#tara chambers

[queer-book-character-tournament]

Characters, book, and author names under the cut

Tara Boone/Penny - All That Consumes Us by Erica Waters

August Mulvaney/Lucas Blackwell - Psycho by Onley James

Ariadne O'Neill/Elena Quesada-Cruz/Chikondi Daka/Jack Vo - To Be Taught if Fortunate by Becky Chambers (sorry hit the character limit which cut off the name in the poll)

Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish - The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

[gumballavocadoharry]

*🍭= Fluff 🍫=Angst 🍿= Serious tone/Graphic detail*

Harry's daughter's imagines:

Harry gives his daughter a bath 🍭

Harry's daughter has cancer 🍫🍿

Harry's daughter has a crush on one of her kindergarten classmates🍭

Harry and his daughter make a pizza 🍭

Harry starts dating a woman and forgets about his daughter, yn 🍫

Harry's daughter gets pregnant 🍫🍿

Harry's daughter starts her period, but is too embarrassed to tell him 🍭🍫

Harry's daughter finds out something shocking 🍿🍫

Harry takes his daughter out for ice cream 🍭

Harry's voice can heal his daughter's pain 🍭

Harry's son imagines:

Harry's son takes his first steps 🍭

Harry's son tries to runaway 🍭

Harry's son doesn't want to be babied by Harry 🍭

Emerson celebrates father's day with Harry🍭

Harry celebrates Father's Day alone 🍭

Harry's son has an asthma attack 🍭🍫

Harry embarrasses his son in front of his friends 🍭

Harry is affectionate to his son in front of his friends 🍭

Yn and Harry imagines:

Yn drinks because of depression 🍫🍿

Harry has a crush on a single mom Yn 🍭

A fan heckles yn and Harry defends her 🍫 🍭

Harry and his son fight over yn's attention 🍭

Yn passes out on stage 🍫 🍭

Yn almost drowns at the beach 🍫

Yn cheats on Harry 🍫

You and Harry's daughter wants attention 🍭

Yn and Harry have a dysfunctional household 🍿🍫

Yn's strict professor is Harry🍫

Yn is a drunk and Harry tries to protect their son 🍫🍿

Harry's family has mental illness and they are dysfunctional 🍿🍫

Harry gets stage fright after a fan attacks him on stage 🍫

River and Harry blurbs masterlist:

Headcanons:

Harry teaching his baby 🍭

Pet names Harry has for you 🍭

Jack chambers blurbs Masterlist:

Brother Harry masterlist

Troupe/Blurb masterlist

Masterlist 1

[eldritchships]

also sometimes people w/ pet tarantulas will kiss' 'em (not recommended but-) maybe you should consider doing the same. y'know. with 🕷️. do you think he purrs? he looks like he'd purr. ik he's large but maybe you could use this

I think he makes sooo many noises, he purrs and chitters and giggles. I think his mandible things would wiggle too when he's particularly happy. Like before or after a kiss perhaps. That image is so funny, I know he's bigger but I need to trap him in that thing asap

[major-alenko]

Commander Tara Shepard + cherishing her friends

[earth-1218designate]

The whole time I'm thinking :

x

[craftbreaks]

( nightmare telegraph received: @tocook. ) it’s 9 a.m. and you’re interrogating me?

sure, she looks out of place in denny's, dressed up in the charcoal suit and the dress shoes. tara prefers the coffee she makes in her own home, in the way that she prefers everything she makes with her own two hands, but she'll drink whatever. that's what law school teaches you—drinking the dregs from the coffee pot, awake for the forty-eighth hour, staring down the barrel of an endless march of assignments. sitting in a shitty albuquerque diner a little past nine in the morning isn't nearly as bad as any of that, but it does feel almost as debasing.

she jabs her fork down at the hash browns, watching as they're slowly subsumed by the cloyingly bright yellow of the egg yolk. all things meld together eventually, given time.

being involved with all of these people out here in new mexico is bad news. tara knows better. it's a mess in the making. jesse pinkman has bright blue eyes, a too big smile, and a whole roster of bad jokes. she already checked over his very public myshout page to get a feel for who he was. all it told her was that he's not having nearly as much sex as he advertises, definitely. but in person, there's something else in his eyes, a brittleness, a feeling like collapse might be around the corner if someone pushes him just right.

dangerous quality to have, but she's not his keeper. she's just a lawyer.

"this isn't an interrogation," says tara mildly. the tines of her fork scrape against the plate, an aural assault just to make it feel more like an interrogation. "i'm just detail-oriented, pinkman. that's all."

she picks up the piece of sourdough bread, barely toasted, limp and soft to the touch. "besides," she adds, "i'm buying, so if anything, you're getting a free breakfast, and i get to listen to your whole sordid story. and because this is a favor, you're getting advice from a lawyer pro bono and skipping the initial consultation, the need-based applications, the fucking hassle. most people would call that a privilege."

the piece of bread gives between her teeth, too soft. no resistance. tara chews. swallows. the butter is tasteless. still, she chews, swallows, smiles. it's always good to bite down on something and feel it give.

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[divine-crows]

Witches Compass, the Barebones Basic Guide:

What is it, Why would I use it, Is it for me?

Introduction

This is an aspect of my path that I'm currently exploring more deeply, and as I learn to navigate it and reveal more ways it's useful to me I've noticed an increasing passion towards the subject. I'm by no means an expert on the subject, but I hope I can provide a post that helps explain the concept to those who are curious.

Reccomended Sources

The Crooked Path: An Introduction to Traditional Witchcraft by Kelden

Besom, Stang, and Sword: A Guide to Traditional Witchcraft, the Six Fold Path & the Hidden Landscape by Christopher Orapello and Tara-Love Maguire

Traditional Witchcraft: A Cornish Book of Ways by Gemma Gary

The Witch Compass by Ian Chambers

I'd like to note that of the books I don't have copies of the first three listed sources, but when I was initially on my journey I had access to them digitally and they opened my eyes to the concepts I'll be speaking on. All of my written information will be paraphrase from my grimoire as a result.

What Is The Witches Compass?

I honestly would divide it into two different answers, there's a long answer and a short answer.

Generally I'd say: The Witches Compass is a means similar to casting a circle that allows you to traverse the Hedge (perform astral work), work with spirits to perform spells, and to harness the powers of the directions to tap into your abilities.

The more 'esoteric', long answer I'd give: The Witches Compass is both a tool and a method comprised of symbolism, story telling, and allegory. These three elements allow the user to tap into their "unconcious mind" so they can better perceive the spirits and world around them. To put it short, the Compass is an inherent part of us-- seeing as it's a part of our perception --and it's up to us to use the tool as we see fit-- whatever symbols and stories we attribute to it is up to us.

How does the Compass differ from casting a Circle?

I have some Key Ideas based on observation and what I've read:

A circle intends to keep out Spirits, the Witches' Compass generally does not

A circle is intended to raise energy, The Compass generally is about focusing and maintaining energy

A circle is usually ritualistic in intent; focused on consecrating a space, a Witches' Compass isn't nessicarily ritual focused.

Similarly, a Circle usually is opened with specific steps and must be closed with a specific set of steps, the Compass (while having steps from others you may want to follow) doesn't always have to follow specific rules and has a lot less to do when closing it.

This one is a little more personal, but I generally relate the Circle to tapping into Higher Powers, and I likewise attribute the Witches' Compass to tapping into Earthly Powers (though it's not mutually exclusive).

I highly reccomend you explore both methods and try them out, Circle Casting is definitely still a very useful skill that you can use.

Why Would I Use It?

I'd highly reccomend giving it a try if you fit into the following categories:

You Like/Want to explore. . .

