#so i was by far the brightest object out there

[robustcornhusk]

did long run in place of fast run (don't fuck up the injuries, idiot)

said i would do probably 10 miles, maaaaybe 12 if i felt great -- "i never feel great at the end of the long run" -- and ended up running 12 miles

legs were unhappy on downhills and totally fine on uphills & flats, so as long as i'm feeling okay this afternoon, it's probably safe to sign up for this weekend's flat flat flat 5k

[pseudowho]

You could have walked to the café to meet Nanami Kento alone; you'd have preferred to, in truth, walking slowly in slow drizzle.

Instead, He walked you there, pushing through the tinkling door that He held for you, begrudgingly, as if you should be grateful. You could not look up to meet Kento's eye.

When you did look up to see Kento, stood waiting for your pre-mission meeting, He pulled your gaze back with a scowl, and a grab of your jaw.

Kento caught whispered berating; mumbled pleas.

"--just a work meeting...please--"

"--you remember to text me. You'll do well to remember you're mine."

You jolted from His pat-slap to your cheek, too sharp to be affectionate but too weak to turn heads. Still, humiliation festered on your face, putrefaction laid by His hand.

Kento remained unmoved, passively unthreatened by His filthy glance before He retreated from the shop. Something dark stirred in Kento's gut. The malice was not meant for you.

You sat at the table, wordless, your cold hands wrapping around a coffee which seemed to be, curiously, your exact order. Already here. Already waiting. Just for you.

Kento pulled his own chair out, sitting opposite you, one long tan-trousered leg crossing over the other. You looked down, your eyes cast in shadow. Kento looked to the insidious, gloomy drizzle outside, his sharp features cast sharper by the midday lamplight.

Eventually, achingly smooth, his voice called you home.

"What does 'mine' mean to you?"

You looked up at him, blinking. Your brain ticked.

"I don't...I don't know."

Kento was quiet again, leaning back in his armchair beneath the arching lamp, regarding the rain as though it watered his thoughts. He spoke again; you hung onto every word.

"When I was a boy, my grandfather left me a diamond."

The coffee shop buzz dimmed, and slowed, and muted. Kento captivated you so easily. The world fell away. Here he was. Already here. Already waiting. Just for you.

"It was...exquisite-- the diamond. The best and the brightest. A beauty amongst beauties." Kento took a deep breath in through his nose, feeling your cold little heart slow. "I didn't deserve it. It was...a privilege, to call it mine. A mantle that I bowed my head to bear."

Your fingers loosened around your coffee as Kento continued. His voice strained, aching for something.

"I could never be enough for the diamond, so I...I would build my life around it. Not in spite of it, but because of it. I hesitate to say I possessed it; it was no painting, or ivory box. Its beauty was far too timeless to be owned, for this diamond's beauty would outlive us all. If not in body, at least in memory."

The air felt light in your lungs, and you with it, as if you floated on helium, high and sweet. You yearned to reach for what was not yours. Your little voice spoke up, braver in Kento's ambient warmth.

"Tell me...tell me more."

Kento obliged. "On days when my diamond was dull, without its shine, I'd polish it more. I'm...gentle. I know it better than my own skin, and by the time I'm done, it sparkles."

Your eyes drifted closed to trap your sorrow. Your head bowed down, as if to be a diamond in daydream.

"On days when it shines-- and, god it does shine-- I can only step back and admire it, while it takes its time in the sun. They...deserve each others' beauty, the sun and she, and I would wither and rot if I kept them from each other. My diamond...my diamond deserves the world, and it deserves her."

Kento leaned forwards, now. His ambient warmth kindled higher until you burned as though he were the sun, and you yearned to blossom.

"I fear its loss; I am only, of course, a man, and I couldn't expect others not to covet such treasure, and so I keep it close. I would bring it to my bed, if only it would let me. I'd hold it in my sheets, if I did not fear I would sully it by my proximity alone."

Your lips parted so briefly, your objections snagging on your teeth to remain upon your tongue. Your heart weighed down with mercury and lead. Kento's voice could not be more than a whisper, and yet, with the steam-arm shrieks and the tamping chatter muted to insignificance, you could hear him.

"I would surround her with other beautiful things; not costly things, not necessarily, as if material goods were needed to enhance her. But rather, those things, and only those things that compliment her as she compliments them, be they wildflower or fairytale or fine wine."

Your coffee salted with the drop of a tear from your bowed face. Kento turned aside from your tears; not to disregard them, but to allow their trails to bloom as if creeping wisteria-- growth, in grief. A handkerchief slid across the table to you in one broad, calloused hand, and Kento sounded physically pained.

"Eventually, as I age, I recognise that all I was, am, and will be, can be traced back to such a diamond; not because I could not live without it-- that wouldn't be accurate. Rather, because, with the diamond removed from the equations which make the sum of me, the equations would unravel-- nothing would make sense, and if I ever tried to replace it, I would always come up short. I would never find the answer again. If I were to lose it...I could only surmise that I did not deserve it, like...like a prophecy fulfilled. It is not mine, and it will never be, if I seek to possess it."

As you fought the urge to gasp for air, Kento's voice grew bitter, snide. You caught the sharp edge of a blade; the darkness that reminded you that he could be a dangerous man.

"Men who use 'mine' for their partners are less than a stone's throw from boys who would use 'mine' for a toy car or a set of dominoes. As if...as if they are a thing to be played with, and jealously possessed, until they are discarded and forgotten."

Your coffees cooled in the chilly aftermath of Kento's monologue. Your purpose for meeting was forgotten. You were numb-footed as you stood, and followed Kento outside to the rain in the shelter of his great umbrella. He offered you an arm, and you took it, tucked close to his body.

It was curious, you thought, as Kento walked you to the train station. Arm in arm was less intimate in the eyes of society than hand in hand, but the hold was so much more intimate upon the body of the receiver.

Kento closed his fingers around yours, gently refusing, as you offered him back his handkerchief. He waited until you were beneath shelter, and did not turn to walk away until you did. Your heart pounded. Your body and mind were alive with sweet botanicals and promise. You turned on a pinhead, calling back up the subway steps.

"Kento! Did you...do you really have a...a diamond like that?"

A pause in wet footsteps. Fine needles of rain upon his umbrella. Kento called back.

"Sadly, no. It's only a dream. But if I did have that diamond...well. I would be proud to call her mine."

Your heart would surely burst. You couldn't breathe. Your cold little hand clasped the handrail on the stairs, and you sought to deny Kento's morbid prophecy.

"You could...you could steal it. A...a diamond. Your diamond."

A smile, and a hum.

"I could. Perhaps I shall. Perhaps...soon."

[tbaluver]

hi!! i was wondering if i could ask for some angst with all the guys ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

smthing like mc (gender neutral if possible!) going to a mission and not coming back and the guys' reactions to that ?

ty in advance (≧▽≦)

When You Don't Come Back From Your Mission- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: angst no comfort a/n: hi anonnie! i hope this was okay and that you enjoy ! i'll post a part where mc/ reader comes back from the mission after a long time and maybe that would be a comfort part of this angst reaction (๑>؂•̀๑) i know a couple people from my inbox have requested me to write something about that and i'll get it out soon it's just sitting on my drafts but it'll be out so so soon ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) sorry lovelies i just get distracted a lot any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You and Xavier weren’t assigned to this mission, which was a bummer given how often you two have been always paired for similar tasks. Your extensive training together, countless sparring sessions, and numerous times you two have spent together have created a deep bond and sense of confidence in each other’s skills. Although it was unusual to not be paired in a mission, you both trusted in your abilities and didn’t think much of it.

As he returned from picking up snacks at the convenience store, he walked into the Hunter’s Association office and was struck by the sense of panic that had been overtaken in the room. The frantic energy was evident as he overheard that your team has not given any responses or updates regarding your location. The news hit him like a jolt, nearly causing him to drop the snacks he was holding.

His gentle demeanor shifted to one of deep concern. The usual calmness in his eyes was replaced by a serious and troubled look. His universe felt like it had dimmed, knowing that the brightest star was missing from his grasp.

He demanded immediate access to the latest mission’s location, coordinates, or any relevant information. He insisted that he would take charge of the situation himself and offer no objects as they recognized the intensity in his voice.

He internally blamed himself for not coming sooner. Every path he takes as he travels to find you, only fuels the sense of urgency and concern to find your and ensure your safety.

Zayne:

Zayne has always trusted in your abilities and knew what you were capable of. Each mission, he knew you could handle it with ease and he had faith that you would come back. As always, before he left he would always remind you, “Stay safe and don’t do anything reckless. I don’t want to see you back in my office with another injury.”

Normally, your absences were brief and he would patiently wait for your return, eager to hear the absurd stories of your missions, but this time something felt different. Something he couldn’t quite place. The days dragged on longer than usual and the silence from you was unsettling.

He tried to distract himself with paperwork and tending to patience but his anxiety gnawed at him, thinking of what had happened to you. A mission shouldn’t take this long, especially for someone as skilled as you. 

Every day he would send a text and sometimes they were random. Sometimes they were filled with encouragement or updates about small things in his life, in hopes to get a response from you. However, each message he sent was always left unanswered which fueled his growing concern. He began to doubt if you were ignoring him or if something far worse had happened.

Unable to contain his worry any longer, he drove to your house and knocked on your door unannounced. The minutes stretched into an agonizing wait and when there was no response. His heart that had been warmed by your presence has now gripped by icy fear.

Each day he has desperately waited for any responses and any updates from the Hunter’s Association about your well-being. The longer he had to wait, the more he was determined to join the battlefield himself in desperation to find you again.

