different materials: leather, fabric, plastic, the interior is filled with soft materials such as polystyrene pieces which makes it adaptable to different spaces and uses. Its structure resembles a large cushion as it has no legs, resting its entire base on the floor. He can just lie down with a good book between his legs and enjoy the world from a different height.

The low height allows him to see the girls climbing the moving ladder to grab a book from the high shelf or those who spread their legs a little apart as they sit at the table in front of him.

And there he was. Sebastian snuck up stealthily, grabbed a book and leaned back on the colorful rubber seat in the corner of the place.

If anyone messed with him, he would make believe he was reading some very important history for his exam.

There was not much activity the first hour. Indeed, the warmth of the room and the comfort meant that sleepiness began to wash over him. It would have been a wasted morning except that, suddenly, he heard a stack of books fall and someone groan in pain, very close to where he was.

Sebastian sharpened his vision, the bookshelf hid a girl who now bent down to pick up her books. The position of the two was a blessing for him: the sight of striking green panties greeted him. Quite a sight.

The girl kept crawling to pick up all the scattered books. Something she was whispering, but Sebastian didn't give her enough interest. His attention was fixed on those high socks squeezing her thighs. The sight was enchanting and more so because she was swaying as she picked up each book without realizing she had a shameless onlooker.

Sebastian wondered how hard it would be to agree to such a fuck. Desperate bitches don't usually go to the library. Maybe she'd just be an easy-to-win bimbo. A couple of nice words and he'd have her in the bag. An hour locked up with her and I'd come home with that cute pair of green panties tucked in my pocket.

Those panties that fit those lips perfectly, Sebastian could run his fingers down the middle of those pretty legs and hear her let out good girl squeals. He could rip that fabric and fuck the girl in the middle of those soft couches while the stranger struggles not to scream. Maybe force her to bite the fabric of her panties to keep her quiet while he fucks her ass in the nearest bathroom.

He placed his hand above his fly, settling the future problem between his pants. This was no time to make a scene.

Sebastian moved back into the position of innocent reader when he saw the young woman shake out the bottom of her skirt with the intention of getting up. Perhaps, when she passed in front of him, Sebastian would catch her eye. A good conversation, a couple of compliments, nothing would make him happier than to feel what he could only taste with his eyes.

—Hi Sebastian, studying again?

Shit.

—Hi MC, you know me.

Fantasizing about his best friend he's known since the fifth year of high school is not a source of pride for Sebastian, this could become a problem if he doesn't undo that mental image right then and there. It was just a silly thing, no green panties and short skirts, just a misunderstanding.

—Sebastian, are you all right?

In an ancient era, he would be a man of honor who would not accept false advances. He would stand up, absolutely spotless, and say something like, "Splendid, my dear, never been better," and then walk far away without looking back. But this is the modern era and men don't have as many social skills as they used to.

Stupid modern era.

[technically-a-kiwi]

Lol, imagine this : cosmic horror AU

The Noise would be the charismatic TV host of chaos, hosting his mysterious show, his public would be the souls of the damned, and his audience would be random people who watched TV at the wrong time and at the wrong place, they are the unsuspected victimes of The Noise's game, a game starting as simple challenges and slowly turning into psychological torture, he'd be narrating your moves like a sports narrator you hear on TV, if you survive those challenges, you'll go back to your life... But you'll never be the same... If you fail, you'll be part of The Noise's audience... forever. Ooooh this is so edgy I love it >:)

Appearance wise it'd just be Cosmic Noise in a less cartoony style with half of his face skin missing revealing a second row of teeth on top of his current teeth (you know like you see in children skull X rays) it's gross, it's creepy, I love it

As for Peppino he'd be the Great Primal Cosmic chef, creating every level of existence from his mighty pizza oven, and blessing humanity with the art of cooking and the Holy Book of Recipe. His words are of unmatched wisdom (and loudness) but are somehow of common comprehension, his presence is overwhelming and yet somehow comforting, he's so calm and so unstable at the same time, he creates in love and in wrath. Peppino is a contradicting deity and his authority is often challenged, his existence only been reduced to fairytales (so yeah basically Italian Arceus). Despite having an age beyond compression, his omnipotence and omniscience and his status as the Cosmic chef, he's one of the most human cosmic entity of them all, experiencing feelings like loneliness, stress and fear. He combats those feelings by cooking, pretty much being a workaholic, it kinda works but he's still pretty lonely.

Appearance wise he'd be cosmic pep in less cartoony style but absurdly huge, like no matter how you tilte your head up you'd only see the beginning of his collar at best, basically being like miss Bellum. And if somehow you manage to get around head level he'd cover his face with a pan, if you're mortal it's because you'd burn if you see his face and if not it's because he doesn't want you to see his disfigured face he got after a cosmic battle with The Noise. He'd be translucent, his body is marbled with scars of past fights, and his overall color palette would be a lot more cooler and darker with his apron and chef hat being the only bright thing on his body.

Yes it's absurd, yes Peppino is God in this AU, yes I made my favorite character into an OP being, yes I'm being a kid. It's meant to be edgy and it will.

Ohhhh but I see you from miles away "BuT wHaT aBoUt CoSmIc FaKe ???!?!!??!" I KNOW YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY IT, KIWI SEES ALL 👁️👁️, well lucky for you, I may have an idea for our fav ticket stand

THE FAKER is a shapeless dark entity, with infinite amount of faker faces on its body, it hides itself inside a ticket stand where it waits for unsuspected victimes, if you go to the ticket stand and ask for a ticket, a voice will invite you inside, wether or not you accept the invitation, a hand will drag you inside, your body will slowly be assimilated, your mind shifts into one that isn't your own, you feel like you don't know who you are, you feel cold, but one thing is for sure, you have to be so big, strong and mighty to the point you'll rival the might of the Cosmic chef. So yeah basically here it's the thing who wants to be a god.

Okay I'm done with my trip, obviously it's not canon in anyway and it's just my inner kid (and idiot) expressing itself. It doesn't have much of any link with True cosmic, only vaguely taking some of its ideas and exaggerating them to make them sound creepy. I really love horror in general and since Cosmic Au is already absurd I just want to push it to the max and make it an edgy and angst mess. I'd probably design it someday but I already have so much to do ! You know what, to anyone who managed to read this far, I challenge you into drawing those characters using the description I wrote.

If this post gets some people interested maybe I'll do the rest of the cast...

Okay NOW I'm going back to work...

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort pt. 4

GIF by @astarionposting

4.5k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Tav - 18+

Summary: The companions engage in crucial conversations, Nym reads an educational book with Astarion within the confines of his tent, and Astarion, grappling with internal struggles, finds solace in the intimacy shared with Nym, albeit as a temporary distraction.

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, mating press, vampire bites, needy/desperate astarion, snuggles🥺, kissing, sex from Astarion's POV

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

It had been a long and arduous rest of the day, between two seemingly benevolent druids turned bloodthirsty, and a forgotten temple of Jergal set with traps and undead sorcerers.

The archdruid Kagha had sent her snake on a tiefling child, resulting in the little girl's death while Gale and Nym were at the beach. Nym spoke with Kagha shortly thereafter, resulting in an unproductive conversation about how Nym had never met a wood elf prejudiced enough to kill a child.

The druidic healer, Nettie, was no help, either. Not only did the bird she healed fall ill again minutes after her treatment, but she had also tried to kill Nym with a poisonous thorn engendering their cohort to attack Nettie in self-defence. 

After the grove’s disputes, they returned to the ruined temple where they had killed a group of bandits the previous day, to procure provisions and explore. Nym acquired some interesting books after a pacifistic skeleton that spoke in early-modern english rose from his tomb.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Now, settling in at camp for the evening, Gale worked away at the cookpot, Astarion read at his tent, and Nym was with Shadowheart at the Sharran’s tent. 

“He told me that he isn’t jealous of Gale, so I figured he would at least give me his blessing if he had no desire to join us.” Nym frowned as they sat cross-legged facing one another.

Shadowheart exhaled heavily, “Nym, you poor thing, he probably only said that because he felt embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed? Isn’t it considered normal to be jealous among non-wood elf people?” Nym gazed at the floor with brows canted down, her palms up and hovering.

“Ha,” Shadowheart chuckled, “Normal, yes, but dishonourable. I’m sure he must’ve felt a little odd having staked claim over a woman he’d just met, but men can be strange and possessive creatures; and I suppose women can be, too.”

Huffing, Nym brought her knees to her chest. “It all makes sense now - why else would he interfere so violently?” She rested her forehead on her knees and dug her nails into either calf. “I should talk to them - separately. I don’t want to upset anyone. This is all so silly.”

“You’re not to blame for Astarion’s transgressions, nor are you to blame for Gale’s machinations,” Shadowheart pressed.

“I’m aware of that, I just - I’m learning. I want to be a proper leader, and I truly do enjoy Astarion’s company,” Nym brought her hand up, blocking the sound exiting her mouth from one side, “more than Gale’s if I’m being honest.” 

They hushedly snickered in tandem. Nym covered her mouth and Shadowheart slapped her knee joyously.

Their giggles reached both Gale and Astarion's ears. 

Gale stirred a pot over the fire and left it to heat up before waltzing over to Astarion’s tent. “We need to talk.”

“Do we? I’m personally quite content pretending you don’t exist. You leave no lasting impression, anyway,” Astarion retorted venomously with his nose in a book.

“Listen, we have a common goal - to rid ourselves of these godsforsakened tadpoles. We must tolerate each other for the time being - that being said, you don’t own Nym,” Gale argued.

Astarion snapped his book shut and sneered at Gale, craning his head closer to his face. “I only attacked you because I thought our leader was being assaulted.”