Hedge Work

Spirit Work

Forms of Folk Magic

Animist forms of Spirituality

Challenging yourself with differing or new concepts

Visual based workings

There's a lot of ways for you to learn to incorporate it into your beliefs. If you're concerned about wanting to adapt it into your practice and you have a baseline understanding on the subject, I highly reccomend looking at the last book in the reccomended list because it gives you a lot of exercises that will help you broaden your understanding of the Witches' Compass.

How Do I Tap Into the Compass?

These are some baseline ideas on how you might begin your journey to tapping into the Compass. These are exercises I do to help me better understand it.

Meditating on each direction was one of the first steps I ever took. I focused on sounds (both imagined and literal), visuals, and feelings as I faced each cardinal direction. I then wrote them down so I could further investigate what it means to me.

Finding out what I correspond with each direction helped me out a lot too. That can include elements, tarot card courts, colors basically anything that you place high importance on. It should be noted that in the reccomended sources they do give ideas on correspondences, but I reccomend you explore your own ideas so you can better understand it.

Creating a story for each direction is an idea I've been planning for a while. I want to basically tap into each element in a meditative state and create a short story inspired by my deities, my practice, etc. as a means to better explore how the Compass fits into my faith. You can also attribute stories already known to the Compass as well.

Tying into the previous idea, you can use stories to apply deities, archetypal figures, etc. to each cardinal direction for guidance. Be careful and mindful if you do so, that way you can be respectful with whatever you work with. As a celtic pagan, I've been finding ways that the deities I worship can represent each direction as a means to better interpret and I've found its helped me develop a better understanding and relationship with the deities I worship as a result. Of course, you don't have to incorproate deities, you can even use nameless beings if you want. What matters is you have a representation of each facet.

Practicing laying the Compass is self explanatory. I will say, there are differing methods out there and as you become comfortable you may build your own method to do it. Generally, I'd reccomend a trying a more well known method first so you can get an understanding of the symbolism, general vibe, etc. After the first couple of times if it really doesn't mesh well with you, then I'd say you can definitely explore more into what you'd like to do. You don't even have to do anything too significant either if you don't want to. Try it for simple spellwork, try it for meditative purposes, whatever you feel will ease you into it.

Try to interact with spirits of the land (if they're willing), especially since a part of the Compass is forming working relationships with the landscape around you I'd recommend it heavily. If you're like me and you can't freely or safely explore at random I recommend going places you know you're safe (even if it's as simple as your backyard!) and find a way to covertly do so. For example: instead of visibly laying a Compass and going into a clear trance-like state you can draw one out in a notebook and pretend to be writing in it while connecting with spirits.

Overall. . .

I covered some basic definitions, differences between casting a circle and using The Compass, and some ideas on how you can start your work. Now it's time for you to do some research given that you have an idea on what the Witches Compass is!

This post is merely skimming the surface and there is much more for you to uncover.

[baggebythesea]

What do you consider a rare ship in SPOP fandom. A real one not like a crack ship. Like I guess off the top of my own head Catra and Perfuma

I'll never stop gushing about the good ship Glimmer and Double Trouble. As much as she loves her life as high queen, Glimmer needs to woo her a scoundrel now and then.

Catra and Perfuma is surprisingly sweet. Much like Glimmer, Perfuma - or should I say Tara - has a thing for reformed (or not so reformed) Horde hotties. I could see her having a fling with Lonnie as well.

Adora and Mermista have some really good fics. A bit Spinnerella and Netossa-vibes.

They rarely get over the dating stage, but I do find Bow and Perfuma really sweet (and I see no reason not to bring Glimmer in to get a constructive resolution of their prom woes).

Speaking of, Glimmer and Perfuma are very cute together. And Glimmer and Mermista (especially when Glimmer is young and naive and look up immensely to the cool pirate princess) and Glimmer and Huntara is great fun in "spoiled brat tries to chat up the badest butch in the biker bar" way and... dangit, I'm just recapping Glimmer Dates Everyone again, aren't I?

For some non-Glimmer rarepairs (which is fine too, I guess) Wrong Hordak and Double Trouble are fun in the 'cupcake + scoundrel' kinda way. Perfuma and Mermista can be sweet if you build on their friction in the show. Entrapta, of course, can be shipped with any piece of sufficently advanced technology, ai or princess that needs 'auntie trapta' to show them the ropes.

I don't exaclty know if Shadow Weaver and Castaspella counts as a rarepair - the ship has a dedicated following. Shadow Weaver and Angella on the other hand definately counts, if you are into toxic yuri milfs. I also kinda like to write Castaspella with just the tiniest lingering crush on Angella, and just a tiny bit of resentment that her bro asked her out first. I have also written a fic with Angella and Hordak, that even if it is a horribly wrong politically arranged marriaged can be a foundation to build on.

Bow and Sea Hawk need to go on hot pirate adventures together, and more often than not I like to bring in Mermista. X marks the spot. For whatever reason I also like to give Kyle some high see adventures with hot pirates. Oh! And Double Trouble flirting with Sea Hawk in the Peekablue episode never gets old.

Scorpia is immensely shippable. I don't count her being with Catra and Perfuma as rarepairs, but there are some wonderfully sweet Scorpia and Entrapta (with Emily as a child). I see her with Adora and even Mermista, and of course some glitter cuddles with Glimmer (dangit, I promised to stop bringing in Glimmer).

This is more of crack fick territory, but Horde Prime is useful in a 'bath her and bring her to my chamber' kind of way, as long as the object of his affection gets to bust his fucking orb before the story is over. There is lots of really sweet and thoughtful clone shipping that deal with the concept of intimacy, the hive mind and learning what it means to be your own person.

Oh, and Octavia and Huntara should totally be bitter exes.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. the Spop show is really good at presenting attraction, and that gives us so many fun ships to play with.

[luvendiary]

HII ITS THE NOD LOVER🫶🫶 CAN YOU DO A NOD X READER WHERE THE READER IS CHOSEN AS QUEEN AFTER THE POD BLOOMS AND ITS JUST FLUFF BC NODS GF IS NOW QUEEN<3

a/n: hello! long time no see. i´m in college now! life´s been crazy latelly, but i tried to clear my mind from the stress of it by writing for a while. i had such a hard time with this request. i have a draft of it that might never see the light that i worked on for months. eventually i just decided to start from scratch and wrote this in three hours. hope you enjoy!

Queen Of The Pod

Your muscles were aching and begging at you to give them a break. But you couldn't, not yet. You groaned as you tried to crawl back with whatever energy remained in your body. 

Your leafman uniform was plagued with burn marks from Mandrake´s rot. Some of it had managed to singe your body, but it had been stopped from doing any major damage by your protective pieces.

You lifted your head up just to see Ronin struggling on the floor, being held down by Mandrake´s staff. 

“Don´t touch him, you decaying shit!” you groaned out as you reached for your blade -or attempted to.

“Lie down princess”, Mandrake said, barely sparing a glance at your weak figure. “I'll be with you in a second”. 

He then refocused his attention on the General and with an evil grin pushed the rot towards his face.

Ronin´s eyes went wide as he attempted to put as much distance as he could between him and the black gooey substance. You knew he wouldn't be able to hold for much longer. His face was covered in bruises, and he had been through hell and back just to be able to protect the pod.

At the very last moment, Mandrake rerouted his staff, and brought it down on Ronin´s chest, burning deeply into his chestplate. As the General winced, he took advantage of his weak position and pinned him down to the floor with his foot.