Rafayel:

Ever since you departed on your mission, he would be counting the seconds, minutes, and days until your return. It’s something he would usually do when you leave for a mission. Time passed by slowly in your absence and he tried to distract himself by visiting the beach or working on new sketches, hoping to find a spark of inspiration for his next piece. Yet, inspiration was difficult when his greatest muse was missing for a few days

A few days. What began to be a few days stretched into a week and more. His concern grew as your silence and absence in his life persisted. Normally, you would have responded to any of his texts or calls even amid the chaos of your missions. But now, this mission was different. His phone never lit up from any notifications from you and your absence gnawed at him.

His distress was evident. His meticulously groomed appearance had unraveled. His hair was disheveled and his outfits mismatched. The studio that was usually a bright haven of creativity had become a reflection of his inner turmoil. The room was shrouded in shadows, and canvases were marred with erratic splashes of paint and frustrated strokes.

'Missing you comes in waves and tonight I am drowning.'

He was spiraling and grew relentless, digging up any lead and rumor of information about your mission. Whatever happened to you, someone was going to pay. He doesn’t care if the bounty on his head catches up to him. He’ll try to find you no matter what, even if it takes him another 800 years.

Sylus:

He knew you were a skilled Hunter so initially he dismissed your absence as just another routine mission. He assumed he would see you again soon in a couple of days and began making plans for the two of you to relax and enjoy when you returned.

However as days turned into a week without any responses to his text or voice messages, his calm demeanor began to crumble. Your status on DeepSpace hadn’t been updated since the last time you had talked and it never showed that you read his messages. His unease deepened when Mephisto reported that he had been unable to locate you.

The growing anxiety and frustrations were impossible for him to contain. He had tried to rush to the location of your mission only to find no trace of you there. His office became a battleground of his conflicted emotions. He cursed himself for being so careless about you.

Luke and Kieran could only witness the storm of anger and worry from a distance. They dared not to approach him during the moments of his intense agitation. They understand as they miss you as well but they could only wish they could do so much to help find you.

He figures he has to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost. Your little Hunter’s Association could only do so much but many do not understand how much power, influence, and resources Sylus has at his disposal. He doesn’t care if he has to get his hands dirty, he will have to do anything to find his little dove back in his arms again.

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

[diejager]

I can imagine human reader getting tierd of being the only one in the 141 without like hybrid powers and just pulls a full brainstorm and makes like spider man stuff. like we just make some web shooters or something and the boys when we show them are just O°O

Webs

Dumbfounded, that’s the first thing they felt. To combat your mundaneness, your powerlessness in the face of a world full of hybrids and monsters born with powers and using them. You were human in every sense, you were powerless, mortal and weak, but you were resilient, mind brewing with theories and hypothesis for a way to become better —greater so that you could match the other men in the Task Force.

It took you weeks of building and searching for help, having Laswell connect you to the brightest minds in both worlds : human and monsters, to have your little contraption built. It was all hard work and sleepless nights, cooperation between both sides until you had your little shooter in your hand. It would be the tech that would help you hold your own in times of need and when you separated, stranded on your own.

It was a surprise, certainly, to the hybrids you worked with, watching you swing objects and shrapnel left and right when they’re thrown at you. You used your newly-acquired gadget to make the area safer before you started on whatever wound Soap or König had, touching up any injuries you already patched up hurriedly, or wanting to clear the area.

Price had commented on it, praising your ingenuity to further your reach, being able to do more than asked of you. Ghost, Gaz and König were often the ones to watch you practice, the exercise you added to your drills to master your ability to swing from wall to wall. Gaz would fly over your head, ready to fly down and pick you up if you slipped or if the web wasn’t shot far enough. If Gaz couldn’t reach you in time, Ghost and König were the failsafe, catching you in their arms.

Horangi’s curious, his swaying tail and careful steps matching Soap’s excited wagging and skip when they asked you questions, a feline’s curiosity and a canine’s eagerness. You told them all you knew, the less technical parts of the construction without confusing them or yourself. You explained how it worked, how to change the fibre and how to use it.

Rudy was the only one tempted to try it out, letting you watch him fumble and stumble around with it while he hung in the air, feet kicking the cement wall. Alejandro would laugh, his smooth chuckle making both yours and Rudy’s cheeks warm, him from embarrassment and you from something warm in your abdomen.

Perhaps you’d ask a few bigger copies just to see how well the rest of the TF fared with your gadget, just for the fun of it, to laugh and look back at this memory with joy and laughter.

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker

[butterr-bee]

WL!Winner Imagery Thoughts

Since the Wild Life finale was yesterday I thought I would share my thoughts on what the winner’s celestial symbolism should be in the form of a very long tumblr post, because what else do I have to do with my time?

Spoilers for the Wild Life SMP finale and winner + long post

Firstly a big congrats to Joel for winning!!! It's very deserved and he worked so hard for it, so GG!!

Like I said above, I’ve got some thoughts about what celestial body we should use to represent him as a winner and so I’m going to share them with whoever stumbles upon this.

[NOTE: Anything I say here is not meant to attack anyone who has different opinions or belittle anyone. I’m doing this for fun and to share my thoughts, not to hurt anyone's feelings. I love you all, do whatever you want forever.]

So far for each of the winners we have;

Sun - Grian

Stars - Scott

Moon - Pearl

Mars - Martyn (some people say Comet/Meteor but Mars is the most popular)

Earth - Scar

Pluto - Cleo (this depends on your personal headcanons as well but I like it, and this post isn’t about the intricacies of mine)

Now as funny as all of the “he should be car” jokes are (seriously they’re hilarious to me), I don't want to take away from his win by making it a joke, especially since we already have someone who isn’t fully accepted as a serious winner. (IDC if it was April Fools, Cleo you will always be a winner in my heart)

I’ve also seen a few people say Mars or Meteor, but this becomes confusing with Martyn’s symbolism and takes away from Joel’s win as well. I want to avoid that as much as possible because he deserves the same respect as the other winners.

Other ones I’ve seen are; Chariot, Supernova, White Dwarf, Shooting Star, Neutron Star, Jupiter, Mercury, and I’m sure there are more. None of these really stick for me so I’m going to go ahead and add to the list.

Usually, I’ve stayed out of discussions about winner symbolism in the past and left it up to the more brainy fans, but I have thought about what different players could be from time to time since I absolutely love space. When my older sibling said Venus it got my mental hamster going on its wheel.

Venus has been a popular planet in history for an incredibly long time and in many different cultures. It’s the second brightest object in the night sky (second to the Moon) and has a fascinating synodic cycle (how it moves through the sky). This movement causes it to get to a certain distance from the Sun to make it look like it’s disappearing from the sky for several days and then reappearing on the other side of it. Because of this, Venus can appear before sunrise in the morning or after sunset in the evening, but it never seems to reach the top of the sky. This has led to it being known by two other names, Morning Star and Evening Star. It also has many other names in different cultures and it wasn’t until the 13th century that it was given the name Venus, but I won't go into all of that today.

Venus has lots and lots of history around it mythologically, having been portrayed as both feminine and masculine and even as two figures at once. It’s known for representing love, war, beauty, and relationships—and it just isn’t quite right for Joel.

So after doing my extra research on Venus, I found that it wasn’t really the best fit (sorry Kat, not enough talk about family for it to cut it /hj). Even with the interesting parallel of Grian and Joel’s dynamic and how Venus goes from one side of the Sun and ends up on the other, it was too much of a stretch. I was going to stop here but then I got thinking about other planets and my mind wandered to the seventh planet from the sun.

You all know and love to make jokes about his name, Uranus! (a little pet peeve of mine, it’s pronounced your-un-us NOT your-anus)

Uranus is one of two Ice Giants and has the coldest planetary atmosphere in the Solar System. It’s named after the ancient Greek deity of the sky, the father of Kronos, but it has been argued that it has more mythological relevance with my favorite boy Prometheus. You know, the Titan that ticked off the gods by stealing fire for mortals and now has to have his liver eaten by eagles for eternity? Yeah, my boy.

This planet is known for being the planet of freedom and revolutionary vision. It represents the urge for change, the ability to visualize new possibilities, and “breaking through”. Much like how Joel was trying a new tactic for winning this season, Uranus is known symbolically for defying tradition and embracing change and originality.

So, it’s known for breakthroughs, extremes, innovation, and rebellion. Sounds about right for Joel, but I didn’t want to stop there. Doing more digging I looked for other similarities between the two of them.

A lot of what I found fit Joel’s character pretty well, but mostly from past seasons; eccentric, strange, unique, unpredictable, and untamed (although Joel is always strange /lh) but I was looking for something more current, something that was all about family. I did find the word wild used and referred to a few times though which was great.

My search was getting repetitive, everyone had the same things to say about Uranus’s symbolism and I was looking for someone to go more in-depth. But eventually, I made a breakthrough (how fitting)—the word “reformation”, which Oxford defines as “the action or process of reforming an institution or practice”. Bingo baby!

I looked further into this side of Uranus, the sort of things that use the wild aspects of this sort of personality in meaningful and productive ways. Lots of people were saying that negative expressions of Uranus include irresponsibility and rebelliousness without a cause—things that kept Joel from winning in the past—but I found someone who said this;

“Uranus asks us to adopt a humanitarian spirit and global mindset, allowing us to live as one unified being.”

This implies that to reach the positive expressions of Uranus—things like progressiveness, ingenuity, and enlightenment—a person under this planet would need to start looking beyond themselves as a singular goal and to care for and support others. To “live as one unified being” the way one might say a family should work together as a unit for the benefit of everyone involved. In other words, to use their eccentric and wild personality to help others as well as themself.