“Oh, please. You saw how she crawled to me this morning, and you know she wanted me. I’m sure she’s told you that by now, as well.” Gale pointed his finger at Astarion, standing his ground.

“Ha,” Astarion scoffed, “are you done? Because I’d like to relax and read; this book is fairly interesting and you are not.”

“Fine, however, keep your weapons away from me. Need I remind you that you’re not the only one here capable of severing one’s ties to the temporal plane?” He gestured his palm upwards sarcastically as he began to turn away towards the fire. “Just a suggestion.” He walked to the cookpot.

Astarion’s jaw clenched as he placed his book under his arm and ducked into his tent, closing the flap behind him. Once in solitude, his entire body tensed as he sat on the bedroll. Ceasing breath, tears welled up in his eyes that he wiped roughly with his palms and gritted his teeth. 

He combed his fingers through his hair, gripping his scalp firmly. “Pathetic,” he whispered.

“Astarion - Are you in there?” Nym called from outside of his tent.

Astarion quickly tossed his hair, attempting to set it back into place before wiping the rest of his tears away with the backs of his hands. “Come in!” He cringed at himself briefly before painting a forced smile upon his lips.

Nym crouched into Astarion’s tent, holding two books in one arm. “Hey, I wanted to -” Astarion ripped her into his tent, causing the books to topple on the ground. The tent flap closed behind her as he gained purchase on her hair and pulled her mouth into a needy and forceful kiss.

Nym squeaked, melting into Astarion before moaning into his lips. He let go of her hair, and both arms wrapped around her torso under her limbs. 

Astarion sighed with locked lips, frowning and holding Nym tightly.

Nym pulled back from the kiss with flushed cheeks and a heaving chest. “Woah.” She grinned and rolled her eyes before glancing up at Astarion, puffy-eyed and reddened cheeks wet with salty tears. “Oh - uh,” she said, her hands coming down to his shoulders and she straddled him, “do you wanna talk about it, or?”

Astarion turned his head away from Nym, “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Nim giggled, throwing her head back and Astarion watched her with concern. “You’ve seen me like this at least twice already. You know - these past two days have been quite overwhelming. Nobody can blame you for crying a little; I mean, I would’ve cried more today if you hadn’t helped me with the shopping list - ugh,” she grimaced.

Astarion paused, turning his head again to face his tent flap and resting his hands on Nym’s hips.

“I spoke to Shadowheart,” she started, “and she says you want me all to yourself.” Nym laughed giddily.

“Did she?”

“Yeah, is it true?”

"What would it matter? It's not as if it’ll change anything,” Astarion pouted, continuing to avoid Nym’s gaze. “Besides, you don't owe me. If anything, I'm indebted to you, and we've only just met yesterday."

"But it's obvious that this situation is affecting you. I think that counts for something - It hurts me to see you pained,” Nym sighed. ”I can't explain why, but you remind me of - well - someone I used to know."

The tent was then shrouded in silence.

Nym said, "Plus, I don't see the harm in you and I having a physical relationship. We could turn into mind flayers at any moment, and not to mention it's an excellent way to destress."

Astarion piped up, "That is if neither of us starts transforming during one of our carnal escapades."

Laughter bubbled forth, weaving through the tent, untangling the knots of tension that had gripped them moments before.

"This is why I like you," Nym stated matter-of-factly before gazing into his eyes fondly. Astarion reciprocated her gaze, and the corner of his lip pulled up. "By the way, you're not indebted to me."

Astarion’s eyes darted away once again, "But - I took your blood." He hung his head.

Nym’s shoulders slumped. "For there to be a debt, it needs to be agreed upon prior to the act - besides, I enjoyed it." She blushed, eyes falling momentarily before perking up. "I got this amulet, see?" Nym thumbed the charm, "It cures blood loss!"

Astarion eyed the amulet before reaching his hand to hers. "I see," he paused, his brow creasing with displeasure, "I want you to know that you are free to go to Gale's tent if that's what you wish."

"Oh, I - uh . . . I almost forgot about that." She frowned, "I don't want to anymore; not after seeing how upset it makes you. Like I’ve said before, where I’m from, one is scrutinized for expressing feelings of jealousy; but, I never fit in with anyone back home anyway.” Nym paused, biting her lip and gazing downwards. “I've been the target of scrutiny, monogamous or not. The wood elves of the High Forest feign peace and neighbourliness, but they are very unaccepting of - well.” Nym inhaled deeply, closing her eyes, “differences; at least within our own factions,” she spoke animatedly, hands dancing about with each phrase. “They have all these weird unspoken rules and if you screw up one-too-many times, they essentially cast you out."

"I see,” Astarion said, bringing his knuckle to his chin in thought.

"Youkeepsayingthat! And I've always been a little eccentric. . . I’m open-minded to your a-typical way of life as well. It would only be fair." She smiled endearingly.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Astarion’s eyes widened at Nym, his brow creasing before his frown warped into a grin. "You're too sweet."

Nym brushed off Astarion's compliment, her attention fixed on her discovery. "You too - and I found these books in that ruined temple today! The Curse of the Vampyr and Wood Elves of the High Forest. Can we read them together? Oh - and, can I stay with you again tonight, please?"

Astarion considered all of what Nym had just said. She doesn’t want Gale anymore - but on what pretense? 

Nym looked at him with doe eyes, pulling him from reason. Although he still had much to think about, he decided that having her stay the night again wouldn't cause any harm.

"I would love that." He gestured to her side of the bedroll, the one furthest from the tent flap.

Nym abided, lifting herself off of Astarion, scooting beside him, and grabbing the books that had fallen from her grasp upon her fumbled and steamy entrance. 

She excitedly opened the book on Vampires, flipping to the introduction. “I’ve already done some research on Vampires before, but getting the best books would be no easy feat where I’m from,” she exclaimed. “There is a library deep in the mountains on the north end of the High Forest, that’s where all the good books are,” Nym smirked.

Astarion bunched his mouth to the side and rested a knuckle under his chin. He tried to think back to what he knew of libraries in the High Forest, and he recalls hearing of a covert archive that was riddled with traps and illusions. Even a skilled rogue would have much trouble penetrating through that much security, he thought.

Nym skimmed through the pages of the book, occasionally running her eyes up and down particular pages. She nudged over to Astarion and rested her head on his shoulder, giving him a better view of the book.

Nym’s vanilla-and-amber-scented body felt soft and warm against his arm; a most welcome but novel sensation. 

Nym read aloud, 

"Vampire spawn are, more often than not, slaves to their master.”

"The spawn have supernatural abilities such as spider climbing and gaseous form."

Astarion perked up. "We would only use gaseous form if we were compelled to, but spider climbing? I had no idea about this."

"The vampire or vampire spawn do not need to consume blood to survive, however, if they do not consume blood, specifically humanoid blood, the following symptoms may occur:

- madness/extreme bloodlust

- brain fog

- depleted strength

- loss of supernatural abilities

- dry lips/skin

- depression

- anxiety"

"Ah - makes sense," Astarion flicked his gaze down, past the book.

He peeked up at Nym with admiration while her nose was in the book; seeing her so eager and focused caused his chest to tighten.

"It says here that the thirst for humanoid blood may be driven by one's instinct to procreate, as only a well-fed vampire or vampire spawn can reproduce. Well, then what about the vamps that prefer same-sex relationships?" Nym questioned, looking up at Astarion with knitted brows.

"I genuinely did not know that I could reproduce at all. I always assumed that I was doomed infertile."

"Whoever your master was must've been a real piece of work, huh?"

"You've surmised that much already?"

"Well, like I’ve said, this isn't my first time researching vampirism - all vampiric masters are evil as far as I’m aware."

"An unfortunate truth, I'm afraid," Astarion’s gaze shifted away as he began to pout. 

Nym paused.

 "Well whenever you feel ready to talk about it, I'm here." She winked playfully. "So, how much does a vampire need to drink to be well-fed?"

He pondered her question. "I actually don't know. I wonder if it says anything in that book about it. Why? Already getting baby-fever?" Astarion asked with a roguish smile.

Nym frowned, the colour of her cheeks deepening with blood. "Hmph - no - I'm just curious. I figure now that I have this necklace, you could essentially drink from me until I'm almost dead, chant ‘Te Absolvo’, and then drink a bit more after. We could even buy, or steal if you prefer, some scrolls of lesser restoration and then you can go crazy on me one night to see how much you need to drink until you’re full,” she grinned widely with arching eyes.

Astarion’s heart skipped a beat; he recalled his fantasy that he had on the beach. Is she truly offering to do this for me? "Hold on - you want to try that? You'd let me do that to you?"

"Mhm,” Nym nodded, “I think it would be an interesting experiment. Have you ever been full before?"

"I - uh - no, actually." Astarion tensed a smile.

"Well, then we have to try this . . . If you want to, of course." Nym shrunk into herself.

As if it were even a question. To feel sated for the first time - would it even be possible?

He leaned into her neck, whispering, "You have no idea how much I want to."

Nym blushed deeply while Astarion kissed her neck.

"Hmm - but wait!" She squirmed.

Astarion abruptly pulled away from her neck.

"Not right now! We need scrolls and I've already used this once today."

"Oh - I'm aware, darling," he gave her a condescending scratch on the head, "You're just so delectable; and in more ways than one." He smiled slyly.

She leaned into his touch and slowly closed her eyes. "Mmm - you know my weakness, huh?"

"You really are a kitty." Astarion angled his body to the left, directing his frontside more toward Nym without fully turning. He gently grazed his fingernails on her scalp, massaging thoughtfully.

"You're sort of cat-like yourself - albeit the more feral and particular type." She lolled her head back into his hand while he continued his toying.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good,” Nym’s face transitioned into a frown, “sorry, I hope I didn't offend."

Astarion laughed, "Oh, not at all. If anything, I'm charmed," he said, letting go of her hair.