“What is that saying you leafmen have?” Mandrake mused as he nonchalantly threw his staff over his shoulder. “Lots of leaves…something, something. Very inspiring”. He then raised the staff over his head, and his smirk turned into a look of rage and anger. “But in the end, every leaf falls and  dies alone…”

Ronin´s eyes went wide as the staff came down towards his face with sudden speed. However the blow never landed, and when he opened his eyes two blades were protecting his face from being completely consumed by the rot.

“No one is alone”, Nod said as he pushed the staff away from Ronin.

As if on cue, an army of leafmen dropped from the sky in perfect formation. You came to the sudden realization that moonlight was now filtering through the chamber, meaning that the pod would be able to bloom after all.

“Not even him”, you added as you pointed your blade menacingly towards Mandrake. 

The arrival of your boyfriend had been timed perfectly. You had the urge to jump into his arms and make sure he was alright, but you limited yourself to a discreet smile.

‘I'm glad you´re okay’.

Mandrake seemed to come to the same conclusion as you had. The leafmen��s presence meant that they were not occupied with his soldiers; the darkness was not a threat anymore. Frantically he tried to break through the soldiers and get back to the pod, however you and Nod intertwined your blades once again, blocking his way to the center of the chamber.

Mandrake let out a growl of frustration as he pushed and fought harder, but the blooming pod seemed to give you newly renewed energy. You felt Tara with you. It was because of her that you were doing this, you would make her proud. 

With your fuelled energy, you both thrusted your blades forward at the same time that the pod bursted with energy, throwing Mandrake backwards. You hurriedly ran towards the entryway ready to fight him in case he wasn't ready to give up yet, however his drowning screams caught your attention as he was swallowed into the trunk of a tree by his own rot.

You allowed yourself to sigh out in relief, exhaustion washing over your body once again. You saw Nod already helping Ronin up from the floor, and offering him his shoulder as support. 

“You alright old man?” you asked as you sheath your sword. 

“I´m fine. A little bruised is all”, he replied. “How's your leg doing? He burned you pretty badly”. 

Nod approached you, after making sure Ronin was in fact okay, and made you place your arm around his shoulder as he held you securely by your waist. 

The sudden weight of the situation dawned on you. It was over. He was gone, and so was she. You missed her. From the moment Tara died, you had not been able to process her death but rather had been focused on fixing the disaster it had caused. Now that you weren't on this quest anymore, her absence was palpable.

“I wish she could be here”, you blurted out. You felt Nod hold on tighter to your waist as he rubbed comforting circles with his thumb on it. 

“She is,” Ronin said breathlessly, as his gaze landed upon the blooming pod. Now that the battle was over, the people of Moonhaven had come out of their hiding places and were staring in awe at the light emanating from the pod. 

The light particles hovered over the flower before gently flying out. They traveled along the chamber, as if greeting everyone there. As if Tara was happy to see them safe. It slowed down as they reached your small group, stopping ever so slightly in front of Ronin and shimmering a little bit brighter, before making its way over to you and Nod. You expected the same greeting as Ronin had had. A final goodbye from your sister. However, the light did not leave your side, and instead it started to shine brighter and bigger. 

Nod carefully  removed his arm from around your waist, and gave you your space.

The light suddenly took the shape of Tara. You tried your best to remember your training and straightened up with your arms by your side. However, you couldn´t stop the few tears that had formed in your eyes from escaping.

“You did alright kid,” she said with the kindest of smiles. “You're in great hands”.

She glanced back at Ronin, prompting the General to smile.

“There's that smile…” Tara said as she returned her loving gaze back to you. “Take care of them for me”.

“I can´t. I´m not fit for being a queen”, you whispered as your voice broke slightly. “It should be you. You should be here…with me”.

Tara held on to your shaking hands, “I'll alway be with you”.  With a final smile, she placed a tender kiss on your forehead. A bright light suddenly surrounded you and before you knew it, Tara was gone. Well, not really. That deep sadness you had been holding on to was gone. You could feel her. She lived within you. And you would make her proud, her legacy would live on through you.

A soft calling of your name broke you out of your trance. Your head snapped towards your awestruck boyfriend who was looking at you as if you were a star. You came to the sudden realization that the pain in your leg was gone, and as you glanced down to check on your wound you were surprised to see your runiform replaced with a stunning green and white dress. The queen's dress.

“You look stunning…” he breathed out. A smile crept onto his face as he approached you and wrapped his arms around you. You buried your head in the crook of his neck and let out a small laugh as he lifted you up from the ground and spun you. 

“Nod!” you laughed out. “Put me down”. 

“As you wish, your majesty”, he said as he set you down once again and playfully bowed. 

The people cheered, in celebration of their new queen. To which you offered them graceful smiles.

“You know what this means…” Ronin said as he stood next to you, his helmet held firmly on his right arm.

“What?¨ you asked.

“Nod better shape up”. 

You laughed at that, and glanced back at your boyfriend who was staring at you with a lovesick smile.

“I guess he does”.

[bypatia]

anyway, here’s 10 books, that are not sally rooney, to read in your 20s

Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion - a visceral contemporary essay that focuses on grief, loss, love, and the life after.

All About Love by Bell Hooks - will rewire how you think about romantic love. She talks about the social and patriarchal pressures on women to fall in love, and how they can fall in love, or not, on their own terms while also being aware and discerning of its impact on them in a microcosm and a macrocosm.

Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson - feminist, horror, gut wrenching and poignant. Totally different from the TV show. Need I say more.

Letters to a Young Poet by Rilke - heal yourself, and realise that you are so much more than you think you are.

Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers - I know this a run-of-the-mill speculative sci-fi book, but the coming of age of both our heroines and find their way into womanhood touched something in me and it will always be a 5 star book for me.

The Girl With The Pearl Earring by Tracy Chavelier - it’s on a piece of art, gets into the mind of the muse rather than the artist for once, and actually does justice to its characters (but not without some subconscious 90s sexism but okay).

Educated by Tara Westover - an emotional memoir on personal discovery, growth and the unalienable right to education, especially of women.

Emotional First Aid by Guy Winch - please just do yourself a favour and imbibe this.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier - gothic, romantic, rich and mysterious. Don’t watch the Netflix original, watch the Hitchcock movie.

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf - the room is a metaphor for something else. Do you realise what?

Now that we have moved past arbitrary age limits, you can read these in your teens, thirties, forties, moments before you die too. There is no wrong time.

Lastly, it goes without saying, terfs FUCK OFF. Any trans persons who see this, please add your favourites to the list <3

Happy reading!

books to read in your 20s! and then it’s sally rooney 🙄

[aquareus]

✨book recommendations✨ based on my last three years of active reading, out of 108 books, & listed in read order (* = a personal favorite)

A Psalm for the Wild-Built & A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, Becky Chambers - sci-fi, lgbtq, novella duology. utopian future post-robots. heart-warming messages/commentary with plenty of robot-companion fun.

Know My Name, Chanel Miller - memoir. very important read.

In The Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado - memoir. a beautifully and uniquely crafted perspective on abusive lesbian relationships.

A Strange & Stubborn Endurance, Foz Meadows - (tw: early on-page rape) fantasy, lgbtq. this book was a much needed comfort during a very hard time. despite that, the m/m romance and character arcs were well-done and satisfying. the tw section made for a bumpy start, but I enjoyed the rest without a hitch.

* The Jasmine Throne, Tasha Suri - fantasy, lgbtq, magic. w/w romance between someone that should be dead and the rightful heir to a throne. really lovely world-building, characters, and angst. the final book in the trilogy is sitting on my table staring me down as we speak (and will likely make this a favorite series).

* The Obsidian Tower (* entire trilogy), Melissa Caruso - fantasy, magic, lgbtq. this is my favorite series so far and it's completely based on personal preference - epitome of "if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more". the characters, the world, the magical elements, everything hit exactly right FOR ME.