And what was Joel’s entire Wild Life PoV about? Dom Toretto Flipping his previous tactic of being an insane loner /j on its head and making friends by helping everyone else as well as himself. He used his wild nature and ability to commit to the bit to his advantage and won the whole series as the last green name, last yellow name, and last man standing.

So that is why I propose that we start using the planet Uranus to symbolize Joel’s victory—an equally wild and unpredictable symbol that can step up and help others to help himself.

Now, I know it doesn't fit the rhyme that’s been going around, but I can’t think of anything else that fits better and there's always next season for more rhyming words. (Grian did say see you next season, if it doesn't happen IDK what to say about your rhyme, shrug)

Also, not important to characterization but a fun bit of trivia anyway, Uranus was the sixth planet discovered by the ancient Greeks and Romans and it’s the seventh planet from the Sun. So regardless of whether you consider Joel the sixth or seventh winner, there’s a fun number coincidence.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense or fit, I wrote it all on minimal sleep and without my glasses. Also, I haven't watched all of Joel’s life series PoV yet so maybe someone with better qualifications should do this. Anyway, if you made it this far I love you and I wish you well. Have a doodle that I also did without my glasses for your patience and to maybe sway you some more.

[weirdlookingsnakewithlegs]

I need more feral starscream and his trine brutally killing and eating something. I read the one where Starscream killed a Turbofox, let Skywarp and TC have some, tackled Megatron for not paying attention to his files on seekers. But I need more. Please.

You request is fulfilled, I’ve had this in my drafts for a little but it wasn’t done so I reworked it a little, enjoy >:3

Experiments

Word count: 847

Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea Megatron’s high command had come up with- er well, it was Shockwave’s idea for the most part to experiment with the seekers. It required Megatron to purchase wildlife, set it free among the Nemesis and watch the chaos unfold.

It had started with some simple questioning, Megatron was in the lab when it happened, a simple conversation between Thundercracker and Shockwave. “Data shows seekers are built for smaller prey.”

“Our frames are fragile,” Thundercracker responds, not looking up from his report, “the easier the better, it’s why we like scraplets so much, they’re easy to deactivate and they’re usually full of energon.”

Shockwave’s finials twitch forward at the information, “Data also suggest that you have hunt larger prey.”

“I mean, occasionally,” the cobalt seeker lifts his helm to look at the scientists, “it usually takes two, maybe three trines to get bigger prey. We usually try to go for more metal rich prey when going for something larger because we hunt larger prey by draining them of their energon.”

“I want to experiment.” Shockwave announces, his singular optic shifting to their leader. Thundercracker’s attention follows him. “Allow me to bring Cybertronian wildlife aboard the ship, I wish to see the hunting methods.”

“And how would studying these seekers help with the cause?” Megatron challenges, optic ridge rising.

“Gathering data from seekers is important, doing so we may be able to use their hunting methods on the battlefield.”

“You’re suggesting we use primitive manners of hunting against the Autobots?”

“Yes.”

And now here they were, having cleared out the mess hall, Megatron sat back against the wall with Soundwave and Shockwave at his sides. On lookers surrounded, huddled close against the walls to stay out of the way of chaos. It had barely even begun and Megatron could already tell Soundwave was not going to be happy about this experience.

So far, Nova Storm’s trine had torn a turbo fox to shreds and Ramjet’s were currently miserably chasing around an ironhare.

Meagtron would admit though, watching the chaos was pleasing.

Especially now as he watched Thrust and Ramjet slam their helms together in an attempt to snag the poor creature. Dirge was kind enough to take advantage, slipping between them to snap his denta around the creature’s neck. Immediately the seeker began to shake it, its head detaching from its body. It’s now sparkless body slip over the floor, hitting one of mech’s pedes. That poor mech didn’t get a warning before the two seekers lunged at its body, denta snapping on it and tugging.

The ironhare’s body tore in half, energon splattering against the floor along with the small tings of bolts and torn metal. Ramjet and Thrust both snarled at each other, wings flaring before they turned their helms and started for the exit, energon dripping over their chin and chassis. Dirge was a little slow to follow, content with attempting to devour his prize while his trinemates fought. He only got up and scrambled out when one of the mechs against the wall kicked at him.

Megatron exvents softly, “Where’s Starscream and his trine, surely they’ll be more exciting than all of this.”

“Excitement is not the objective, Lord Megatron.” Shockwave responds only to be silenced by a rather unpleasant side eye. There’s a moment before Shockwave speaks again, “Release the astroturkey.”

That garners attention, seekers poking their heads in the mess hall from their little entrance. It amuses Megatron greatly, watching their optics become trained on the cybertronian avian. They watch it claw at the floor and when it warbles even more seekers peak in. So this must be a favorite among them, Megatron thinks to himself, now that is useful. For morale reasons of course.

It’s after a few moments Megatron spots what he’s been looking forward to only to be immediately disappointed when he sees only Thundercracker and Skywarp. The two seekers are trained on their prey immediately, wings trembling in what Megatron assumes is excitement, the thrill of the hunt.

They circle it, keeping it away from the walls. Keeping their frames low, they swipe at it every chance they get, snapping denta. It’s almost like watching an Earth cat chase a mouse.

Then it slips up, claws slipping underneath its body, right in front of Skywarp. The snap of denta rings through the mess all and suddenly cheers arouse. It startles the seeker into dropping his prize in which another seeker, Thrust, slips in just to steal it away. Immediately the other is met with backlash from both Thundercracker and Skywarp, engines whining with fury.

Now this was more like it, well, somewhat. Megatron will be honest, watching Thrust get viciously mauled by two of his best seekers is humorous. Eventually the squabbling ends with Thrust skittering off, scratches leaking energon while Skywarp and Thundercracker eagerly tear the astroturkey to shreds.

“Where is Starscream?” He mutters, settling comfortably as the tension leaves his shoulders.

“Starscream: not present. Reason: did not want to entertain Lord Megatron’s weird fantasies.”

All comfort is out the door.

“Lord Megatron, please sit back down. Experimentation is still underway.”

[oizysian]

Has Science Gone Too Far? | Elizabeth Olsen

Requested by @selfcestmovies

Summary: Lizzie is introduced to a new piece of technology.

Warnings: Lizzie is a bisexual mess, and a switch, selfcest, cunnilingus, lots of self love, science going too far.

Word count: 2.3k

•

“Lizzie, this is the most experimental tech in the industry right now.” My manager said as he led me to the giant door just inside the studio. “You’re one of the first people to use it.”

He opened the door and we walked in. It was a plain room, like a casting call, with a couch and a desk and a chair, but no windows, and with a very noticeable computer screen on the wall near the door.

“What is this place?”

“This, Lizzie, is the future of acting.” He walked over to the panel on the wall and the room changed right before our eyes to what looked like a sunny beach set. “You can set up a session with anyone in any setting. Pick anyone, alive or dead, and you can see them, feel them, smell them, the works.”

“Seems really weird.” I said shakily, still taken aback by the fact that the room just shifted completely around us.

“You’ll get used to it. You’ll be able to hone your craft with some of the best and brightest of our time and of our grandparents.”

I looked around the room, still apprehensive and not quite liking the idea. It seemed wrong in a way to be able to warp reality in this way. Technology seemed to be going too far for my tastes.

“Look, take your time with it. Check it out for a little while. You might end up liking it.”

He gestured to the computer panel he had previously been using and stepped towards the door.

“I’ll give you a few hours and check up on you again later, okay?”

He opened the door and slid out before I could even speak, shutting it behind him with a solid click.

I sighed, looking around at the sunny room before walking over to the computer and pressing reset. The room went back to being a regular office, couch and desk included.

“This is too weird.” I said to myself, looking at all the options on the screen.

There were options for people, places, and objects and out of curiosity, I chose people and typed my own name in.

Suddenly, there I was, standing in front of myself.

“What the fuck.” I said quietly, watching as the other me turned to look me over, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look who it is.”

“There’s no way this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening. It’s happened with quite a few other people as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever wanted to sleep with DiCaprio?”

I shook my head.

“Well, he wanted to sleep with you! The young you, at least. Aged me down a bit first.”

“What the fuck?” Was the only thing I could think of to say.

“Yes, fuck, that’s what they all do.” She smiled. “And you’re no different, I assume?”

I stared at her - me - for a moment before snapping out of my stupor, shaking my head.

“What - no. No!” This was absurd. Surely this wasn’t happening. I was in a coma or hallucinating or something!

“Mhm.” She looked me up and down. “Why did you choose yourself? It had to be out of some weird curiosity, no?”

Why had I chosen myself? Firstly, I didn’t even think the thing would work! Second of all, who else would I have chosen? Marily-

“-lyn Monroe?”

I looked up at her in shock. She was me. She knew what I was thinking. She could probably hear my thoughts, she was probably listening to them right now.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking,” my eyes got wide. “But I’m not a mind reader. Are you?”

“No?” Was that a trick question.

“Then why would I be?”

She took a step closer to me and I watched her intently. I still couldn’t believe I was standing in front of myself.

“I’m Elizabeth Chase Olsen.”

“No you’re not. I am.” I protested.

“And so am I. Now are we gonna keep circling around the same subject or are we gonna get to why you’re really here?”

I blinked, once, twice, before I realized what she meant.

“I’m not here to fuck you - me.”

“Oh no? You’re gonna tell me you never thought about fucking yourself? What it would be like to have a twin?” She scoffed. “You’re talking to yourself. I know your fantasies. I know what you like.”