She grabbed her chin and stiffened her shoulders. "I see," she mocked in a deep and posh-sounding voice, pursing her lips.

Astarion's mouth fell agape. “You're going to pay for that,” he said before lunging towards her and tickling her sides mercilessly.

Nym yelped and squirmed about, giggling with tears spilling from her eyes. She fell back onto her pillow, hugging her elbows to her waist to shield herself from his playful assault. "Okayokaynomore," she begged.

Astarion respectfully seized his attack as she caught her breath, sitting on his knees with either thigh between Nym's legs. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glossy, and her legs came to meagerly wrap around Astarion's torso.

“Hmm.” His lips curved to one side. “Ignis,” he whispered before lighting a few candles in his tent with the small flame on his fingertip. He oriented himself towards her again, happily exhaling whilst running his hands down the top of her thighs.

Nym brought her warm hands up to rest upon the backs of his cold ones as his hands swept up her waist, above her breasts, and then finally to her shoulders where he would tenderly squeeze her. 

In sync, Nym's hands glided across the backs of his arms, all the way to his shoulders. She pressed her fingertips gently into his back, coaxing him forward.

Astarion enjoyed how Nym would always suggest, but never demand. He enjoyed her embrace; and when he saw her face, he felt safe somehow. The feeling washed over him, and he soaked it up like a sponge.

Still, there was a constant battle to push the thoughts away; especially in moments like this, where his unpleasant memories were seeming to surface more and more with every touch.

He wanted to be touched. He wanted to embrace Nym. He wanted to become whole with her, all while a pressing feeling ached within him, urging him to run or to freeze.

His elbows slowly came down to the bedroll, caging Nym. His face hovered above hers, witnessing her expressions.

He saw lust in the laze of her eyelids, and in the way her teeth peeked through her parted lips.

Nym blinked slowly, and the candlelight danced across her features. Her hands snaked up to Astarion's rib cage, where she sensually caressed his body over his shirt.

A shiver ran up his spine as his growing desire battled his introspective qualms in waves.

“Astarion,” her voice echoed in his mind, “are you okay? You're frowning.” Nym pouted.

Astarion's awareness snapped back like the recoil on a crossbow, his head melting to the crook of Nym's neck. 

I want to forget again, for one more night.

He tasted Nym's salty neck as her nails ascended to brush through his snowy curls. She hummed, her vibrating throat tickling his lips ever so slightly.

“Are you sure you're okay, Astarion?” she whispered.

Astarion groaned while he gently nipped at her flesh without drawing blood. His pelvis pressed firmly against her core, causing her to moan indignantly.

“I need you tonight, Nym - please,” he breathed saccharine words into her ear before suckling on the thin flesh on her neck. Their bodies rocked into each other, and Nym began to radiate heat like a beacon, its intensity drawing Astarion in with its passionate incandescence.

“Astarion, I want you too,” she purred. Her hand came to his lower abdomen, her fingers splaying beneath the waistline of his pants.

He kissed up her neck, navigating towards her open mouth. His lips slowly and sensually joined with hers as he let out small groans of satisfaction.

His left hand snuck beneath her loose night-shirt, gaining purchase on her breast. 

The pace of her breathing picked up as he groped her soft mound, causing him to grow painfully hard and leak precum into his pants.

Their lips flew apart and Astarion hastily got up to strip, his muscles rippling as he pulled his ivory shirt above his head, apathetically discarding it next to the bedroll.

Nym watched him with patient adoration, as she lay melted beneath him. 

Astarion wasted no time before climbing atop Nym once again and kissing her fervently. His dominating kiss caused her head to sway with each swell of vigour that leaked from his soul. Breaking away, he winced and impetuously pulled Tav’s loose night pants off, followed by her top, her arms raising to accommodate his plot.

He hovered over her, sucking and kissing a trail from her neck to her breasts, making sure not to neglect one more than the other. Nym pressed her body upward into Astarion’s mouth as he snuck two curving fingers into her weeping folds.

Nym whined loudly as his finger started slowly pumping in and out, causing lewd and wet sounds to surely penetrate through the fabric walls of their shared accommodation and into the ears of their campmates.

“That’s it, sweet Nym - sing as loud as you need,” Astarion purred, “I want to hear nothing but the sounds of you coming undone for me.” I want the sound of your cries to drown out the clamour of my miserable memories - please.

Her core pulsed against his fingers at his words, and her hips wiggled needily against his hand as she came up on her elbows, moaning through gritted teeth. 

Astarion ascended to her lips, delving into her mouth with his tongue which waltzed with hers. When he disentangled their maws, a wet string that connected the two of them drooped leaving a glistening wet thread along her chest.

Nym lay panting, and gazing at Astarion warmly with heavy lids. That’s it - that’s what I need, Astarion thought. The fidelity of Nym’s stare forced a rush of blissful numbness to his mind that seeped into his chest and outwards into his wrists like little blue rivulets of panacea.

He removed his fingers and gripped her thighs roughly, placing the backs of her knees above his shoulders. Nym made small mewls of enjoyment while Astarion manhandled her like she was his pet, but when he lined himself up with her wetness and subsequently filled her in one agonizingly slow thrust, she cried out voraciously.

“That’s it, good girl,” Astarion praised while slightly picking up the pace of his thrusts.

His length reached into her deepest depths, coaxing whimpers and groans out of both partners.

Nym stared at Astarion with unrelenting passion and intensity, her expression reading somewhere between anger and affection; once thought to be polarizing energies, but now mingling like leaves and rain in a windstorm.

Astarion had folded her completely in half and began to thrust into her with great abandon. This woman - she’s so warm - she’s so hot. “Agh,” Astarion whimpered, hanging his head forward, causing his curls to graze her flushed cheeks.

Nym’s womanly body rippled, her feet bouncing above Astarion’s shoulders as he lay into her again and again.

“I’m so close, Astarion,” she whined, enticing him to unhook one of her legs and reach for her clit where he would rub taut circles, eliciting more cries to spill from her kiss-swollen lips.

“Ah - Nehel lani don stacia sha'Quessir,” groaned Nym through clenched teeth.

Astarion wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. Something about a beautiful elven friend, and certainly nothing negative, he thought assuredly. Growing up in the city, he had never learned how to speak Elvish fluently. It was something he wanted to learn, but never had the opportunity. 

The way the beautiful language poured from her lips uninhibitedly and the way her cunt quivered around him was bringing him to the apogee of pleasure. 

“Bite me - please,” she pleaded.

Right when he thought he couldn’t feel any better.

Astarion grunted and descended to her throat, slowing his pace slightly to search for her pulse with the flat of his tongue. When he found it, he swiftly latched on and began drinking from her vehemently, making Nym yelp softly. Feeling confident in his bite, he started rutting into her rapidly, chasing his climax.

“Asta - rion,” she choked out a cry when he felt her core violently clenching and gushing around his shaft as her ambrosia coated his tongue. 

Nym’s body limpened beneath him, glistening and panting; so he removed his hand and expertly hiked her leg over his shoulder once more without releasing her flesh from his bite.

Astarion’s entire body tensed, hips stuttering all while a syrupy ecstasy clouded his mind. All at once, the ecstasy flowed from his mind to his groin and erupted into Nym’s body.

Astarion whimpered into her neck as he locked his hips into hers, filling her wholly with his seed.

He briefly thrust shallowly into her a few more times before taking his last gulps of her blood and then pulling out of her entirely. 

Panting, he licked her fresh wounds clean and then pressed his bloodied lips onto hers. Nym took a deep breath through her nose while Astarion tasted her mouth. He embraced the hot and tender sensation of her plush lips against his own. 

Their kiss was mutually passionate and oozing with a purple aura of post-coital fatigue. They groaned into one another before disconnecting with a pop. 

Astarion thoughtfully untangled Nym’s legs and placed them to rest straight on either side of him. He carefully massaged her hips and thighs, squeezing her hip bones compassionately, causing her to hum sweetly.

“How are you, my dear?” he asked, grinning slightly.

Nym propped herself up on her shoulders and reached a hand to cup Astarion’s cheek. “Perfect - and you?” she exhaled.

A simple enough question that would be difficult to answer without complexity and an uncomfortable level of vulnerability. His stomach vibrated, mimicking the feeling of perhaps falling off a large cliff or floating like a feather from a jay’s nest. This feeling oscillated with a muddy green sickness, fermenting into an acrid and ethanol-like brew, fit to burst from the seams that Astarion had been so desperate to maintain. 

“Hmm?” she pressed, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

Astarion snapped back to the present, noticing that he’d periodically been running into trouble maintaining his composure throughout the night. He gazed at Nym, whose body glistened in the candlelight, the sun having been set completely for some time. Her eyes were round and her lower lip puffed out slightly in a pout.

Pity, Astarion grimaced inwardly.

“I’m sorry - you’ve been so much fun that I’ve found myself completely spent, darling.” He painted a disingenuous smile across his face. “Here, let me take care of you.”

Tidying up after sex had always been part of his song and dance, a chore that he would provide and never have provided for him; however, with Nym, it felt different. The idea of her being left to care for herself after he had ravished her made him uneasy; in parallel, the act of wiping her clean and tucking her in filled his soul with a strange sense of joy that he’d seemingly been deprived of for countless years.

Nym curtly nodded and laid back down, rolling onto her side and carding her hand beneath the pillow with her eyes closed.

Astarion did his routine wash up with the softest dampened cloth before discarding all of their dirty linens into his new designated small wicker basket, acting as a hamper.

He had his naked back turned to Nym, and the sudden realization of what that meant caused his whole body to stiffen momentarily. 

My scars -

. . . but she was bound to see them eventually.