Angles Before Man, Rafael Nicolas - mythology retelling, lgbtq. this is an interesting one: the story of lucifer with a fresh new perspective. i need to buy and annotate this badly.

Finding Me, Viola Davis - memoir. beautifully written, beautifully narrated, and another important read.

* The Mask of Mirrors (* entire trilogy, but especially *Liar's Knot), M. A. Carrick - epic fantasy, magic, lgbtq. where do I even start. i love these bitches like family.

Educated, Tara Westover - memoir. wild ride.

I'm Glad My Mom Died, Jennette McCurdy - memoir. this one's pretty self-explanatory.

* Chain-Gang All-Stars, Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah - the last two lines of this book killed me on the spot. such an important and impactful read.

A Memory Called Empire, Arkady Martine - scifi, space opera, lgbtq. amazing premise, and very memorable first book. curious what the rest of the duology will bring.

All of Us Villains & All of Our Demise, Foody & Herman - YA, magic, fantasy. just a really fun and unique tournament duology. the second book especially ate for me ('cause my fav wishful pairing got together and I love being insane and correct).

* Thistlefoot, GennaRose Nethercott - mythology, magical realism, lgbtq. book about a living chicken house with hard-hitting commentary on the importance of bearing witness.

Wings of Fire, Tui T. Sutherland - MG, fantasy, dragons. just a precious little series that I can always trust to be a good time.

Spin of Fate, A. A. Vora - fantasy, YA, future lgbtq hinted. loved the captivating world, magic, and interesting main characters. dying for the next book.

Strange the Dreamer, Laini Taylor - fantasy (duology), magic. first book was immersive, dreamy, and highly engaging. i wish the second book was granted more time + pages/another book to do everything and everyone justice.

The Bullet Swallower, Elizabeth Gonzalez James - historical fiction, magical realism. the first historical fiction to actually make me want to try the genre again.

my goodreads for any interested parties.

[edgessunflower]

Homecoming adventure

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Fem reader

Description: Rhea shows you around Perth meeting each other's families helping her celebrate her win after elimination chamber showing how proud you are of her

Rhea smiles seeing you like a little kid as she shows you around Perth absolutely thrilled that not only both of you would be in elimination chamber but that she got to show you around Australia for the very first time excited that you would also get to meet her family. She hugs her parents and sister Calista having them quietly follow you as you were in awe holding a koala in your arms before you were giggling at the sugar glider on your arm quickly showering in your hotel room before walking down the street from the hotel to a small restaurant and bar sharing a quick kiss before walking in immediately feeling like you had known her little sister and parents for years getting showered with affection by them enjoying the night with them before you and rhea went to the hotel and to bed feeling nervous as you watch the first two matches of elimination before your match with Bianca winning and retaining your intercontinental championship smiling when you see your family in one part of the crowd and rhea's in the other smiling as you share hugs with both families before walking backstage sharing hugs with Dom, Naomi, Damian, Kevin, Finn, Liv, and Becky pacing nervously throughout rhea's match with Nia almost running out when you see and feel her pain but damian holds you back feeling proud and overjoyed when she wins. You run down to the ring as she celebrates with her family jumping in her arms sharing a sweet kiss before you were being hugged again by her family leading her outside to your family who welcomed her with open arms heading back to the hotel after a big dinner introducing your families to each other smiling sweetly when you see your baby sister Tara and calista immediately glued to the hip taking pictures with them before leaving where the two of you share paused open mouthed kisses in your hotel room where you straddled her kissing down her body as you stripped her down until both of you were nude "I'm so proud of you Mami, tonight is all about you" you smile hearing her moans and her back arching but things switch up when she yanks you up burying her face between your legs leaving you holding on to her hands turning to putty seeing her face as she laid you down positioning your legs between hers "This night is about you as much as me, I'm proud of you babygirl" not even a second later you were moaning and lightly crying from the pleasure as you grinded in a scissoring position shaking as more paused kisses were shared "I love you koala" the nickname makes you melt as the two of you shower laying in her arms "I love you my dear".

[khywren]

Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

pairing: Astarion/Gale rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 6.1k tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, smut, blood drinking, soft Astarion, oral sex, anal sex, praise kink summary: “Don’t be such a damned fool,” he chastises. “You are many things, Gale – garrulous, resourceful, devilishly handsome – but you are not nothing. Mystra does not define your existence any more than Cazador defined my own.” “The gods will never see any of us as equals,” Astarion mutters bitterly. “Do not mistake their attention for favor. You are useful only so far as you can be an extension of their power. I will not stand by a second time and watch you sacrifice yourself for nothing.” AO3 ┊ masterlist

It is winter in Waterdeep. A thick blanket of snow has descended upon the city, wreathing it in frost, ushering away the last remaining vestiges of autumn. Although it is bitterly cold outside, there is a fire crackling pleasantly in the hearth, forestalling the advance of the swirling, frigid wind just beyond the tower’s walls.

Lately, it has become a habit for Gale and Astarion to spend their evenings as they are now, each tucked into a plush armchair with nothing but a good book and the gentle calm of one another to keep themselves company. There is nothing these days that Gale has found greater pleasure in, and yet, even when he should be content, he cannot quell the intrusive thoughts that pester and peck at him, deftly peeling away the façade of serenity.

Gale breathes deeply through his nose and closes his book, hoisting himself to his feet. He retreats to the bookcase that spans the far length of his and Astarion’s personal chambers, its shelves home to his most treasured possessions, and gently replaces the book between two large, dusty tomes with an intricate golden filigree decorating their spines. Perhaps something less… cerebral is in order. Behind him, sprawled languidly across his own armchair, Astarion snaps his book shut, the noise punctuating the silence with a muffled thunk of pages.

“Could you be any louder with your brooding?” he groans.

Gale glances back over his shoulder, casting Astarion a curious look. “I beg your pardon?”

Astarion throws his legs over the arm of his chair and straightens himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. Behind his hand, his expression grows dark, his face a mask of discontent.

“Your incessant sighing,” he says flatly. “The way you’ve been shifting uncomfortably in your seat for hours. Every clench of your jaw. It’s…deafening.”

It is more than the recent rearrangement of his living situation that has rendered Gale unaware of the commotion he was making; Astarion’s preternatural senses are far sharper than anything he has experienced; he supposes even beyond what Tara is capable of detecting. The beat of his heart, the flexing of his muscles, all of it must betray his emotions, especially in such confined quarters.

“My sincerest apologies,” Gale concedes, turning to search for another book on the nearest shelf. When he finds one that is suitable, he places index finger over the edge of the spine, tipping it into his waiting palm. “It was not my intention to disrupt you. If you’d like, I can always –”

Gale hears Astarion behind him only moments before he covers Gale’s outstretched hand with his own. Astarion quietly pushes the book back into its place before pressing his body flush against Gale’s back, feeling the tension in his body, the stiffness of his posture.

“Whatever’s on your mind, it’s got you wound taught as a bowstring. Talk to me.” Gone is any indication of playful sarcasm, Astarion’s genuine concern evident in the way his hands slip over Gale’s shoulders, gentle yet persistent as he urges Gale to face him.

Gale extricates himself from Astarion’s lingering grasp, his brows knit. His expression falters, crumbles, thinly veiled sadness brimming to the surface behind his eyes. Is it guilt that Astarion sees in them? Regret? The difference between them, he supposes, is negligible.

It is not in Gale’s nature to mince words. Astarion is acutely aware of this, perhaps moreso than anything he has come to learn about the wizard. Gale’s hesitancy, the way in which he is so clearly seeking to deflect Astarion’s concern speaks volumes, louder than any words ever could.

What is it that he is hiding?