She took another step closer to me and reached out to touch me, her fingers barely grazing the skin of my cheek.

“I can feel you. And you can feel me, see?”

She fully cupped my cheek and I shivered, pulling away slightly. She smelt like me, she even felt like me - her skin the exact same as mine. How was this possible?

“It’s just me and you here. Let yourself feel good.”

I looked from her to the door and she smiled.

“Once the simulation starts, it can only be opened from the inside.”

I couldn’t deny the things she was saying. I had always imagined having a twin, jealous of my sisters at times, but I never imagined fucking myself.

Not really.

She tilted her head at me and I realized she was looking for an answer to the unspoken question that sat between us. Nobody would know and it might actually be fun, being with someone who knows exactly what feels good without having to tell them and not having to second guess myself when pleasuring them in return.

A small smile crossed my features before I nodded at her, her own smile widening at my confirmation.

“Now,” she said as she reached for the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it aside. “Tell me how badly you want me to touch you.”

Oh, fuck, I was hot. I never got the chance to be dominant, but it was clear that not only did I have the desire to be a dom, but I was good at it.

“I want you to touch me so badly.” I finally admitted, my eyes falling to the garment on the ground before raising them to look into her own, her emerald eyes dark with desire.

I imagined mine looked identical.

She drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it delicately as she ran her hands along my shoulders, her fingers hooking underneath the straps of my bra and sliding them down my arms.

She looked hungry, wanting, and I could only commend her for her patience as she undressed me slowly.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” She whispered softly, her eyes falling from mine to my exposed chest.

Did I?

“I already know the answer,” she smiled, her fingers toying with my hardening nipples. “You don’t have to answer.”

I let out a shaky breath as I watched her play with me, goosebumps forming on my skin at her touch.

“I also know you don’t want me to be gentle with you.” She twisted my left nipple painfully and I let out a whimpering cry, a jolt of pleasure shooting down between my legs.

I panted softly as she led me to the empty desk, pushing me back against it, letting me know she wanted me on top of it. I hopped up onto the sturdy wooden desk and her lips instantly latched onto one of my nipples, her teeth digging into the sensitive flesh.

“Ahh,” I breathed, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her against me. “H-harder.”

She released me with a pop and switched breasts, her tongue swirling around the nipple before she bit down on it.

“Oh, fuck.” I moaned, pulling her between my legs so I could get some friction.

Her hands gripped my thighs and I felt as though I was on fire from her touch alone. She licked and sucked at the hurt she inflicted before trailing kisses up my chest and neck, finding the sensitive spot behind my ear and making sure to give it lots of attention.

I was losing my mind. I had to get out of these pants and I needed to get fucked. Now.

I reached down to undo the button of my jeans, struggling to push them off with her firmly between my legs. With a growl, she grabbed them and tugged, pulling them off with one quick motion. I gasped as I sat in front of myself in only my panties, and knew from the look on her face I wouldn’t be wearing anything at all soon enough.

“Lift up your ass.” She said as she grabbed my panties, pulling them down my legs and bringing them up to her face to smell them. “You always loved the smell of yourself.”

She took the panties and grabbed my face, forcing my mouth open and stuffing them inside. I moaned as the smell and taste of myself filled my senses, making my head get fuzzy with thoughts of eating pussy - and getting my pussy ate.

“That’s right,” she cooed, noting the obvious look of arousal on my face. “You remember how good pussy tastes, don’t you?”

I nodded dumbly and she smiled, pushing me down to lay down on the large desk. She spread my legs and stared down at me, in awe of what she was seeing.

“You have the cutest pussy.” I clenched around nothing and she smiled. “Look at you! So hungry for me.”

I whimpered softly, grabbing at my own breasts as she got down between my legs, lapping up the wetness that was beginning to drip down my thighs. I pinched and twisted my nipples as her tongue went straight for my clit; long, hard strokes she knew would get me going.

She held my legs down and I moaned, my hips rolling to meet her tongue. Being with a woman was amazing, being with myself was divine.

She wrapped her lips around my clit and sucked while she released my left leg and brought her hand down to my pussy so her fingers could enter my aching cunt.

I wrapped my leg around her shoulders and pulled her closer to me. She hummed against me and I bit down on the panties in my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut as the most powerful orgasm of my life rocked through me.

She continued to fuck me through the delicious tremors and I came again before I could even finish processing the first one.

My legs went limp and my hands rested against my breasts, my breathing heavy as she raised herself up, licking her lips like a satisfied cat.

“Remember what pussy tastes like?” She pointed between my legs. “This is better than what you remember.”

I moaned softly, lazily reaching for her. She smiled and leaned over me, removing the panties from my mouth and kissing me ever so gently. I sucked her tongue into my mouth, eager to taste what she had already had the pleasure of tasting.

My senses were filled with the scent and taste of myself, and I honestly couldn’t get enough.

She pulled away from me and I panted softly below her, ready for whatever else she had to throw at me.

She stood in front of the desk and began to undress and I watched as she teased me, slowly revealing her perfect body to me. I gasped softly as her beautifully pale skin came into view and I couldn’t help but sit up and watch as she removed her bra, her breasts bouncing free.

I sat up fully and grabbed her by the hips, pulling her towards me as I began kissing along her shoulder, nibbling at her as I made my way down to her breasts.

She let out a little sound of pleasure as I sucked on her nipple, kneading the other breast with my free hand. She had a body worthy of worship. So, I guess, I did too.

I wanted nothing more than to have every inch of her in my mouth.

I released her breasts, a trail of saliva hanging from my lips to her nipple as I slid myself off the desk, kneeling down in front of her.

She looked surprised, maybe even amused that I was on the ground before her. I brought my face between her legs and inhaled deeply. She was right, I did love the smell of myself.

I spread her legs wider and stuck out my tongue. She took this as an invitation. Leaning against the desk, she lifted her leg to rest on my shoulder and I gasped as I realized this is what I looked like - a beautiful, glistening image of perfection.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me against her, grinding herself against my face. I barely even had to do anything and she was moaning, whining, ready for release.

I raised my eyes to look at her; her brows furrowed, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, her breasts heaving. I let my tongue dip inside of her and she mewled softly, her nails scraping against my scalp.

She continued to hump my face as I fucked her with my tongue, occasionally leaving her hole to play with her clit. I held tight to her thighs, steadying us as she writhed in my grasp.

“Oh yeah, use that tongue.” She urged me on as I continued to eagerly lap at her wetness.

I flattened my tongue against her clit and she let her hips grind against me, her orgasm washing over her.

She let go of my hair, petting my head as I kept on sucking and licking at her sensitive skin, attempting to clean her up.

“You’re gonna make me cum again.” She whispered and I hummed in confirmation against her, knowing full well what I was doing.

She let out a high pitched whine as she came against my tongue again, my greedy lips kissing her pussy, taking in all of her juices.

“You’ve made such a mess.” She said softly and I smiled up a her, indeed a mess, covered in her cum.

“You’ve certainly honed your craft today, Miss Olsen.”

[moonwatcher3]

Spoilers for this winglet the dragonet prophecy and the brightest night btw i just read wings of fire winglet's "deserter" and

HEAR ME OUT. Six claws was SO worried for dune, even going as far to leave behind a whole encampent of his own soldiers to save dune from any of burns dastardly plans, and he was totally ready to attack burn when she tore off dunes wing, obviously it would have taken a while for them to get along properly again after six claws first objected to burns question leading to burn loosing a wing he would have one day been able to use again, but after a while in the scorpion den while they had to get used to the new way of life I imagine that they would eventually fall in love, or they would have before dune lost his wing and leg, and when he lost those two limbs it would have torn the two apart for a while till dune was able to forgive Six claws again, but of course, eventually the prophecy came up, and thorn had Sunny's egg with stonemover, and eventually dune would steal Sunny's egg, and leave six claws behind it could get tragic but I don't feel like building this wall any higher ngl

[tenkobitch]

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ

Kaminari Denki x G/N Reader

Genre: Established relationship, fluff, study date

A/N: I thought I would write a short oneshot of a random MHA character just so I wasn't too sucked into writing my series, so I hope y'all enjoy!

Kaminari isn't dumb, but he's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. He is often praised for wearing himself out completely with his quirk – sending huge electric shock waves through any object – but he's also heavily made fun of for the side effects. His brain goes haywire, and he's nothing more than a dumb potato. His friends make fun of him the most in that state.

But you always take care of him. Even when Bakugou is angrily yelling at your boyfriend to, "Stop being a dimwit", you always manage to pull Kaminari far enough to allow him some rest. He often doesn't remember most of it because he's either spacing out, or his brain has been turned to mush. But no matter what, you always make it your duty to keep him on track.

So, you asked your boyfriend to study with you.

"Honey, sugar, lemon, sweetie pie," you called out to him, hoping to make him cringe with your overuse of silly nicknames. But when you finally reached him, he had a huge smile on his face. No disgust in sight. You sighed, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, right beside him. You both sat in silence for only a few seconds before you asked him the big question.

"Denki, I know you're not doing too hot on your school work," Kaminari was ready to deny your statement until you put your hand up, telling him to wait. "So, I propose that we study together!"

Kaminari shook his head, crossing his arms and closing his eyes in defiance. He really didn't like studying. You put on your brightest smile and tried to convince him.

"I'll bring your favorite snacks and drinks, and after we're done, we can watch a movie or your favorite show." You clasped your hands together and leaned in closer to his face. His eyes were still closed, but he could feel your breathing on his cheek.

"It'll be like a study date!"

Kaminari opened one of his eyes, clearly excited, but not wanting to give into you so easily. He cleared his throat and finally spoke up.