Astarion slowly turned towards her, almost as if he were scared to see a monster over his shoulder, but she was deep in trance and snuggled into her pillow.

He sighed in relief; thanking, not the gods but perhaps his recent streak of luck - grateful for the kind and promiscuous elf in his tent.

He crawled beside her and pulled her backside into him so that she was flush against his tepid skin. Astarion pulled their blankets over top of their naked bodies, cozying up beside his little elven woman and savouring everything she was.

Who knows how long I’ll be able to indulge in these little comforts, and who knows how long it’ll be before she stops craving my company?

Everyone gets taken away, eventually.

Read the next chapter ( 5 ) >>

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Notes: Astarion history check:

*Tries to recall a library in or around the High Forest*

Required roll outcome: 15

Astarion rolls: 14

Damn, so close!

[talaok]

A date

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: (this is the 3rd part to this fic but can be read alone) Since you didn't come last time, Peter is now determined to make you.

warnings: smut | oral sex (f receiving), sub!Peter 

"Hello?"

"h-hi"

Your lips turned to a smile, as you recognized the voice on the other line.

"Hi peter"

"hi," he cleared his throat "am I disturbing you?"

You looked down at your own body lazily splayed on the bed,

no, you weren't busy

"no, don't worry" you reassured him " to what do I owe the pleasure?"

It was as if you could feel his anxiety through the phone.

He huffed a laugh before answering "I was just wondering-" he gulped "if-if you aren't busy" he trailed off "if you'd like to uhm-" you could hear him pace across his room, and couldn't help but grin "to.. y'know..."

"peter" you called for him, 

"yes?"

"calm down baby"

baby,

oh how he liked when you called him that

"Sorry"

"It's fine, what did you wanna ask me?"

He took a quick breath

"if you... if you maybe wanted to get something to eat with me"

you bit down a grin "you mean a date?"

"I-I" he stuttered "would you want it to be a date?"

you wanted to roll your eyes at his cluelessness.

"I would" you promised,

Peter felt like he could faint " it's a date then"

__ __ __

"hello Petey" you smiled, walking up to him

"hi y/n" he said shyly, and you stood on your toes to land a quick kiss on his reddening cheek.

"so how are you doing?" you asked casually, hoping to melt at least a bit of the ice covering his being.

"I-I'm fine" he smiled too now, seemingly more relaxed " You?"

you beamed "I'm great now"

"so where are we going?"

__ __ __

"I like your house," you said, examining his room.

He had invited you over after what turned out to be a very nice date.

You had talked and joked, and he had made you smile and laugh so much your cheeks hurt.

You were starting to realize just how much you actually liked him, and he was starting to think he had fallen in love.

"thank you," he said, closing the door.

"what were you studying?" you asked curiously, walking to his desk and glancing at the open books and messy notes.

"oh-nothing, just math" he shrugged, walking to you to quickly close the book.

"you don't need to be embarrassed peter" you smiled honestly up at him "I like that you're smart" you grazed his arm, "I think it's sexy actually" you smirked, noticing how a breath seemed to get caught in his throat.

"I'm really bad at math you know" you sighed, "I never understand any of it"

"I could help you if you want"

"private lessons with you..." you raised your eyebrow suggestively "yeah I think I'd like that" you murmured, intertwining your arms behind his neck.

He smiled sheepishly "I think I would too," he managed to say before your mouth was on his and everything else stopped existing.

He loved how you were able to do that, how with just one touch, one kiss, the world stopped except for the two of you.

He kissed you back, trying his best to be good at it.

He was still nervous about it, about everything really.

You started walking him to the bed, your mouth still met with his, your taste still blessing his lips, and he followed mindlessly, a simple puppet under your control.

You made him sit on the bed and straddled his lap, earning a low whine from him.

Just when he thought he had no air left in his lungs, you leaned away, starting a slow trail of kisses from his cheek and down his neck.

he was in heaven, in paradise, flying above the clouds.

"Well hello," you murmured, taunting him as your hand ghosted the bulge growing in his jeans.

"y/n-" he whimpered

"already hard for me baby?" you asked, going back to kissing his mouth "can't wait to feel like last time?" you said, looking at him as ragged breaths escaped his parted mouth " want to fill me up again?"

"want to feel real good again mh baby?" you murmured, grinding on his lap, as he tried not to moan.

"y/n- wait"

"yeah, what is it?" you asked, "you don't want to, baby?"

"no, no I do" he breathed "it's just-" you watched his adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped " I-"

"petey..." you let your fingers caress his hair "just talk to me"

"I want to make you come" he spat out, and it took everything in you not to snort.

He was blushing like never before, his cheeks as red as the blood rushing to them.

You grinned, amused "well that's what we're gonna do"

"no but last time-"

"last time was last time"

"I know but- I don't know if I can-" he was struggling to look at you "you just- you feel so good"

you chuckled softly at that "so you want to make me come another way?"

He nodded

"you're sweet" you kissed him

"well we can do that," you said, "did you have any particular way in mind?"

if you thought he couldn't get any redder, you just got proved wrong.

"no need to be embarrassed, baby"

"I-I wanted to..."

"Just tell me, honey"

"I wanted to go down on you" he whispered softly.

you bit your lip, you would have been lying if you said you weren't excited about that idea.

"ever done that?"

you knew he hadn't, but still asked

"n-no" he whispered again

You smiled softly and he felt the need to talk again, to explain himself better " But I've done research"

"you did?" You giggled "what kind of research exactly?"

"well, I-I've watched videos"

"mmhh" you hummed, smirking "I bet you liked doing that research a lot mh?"

"I-I" he could only stutter

"I'm kidding Peter" 

"you wanna show me what you've learned?"

"yes" he nodded, and you gave him a quick kiss before getting off of him and onto the bed to sit beside him.

He looked frozen, so you gently put your hand on his “you sure about this baby?”

“Y-yes sorry it’s just- I want it to be good”

“Oh don’t worry I’m a great teacher” you promised, and that seemed to work as he stood up just to kneel in front of you.

His amber eyes were wide with anticipation as his pupils trailed from your calves up to your own eyes.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening, that you were actually letting him do this.

"Alright then" you encouraged "you might want to take this off," you said, your eyes signaling to your skirt.

"right," he muttered, his hands immediately reaching for it just to stop as quickly as they had moved.

He looked at you, unsure, anxious, and you nodded, trying to convey all your encouragement.

So he did it, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, so slowly in fact, that if you didn't know any better would have thought was deliberate teasing, he slipped your skirt off as you helped him out by raising your hips.

Peter had to stop a moment to admire you, sat in front of him with just some black lacey panties on,

He had to be dreaming.

"Peter" you called for him in a whisper and his head snapped up to look at you.

He raised his brows as if to say -yes?- and you smiled "I know you're not doing it on purpose but you're kind of killing me here"

"oh" he breathed "sorry"

"no worries" you stoked his cheek "here" your fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your panties "I'll help you out," you said, pulling your underwear down yourself.

His mouth gaped open, but you realized he had gotten the message when he finished shuffling the panties down your legs.

You slowly parted your legs, moving a bit closer to the edge of the bed, and his heart started pounding in his chest.

"Show me what you got then baby" you joked,

"ok" he hiped himself " you'll lead me right?" he asked

"I will" you promised, and glancing at you one more time he bent between your thighs.

He licked a long stripe between your folds and you had to bite down a moan.

Your hand found the back of his head, his hair grazing against your palm as he did it again, and then again, and then again.

This is what I mean when I say porn is unrealistic

"That's good honey, just-" you said, and he stopped, looking sorrily up at you "you see that bud on top?"

He glanced at your cunt to see what you were talking about before nodding.

"good" you said "try to focus there a bit more"

"s-sure" he stuttered, before diving in again.

He loved it,

it was a feeling like nothing else,

being buried between you, working to only please you.

He wanted it to be amazing,

he wanted to see you come because of him,

and he was already certain this wasn't gonna be the last time.

He did what you suggested, focusing more on what he assumed was the clit, licking it fast.

"here?" he asked shyly, 

"Just-" you panted, "just a bit more to the left-"

He immediately adjusted himself and you could only moan loudly at the amazing feeling.

"fuck!" you cried out "that's it, baby, that's it" you spoke fast and high.

His eyes were fixated on you as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

He couldn't believe he was the one causing that, and at the same time decided he wanted even more.

He focused as his lips closed around your clit, starting to gently suck it.

You gripped his hair now "oh my god baby!" you moaned "fuck that's good"

"you're so good baby" you mumbled, your eyes shut close 

"so so good," you muttered incoherently.

He could feel himself getting painfully hard underneath his torturous jeans, and as he watched your own hand travel to your tits, his hips started moving on their own, desperate for some friction, some sort of release.

You were a vision, one he was sure he'd never forget.

"you can-" you were having trouble speaking through the waves of pleasure he was coursing your way "you can use your fingers if you want"

He had to swallow the groan creeping up his throat but wasted no time before obeying.

You soon felt his finger at your entrance and braced yourself as he slowly slipped one digit inside of you.

"fuck" you whimpered, now grinding slightly onto him "use another one baby" you begged, and he felt his cock twitch in his boxers.

He immediately did, his index and middle finger now buried deep inside of you.

"good boy" you praised, forcing his crotch to grind harder into nothing.

He started driving his fingers in and out of you as his mouth kept licking and sucking your clit, and you felt like you were about to ascend to another universe.

So much for having never done this

You could feel the bubble in your belly tightening and tightening, ready to burst any second.

"yes baby" you whispered

"fuck-just like that" he kept going "just like that honey"

"don't stop" you pleaded "I'm coming," you said "Fuck-I'm coming baby" you cried, as finally, a tidal wave of pleasure drowned your own pleas and moans.

He kept going as you rode your high, and only when you opened your eyes again did he stop.