Whatever concessions Gale hopes to find in in Astarion’s prying gaze is not something Astarion will grant him. He is instead resolute, mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, the intensity of his expression wrenching the truth from him as though it were his only logical course of action.

“It’s... Mystra,” Gale admits quietly, recoiling from the disappointment that flickers across Astarion’s face. “Ever since I returned the Crown to her, she has been silent. Distant. I did not expect that being liberated from the orb would deprive me of her along with it.”

It should be no great revelation that her absence has troubled him. Is it divine retribution that keeps her just beyond his reach? Perhaps he does not know her as intimately as he once believed. Gale does not want to consider what that truth might mean for him.

Astarion wrinkles his nose, a grimace playing on his lips. It is only out of affection for the wizard that he refrains from rolling his eyes and huffing a dramatic sigh. It is not jealousy he feels, but anger. Disgust for the goddess who twisted Gale’s love into a dagger to be weaponized against him. A quiet despair for the way he cannot let her go despite it all.

He knows that is the same foolish devotion with which Shadowheart and Lae’zel once blindly followed on the heels of their gods, even after being burdened with the truth that they had been deceived. Yet where they were able to renounce their faith, it is Gale, the most intelligent among them, who has stubbornly clung to his the longest.

A cruel irony, indeed.

“Really?” Astarion does not intend the accusation to sound so caustic, but he can no longer spare the effort it would take to fully mask his disdain. He has never bothered to spare Gale from his feelings about Mystra – not that it has changed Gale’s perception of her.

“After everything she did to you, I assumed that you would be glad to be rid of her.”

Gale levels a pleading glance at him, his eyes awash with sorrow. Mystra is no Cazador, he reasons with himself. Had he not crossed her to begin with, surely, she would not have spurned him as she did. If only regaining her favor was as simple as it had been to lose it.

“I cannot just discard her, Astarion,” Gale insists sternly, “no more than I can cast aside my own magic.” He wills himself to find the truth in his own words, intrinsically twining Mystra and his magic together, forever inseparable. “Mystra controls the Weave. She is its very architect and the font from which I draw my power – without her, I am –”

“Nothing?” Astarion interjects with a scathing sneer. The word hangs heavy in the air between them, and Gale looks away in shame.  

It would be simple enough for Astarion to express his frustration with a sarcastic quip, a barbed remark about how utterly ridiculous the notion is, but there is something in the resignation on Gale’s face that begs Astarion for comfort rather than contempt.

With a soft sigh, Astarion grasps Gale’s hand and brings it between them, lacing their fingers together. He smooths the pad of his thumb across the back of Gale’s hand with absent, subconscious strokes. It is a profoundly romantic gesture, one of many that Astarion has gained a proclivity for since their settling in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep. Through mirroring the comfort that Gale’s touch has brought him during their time together, Astarion has begun to learn how to use his hands not to hurt, but to heal.

“Don’t be such a damned fool,” he chastises. “You are many things, Gale – garrulous, resourceful, devilishly handsome – but you are not nothing. Mystra does not define your existence any more than Cazador defined my own.” Both names leave his lips in a snarl, dripping with venom. The subtle way he equivocates the two is a dagger to Gale’s heart.

Astarion pauses, waiting for the moment that Gale glances back at him with wide, brown eyes, uncertainty swimming just below the surface. He tries to smile, to accept what Astarion has told him, but it is a truth his mind tells him to vehemently reject.

“It is not Mystra whom I love,” Astarion says. “That honor is yours and yours alone.”

Gale lays his palm over Astarion’s hand, clasping it between his own. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, steadying himself with a long breath. “And yet, grateful as I am for your candor, I fear that I am yet standing on the precipice of some great unknown. It is... rather frightening, to lose one’s purpose.”

For so long, his only desire had been to please Mystra. Even with a mindflayer parasite buried in his brain, his primary concern had been what value he might still hold for her, so much so that he had seriously considered sacrificing himself if it would absolve him of his sins.

It was Astarion who had been the most disturbed by what Gale had seen favorably as his own unwavering devotion, Astarion who had balked the most adamantly at the idea of letting him relinquish his autonomy to, as Astarion had so bluntly put it, “satisfy your redemption complex.”

It had nothing to do with that, Gale had insisted. The Absolute had been a threat not only to the Sword Coast, but to the entirety of Faerûn, and trading one life to save thousands was a small price to pay for peace.

“Not if it’s your life,” Astarion had said. “We will find another way.”

And they had, of course, found that other way. One that had demanded only that he live.

But now, with nothing but his freedom and the rest of his life ahead of him, Gale finds himself feeling trapped, more afraid now than he had been to lay down his life for Mystra and for the sake of his companions. Torn between his past and his future. Left without something to tether his ambitions to, what is there for him to do?

 Astarion is studying Gale intently. His eyes have grown dark and narrow, a telltale sign of his increasing frustration. He turns the thoughts roiling in his head over and over, a thousand things he wants to say but can’t, a thousand more he knows he shouldn’t.  

“Purpose.” The word is ash on Astarion’s tongue, bile in the back of his throat. 

“Is it not enough to live simply for the sake of living?” He drops Gale’s hand, gesturing to the space around them. To himself. “Is this not purpose enough? Why must there be anything more?”

“Were it only so simple,” Gale murmurs, extending his arm to cup Astarion’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He pulls Astarion towards him with his free hand and gathers him close, resting his forehead against Astarion’s smooth, pallid skin. The familiar coolness is a soothing balm for his present anxieties, and he heaves a quiet sigh, expelling the tension that has been gathering within him.

“What is it that you are so desperate to find?” Astarion’s voice has fallen to a near-whisper, barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “Legacy? Fortune? Fame? All of it is meaningless in the end. Millions have perished before you, and millions more will perish long after you are gone. Yet for all their gifts, all their acclaim, not one of them is your equal.”

Gale opens his mouth to speak, to challenge Astarion’s bold declaration, but he is too slow.

Astarion inclines his head and presses their lips together to silence his protests, capturing Gale’s mouth and the small noise of surprise that escapes him. On instinct, Gale tangles his fingers loosely in Astarion’s soft white curls, dragging his nails across Astarion’s scalp the way Gale knows he likes best.

Astarion’s mouth parts, ever so slightly, and Gale sweeps his tongue across his lips, seeking his permission. When Astarion yields against him and splays his palm against the small of Gale’s back, Gale slides his tongue into Astarion’s mouth, pouring his grief, his resignation, his love into him with reckless abandon.

Perhaps, he thinks through the haze of emotions warring within him, there really is no greater purpose in this, in losing himself in Astarion.

It is Astarion who breaks the kiss first, pulling back only as far as he needs to compel Gale to look at him once more. The ruby depths of his eyes draw Gale in, and he swallows thickly, flushed and breathless from the exertion.

“The gods will never see any of us as equals,” Astarion mutters bitterly. “Do not mistake their attention for favor. You are useful only so far as you can be an extension of their power. I will not stand by a second time and watch you sacrifice yourself for nothing.”

“I prayed to them all,” Astarion had once told him. “None saved me.”

“Astarion…”

­The memory of Cazador’s baleful dungeon springs suddenly to Gale’s mind, its halls thick with the stench of necrosis. He remembers the spawn imprisoned there, their very existence a monument to Astarion’s sins. It is a sight he will never forget.

Their despair, their rage, their sorrow, all of it had been justified, but his heart had ached to see Astarion buckle beneath the heavy burden of their scrutiny, the way their eyes had stripped him bare to leave nothing but the rawness of his guilt on full display.

That pain had exploded into a roaring crescendo when Astarion stood before his former master, overcome with anguish, as he had begged Gale to help him.