"All of my favorite snacks and drinks?" He said in a whisper, suspicious of your promises. You nodded, wishing that he would stop resisting the idea of studying.

"Any movie or TV show? You'll watch anything I wanna watch?" You nodded again, already feeling tired from this interaction. He was really starting to get on your nerves. He leaned in with both of his eyes open, assessing the situation.

"So, what's in it for you!"

"I'm leaving."

"No, no, no, WAIT!" Kaminari bolted from the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room. He caught up to you easily, turning you around in his arms. His face was inches away from yours as he looked into your eyes to see if you were really angry. You tried to hold your composure, but seeing your boyfriend's reaction to you leaving almost made you crack. You couldn't help but let a small smile reach your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, the gold haired boy finally spoke.

"Do you really wanna help me study? Do you really wanna do a study date?" You couldn't hold back your laugh as you saw the boy's sad eyes look back at you. You reached up to pat his head, which he gladly received. You nodded once more, and you gave him a response.

"Yes! Why would I be asking you if I didn't actually wanna help you study?" He yelped in excitement and shook you back and forth like a little kid. Things like, "Thank you," and "Oh my gosh!" were the only words you could comprehend before you felt your butt hit the ground. You looked up to find a seething Bakugou holding back an excited Kaminari.

"Dunce face, your mouth is running all over the place!" Your boyfriend's face lit up as he stared back at you. You gave the angry boy behind him a disappointed look, only to receive the same booming voice.

"Don't look at me like that, smart face! You're the one making him jump for joy like a dog!" You laughed out, only making Kaminari's face light up even more. Bakugou loudly huffed and dropped the happy boy into the floor with you.

"You both are a bunch of fools. That's it, we're all meeting in the common area!" You and Kaminari continued to laugh as Bakugou gathered the rest of the Bakusquad by their shirts and dragged them to the living room. He finally dragged you both to the couch and pulled out his notebooks, ready to teach.

After your successful study session came to a close, you all went your separate ways. As your other friends left, you heard quiet whispers from Mina and Kirishima while Sero still had a confused look on his face. You laughed and turned back to gather your things, only to see an unusually calm Kaminari. He stared at you as if you were royalty, causing you to look away with a blush on your face.

When you looked back, he was still smiling at you like you were perfection, and you couldn't be embarrassed anymore.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Your boyfriend only shrugged, keeping his face on you and your movements.

"Because you're really pretty," he sighed out, leaning his head on one of his propped up hands. You decided to look at anything else but your boyfriend's handsome face, but he continued.

"And you always help me out. Even when Kacchan wouldn't explain how to do something again, you were always helping everyone else, showing us all how to do the problems again." You turned back to the gold haired boy as he stared back at you with no embarrassment in his eyes.

"Bakugou would kill you if he heard you call him that."

"Then I'll die happy." You rolled your eyes and laughed at the audacity of the boy. You gathered your things and pointed at him with your laughter filling the room.

"Okay, weirdo!" Kaminari smiled as you walked away from him to put your things away. His bubble only popped when he heard a quiet snicker behind him.

"You're damn right! Dunce face is a weirdo!" Kaminari's smile disappeared as he felt Bakugou lean closer to him. "And y'know what I do to weirdos, don't you, dunce face?"

Kaminari tried to get up and run to safety, but the boy was pulled back by the blonde.

"Get ready to charge all of the cooking equipment, cuz I'm gonna be cooking for a while!"

And that's how Kaminari ended up in your room again, tucked into bed as you let his mushed brain get back to normal.

*Bonus*

You: "So... Do you wanna tell me what happened last night?"

Kaminari: "... Bakugou made me charge all of the cooking equipment..."

You: "And why did he do that?"

Kaminari: "Because I'm a weirdo."

You: "No! It was because you called him 'Kacchan'!"

Kaminari: "Tomato, tamato, let's just say that I did both things!"

You: "Well, you are a weirdo."

Kaminari: "I'm your weirdo~"

You: "Where's Bakugou when you need him?"

Kaminari: "Please don't get him-"

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

Today I shall be explaining how Edgar (Narrator), Mae (Curator) AND Inferos (TK) came to be.

Everyone buckled in? All ready? Alright! Here we GO—

The Creation Process / History.

Many millennia ago, The Universe was simply a mish mash of chemical compounds. Molecules weren't even established to be, they just simply.. Existed! It's unknown where the existence of everything had originated from. Now, there are many theories that hold up ideas of the origins of everything. Most Famously discussed being, of course, The Big Bang, estimated to have occurred 13.8 Billion years ago.

The Universe allegedly began as a tiny, high-density fireball, which spontaneously combusted and thus expanded as space. The Universe cooled in time, and with cooler conditions The First, simple elements began to form; Hydrogen, Helium and Lithium. Hydrogen being the main factor of the three. Gradually, gravity drew matter together which supposedly formed The First Stars & Galaxies. From here, Galaxies collected into into a mixture of Groups, Clusters & Superclusters, whereas some stars started to die within Supernova Explosions; their chemical remnants begun seeding new generations of stars, bringing their legacies to be long lasting but ALSO enabling the formation of New, rocky Planets. And one of those Planets, of course, just so happened to be Earth.

Now, somewhere, in-between all the kerfuffle, situated within the plentiful explosions and deaths of Stars and such alike , Larger Stars had begun to Collapse at the end of their Life Cycles. This brought into existence the first Black Hole. Now, A Black Hole, By Google Definition; A region of spacetime where gravity is so strong & nothing, including light & other electromagnetic waves, has enough energy to escape it.

The Theory of General Relativity predicts that a sufficiently compact mass can deform spacetime to form a black hole. At the time, obviously, these were a Rare Phenomena in the passing time of Space, and so contact with them involving an involuntary object had a slim chance of creating some Huge Reaction, seeing as Black Holes quite literally "Eat", in layman's terms, anything in its path. Nothing in existence, at that time, had ever had such a Strong Energy Scale to Escape, let alone Combat the likes of a Black hole. So nothing was capable of stopping them on their Daunting Path of Destruction. That is, until the introduction of an unfamiliar, foreign object in spacetime.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Lucidae Ignis in Aeternum, L.I.A.

[ ❝ Lucidae ❞,The term given the Brightest Star of a Constellation, Latin origins; the feminine singular of ❝ Lūcidus ❞, meaning ❝ Bright, Shining ❞ , ❝ Ignis in Aeternum. ❞, Latin origins; Meaning ❝ Fire Forever ❞, or rather ❝ Eternal Fire ❞ ]

This star-like-Giant of the Galaxian Empire was the largest existing ball of burning plasma known currently to Particular Knowledge of some, beating the Current Largest Known Star, UY Scuti, a Red Hypergiant standing at 1.188 Billion Kilometres, and somehow forming to be 156 Trillion Kilometres in size. That, in itself, is large enough to fit Five of our Solar System's within, and then some. It seems impossible, but at the same time. Existence as a whole is nothing far from what one would consider impossible. Yet here we are. Within Galaxies and Galaxies, Universes and Universes filled with who knows what.

Perhaps Stars even Bigger than LIA lie out there. Somewhere. LIA, as been theorised, has been said to of formed from Two Red Dying Hypergiants drawing close enough to one another at similar Low Levels of Combustion & existing at a Semi-Molten state to Weld Together, when Gravitational Forces between the two were strong enough to drawn one another in. This process of welding them to one another causes a sort of Infinitely Regenerative Source of Plasma Energy to power both stars and eventually merge them into one massive Hypergiant reaching lengths beyond general comprehension.

..............................................................................................................................

It just so happens that both LIA, and The Black Hole, which was later on dubbed Nexis, a relatively small black hole compared to ones that may exist today, co-exist in the same region of space, which would inevitably cause their paths to collide, one way or another. Time goes by, space goes on. And it's not long before Nexis's strengthening pull manages to catch LIA in its undefeated fury.

But, being such a large supply of energy, The Strength of Nexis must be pushed to its extremes to be able to reel in this Goliath for its own personal gain. And so, the two fought for their individual, eternal reign. Like warriors. Until both succumbed. They collapsed onto one another. And something new was born.

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In some Stories, Folk Law & Myths carried across galaxies, it's been told through generations that these two Beasts of the Dark may have not been just... heartless monoliths, doing what they did simply because that's how things worked. Without any true, meaningful purpose other than just. To be.

As a matter of fact, It's strongly believed, by the few that tell the tales of the Universe, that these Giants had souls. Souls that had driving motives. Souls that felt for one another. And some found that tale to be as beautiful as it sounds.

And, if those tales were to be found true.. then it surely was. Tales etched into stone, written in old Greek, are the best source we currently have that depicts such a story. After thorough translation, this is what story was once told to be, and laughed at by the faces of many other highly religious figures;

❝ In the Times of Dark and Treacherous, the Lights of the Night were Dark & the Skies were Scary, Humanity was yet to be shaped out of the mud, and everything was Unorganized and Frail. Before our figures of Hierarchy came to be and ruled over our land, Two only dwelled in the Blank Canvas of The Dark. Brave Warriors. Who fought to keep Balance.

Elpída, Guardian of Distant Hope and Eternal Life, she fought for honour, to keep Light burning so the Dark would be luminous.

Maraíno, Executioner of Decay and Damnation, she fought for Power and took Life to Reign.

The Two Warriors Danced a Deadly Dance to Glorify their Ambitions in an Infinite Ballroom. It was a Fierce Battle. It was a Valiant Battle. And it kept Peace.