You smiled down at him, and he felt butterflies in his stomach.

"come here" you begged, and he immediately did, leaning up to meet his mouth with yours.

You grabbed his face and pulled him with you onto the bed, shuffling upwards.

He followed you, settling one of his legs in between yours, as you let your hands roam free on his body, slowly inching closer to where you suspected he needed you the most.

You kept passionately kissing him as your hand found his crotch, and much to your surprise, a wet spot on it.

You smirked into the kiss, and Peter looked confused for a moment before realizing what had happened.

"Sorry," he said, sounding defeated

"no" you cooed "don't be Peter"

"you did so good baby" you promised "so so good" you smiled, resuming to kiss him once more, already feeling the bulge on his crotch growing again under your touch.

[pen-observing]

synopsis: It doesn't matter which name he chooses to go by; even after 500 years you will call him Zandik. Even after decades, the two of you will be tied by an invisible string. Years come and go but somehow the two of you continue to argue about the same philosophy. He calls this thing a blessing, you call it a curse.

pairing: dottore x gn! reader word count: 5.3k warnings: time jumps, domesticity hints, mentions of hickeys, dottore is complicated and so is your relationship, ngl reader kind of faruzan coded with the curse, proofread but while skimming.

i. spring

The first time he meets you, he finds you annoying.   Laughing about it comes so easy now even if the memory is around five hundred years old, but, back then, on the very first day that you sat down next to him – he undoubtedly found you annoying.  

While answering to the name Dottore, he would never say he got attached to any particular season in the year. Every true scientist knows that change is the only permanent thing because it helps them shape and mold new creations. Chasing after change meant chasing something eternal even back then when he was simply Zandik.  

Yes, he answered to the name Zandik. His classmates as well as fellow researchers from other darshans knew him. There was a certain genius that always showed itself. It was admiration that followed. Those who wanted to partner up with him or those that simply wanted a glance from him; it was a certain privilege he could leverage. But he also had unspoken rules and one of them you decided to cross.  

Everyone knew that when Zandik was inside the library with more than 9 books in his hands, nobody was meant to approach his table. It doesn’t matter how many people were intended to use it; a certain sense of ownership existed. If you wanted to get on his good side, you would not bother to approach him when he was deep into theoretical research. When someone did, they would get a tense jaw, a lowered gaze and red eyes that glimmered. It doesn’t matter that everyone called him handsome, in those moments he was simply scary to look at.  

He thought that this spring day would prove fruitful in answering his passionate research question. He laid down his materials; he was enjoying sketching and reimagining a new model when out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone with a Haravatat uniform approach his table.  

Surely it was a mistake on their part. He placed his hand on the bottom corner and was about to flip to the next page when his hand stayed hovering above the corner he wanted to keep pristine. You were lucky he didn’t grab the delicate paper in between his fingers because he could have risked denting it when you saw down.  

You sat down? At his table? When he had not 9 but 13 books in front of him and his personal materials? Haravatat students did have a certain repertoire for being particularly annoying he remembered. Others found them either too bubbly or too quiet; they were known for their ‘specific’ behaviour, loud debates and their emotional connection to languages. Zandik could respect the few individuals that actually were valuable there but he could not respect someone breaking one of his rules and distracting him from his own research.  

His jaw was already tense but it fell open when he turned his head in your direction and realized you had no shame. Typical of a Haravatat student.   You sat there on the chair diagonally from him; your legs were crossed, your head was leaning against your hand and you were looking directly at him. The book in front of you couldn’t even be used as a cover up.  

It was closed.  You were staring at him.  You felt no shame when he turned around.   God, were you annoying.  

If he wanted his peace back, he would have to make it by chasing you off. To chase you off, he would have to engage with you.   He placed his hands on the either side of his book, he leaned in slightly to get a better look at you. Animals did this all the time – they showed signs of hostility. Humans, as the ultimate animals, were no different. Perhaps this would be enough to activate you own instincts and chase you off?  

… 

It wasn’t.   You were still looking at him.  Analysing him.   You were after something.  

“What do you want?” Just because you were here, it didn’t mean his voice would change. Your presence should have no effect on him similar to that.   He was hoping you would answer fast but you just continued to look at him. Then, you uncrossed your legs in a frustrated motion and you shook your head. How annoying.  Just what was it that you wanted? 

“I will not ask you what you want again. Leave if you have nothing to say.” 

That seemed to strike a nerve. Because for the first time in a long time, someone glared at him. You crossed your legs again and scowl was on your face in a matter of seconds. How animated; how easy you were to read like a creature. You approached his table. You looked at him; so why were you annoyed now?  

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time to entertain your foolishness what-” suddenly, your hand stretched out and your index finger was pointing at him. 

“You!” How dare you point at him? His jaw grew tighter and his shoulders tensed. You had not right for this.   “You! What does it mean to be human?!”  

…   Excuse you?   His shoulders fell down and he leaned back with laugher. Not only were you annoying, you were absurd. Who does that to anyone? Who does that to him?  But sure, he supposes he could entertain your little question. His laughter stops and he straightens up.  

“To be human means to chase change.”  

That is what he has been doing all his life. That is what brought him here. Why do you blink up at him like an unimpressed mushroom boar? Is his answer not good enough for you?   You stand up and pick up your own book.  

“So disappointing. I thought a genius everyone mentioned would give an answer not underlined on chapter two. As if chasing change could mean being human. Do you really think change is something you can catch? Absurd.” 

He wasn’t absurd.   You were.   How dare you act like this? How dare you simply turn around with a bigger scowl on your face and walk away from him?  

You didn’t even give him your name and you dared to accuse him of being absurd? Haravatat students will always be so odd. And did you have to do it in a full library so everyone would get a front row ticket to your theatrical show?  

Ah yes, Dottore is sure even when reminiscing.   You really were annoying on the first day he met you.  

ii. summer

“Can you believe he actually implied that she was ugly and then got offended when she dissed him proving she overheard it? And now, suddenly, mister ‘I am rich and your family is poor’ is disappointed because she won’t marry him?!” 

Perhaps never wanting to find out your name would have been more beneficial to him? If he only dubbed you as ‘that-one-library-weirdo', he wouldn’t be listening to this right now. But, Zandik compares it to the months when he hadn’t know you and he realizes doing his experiments in front of this giant machine was more lonely back then.  

The grass and the night sky, a small flutter of the wind that made the corners of his papers turn up; it suddenly feels more full...this place that you share. Somehow, he found out your name and general passions from other students. Then, when you approached him in the library table again without saying anything, he allowed that too; furrowed brow and all.   Then, the two of you had to acknowledge one another in the hallways with a head nod, or a small wave or an occasional ‘hi’ uttered softly.   He isn’t quite sure when and how the two of you started sharing a few notes, sitting next to one another in the same elective the next semester or even going out for food and drinks.  

He once said it was odd and you told him that is the whole problem with his philosophy. Change just happens; you cannot catch it as it unfolds. You said it would always be that way because humans functioned for eons with it. You said he should think of it as a natural law and he would have, had you not decided to suck on the straw of your drink so loudly the hair on his head stood up.  

Still, this was a welcome change to him. He tends not to dwell on it too much; after all, those thoughts were your job.   Yes, he let you sit in the grass next to him while he fixes up this machine.   Yes, he didn’t completely tune you out.   And, yes, he might have told that stuck-up blonde man in his darshan that you were in fact not single. It isn’t like lying and manipulation were out of his character; Zandik swore he would get what he wants and reject anything he deems unworthy. That blonde man whose name he didn’t even bother to remember was unworthy of you. Simple as that. Nothing more.  

For the first time since he was a simple child, Zandik felt like he had made a genuine friend. Having to share a table with the two of you both annoying him would have been torture.  

The new mechanical part needs 5 screws. One. Two. Three. 

“Zandik, are you listening to me?” 

Four. 

“Yes, yes – I don’t know why you called that man a ‘standard’ of romantic literature if he acts like that.” 

The fifth one. The last one is always the worst.  

“I don’t have time to explain that again. I have something more important to tell you.”   “Mhm.” 

If he could just get it to fit right and make this work, he would be at the end of his experiment. Just a few more twists and- 

“I am leaving Sumeru tomorrow morning.” 

He halts. The screwdriver stands still not having finished the mission assigned to it. Something inside the machine cracks and for a second Zandik wonders if that noise came from inside of his own body. Shouldn’t he be mad? Upset? This is the first time you’re telling him about it. Wait, if so, it must be a silly trip that is meaningless and so insignificant you forgot to mention it.  

“Oh, are Haravatat students setting up camp somewhere again? Your darshan really likes to have bonding experiences.”  

Zandik continues to twist the screw; the machine failed but he will see this through to the end. Looking up at you when he already knows the answer from the silence that settles between the two of you would show his weakness. Zandik has no weaknesses anyone knows of. Zandik has a prideful disposition he will keep up regardless of what happens.  

“It is just me...remember how I said this romantic book is fascinating? I didn’t mean the romance of it; I meant the ruins that are described only briefly. They’re too detailed to not exist somewhere in Natlan! I am sure of it! I got permission to make them my thesis. Isn’t that great?”  

You never talked to him about your thesis plans. He was forced to listen to 5 hours of why the female lead’s arrogance was important in the novel but he wasn’t privy to something more intimate of your plans.  

He didn’t tell you much about his childhood and judgments of his villagers or classmates. He didn’t reveal anything significant about himself but...that library table was his intimate space which he allowed you to occupy. Nobody else.   And this place? Do you know how meaningful it is to him? To his dreams and aspirations as a researcher? Do you know how many nights he spent on the grass you are sitting on right now just trying to get his research to work? And, if it didn’t, the hours he spent hoping and cursing at the parts?  