“Please.” Back then, his voice had sounded so small. So broken. So unlike the suave, confident rogue he had come to love. Beneath the crumbling mask, his terror had turned Gale’s blood to ice in his veins. “I can’t do this without you.”

Gale is no stranger to the allure of power, the desire to surpass his limits and inherit something greater than himself. Once that ambition had almost cost him his life.

Astarion had been traveling the same path - motivated not by pride but by fear, and Gale had seen a twisted reflection his own folly in Astarion’s eyes, the desire for a power that would certainly destroy him long before it granted him the freedom he was so desperate for.

He had begged Astarion to reconsider, pleaded with him not to repeat his own mistakes. And he had been there to hold him when Astarion burrowed his face into his robes as Cazador’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood, Astarion’s shoulders shaking with every sob that tore itself from his throat.

Astarion had entrusted Gale with his future – now he was asking Gale to entrust Astarion with his own.

A wry smile finds its way to Gale’s lips, and he shakes his head in defeat.

“Far be it from me to challenge your conviction. You’ve seen something in me beyond the wit and wizardry, and I aim to honor the trust you’ve placed in me.”

When Gale leans in to initiate another kiss, he finds Astarion eager for the press of his lips, hungry for another taste of him. Astarion’s hands grasp for purchase in the thin linen of Gale’s tunic, roving across his torso, gripping his hips as he guides Gale one, two, three haphazard steps backward until his back collides audibly with the bookcase, the volumes on its shelves bearing into the curve of his spine.

He groans deeply into Astarion’s open mouth, arms thrown loosely around his waist, breath hitching when Astarion grinds their hips together. Gale’s cock twitches with interest beneath his trousers, already straining against the fabric.

The friction drives him to the brink of madness. The world dissolves away around them until there is nothing more than Astarion, the firm press of his body, the torturous presence of his lips across the curve of his jaw as he nips and kisses a blazing path across his skin.

By the time Astarion finds the shell of his ear, Gale is as fragile as glass, trembling as though he could shatter at even the slightest touch. Astarion chuckles, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat, his voice edged with a feral timbre that threatens to bring Gale straight to his knees.

“You know, darling...” Astarion murmurs, “there are other ways to experience divinity if you are truly so eager. Shall I show you?”

“Y-yes,” Gale croaks without hesitation, his hands releasing Astarion to fumble blindly for the shelves behind him to steady himself, not entirely sure what he is asking for but loathe to deny himself whatever pleasures Astarion promises.

Astarion’s fangs are pinpoint pricks against his ear, a sharp drag that catches Gale’s breath in his throat. His voice is sensual, seductive, every syllable a loving caress on his tongue.

“Then come, Gale of Waterdeep, and learn what it is to be worshipped.”

Astarion sinks gracefully to his knees in the same fluid motion that Gale removes his tunic, tossing it aside as he spreads his legs apart, bracing the full weight of his body against the bookcase. His hands are at the front of Gale’s trousers, fingers featherlight against the laces. He is untying them far, far too slowly, with none of the deftness that Gale knows Astarion is more than capable of.

Gale’s cock aches with anticipation, the brush of Astarion’s fingers against him draws a low, needy moan from his lips and prompting a quiet chuckle from him in response.

“Patience, darling,” he purrs.

With a glance upwards beneath fluttering lashes – the perfect picture of feigned innocence – Astarion half expects Gale to chastise him for his teasing, but what he finds instead is something wholly unexpected. Gale is watching him with rapt, reverent attention, wide eyed and pupils blown. His hair, a point of pride and typically well-groomed, has become disheveled and wild, spilling messily over his shoulders – he is, put simply, absolutely stunning, the perfect picture of debauchery.

By the time Gale’s cock springs free from beneath his trousers, it is hard and leaking, the tip flushed such a lovely shade of pink. His mouth falls open, his breaths coming in shallow, wanton pants, and he absently kicks his trousers to the side to allow Astarion unfettered access to him. When Astarion wraps his hand around the base of Gale’s cock, a high-pitched whine is all that Gale can muster, his hips jerking forward of their own accord to push himself farther into Astarion’s palm.

“Darling, I’ve barely even touched you and already you’re breathless for me. Fascinating.”

Gale’s grip on the bookcase is white-knuckled and desperate as Astarion leans forward, swirling his tongue around the heavy swell of Gale’s balls as he begins to stroke him lazily. His length is molten silk beneath Astarion’s fingers. A tremor lances through Gale’s body, heat pooling low in his belly, and he gasps Astarion’s name as though it were a prayer, his only salvation.

“You taste divine,” Astarion purrs, kissing along the inside of his thighs and across his hipbones, reveling in the way Gale trembles beneath his touch. Finally, he sinks between Gale’s legs and presses the flat of his tongue across the underside of his cock, dragging a slow, wet stripe upwards that has Gale all but whimpering.

The head of Gale’s cock slides so eagerly into his mouth, and Astarion groans against him, his own erection yearning to be touched, hard and aching. But Astarion is nothing if not a selfless lover, utterly devoted to bringing Gale to the heights of pleasure with every targeted sweep of his tongue, every gentle caress of his fingers against his skin.

“By the gods…” Gale rasps, lifting a shaking hand to tangle his fingers once more in Astarion’s hair. But rather than pulling, Gale instead cradles the back of Astarion’s head, pressing him farther forward and burying himself as far as he can in the back of Astarion’s throat with quick, shallow thrusts.

Astarion sits back on his heels, hands braced on Gale’s hips. Saliva pools around the edges of his mouth and spills down his chin as Gale’s pace becomes more urgent, and their eyes meet as Gale loses himself in the pleasure of Astarion’s mouth, spurred on by the lewd sounds that echo each snap of his hips.

Before long, Astarion feels Gale grow tense beneath him, and the hand in his hair suddenly tugs at his roots, his cock slipping from Astarion’s mouth with a wet pop.

 “Close already?” Astarion murmurs, his grin wolfish. “That simply will not do. I’ve hardly had my fill of you.”

Without further instruction, Gale extends a hand to lift Astarion to his feet, and they stumble towards the bed in a flurry of chaste kisses and discarded clothing. As Gale falls back against the mattress, he pulls Astarion with him in an embrace of tangled limbs. Their lips crash together, their bodies close, hungry and full of passion.

Gale finds himself feeling rather mischievous and sinks his teeth into Astarion’s lower lip, and Astarion growls possessively, pinning him to the mattress as he lavishes his face with open-mouthed kisses, trailing down his jaw, his throat, and the dip of his collar bone. The swirling pattern of the orb that once dwelled within him still bears its mark upon his chest, and though its color has faded considerably, it remains a lasting vestige of days long past.

Astarion, too, carries remnants of the cruelty that was wrought upon him, carved into his very flesh.

They are not so unalike, he and Gale. And while some scars never truly heal, there is perhaps no better testament to their own resilience, the way that they had bent but not broken, despite the odds against them.

A stark contrast to the coolness of the hands that covetously rove over Gale’s naked body, there is a raging inferno within him, the flames ceaselessly stoked by Astarion’s ministrations. When Astarion drags his mouth over the coarse dark hair that covers Gale’s pectorals and wraps his lips around a single dusky nipple, Gale’s back bows off the mattress, his head thrown back as Astarion hums contentedly against him.

There is the noise of shifting fabric above him as Astarion fetches the oil from the bedside table, the uncorking of the vial drawing Gale’s attention as his eyes sweep over Astarion’s bare form, lithe and lean and more beautiful than any he’s ever seen. He is breathtaking, deific, haloed by the firelight in the nearby hearth and radiating and ethereal glow that Gale promises himself he will commit to memory.