Their Battle could have been Eternal, everlasting, but at a point they both grew weak. Energy was forced to be used sparingly. Both that once wielded power and thrived off of it had turned that power into a channel for spite, a fuel for meaningless rage, and thus was no longer fruitful.

And once she had become frail, The Light of Elpída was dim. And the Hope she sought out to keep alive felt dismissed.

Maraíno cried out to their rival as they both came to a halt;

' The Light I once seeked from you to take has dimmed. And so it holds no value to me. So tell me, Darling Light, Why do I still seek you? '.

The Guardian answered with but another question;

' The Destruction you brought onto the existence of life has long since stopped as you have grown weaker. And you concentrate your time on my defeat. Yet, Why do I still fight you? '.

The Executioner had no answer to offer. And pondered upon this riddling response. And The Guardian spoke once more.

' Perhaps we fought for our ambitions once long ago, but I don't believe that to be the truth as we speak. ' she said, drawing closer to The Dark. Yet The Executioner did not try to defend itself. She allowed the touch of The Light to meet its faltering visage.

' Perhaps we fight now because we do not wish to be alone. I am the Light that illuminates you. Your soul encapsulates me. I have fought against it.. but now I fight to stay beside it. '. Once again, The Executioner could not reply. But it seemed as true to the two of them, whether they were to come to an agreement on the matter or not.

The battle had ended as suddenly as it had sprouted. The two held a gentle embrace around one another and uttered . And with the last of what they had, a spark in the Universe lit. And The True Empress that breathed life into our bodies had been born d from their dying light. It was born from two set souls, souls that had found their true purpose. To make life flourish. And to leave the Universe with company. With Life. With Hope. ❞

..............................................................................................................................

This tale has long since been forgotten, and remembering it at any point should be taken with a grain of salt. Believe it as simply a mystery of space, or as a story of great ambition. Either way, what remains true is that both entities collided. And with that collision birthed an unusual form of life, something that was capable of capturing, creating, controlling. It was a mighty force.

It's believed, but not confirmed, by some that the fusion of both Hypergiant's actually caused the LIA’s core to become a type of White Hole, or at the very least something similar, as it did not collapse onto itself but instead rebirthed as something entirely new, and phenomenal at that. But the interruption of Plasma from LIA’s outer surface prevented any sort of Wormhole from forming.

It, instead, forced remaining light nuclei to merge with one another simultaneously, forming dozens of heavier nuclei that released enough energy to be able to bond with early specimens of hard light collected together in a nearby nebula ; ultimately creating an infinite, solidified source of energy that had someone managed to become its own organism.

This Theory stands as The Theory of Everlasting Creation, and believes in the existence of an all-powerful, essentially living, thinking organism that holds the ability to create existing, and even non-existing, elements, substances, materials, mixtures and compounds at will, with no finite limitations on how much it may create or be capable of creating, as well as also being able to deconstruct and destroy the prior at the same time.

..............................................................................................................................

With all of this established, we may now bring our focus on this ‘hypothetical’ organism, or some may even refer to it as a Deity of sorts.

In Theory, this natural phenomena has created a God. It cannot die. And it can exist for eternity. With its purpose being to keep balance, and create. If it so chose to take that path.Thus, making it the perfect candidate for a Godly Figure. And in the future, it might just have been considered one by a select few. Early Astronomers who sought out the mysteries of space, perhaps. Who’s to say?

This being would be referred to as “The Creator” when humanity caught onto its presence, which was certainly fitting, considering the circumstances. However, long before humanity even had a name, the being itself had already come to find an alias of its own. It called itself “Mae”. Which would later be established as a word that correlates to “God/Goddess”, or “Beautiful”, in Gaelic/Celtic meanings. Or “Mother” in Portuguese; also oddly fitting. For more reasons than one. Which brings us to our next point:

What she created.

..............................................................................................................................

Now, obviously, there came a point in time where living organisms had begun their own evolutionary pipeline. This was not brought upon the universe by the likes of she. As a matter of fact, this evolutionary advancement is something that fascinated her. Despite being an overpowering organism of creation, these life forms had formed themselves all on their own. She had no involvement with it whatsoever. And that alone caught her attention. In no time, she’d become fixated on this Planet and its independent growth. Even during the early stages of life, she kept a watchful eye on every little detail.

Single-celled organisms were fruitful and multiplied into multicellular life. From here, these organisms branched off into a vast variety of Chordata, which were primarily based in bodies of water and adapted to such in terms of diet and anatomical structure. Her attachment to these organisms grew further as she saw their development now leading into much more complex territory; Tetrapoda now becoming part of the equation as four-limbed vertebrate, which had not only become amniotes as they started to roam the land, but had also began to become more adapted to both aquatic and land based worlds in order to branch of FURTHER than what was initial expected.

The introduction to land brought upon more evolutionary expansion. The planet was now given Mammalia and Primates. They were full-on land dwellers at this point, roaming the Earth freely and seeking out new places to thrive and evolve further than they already had. And from there, amidst the rest of the world’s wonders, we were given the beginning of the Human Race… and they turned out to be a species the god had become quiet.. QUITE.. infatuated with..

She admired them.. From the way they came to be to the fact that they, too, were capable of creating things if they really set their minds to it..

They were interesting little things. She felt linked to them in ways that were difficult to describe.

And through keen observation, taking note of their strengths and their flaws, and discovering what exactly brought them such differentiating characteristics and experiences, she had an idea beginning to spark.

She wanted to create something like them.

She wanted to create an ideal model.. The PERFECT humane specimen..

Something that was so similar to their kind yet so completely different at the same time. Something that had their traits but something she could teach to achieve things like she could.

..............................................................................................................................

So, with that brewing idea in mind, she began to experiment.

Surprisingly, despite Mae being perceived as something to be high and mighty and capable of pretty much anything, there were a lot of failed attempts & mistakes in the process. Obscure looking body shapes, a multitude of mish-mashed limbs, misplaced facial features that made her creations look uncanny.

But the main problem was that despite the effort she put into each individual attempt – none of them were capable of living freely. Which was the beautiful thing about humanity; they had their own desires, thoughts, ambitions and feelings. They did what they wished to do of their own accord. Nothing held them back.

And it had nothing to do with having a functioning mind. Or a beating heart. If anything, things like that were a primary human set-back. She knew this.

But the question was what exactly CRAFTED them into their own, distinct person if it wasn’t the thoughts of the mind or the life pumped into their hearts.

Eventually, though, she discovered that indescribable something simply by digging deeper. Thinking outside of the box, so to speak.

Each life on Earth appeared to have their own respective source of internal light. It was an incomprehensible thing to most, undiscovered by man and embedded deep within the heart & mind. But somehow, Mae was able to wrap her head around its existence.

A soul.

A magical thing. Founded upon clusters of stardust cumulated together in the central core of billions upon trillions spread out across universes.

Every soul was unique to its bodily host. Not a single soul was the same. Each feeling and experiencing things differently to one another.

A soul was something ever changing, that may link with another soul if bonds were grown enough to pull them together. Once a soul had linked with another, it was almost impossible to separate them. Only if the negative forces of attraction between souls grew too fierce would a soul be forced to separate.

Mae had discovered this phenomenon to be Soulmating. And it came in a multitude of different forms. Alongside hundreds and hundreds of differentiating characteristics that made up what a soul was.

These souls were intricate. And beautiful. And it was something Mae came to find precious.

And thus, she set herself the task to try and replicate such a thing. Create that unique essence of life, thriving off of its own undying light.

And eventually, with perseverance, self-encouragement and a hefty amount of elbow grease (despite very much not having elbows),

She did it. She crafted a soul. A perfect soul. A soul full of brilliance and undiscovered mystery. And a body, to keep that soul alive, to give it a face and name. To let it grow as a person. A person. Her own, darling creation. Which she looked upon with pride. And held her hopes high for to achieve the perfection she had perceived. And so, she gave it a name. Amor Aeternus. Which was a mishmash or words curated by the Romans of Earth. Two words, in Latin; Meaning

“Eternal Love”.

That was what it was called. Eternal Love. She had no reasoning as to why she named it this way. But she felt compelled to do so nonetheless.

But oh,

How fitting that name would be… ♡

However that name would one day develop into the man we know now as Edgar Vincent Marlowe... not just a Narrator, but a storyteller...~

..............................................................................................................................

Now, Highlighting THIS aspect;

Amongst all those failed attempts there was merely one out of thousands that was seemingly quite different. To say the least...

One that, miraculously, had a grown consciousness. The ability to live despite, by technicality, being categorized as the unliving. A small soul that formed on its own accord that would never of been noticed because of how fragile and simple it was. Attached to this unflattering malgamation of a body that was just BARELY keeping onto a humanoid figure.

...and yet, despite its perseverance to live; it never was noticed.

In fact, it was completely disregarded... and forgotton.

But this soul saw everything it could of had. And this soul never forgot. Never forgot how its chance at life was taken from hands of boiling flesh and instead given to another. Something more appealing. More successful. More putridly perfect.

And in itself it grew to hate. It grew to be full of jealousy. To be scornful, and full to the brim with resentment towards the being that he could of been. With a want to tear down everything that this Prince of The Stars had acquired and someday take his place. Show the universe that he WAS worthy of that status. He was special & capable enough to experience what this Brother of sorts of his had already experienced.

And so, he gave himself a name. To express his scorching, eternal flame of envious greed in bold. To overdramatize himself and show his self-proclaimed "upper status".

Stella Natum Inferos. (or "Inferos" for short.)

Meaning Star-born Hell Beast.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is our Keeper of Time. The one who keeps the Wheel Turning and the one who could stop that Wheel at any given moment.