Zandik suddenly felt cold towards you. He let you inside these intimate spaces and what did he let in return? Less loneliness? The two of you clearly didn’t connect as human beings. What does he know about you? He knows the way you write in the margins and the shapes you’d draw on his papers, he knows the way you talk when passionate – how he has to take one step to the left when you start debating a syntax issue unless he wants your outstretched hand to hit his cheek – he knows the annoying sound you make when drinking from straws; fuck, he even knows the patterns to your walks.  

Was this what you truly meant when you said humans cannot catch change? The fact that just now he realized how much he knows about you yet not enough to have predicted this?   The worst by far, is that he cannot find it in himself to yell at you for how he feels. He can’t yell at you for not knowing this... He knew that everyone travels for their thesis, so, he should say he expected it.  

You don’t need to know how he thought the two of you would travel to the same place but with different research objectives. Still, what else can he do besides let you go?  

He looks at you. Finally. But you wish that he hadn’t. This is an expression you’ve never seen on him before; an expression that makes leaving such a hard task even when you rely on not saying goodbye.  

Zandik sometimes reminded you of stoics; the way he would take every failure and success as equal opportunity without getting derailed. But, only now do you see his red eyes glow; the way they’re looking at you while hardly blinking – like he is trying to remember as much of you as possible to carry with him.  

You never could have guessed how right he was; how even that millisecond meant remembrance that haunts.  

The two of you don’t say goodbye that night. You wish each other luck and promise to compete on who can finish their thesis faster.  

Neither of you do.  

Zandik gets expelled for how obsessive he becomes.   And you get lost to time. Lost to Natlan.  

The last news Zandik hears about you does not come from any of your letters – they were only three after all. He hears from the Matra that you rushed inside a ruin and were lost forever. 

The word forever always had a special ring to him; that was the first time he hated it. If you were lost forever, he would simply be better than you. He would live forever and make sure to do everything he wanted. Ample time leads to ample rewards.  

Zandik, when he changes his name, abandons everything that grounded it. He throws away your letters and he throws away you. Only he knows what was harder to discard.  

iii. autumn

Dottore sometimes has to stand inside of his own lab to admire his work. The vastness of it and all the success and trust he has as well as the fact his clones are more advanced than ever; it all proves just how right he was. And just how wrong they were. 

Turning down a genius and trying to stop his advancement? Foolish.   Those people in the village that ostracised him? Insignificant. As well as their offspring that he never saw.   Only a few people had what it takes to contribute true research to this world. And they were lost or boxed in or stopped by something so trivial as the academia or governments.  

He stands above it all. As the ultimate showcase of unrivalled genius and absolute freedom. Nobody asks him what it means to be human anymore. They don’t consider him such; and every single day he slips down the path of being something that cannot answer that.  

His test subjects often shout about humanity and how he has none. He wonders if they realize how it means nothing. Seeing humans struggle and break does light up something in him. And he decided to chase that long ago.  

“Lord Harbinger.”  

He stays silent. Lord Harbinger is a title he refuses to answer to. Why should he turn his neck to the same words his inadequate colleagues do? If the person calling him doesn’t immediately correct himself, they know what happens next.  

“I mean, Doctor!” Good. Humans knew how to adopt quickly after all. He finally tilts up his neck towards the man. He takes off the mask covering his face just so that his subordinate could see the glare.  

“What do you want?”  “Something very odd is happening in quarter 7, section 31!”  “Odd? I didn’t even experiment in there recently and nothing important was placed there from my machinery.”   “We have no idea what is happening! There is a glow but no smoke or fire or anything else. We only thought it would be right to notify you.”  “A glow you say? Ah, perhaps it is a jinn lamp where a weak soul of older days slumbers. We did place the gifts of those nobles from all over Teyvat there. I told Pierro I don’t need them but he insisted I should keep them.”  

He twiddles with his pen.  

“That section is insignificant to me. I hold no care about it at all.” He takes a deep breath. If only it was section 37 instead. There, he was working on an experiment involving lay lines and ghostly souls. 

“Either way Doctor, the light just keeps on growing and we are afraid it will expand to other sections. What if one of the nobles turned against us? What if-”   “Shut your mouth, I will go. No matter how many times I look for capable people, they never meet my expectations.”  

Dottore gets up from his chair but with no zest. He saw bottles like those of jinn all the time years ago. The only thing less exciting about seeing one again are the white hallways he has to walk through to get to the room. The underling follows behind him, scurrying like a bug. Cosmically insignificant. To think that this bug’s energy will one day get the same treatment as those ghostly souls that actually matter.  

He opens the door and sees a bright blue light. There is no imminent danger. Perhaps the being inside this lamp recognized another presence inside the room and they are reacting to it? He shudders at the thought of having to deal with another ex-lovers pair that vowed revenge on one another.  

Dottore walks over to the source of the light. He cannot see the centre of it. It gives off a warmth however. And he wanted to roll his eyes at the way his subordinate shakes. But, his curious nature could never lay dormant for a long time.  

He realizes that he feels warmth from it, but his insignificant bug feels chills. Whatever this is, it could come in handy for his experiments that require temperature changes.  

Dottore reaches to grab it.  

“We tried that before Sir! Nothing changed!” 

Sir again. Not Doctor. The same second mistake cannot be forgiven.   Dottore’s hand grabs at the light core. He expects the feel and the weight of a marble.  

But it completely disappears.   Dottore’s face drops as does his excitement. The poor underling has no idea he will suffer for both his own actions and the fluctuations of Dottore’s moods.   The room is pitch black again. There is no sound coming from anywhere. The other subordinates ran off because they thought the light was dangerous. Dottore clicks his tongue in realizing he will have to replace them all again.  

Then, the bug behind him shrieks. He can hear him tumble onto the ground and run off as soon as he gets up. What a fool. He is yelling at the top of his lungs. Perhaps pulling out his tongue should teach him to be quiet.  

When Dottore turns around, he feels warmth engulf his body. He digs his heels into the floor to stop himself from moving. He hears a sound he hadn’t heard in years.  

“Zandik? I-Is that you?”  

He can hear your voice. He can hear you call out that acursed name. Why are you here? Why are you on the floor, hunched over and kneeling?  

“Zandik?” 

Stop saying that! Stop it! He can feel his right hand shake; he can feel his heart beat. Worst of all, he can hear the things the other clones are saying about this memory. It is becoming a part of the collective. He can hear the collective hope and heartbreak.  

“That is you. Isn’t it?”  

Your voice is so weak.  

“I haven’t answered to that name for 200 years now.”  

He cannot find it in himself to say anything else. The other clones are creating a ricocheting cacophony inside his brain. He should have thrown out more of his humanity. Didn’t he burn those letters? Why is he suddenly remembering lines from them? Why is one of his clones crying?  

“200 years..?” he can hear the bewilderment in your voice. When he looks down at you, he can see the tears in your eyes. You are afraid; they no longer hold any light.  

He kneels down and touches your shoulder to calm your shaking body. Only then does he get hit by the ugly revelation that you are laughing but there is no sound. You look like you are breaking in every sense of the word; he never managed to drive his test subjects to these limits where they would lose everything at once.  

He clicks his tongue. He shakes your shoulders with a grip that makes you yelp. Only then do you actually begin to cry. He takes it. He takes this breakdown over the utter lack of humanity you displayed before.  

“Zandik I-I"  “Dottore. My name is Dottore now.”  

He says it even if he is sure you can’t actually hear him. His voice can’t reach out to you even if he is kneeling down next to you, embracing you as a surprise to himself. You’re crying into his shoulder, slobbering and hiccupping.  

You ask him what it means to be human again.   He cannot answer you. He became something else.   You say that you aren’t sure about it anymore. That hurts more than his own lack of an answer. You should have come back in a different way. You should have come back pointing a finger at him, yelling to him about his choices. Maybe even yelling at him for not looking for you. Not like this. Never like this.  

Only when you faint in his arms does he notice the cuts and bruises on your body. For the first time since he changed his name – Dottore decides to treat someone like a real doctor. His subordinates have to live with that – seeing the ruthless harbinger who terrorizes them show some care. Command it even.  

It isn’t natural. It shouldn’t even exist. Seeing humanity from a man like that makes them question everything. He goes into your room 5 times a day, doesn’t let anyone else do anything besides keep guard. And then, in between those visits, he tortures children and experiments on them with poison and toxic remains. He gets blood all over his coat and then puts on a new one when knocking on your door.  

They can’t fathom it. It simply shouldn’t exist. And they start avoiding that door; because pretending like it doesn’t exist and pretending like their master is only ruthless makes it easier to live. 

And when you do wake up – it is impossible to ignore how their master’s humanity makes itself known. 

iv. winter

“You know I quite like this little habit of ours.” Dottore’s voice reminds you how wrong your predictions were. Since he came back earlier from Sumeru than you bet on, you now owe a large sum of mora to a certain banker.  

“I was not aware that it was a habit. You just come here whenever you please.”   “There is something to come to. Be a dear and fetch another tea cup for me, would you?” Typical him. Only he would be able to say such a line; implying that whatever this was between the two of you reminded him of a home.   But, even if you click your tongue, you get another tea cup and pour him some. At least you can remember your own humanity when your cold hands touch it and suddenly warmth seeps through. As a child, you loved to do it. You would put your hands in cold rain on purpose just to feel this simple warmth. You have a habit of taking off your gloves when drinking tea, he keeps his on. He has a habit of sitting next to you in the same way he did all those years ago.  

“Now, let me engage in ‘pure bragging’ as your lovely lips like to put it. Are you ready to hear of Sumeru again and just everything that I accomplished?”  

Something tells you not to give him that satisfaction. So you put the cup down and point a finger at him.  