“You are magnificent,” Astarion says to him now. His voice is low, sensual, as he gazes directly into Gale’s eyes. “You are mine. And as long as you will have me, I am yours.”

Gale encloses his hand around Astarion’s fingers and draws them to his lips for a kiss.

“Forever and forever again. A magnitude of lifetimes, across a thousand universes. I would have you in all of them, Astarion.”

Astarion’s mouth was made for sly smirks and flirtatious grins, but the tender smile that spreads across his lips now looks better than any of them, the hard edges of his face smoothed by Gale’s profession of love. It suits him, Gale thinks – he will dedicate his efforts to ensuring that Astarion will never again need to hide behind the echoes of his past.

This is his new purpose. Gale can think of nothing more fulfilling.

Gale yields to Astarion’s touch as he nudges Gale’s thighs apart with his own, slicking his index and middle fingers liberally with oil. Astarion drags the tip of his index finger over the dip of Gale’s hips and across the expanse of his thighs, enjoying the way Gale shivers with anticipation, down, down, down, before finally pressing gently inside of him. A languid moan meets Astarion’s ears as Gale’s walls clench around his finger, even as Astarion buries himself past the second knuckle.

The strangled noise Gale makes when Astarion slides a second finger inside him is absolutely filthy, a string of stuttered oaths and keening whines that breaks the illusion of Gale’s typical composure. Astarion pumps his fingers lazily in a slow, thrusting motion, stretching Gale out, drinking in every little noise he makes, every time his hips roll up to meet his hand and push him deeper inside. He is wanton, greedy – he is perfect.

 And then, just when Gale has adjusted to the rhythm, Astarion crooks his fingers ever so slightly, bearing down on the spot inside him that leaves Gale panting, drawing desperate, ragged breaths as he balls his fists in the sheets and tries to keep himself from unraveling completely. It would take so little effort to pluck the single thread that holds him together, to pull gently until there was nothing left for him but the pleasure of it all.

“Oh – gods…”

Astarion grins, satisfaction curling his mouth, and Gale catches a glimpse of gleaming white fangs just behind the edges of his lips.

“How shall I take you, darling?”

Gale watches him, vision swimming, mouth agape. The withdrawal of Astarion’s fingers has left an empty, yearning ache within him. His attention is transfixed on the way Astarion slicks his cock, pumping himself with a few, breathy moans, the delicious friction causing him to bite down on his lip to stifle himself.

Gale is utterly enraptured by the sight of it.

He struggles to find his voice, and it wavers as he speaks, not from uncertainty but from anticipation and the overwhelming depths of his desire.

“Do not hold back,” he pleads. “Tonight, I wish to forget everything. Everything but the taste of your lips and the touch of your skin against my own. I want to lose myself in you, Astarion.”

Astarion crouches over him, dips his head low, his lips brushing against the shell of Gale’s ear. The husky timbre of his voice sends a shiver of pleasure straight through him.

“Very well.”

 Astarion nudges his cock against Gale’s entrance, finding him pliant and eager as he slips inside, the slow, full stretch of him nothing short of bliss. Gale sighs deeply, relinquishing himself to the pleasure, eyes half-lidded and full of ecstasy.

When Astarion hooks his hands beneath Gale’s knees and lifts his thighs, Gale feels his full weight bearing down into him; Astarion’s first thrusts are tentative, almost gentle, but Gale’s groan is insistent and Astarion quickly finds that he no longer has the patience to reign in his desire.

He sets a punishing pace, burying his cock inside Gale’s tight, slick heat, hips snapping forward as he bottoms out with every thrust. There is no hesitation as Gale yields completely to him, writhing beneath Astarion’s body as a string of broken, guttural oaths tumble from his open mouth.

Gale’s cock is a hard swell between their bodies, bobbing obscenely with every brutal snap of Astarion’s hips. His belly is wet with precome, the evidence of his arousal on full display as Astarion drinks in the sight of him. Watching him come undone so beautifully for him is a satisfaction all in itself.

“Look at you,” Astarion breathes. “You’re taking me so well, love. Let’s reward that effort.”

When Astarion’s fingers slip around his cock, Gale throws back his head and lets go of whatever remnants of composure he has been holding back, and his legs have barely fallen to the mattress before the throws them around the small of Astarion’s back, clinging to him with a desperate need the did not think himself capable of.

He closes his eyes, lets the pleasure of it all wash over him. There is fire in his belly, electricity in his veins, building and building as he finds himself stumbling uncontrollably towards release.

 The way that Astarion has given him nothing but praise, nothing but patience and acceptance through everything is a heavy weight upon his heart. It threatens to unmake him, though he is sure Astarion would gladly pick up the pieces and put him back together. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Mystra had never lavished him with such affection.

Mystra had never shown him the same devotion he had shown her.

Mystra. Mystra. Mystra.

His mind reels, cast about as though in a storm, directionless and frantic.

“Gale.”

 Astarion’s voice is gentle but insistent as it pierces the turmoil enveloping his mind. It wraps around him like a gloved hand, caressing his thoughts with a silken touch.

“Eyes open, daring,” Astarion says. It is not a command, but the earnest request of a concerned lover who is all too familiar with the agitation that flickers across Gale’s face and the subtle tension that ebbs through his body like ripples from a cast stone. 

“Focus on me.”

And Gale obeys, discarding all errant thoughts of the goddess, his eyes opening behind fluttering lashes as he meets Astarion’s fervent gaze. The sheer magnitude of the affection behind Astarion’s eyes, the unabashed love he sees swirling in their crimson depths squeezes around his heart, vicelike and unrelenting.

It is a love he is not sure he deserves, but he devours it selfishly all the same.

“Now, tell me,” Astarion implores him, “how does it feel?”

There is no pride behind the words, no selfish seeking of praise or commendation. Instead, it is a gentle redirection, anchoring Gale in safer harbors, ushering him away from the precipice of the darkest thoughts that dwell within him.

Gale considers.

What it feels like is practically indescribable – being enveloped in Astarion’s scent, his nearness, the feeling of Astarion’s cock buried so deep inside him, filling him in more ways than he has the capacity to articulate. It is both ethereal and tangible, elevating him beyond mortal pleasures just as effortlessly as it tethers him firmly to his physical body, grounding him in the present moment.

It is…

“Wonderful...” he settles on, as his addled thoughts grasp for purchase on whatever lucidity he still has left to spare.

“Very good.”

Presently, Astarion’s thrusts grow slower, deeper, though no less exquisite. He shifts the angle of his hips just so, pleased with the way Gale whimpers and arches into him, each thrust matched by the smooth glide of his hand along his aching, weeping cock.

He knows he will not last much longer.

“Astarion…”

“Yes, my love? What is it?”

Gale untangles his fingers from the bedsheets and entwines his arms around Astarion’s shoulders, fingers carding through his hair. Wordlessly, he guides Astarion’s face into the crook of his neck, at the junction of his shoulder. His heart thunders in his chest, frantic as a trapped bird, overcome by the anticipation of what he is asking for.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice wanton and full of need. “I want to know what it’s like… I have waited for so long without knowing.”

Once, when the curiosity had gotten the better of him, Gale had asked Tav to describe the experience of letting Astarion feed on them. It had been a mutual agreement, only when the need arose, and only because the one time Astarion had bitten Gale, he had almost retched from the astringent taste of his blood. It was the one and only thing they had been unable to share with one another.

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Tav had said, unable to paint him a proper picture. “It’s… sensual. Intimate. Like I want to lie back and simply drift away.”

Ever since that moment, Gale had longed to experience it himself, had turned the fantasy over in his head night after night, wondering if there would ever be a time where they might have the chance to remedy their unfortunate situation. And now, with the orb no longer tainting him with its Netherese blight, Gale dares to entertain the thought once more. 