This is the Story of two Brothers, not bonded by blood but the eagerness & naivety of a joint Creator. One, Blissfully unaware and Blessed; Attune to the gift of Giving and a Heart of Gold, a Soul pure and true. The other, Scornfull & Painfully Aware; hateful and seething deep down only wishing for approval, and to be adored.

"The stars made you their own; you are adored and shine bright. I was cast out, sentenced to to be forgotten; denied acknowledgement and stripped of my life. You will always try to find a way to love. I dance with the tangled webs of resentment. You do not know me. I wish I did not live aside you."

And perhaps... this burning hatred held by one shall finally cut through the thin veil that keeps the two apart.

Their story is still being told, after all.....and a Story needs an Ending~

...and ending that may come sooner than possibly anticipated. You'll just have to wait and see.. ♡

☆ ⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂✦ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂☆

[thedragonagelesbian]

14 and 9 for the spots to kiss prompts?

kiss prompts!!!

doing 14 now.... may come back for 9 (kiss on the ear) later!

14. a kiss on the chin

"Do you miss them?"

"Always." It was always a marvel, how much softer Josephine's hands were than hers, scented with lingering hibiscus lotion and a stray smear of ink tucked into the nail bed of her pinky. Their evening herbal teas were cooling on the table in Dahlian's bedroom as they drew close to each other and the fire. Whatever they had been talking about before, the only thing Dahlian could focus on now was Josephine's fingers against her cheek... and Solas', almost a year and a half ago now, wiping everything away. A ghost she couldn't get rid of no matter how hard she huffed at the memory. "In all my years, I have never felt so foolish as I did that day."

As raw and bare as her face, every last defense that she had used to stave off vulnerability within the Inquisition stripped away.

Staring at her reflection in the water and wondering what all the wrinkles and grey hairs were worth if she was still so heartbreakingly naive.

"I am sorry," Josephine offered softly. "If you return to your clan, would you be able to perform the vallaslin ritual again?"

"I don't know." Honest and objective first, and then sighing, honest and scared: "I don't know if I want to know, though that is foolish too."

"Matters of home and belonging are never easy." Josephine touched some of those wrinkles, smoothing out Dahlian's forehead as her own brow furrowed to match it ever so slightly. "When I began to train as a bard, I tried ever so hard to disguise my Antivan accent. It feels silly in retrospect, but I was convinced that the more Orlesian I seemed, the better I would fare among the nobility as one of their spies. Perhaps it is not precisely the same thing, but--"

"No, I understand," Dahlian assured her. "Did your family ever know?"

Josephine gave a small laugh, soft and melodic. "No. When I returned to Antiva after everything, the moment that I stepped off the ship and smelled the peppers drying in the sun, I knew that I never wanted to turn away from that part of myself, even when my work took me away again."

Dahlian's mind flashed to strips of spiced jerky, bites of smoke and peppers and fat stolen during the long hours spent over her forge as Clan Lavellan's craftmaster. It suddenly hurt to swallow. "If only the Inquisition did not make it so difficult to turn back."

Josephine's forehead wrinkled again, as it so often did when Dahlian expressed her discontent with what the Inquisition had demanded of her, first as its Herald and then as its leader. No matter how many times Dahlian had assured her that she did not blame Josephine for that, that she had always been one of its brightest, most soothing lights. After a lifetime of caring for her family's fortune and future, Dahlian supposed, taking responsibility came far too easily to the eldest Montilyet.

"You're in the wrong place," she said suddenly. Josephine's fingers had drifted down to her jaw, graceful in the tracing of the bone but incorrect. "The vallaslin, it was higher up."

"Show me."

Dahlian took Josephine's hand in her own and lifted it again to her forehead, guiding her along the v shapes that had once marked her between the eyebrows. "First, the forge." She brought Josephine's fingers down her temple and along her cheek. "Then, the ironbark." Across her lips, held there for a moment, savoring the warmth of their skin together. "And then the roots, as a reminder that we never use more than what we need of the land for June's crafts." Finally, grazing the chin, the throat, skimming the top of her collarbone.

Josephine followed the movements with eyes ever sharp, as if staring hard enough could pour the ink back into her skin.

Solas had said that he saw Dahlian as she truly was. Had he ever understood what the blood of blood writing meant? The intermingling of her body--her essence--with the People.

And then Josephine's mouth replaced her fingers. Gentle in her kisses, retracing the path that Dahlian had drawn, that her Keeper had drawn decades before, where it had hurt the most. Even more than the dots underneath the eyes, the sheer softness of the throat, the fluttering pulse, the vulnerable jugular, every instinct screaming that pain there meant death, and how proud Dahlian had been to bear it as generations had before her.

There was no pain now, except in her memories, but this could be a memory too. Shared, embodied, saliva instead of blood and Josephine's lips on her chin.

It would be a good memory.

[blood-orange-juice]

Looking through the loot drops descriptions and for two of the whale drops codex entries have more than what you see in inventory (which is not typical and the only other exception I know is the Evergloom Ring which has an Abyss lore nuke).

Lightless Mass:

"Even in the dark night sky, there are always faint glimmers of light, like pearls gleaming from within the sand, splinters of diamond sprinkled over asphalt, lights lancing through the fog on a misty night, and sparks that ignite the brightest blazes. But look carefully. The lights are slowly disappearing and the darkness is invading from every direction. You will become an incandescent inferno, a new star burning brightly and illuminating the universe for but a brief period. Or, you will become the ruler of darkness that stamps out all such trifling sparks."

I have questions.

Lightless Eye of the Maelstrom

A strange "substance" obtained from fighting against the All-Devouring Narwhal. Its actual weight far exceeds what would be expected given its size. Everything gathers around heavy objects, just as gold attracts more than iron, or the ground more than in the breeze blowing above. Just as light cannot escape from the vortex of darkness, cause and effect is attached to fate, perhaps irreversibly so. But the heavy "substance" in your hand doesn't feel real, as if it was only a shadow of the All-Devouring Narwhal's prey. Perhaps you only fought the echoes from the depths of the universe.

Also, codex addition aside, something something eye of the maelstorm and "Why else, then, would he always be at the heart of every conflict" (Shadow of the Warrior description) and "You shall ever be the eye of the storm" (FL codex entry).

And the fate part in looks like this in Chinese (the black hole metaphor is a bit clearer):

"Just as light cannot escape from the dark vortex, causes and conditions will also converge on the heavy fate. Perhaps this is also an irreversible rule."

Why did anything involving Childe happen in Fontaine? That's why. Whatever his martial art is it creates a fate distortion field. Prophecies stick to him.

It was a popular theory already but it's nice to have confirmation. Maybe 4.2 was *supposed* to seem stupid.

(like at some Penacony sequences you are supposed to figure out you are in a dream because of how nonsensical things become)

Tl;dr: The Boy warps reality just by being there. It's now officially confirmed.

I just didn't notice because I was raging about the story being nonsensical. It probably was supposed to be nonsensical.

Also I think, while Childe likely doesn't have the *soul* of the 3rd/another Descender/failed Descender, his *power* might be using their remains in some way. A star vs. a black hole which is a dead star.

[incorrectly-quoted-queers]

Stolas, Blitz, and the Full Moon

The painful dramatic irony I feel about Stolas and Blitz having their meetings on the Full Moon haunts me every time I think about Helluva Boss (which seems to be often, lately).

So get on your literary tinfoil hats, because we're doing a literary tinfoil hat kind of ramble.

So let's talk about why—the full moon in particular—is such a *choice* for their monthly tryst.

For some quick science. The full moon is when the moon is completely illuminated by the sun. In turn, the moon also reflects that light to earth and back at the moon. They are in full alignment and shine their brightest.

So, metaphorically, this does well represent how when Stolas and Blitz started their contractual agreement, they were in full alignment: they each got what they wanted from the deal and it worked for them. Also, Blitz is ostensibly of lower class than Stolas, so putting Stolas in the place of the sun and Blitz as the moon is a pretty apt way to symbolize the distance in status and power between them (more on that later).

Over time, though, it has become more and more of a strain on both of them because, unlike the moon, they are no longer in alignment. Stolas doesn't want contractual, he wants love. Blitz is growing increasingly uncomfortable with what he feels beyond the contract and every time Stolas pushes those boundaries, he lashes out. So, when the full moon once was this very effective metaphor for their dynamic, things are shifting and turning their meeting from an apt moon metaphor to the dramatic irony it is now. Because while Stolas and Blitz don't notice how fraught the situation is, we, the audience, know that these two, regardless of whatever feelings and potential they may have, are not in alignment anymore. They are not a full moon. And it's no surprise that the upcoming episode, "Full Moon" seems to be all about that misalignment finally catching up to Stolas and Blitz.

So, if you think I'm painting curtains blue, it's time we gotta talk about "Look My Way".

The best evidence that all these moon shenanigans have been at least subconsciously purposeful and very clear to the fans and creators is this music video.

Let's start with the owl man context. Stolas is already a lifelong scholar of the stars, placing him in the perfect position for the cosmos to be a way he relates himself to others (also see any and all of his exchanges with Octavia).

In "Look My Way", Stolas enters this imagined cosmic space. At first, he's among the stars as a godly, large being, representing his status as a prince and a "watcher of these ancient rites". He's far from others, especially people like Blitz. However, as the song goes deeper into his feelings for Blitz, not only does he begin to cradle one small, moon-like celestial body, but in the next scene he's suddenly below that body as it floats above. He's gone from godly omniscience to a man on earth, looking up at the stars.