“You’re more human now, Zandik.”  “How many times must I tell you not to use that name?”  “Until you figure out a way to go back into the past and change the name on your birth certificate to Dottore, and then glare at me in the library like you did when we met – I will continue to use it. That is your true name after all. Erase all records if you will, but I will remember it.”  

He doesn’t think about bragging anymore.  

“That library just looks more grand now, the people calling themselves researchers are anything but that.”  

You can feel when he dangles a hook in front of you. Taking it would give him far too much satisfaction.  

“He cried, you know.”  

He grips the handle.  

“I felt it, no need to mention it.”  “The youngest one, the one I was most fond of, cried when you killed all of them.”  “And some swore revenge. Are you trying to get me to focus on the feelings? You probably are, you’ve been annoying since the first day I met you.”  “And you still haven’t realized you cannot chase change. Tell me, were you surprised when she asked you that? Were you hesitant? Aren’t your clones proof of everything you ever wanted?”  “It is a shame you hadn’t gone with me.” He deflects it. “The archon would certainly like you. She too, kept asking about humanity and the lines I crossed.”  

Your tea has gone cold by now. Zandik always had a way of distracting you for longer than you’d like. 

“And were your answers to her something I would approve of?”  “You said I seemed more human now, is that not enough for you?”  “I am glad to see only one version of you now. I will take that as a start.”   “Unbelievable, by a stroke of luck which you call misfortune, you were granted even more time than me but you hate it.”  “We always differed in our definitions. I wasn’t blessed with this, I was cursed. I entered those runes to learn more of humanity but I was punished by my eagerness to lose my own.” 

He has to roll his eyes. 

“Just because you were blessed with so much time and can make a legacy like myself, it doesn’t mean you are no longer human. Would you like me to take you to see all those monsters? Perhaps some of my own research experiments?”   “You forget I am free to leave this place whenever I wish. And, neither of us have legacy.”  “Speak for yourself. You left and came back all those years ago because you said you hated me. Yet, here we are, drinking tea like always.”  “I came back because I was jealous of true humans.”  “And I pity you for being jealous of inferior creatures.”  “And I pity you for thinking you will ever leave a legacy that is fond of remembering.” 

“Careful there, your hateful gaze might make me forget you love me.”  “I don’t love you.” 

Dottore leans back in his chair and he laughs.  

“But you do. That is what proves your humanity. Always paradoxical and complex, disagreeing with my actions but realizing I am perhaps the only human that relates to you. We call the same thing by different names; but it won’t change either way.”  “I just don’t know why I came back to you from that forsaken ruin.”  “Should we call it fate?”  “You gave it an abstract name? Does it still bother you that you never found a way inside?”  

He places his hand over your own on the table. He looks at you, now knowing that the two of you were right not to exchange goodbyes that day. And you relax. There is always a memory that triggers when he is next to you, there is always that realization that he knows you as much as you know him. You share time now but you shared it all those decades ago. There is something to come back to; there is someone that remembers, calls out your name and responds to the one that leaves your mouth.  

Some invisible and intricate connection always existed between you. And, you could leave, you could stand up at this very moment and travel to wherever you wish. But, you would lose that. You would lose the feeling that someone knows you and you’ve always believed that to be know is to be loved.   People learn old languages because the love those that came before. Humans have a habit of desperately clutching onto their humanity even if it is smaller than a grain of sand. And, if you must, to keep yourself grounded and to stand there until he realizes his own mistakes and humanity – you will hold onto him. It has to be worth it in the end. There has to be a reason you share his existence and were teleported back in front of him on your knees.  

You just hope it means something grander that will constitute your own legacy. 

v. evermore

That night, he traces the hickeys he left on your neck. It is one of the few times he takes off his gloves so that his human skin meets your own.  

“Ask me again.”  “I will not ask you for another round.”  “No,” he clicks his tongue, “ask me that question.”  “Are you aware that you are more obsessed with humanity than me, oh doctor? Laughable.”  “Just ask.”  “Fine. What makes you human?” 

He moves his hand down to your waist and pulls you closer to him. How could he ever ask you to use the name Dottore when his eyes have been the same all these years whenever he looks at you? You don’t get a chance to marvel at them for too long, he buries his face in your neck.  

“You. Having you here keeps me human. Sometimes I think we were destined to be together.”  

Nobody else knows this side of him. And in your opinion, selfish as it may be, they don’t deserve to know. 

“Oh, is the genius doctor now speaking about fate and destiny? What grand words you use. We weren’t destined to be together, we were doomed to be together.”  

There you go. Ruining a romantic moment by reminding him how differently the two of you look at this situation you’re in.   He groans. Perhaps you will come around one day, even if it has been 300 years since your return. What matters is that you returned to him by fate and by your own choice after travelling.  

“Hey! Zandik, bite my neck one more time I will force you to sleep on the couch.”  “If we were indeed doomed to be together, we might as well make the most of it and – are you trying to bite me back?”  “Your teeth were always annoyingly sharp!”  “And the noises you made 500 years ago when drinking are still annoying to this day.”  “That’s it. Go sleep on the couch, I don’t want to look at you right now.” 

a/n: legit this is so self indulgent cus it is how I imagine my relationship with this red flag would be. it isn't really toxic it is just philosophies not matching up. dottore is too fond of humanity without realizing it and i will make him suffer for it. reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. hope dottore anon likes it.

[chibi-celesti]

Metafalica anw GRANDEE=LILIA_VANROUGE (The Song of Hope of Lilia Vanrouge)

Summary: In honour of one Fae’s Journey to fulfill his princess’ last wish to save her son, the newborn Prince of Briar Valley.

Heavy Spoilers to Book 07 of Twisted Wonderland. You have been WARNED! And to all the Lilia Lovers out there (yes that includes you, @hanafubukki), this is for you! Hope I did him justice!

Hymmnos Lyrics inspired by this lovely cover of METAFALICA.

~xE rre lasye rYEfrEmU sasye ess Asphaela_urgn/.~

~xA rre lasye fwArn Amerfa_sasye, ag hYAppA za r.w. sasye/.~

~xA harr en herr kAvnLYA v.a. 1 varda rre cie aNuOk zz sarsa/.~

~xA rre arhou sAlLYEeh yYAzLYAtAeh dn vege manac rhaplanca en maoh~

They lost…

Briar Country, once heralded as a Land dominated by the Fae, is now a remnant of what it once was…

Their Princess…slain by the humans who demonized them for their existence. All because of the greed of one egotistical man.

All that was left of her was her son. Still only an egg, but also a star of hope for the people of Briar Valley.

And yet he, too, was taken away from his arms. Not by death, but by those who viewed the broken-hearted war general, who could do nothing but weep for the death of his beloved Meleanor, a failure.

As the days began to pass, the people of Briar Valley hoped and prayed for the young prince to hatch. While nurtured from afar with his grandmother giving him her magic, the prince heard Lilia's vow to one day find a solution that will awaken him.

And so, he traveled the changing world of humans. Looking for the key that would save the egg.

During his journey, he would stumble upon people, asking if anyone knew how to hatch a dragon's egg. But all he got in turn was disdain and hatred by most people who only saw him as a monster.

Even with the malice of human perspective and apathy wanting to make him give up, Lilia persevered and continued his journey.

All for Malleus's sake.

While he may not have made any progress, Lilia could only offer stories to the young prince when he met him time and time again. His voice was a balm to the little one, subconsciously becoming a Hymn of Hope to young Malleus. 

The stories Lilia told were that of an ever changing world beyond Briar Valley's borders. How much humanity has changed; some still superstitious and distrusting while others were more open and compassionate. He spoke of how he hopes to show Malleus the world once he's older.

The days passed with no signs of the egg shell showing any cracks to indicate his hatching. The people of Briar Valley feared that their Prince would soon join his parents in the Stars. That they would lose their symbol of hope to death.

However, even as those around him and Queen Maleficia despaired for the worst, Lilia kept moving forward. Kept going despite the gear gnawing at his heart and mind.

“I made a promise to your mother that you will one day hatch and become a Prince she would be proud of.”

And Lilia's vow grew into determination and hope. A hope that for one day Malleus could forge a bond with the outside world. From that hope gave birth to a power that is befitting for someone him; Protector of Cradles. Such a blessing allowed him to save the young prince when he began to reject his Grandmother’s magic and cry out to his true guardian and father.

Giving it his all, from his love, his magic and life force, Lilia had given it all to Briar Valley’s Hope. To young Malleus.

Lilia Vanrouge was proud to give up everything to give his Prince that hope.

[soft-persephone]

A Fresh Start 2

Mother’s Milk x Fem!Reader

T // WC: 1.7k // pool day fun and one iffy convo // pt. 1

“TT, it’s going to be fun,” Momo did her best to comfort you, taking your hand she walked to in the to the entrance of the public pool.”

“What if no one likes me?” You grumbled. “I’m not as parenty as the other adults.”

The loss of your brother showed up in more ways then one in your life. The way the grief can creak into the everyday folds of your knew life with Momo was challenging, and on top of it all, you had to learn how to be a good parent on the fly.

The transition from fun aunt to mother figure had been challenging. Especially, when discipline had to come out to play. Momo wasn’t a bad kid, but she had been through a lot and her emotions ran all over the place, depending on the day.

So far, this summer has been such a relief for you both. As she relocated after her suspension, it was honestly a blessing in disguise. There was a community around the school district your brother was zoned for that you never knew was there. Momo made some new friends that she seems to love more and they loved her equally as much.

But youngest like a poser, that you’re pretending. You were constantly comparing yourself to other parents. What worse lace could exist for you to continue this new horrible tradition than a day at the pool.

The wholes are side of your swimsuit and how scrappy it was despite being a one piece felt too much, not at all something a mom would wear. You tugged the sleeves of the knitted wholey cover up you were wearing over your hands. It was made to give a dramatic end sleeve effect. Like very chic sweater paws.