Astarion’s tongue sweeps across Gale’s exposed throat, the taste of him heady and exhilarating. Gale’s blood thrums erratically just beneath the skin, warm and tantalizingly sweet. The crackle of magic still flows through his veins, but gone are the pungent undercurrents of the dark magic that had curdled his stomach and burned like cinders on his tongue.

Gale feels the wicked smirk that spreads across Astarion’s face as he presses his mouth against his skin, lips parted, fangs bared.

“You wicked thing,” he chuckles. “Yes… if that is what you wish, then I shall indulge myself in the taste of you as you come apart for me.”

Gale’s acquiescence is a breathy moan, words hazy in his mind and hindered by the sudden way he finds himself incapable of all logical thought. With Astarion’s cock buried to the hilt inside him and the hand wrapped tightly around him Gale tumbles wildly over the edge hips bucking as he spills himself into Astarion’s hand. Astarion pumps him faster, fucking him through his climax, his fangs piercing the soft skin of his throat as, at last, he drinks deeply from his veins.

The hot rush of Gale’s blood is nothing short of decadent, pouring down his throat as he swallows several greedy gulps, reveling in the feel, the sound, the taste of him. Gods, the taste of him. His hips stutter, and he finds himself fast approaching his own climax, bottoming out with the final, desperate thrusts that guide him past the point of no return.

Gale is nothing if not dutiful, gathering Astarion into his arms as he collapses on the bed beside him, utterly spent, pillowing his head on top of Gale’s broad chest.

Invigorating barely begins to describe what Astarion feels – it is perhaps the closest he has come to a religious experience of his own, a favor marvelously paid for his efforts.

They slip into an easy silence, and Astarion almost finds himself drifting off before Gale’s voice rouses him from his weary thoughts.

“There was once a time when I could not imagine my life without Mystra’s guidance,” he says solemnly. “I now realize that the path I walked was not alongside her, but rather in her shadow. But it seems as though I have nevertheless had the good fortune to find myself in rather esteemed company, as it were.”

Astarion merely laughs, a low rumble in his throat, muffled by the press of his face against Gale’s skin.

“A vampire spawn is an ill-fitting substitute for a goddess, wouldn’t you agree?”

Gale bristles at the accusation, the hand that traces his spine falling slack, and Astarion doesn’t need to see his face to know that Gale is regarding him with disapproval.

“You are hardly—”

“Relax, darling,” Astarion murmurs. “It’s only a bit of humor.”

Despite Astarion’s assurance, Gale picks apart his words, finding the kernel of truth within them that suggests he isn’t entirely bluffing. He feels an acute sense of pain, unable to shake the guilt that overcomes him.

A pause. A sigh. And then, he shifts slightly, tipping Astarion’s chin towards him and studying his face. Astarion’s expression is impassive, but he watches Gale intently as he speaks.

“There was once a time when I truly believed that sacrificing myself was the proper course of action. In my hubris, I assumed that, even in death, such an act would erase my misdeeds and restore me even a modicum of my former glory. It was that same pride that blinded me from the truth: I was too frightened to face the consequences of what I had done, and I had convinced myself that in this final act, my life might have been in service of some higher meaning.”

Gale presses a quiet kiss to Astarion’s brow, cathartic as it is tender.

“It would have been the greatest mistake of my life,” he continues, “and I have you to thank for preventing that most untimely demise. When you stood against Cazador, when I saw you chose to fight for yourself instead of letting yourself be consumed by the promise of power the ritual offered, I was never prouder of you than in that moment – or humbled by my own cowardice.”

Astarion can no longer feign indifference; his eyes widen, twin rubies glimmering in the firelight, the realization settling within him as a resigned smile gradually curves the corners of his mouth.

He huffs a laugh, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his cheek against Gale’s chest, turning the words over in his mind.

“Ever the sentimentalist,” he teases, though there is something akin to relief in the way he says it. “It suits you.”

His movements are fluid as he settles his body over Gale’s once more, splayed palms bracing himself on either side of Gale’s bewildered face. The press of his mouth is soft and almost warm from feeding as Astarion kisses him, tender and deep.

“I have often wondered if I made the right decision,” he murmurs against Gale’s mouth. “But I think I’ve finally found the answer to that question. Thank you.”

Astarion lets Gale gather him into his arms, does not protest as Gale lays Astarion delicately beneath him, lavishing him with all the love he no longer has the words to express. His hands follow his mouth, a trail of tender caresses, each one an oath to his everlasting commitment.

“It would be my greatest honor,” Gale says, “to ensure you never forget it.”

[eway]

@puyopuyoconfessions @smb0 @madoumonogatarirunelord @colorfullaudino @elder-sister

BEHOLD!

The Puyo Puyo Movie Franchise Cast List!

Arle (young): Alexis Tipton

Schezo (young): Veronica Taylor or Sarah Natochenny

Camus: Tara Strong

Fudoushi: Mark Hamill

The Teacher: Amanda C. Miller

Skeleton-T: Bryan Massey

Nasu Grave: Clancy Brown

Momomo: Jesse McCartney

Lala: Sarah Blandy

Arle: Lindsay Seidel

Rulue: Scarlett Johansson

Minotauros: Troy Baker

The Dark Prince: Xander Mobus

Carbuncle: Tomoko Kaneda

Schezo: Yuri Lowenthal

Amitie: Evelyn Huynh

Sig: Hunter MacKenzie

Ms. Accord: Julie Andrews

Raffina: Brett Walter

Klug: Thessaly Lerner

Lidelle: Erica Schroeder

Yu: Laura Faye Smith

Rei: Laura Faye Smith

The Crimson Spirit: Ron Perlman

Ocean Prince: Greg Cipes

Suketoudara: Tom Kenny

Sukiyapotes: Michele Knotz

Harpy: Teresa Gallagher

Panotty: Lani Minella

Witch: Julie Ann Taylor

Zoh Daimoh: Jim Cummings

Merigu: Dani Chambers

Shosu: Kayzie Rogers

Emi: Kerry Williams

Sasori Man: Billy Bob Thompson

Akuma: ProZD

Feli: Amber Hood

Lemres: "Weird Al" Yankovic (This one was a suggestion by one of the people I tagged)

Strange Klug: Thessaly Lerner

Salde (the voice direction changes when he changes form, but the actor remains the same): Greg Cipes

Wish: Cree Summer

Tenori Zoh: Ikue Ōtani

Dark Matter: Andrew Rannells

Ragnus (Young): Veronica Taylor or Sarah Natochenny (whichever didn't voice young Schezo)

Ragnus (17): Antony Del Rio or Jason Griffith

Draco: Brianna Knickerbocker

Incubus: Liam O'Brien

Succubus: Erin Fitzgerald

Jaan: Hynden Walch

Scylla: Kari Wahlgren

Nomi: John DiMaggio

Yoggus: Marcus Stimac

Honey Bee: Lisa Ortiz

Serilly: Michelle Ruff

Doppelganger Schezo: Yuri Lowenthal

Phantom God: Ali Hillis and Jay Goede (Both voices are at the same time with vocal effects to add to the otherworldly feel)

Lilith (all she takes from the book counterpart is her name, the fact she's dead, and she was The Dark Prince's loving wife. She's not some goddess, just a ghost. I hate those books): Laura Bailey

Chico: Samantha Kelly

Doppelganger Arle: Lindsay Seidel

Ringo: Cassandra Lee Morris

Maguro: Spike Spencer

Risukuma: Keith David or Kevin Michael Richardson

Ecolo: Bryce Papenbrook

Everyone else would be voiced by new and unknown voice actors (like me! New voice actors should have a chance to break into the industry)