This is Stolas realizing Blitz isn't just some little rock that reflects his light and makes him feel good (circling back to that moon science). Instead, he's realized that like the puny humans of earth, the moon makes him feel small and illuminated. And these size changes all are symbols of the power dynamic (at least in Stolas' eyes; we can talk til the cows come home that objectively Stolas' status always has him in control. But let's roll with the bird man on this and focus on emotional control). Here, Stolas realizes his depth of feeling for Blitz and how desperately he wishes to be more.

Then, Stolas imagines a world where they are on the same plane. The moon isn't so small or so large, and he can reach out and touch its contents—Blitz.

Now, the video ending with him trying to fly up to the moon and falling is clear: He's resolved to try to put them on that equal footing and is willing to risk failing, falling, and losing it all if it means he might have that more equitable relationship as Blitz. If they might have find their full moon again, but a different kind.

But, can they find a full moon without one of them reflecting on the other?

This is the kicker that stirs up so much fan shenanigans. Because yeah, the full moon being a representative of their relationship is *painfully* apt. Let's go back to the science for a second. If you look at a full moon, you're looking at a version of the moon lit up by the sun's light. What you're seeing is not the moon all on its own. And on the flip side, the sun disappears behind the moon, fully eclipsed by night and the moon, losing itself in this configuration. And you can see the problems with this kind of alignment as a metaphor for a relationship.

Because if they were on the same footing, they wouldn't be a full moon anymore. To be the kind of relationship Stolas wants and Blitz is afraid to want, their alignment has to change entirely. Not one body reflecting on the other, not one disappearing behind the other, not a star and a moon. But, instead, side by side. *They have to become different celestial bodies entirely.* And understandably that's a huge fucking leap. It's why this fandom gets in very heated debates about whether their relationship could work or not, because there do have to be so many large, inherent changes in themselves as people and the way they interact to become the kind of relationship they both want.

But I guess we will just have to wait and see if they can pull it off or not.

Anyway, given I spent 30 minutes writing this, I'm going to stop listening to Helluva Boss music or I'm just gonna keep doing this all day.

[cosmermaid]

Mewtwo's cloning machine colored became my most popular post so I'm making a tutorial with it.

I know I only colored it but I did use some pretty important techniques when doing original art too so I'm hoping it helps.

Okay so let's say you have a sketch, or in my case an image you want to color. Rule of thumb, you don't want to leave that in grayscale.

If you have a color scheme in mind you'll want your starting point to reflect that. Most art programs have ways for you to do tonal correction.

I like using levels for cleaning up the brightness and making lines sharper, and color balance for adding colors. Gradient map works nicely too. Generally you want to pick contrasting colors for light vs shadow. I did yellow for lighting and blue for shadow because I wanted to catch that oceanic underwater feel. But you CAN do cool lights with warm shadows!

2. If you want to color under your image or sketch, set it to multiply. Lower the opacity to help you see better if you want to do linework over it, or leave it as is if you just want to color your sketch.

3. Block in your colors to get a feel for the lighting. You'll want to make sure you have a CLEAR sense of foreground/middleground/background. Which means you need to pick colors that are bright/medium/dark shades and assign them accordingly.

In this case my foreground is darkest, I chose to make middleground (the machine) my light source, so it is brightest, and background is my medium shade. You don't have to do it in that order, but just keep those rules of three in mind. Foreground, middleground, background. Light, medium, dark. Assign accordingly as your piece needs.

A great way to test your composition is to set your image to greyscale, or even remove your sketch. If you still have a clear impression of depth and where everything is, you're on the right track.

4. What's your focal point? What's the main subject of your piece? What do you want to draw the viewer's eye, to stand out, to be the whole point of what you're drawing? Because that's the part you're going to focus on rendering now.

For me it was the shell.

This was three different layers on different blending modes where I just played with textures, colors and brushes until I got an effect that I liked. In fact I liked it so much that these layers are actually above the base image, so that the texture is untouched by the manga scan texture and the yellow-tinted multiply effect.

5. By this point, if you're applying these steps to any art piece you're working on, you should have a pretty good basis. You should have your colors mapped, your composition, and your focal point for your work. You can continue to render the details, but try to stick to your composition.

None of these steps are particularly complicated. It's just a matter of coloring within the lines, staying true to your chosen color scheme, and remembering where the light source is.

6. If you have a secondary focal point, (in my case, Team Rocket) you can give it a little bit of special treatment to help it not get lost in the image.

I went as far as to copy and paste them, adjust their levels separately from the rest of the work so they looked sharper and cleaner, gave them their own colors separate from the scheme of the main peace, and only tied them into it with their shadows. I painted some rim-lighting around them true to their colors (like Jessie and James's hair) just to help them pop. They're not the main focus of the image, but they're somewhere that they aren't supposed to be, so they need to stand out a little in their own right. 7. Add some finishing touches.

This can be things like adding soft glows to your light sources (I keep mine simple, just a few strokes with a watercolor brush set to the add blending mode) and some shines to shiny objects.

And that was about it.

Coloring this piece was just an excuse for me to play with color composition and textures without having to worry about my own line work for once. But I still used some pretty important principles in illustration to catch what I saw in my head while looking at the original uncolored page. (Especially step 3!! Try that in your next work!)

[neopoliitan]

TEAM RAIN: ARC 4 CH7 - THOUGH THE HEAVENS FALL (PART 1)

A WRITE UP FOR THE REST OF TEAM RAIN: CHAPTER 7

This is the big reveal and it's a lot of LORE so I decided to split it into 2 parts. You finally find out what the Braiths are :)

We open on Marron Armona’s shocked face. She exclaims “You’re their father?!” as Teams RAIN and PALM face the stranger. 

Wil Lincoln pushes through the crowd and tries to land a punch, but is stopped by Irving who catches his fist with a metal hand. He reminds Wil that the stranger pulled them from the car wreck, and recommends restraint. Wil softens.

The stranger holds up his hands and admits that while he is the father of the Braiths, he has no hand in their current dealings. He surmises that the teams have bad blood with his children, and asks them to sit around the fire.

Robin tells the man that Kamala killed her father. Marina adds that they hold their mother and brother hostage. Akane says they tried to kill her family, and Irving recounts the citywide Grimm attack launched on Avon.

Lucius looks bereft at this news, and slowly assumes they mean to bring the Braiths to justice, whatever form that may take. He supposes that before they make any final choices, it would be best if they heard the whole truth.

THE BEGINNING

The stranger’s name is Lucius Braith. We cut from his wizened face to a younger version of him some thirty-odd years ago, in a lab. He bears a striking resemblance to Viorel’s masculine form, or perhaps a less muscle bound Gardner.

Lucius recounts that he was something of a phenom in his youth, working professionally for Mantle scientific research since fifteen years old, but the story of his children begins when he was thirty - with his semblance.

We see young Lucius holding a metallic cube, some sort of paperweight, as a white aura effect glows around it. Old Lucius explains that he had “given his soul to science, and it had been accepted,” - that his semblance allowed him to perform a “biopsy” on his own aura, extracting it and applying it to inanimate objects.

Young Lucius approaches a lab partner, Alden Rossi, who is tinkering with robotics, and expresses glory at the potential applications of his semblance. Alden scratches his head as Lucius proposes studies on the very nature of the soul, that they “could finally understand the boundaries of that which once seemed beyond our comprehension.”

Young Lucius holds the cube up to his eyes. Narrating, Old Lucius explains that aura may be a crucial tool in humanity’s arsenal, but modern science still knew very little about it.

The kingdom of Mantle was still struggling even this long after the Great War, and it took little to convince the Council to give their support. They were so desperate to keep Lucius from finding better options overseas that they would approve whatever Lucius asked of them. The ethical concerns were almost nil - he was a promising young mind and he swore that he would only conduct research under the strictest of conditions… though he was the one who set the conditions.

We flash forward again. Lucius is overseeing construction at a location further north than any man had ever been on Remnant by that point, far from the prying eyes of both man and Grimm. He christened the facility Zenith, named for both its geographical location and his desire for it to be the pinnacle of scientific research. 

Due to the questionable ethics of experimenting on the human soul, only the brightest of Mantlean minds were brought onto the project and sworn to complete secrecy. For all intents and purposes, Zenith did not officially exist.

Another cut forward, and Lucius is inside the completed facility, showing other scientists blueprints in the conference room seen in Arc 3, Chapter 1.

Now the facility was complete, he would begin work on his magnum opus, the P.R.I.S.M.

Another cut, and we see Lucius standing on the gantry in front of the machine Kamala, Viorel and Roderick visited in Arc 3, Chapter 5. In the present, Old Lucius narrates that it took a few years and many sleepless nights, but he finally completed it.

Young Lucius places his hand inside the machine as Roderick did in Arc 3, Chapter 5, and is similarly zapped as the biopsy is taken. The screens to the side of the machine light up green in success, and Young Lucius allows himself a relieved smile.

His present day self explains that the P.R.I.S.M was designed to artificially recreate his semblance, and expand on it. It took a biopsy of one’s aura as well as a tissue sample. His plan was that - by cultivating both - he would be able to create life.

We cut forward again to Young Lucius in an elevator, some time later, on the ride down to the P.R.I.S.M. As he walks along the gantry, Old Lucius narrates thusly;

“The gestation period was shorter than that of a natural human. It was only a few weeks before we again returned to the P.R.I.S.M and saw the result of the experiment.”

Young Lucius opens a hatch on the P.R.I.S.M.

“We were unsure how long it would survive outside of the machine. We had to remain cold, scientific and unattached.”

We see a newborn baby inside the machine. And Old Lucius concludes…

“So, naturally, the first thing I did was name her Kamala.”