“If you stay on your best behavior, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” Momo beamed up at you.

Despite being very cute, you took her bag off her shoulder with narrowed eyes.

“Go play.” You said in a deadpan tone.

“But what did i—“

“Now! Go play with your friends. Don’t make me tell you again.”

She huffed before giggling as Janine was already running towards her. Her soaking wet curls shining in the sun.

You whined as they started squealing at one another before skipping off.

“Hey!” A voice stopped them from your side, “don’t run around here or you’ll fall and bust your head open!”

You smiled your best polite smile.

“Someone’s looking rather fancy for a public outing at the pool.” Sheila looked at you over her shades.”

“What can I say,” you smiled, “I dress to impress.”

Being in with a group of parents really had its perks. They saved you a set and it was nice and cozy. Not too much sun and not too much shade.

“Hey hey,” look who it is.” Sheila introduced and everyone called out to you from their chairs.

“Someone’s looking all special!”

All the moms oohhhed and ahhed in appreciation.

You swallowed ignoring how hot your face felt.

“Hi.” You waved with a smile as you took your seat.

“Hey, I’m Monique.” She took of her shades, “Janine’s Mom.”

“Oh my god Hi,” you instantly perked up. “I’ve heard your name a lot over the last week.”

Janine and Momo exchanged numbers which were actually your number and Monique’s number, so you’ve only heard her voice several, several times, as she said, hold on let me get Janine.

“It’s nice to put a voice to a face.”

“Likewise.” You nodded with a smile and pulled your book out of your bag, just in case.

“What is it that you do again?”

It was nice to be able to talk about something like work and not.. your brother or how hard the transition is with Monice coming to live with you.

“Lawyer, started out with the criminal justice stuff and somehow ended up in the corporate conglomerate stuff, representing companies as they do who fuck knows with whatever they and such.”

“You know more than me, so I will not ask too many questions.” You both laughed.

“Heeheehee,” a strong voice mocked you from above, blocking the sun.

“You held a hand over your eyes and waved with the other. “Hey.”

“Don’t hey me and get your butt out here in this pool.”

“Why.” You scoffed and clipped the shades from your shirt, putting them on.

“We take turns chaperoning the kids.” He crossed his arms.

“Marvin please, give her a break. She just got here. It’s probably Sheila’s turn.”

He stormed off with a groan and waved Janine off.

“Sheila’s not getting in the pool is she?”

Monique tapped her nose with a smile and you laughed.

45 minuets or maybe one glorious hour into your book. A little voice broke your focus.

“TT can I have $20.”

“Why do you need $20.” You turned the page of your book not looking up.

“Because of the concession stand.” She huffed, giving her eight year old logic.

“But I packed you something.” You fake pouted back, grabbing the cooler bag.

“I mean, I brought these grapes,” you pulled them out and put them back in the bag, rummaging some more, “I cut up some strawberries and other fruit, making sure there were no stems or nasty bits because you hate that,” you put them back in the bag, “and then, I woke up extra early and made those ham and cheese balls you love so much.” You sighed dramatically.

“I packed all your favorites, but if you want to eat soggy fries drenched in a weird cheese sauce, I guess I can give you the money.” You put your hand in your purse.

“No-I’ll-take-these-thanks!” She eagerly snatched the goodies out of the bag, running off to be eat with her friends.

Victory.

You went back to your book.

“Nice one.” Monique said to you over her kindle.

You both read in silence.

Monique was pretty swell. She was the easiest to be around compared to the other mom’s.

“Thank you for the other day,” you were about to ask her for what but she explained further, “for keeping Marvin out of trouble at the cookout.”

“What.” You laughed. “I didn’t do anything. We just talked for a bit.”

She smiled at you.

“Marvin doesn’t just talk for a bit.” She went back to her book.

You were about to say something. To get some more answers, confront her, ask her to give it to you straight or interpret what she was implying, but Marvin plopped down between you both.

“Water.” He huffed.

Crushing the water bottle loudly in his hands, he pulled at the fabric of your cover up with his other hand.

“You need to take this off and get in the pool. It’s your turn.”

“Why do I have to go?” You smacked his hand away.

“If I have to drag you into the water I will.” He pointedly looked at you, “I already had to drag Sheila out there and I’m willing to drag you in too.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine.”

The water wasn’t too bad, the screaming kids not so much. But it was nice to see Marvin be around the kids.

“My turn!” A boy that was more hair than boy squealed as Marvin dunked him under the water and refused to let him go as he thrashed around for a minuet. He came above the surface of the water with a gapped grin, one of his front teeth missing.

He swam away back to his friends in glee.

“What a fun game.” You tried to be sarcastic but your grin was too wide and you were already laughing.

“You never went to the pool as a kid?” He splashed water on you.

You slammed the surface of the water back with both hands, getting way more water on him.

“Of course I did!”

“Well, I apologize if you don’t seem like the type, Ms Bougie.”

“I like to take care of myself, and I was raised by a woman who liked to take care of herself and her family. She had standards and she raised me with standards.” You defended. “Why is that a crime?”

He looked down at you with a smile, less mirthful than before.

“It’s not.”

Despite the chill from the water and the slight breeze every few minuets a warmth started to spread throughout you.

“When,” he started and quickly stopped, looking away from you for a second before putting a hand into a fist and pushing into the palm of the other. “You don’t have someone at home who takes care of you?”

“If that’s your way of masking if I have a boyfriend,” you started carefully, “then no.”

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you. You would have laughed if it wasn’t sort of sweet.

“I did.”

His eyebrows rose, but he showed no other sign of suprise. Nodding in some sort of appreciation is what you guess what the nod meant.

“He doesn’t help you take care of Momo?”

“He left because of Momo.”

You started floating in the water, giving half of your attention to mindlessly floating in the water with a sigh.

He followed suit, crouching down in the pool, letting his legs flow at a bent angle so he could be at the same eye level as you.

“If he’s willing to leave you like that, with all your going through,” he locked eyes with you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You nodded giving him a silent thank you.

He made a step towards you.

“I just—“

“Daddy!” Janine jumped in her dads arms. Her face pulled taunt with a frown and her bottom lip sticking out.

“TT” Momo solemnly swam to you.

She rubbed her eyes as you pulled her into your arms.

“You tired?” You looked over to see Marvin murmur comforting words in Janine’s ear.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

He gave one back and made his way to the steps of the pool to take Janine home.

You kissed Momo on the head.

“Time to go home kiddo,” you moved her hair to the side to see her face. She was already fast asleep in your arms, giving her a light kiss on the head, you made your way out the pool.

[kairiscorner]

heyooo, it's 🫐 again! i'm in the middle of class rn and i had an idea for student!reader as miles' classmate and them giggling over notes and doodles in class. this then gets the both of em caught by the teacher and what happens next is up to you, ate >:))

HI !! OMG, wait ang cute MMRHRRFNJFNMMM having art class today's got me thinking of some shit, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS <333

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

doodles on the margins. – miles 1610 x gn!reader

being miles' seatmate is a massive blessing, yet... also a massive curse. the curse being that neither of you could keep your pens, pencils–even brushes, be it paint or calligraphy–away from the others' clear notebook pages or clean scratch papers. you both would always come home with littered designs and doodles, expressing your feelings to each other out on the margins of your notebooks and the corners of your book pages.

in art class, you both took the liberty of expressing your feelings and viewpoints out to the world, like how your teacher defined what art was; it starts with an idea, and then becomes a beautiful flurry of colors, words, movements and all. you were both giggling as you drew on his notebook's margins, with your knuckles brushing over the side of his hand as his fingers would make contact with the back of your hand as you both ran the tips of your pencils over the once clear and spotless pages.

"what is that?" miles asked you in a hushed voice, accompanied by the ringing sound of his chuckle. you pointed out that your cute little blob of a creature was a fat frog, that looked utterly adorable. miles shook his head as he doodled a spider crawling down the margins next to the frog. "i know frogs don't look that goofy." "that's because you've never met my frog before, miles." you said with a giggle as miles asked you in a whisper shout, " you have a frog?!"

"yes, mr. morales? would you and your friend like to, um, make our art class a biology class?" your art teacher spoke up, asking you both with a confused smile about what you two were discussing. the two of two of you froze up and widened your eyes as the whole class turned their heads and darted their gaze your way. "u-um... just expressing our freedom of opinion... through our creative minds!" he said with an awkward smile as the art teacher nodded and smiled wider. your teacher walked over to you two and asked to see miles' notebook, but with the two of you reluctantly showing them the doodle covered margins of the notebook.

the teacher looked through it, and unexpectedly, their smile widened as they saw all the little creatures and people you two drew. they handed it back with a mutter of 'how creative' under their breath. the teacher then clasped their hands together and announced a surprise assignment: to fill the margins of their art notebooks with as many doodles as the students can fit. "i'll be looking forward to your output, you two." they said with a soft voice as you two bashfully smiled and thanked your art teacher and hurried off.

you both breathed a sigh of relief and slight confusion. "so... guess we have our work cut out for us now?" you asked miles as he nudged your arm with his elbow with a crooked smile. "ganke dmed me, he's telling me he won't make dinner for us tonight because we inspired the teacher about homework." miles said with a sigh as you faked a disappointed groan. "well then, text him back that i'll treat you out to a nice dinner and date to the art museum nearby? let's pretend curfew doesn't exist." you said with a wide grin as miles chuckled back. "oh, well... okay then, who am i to say no?" he asked you as you gently took his hand in yours and he held your hand back and walked down the halls with you–smudged ink stains and pencil marks on the side of both of your hands as you two walked down the halls.

tags !! @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @onginlove @meowmoraless @solecitoszn @maxoloqy @lovefrominaya @conitagray