#the system and i cannot keep this up for much longer

[the-cookie-jar-system]

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[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[sankttealeaf]

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

[yandere-toons]

I know this is a little early but can you do a Book of Life headcanon for Dia De Los Muertos? It can be La Muerte and Zebulba or Maria, Manolo, and Joaquin. (I love your writing so much!)

Yandere La Muerte & Xibalba (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Death, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – ¡Feliz Día de los Muertos!

While the candle of her chosen mortal is aflame with life, La Muerte dons it proudly in a prime spot among her dress or hat, close enough to where she can always feel its heat and wince at the exact moment it goes cold. If so exists even a whiff of foul play, it is her husband Xibalba who punishes the living with a sudden uptick in fatal snakebites.

Hot boils the resentment of Xibalba, who never so wished to eradicate the Law-Maker as he does watching his own helpless reflection in the window of a home where his favourite mortal lay despairing. Decades of deceit and contrivances just to share a few words, forced by ancient law to conceal his true name and nature, have worn his patience to a thread. At the same time, Xibalba is inclined to thank this purveyor of death in person, to offer a taste of what the latest victim endured and send the slain soul to rot, as he did, in the Land of the Forgotten.

La Muerte, for all her power in death, can in life offer only words of encouragement from the mouth of a kind stranger. She often observes their day from the secrecy of terraces and distant roofs, watching to ensure their happiness and step in with bits of wisdom should they seem lost. She refrains from direct intervention until the day they wander inside her castle, at which point she cannot help wondering how much longer it may have taken to meet them this way had they lived the life they wanted. Such rumination is channelled into action as La Muerte focuses on bringing them more comfort with their new arrangement than ever they found with the living, seeing it as a way to make up for all the strife she was forbidden from preventing.

La Muerte is happy to join their visitation for Día de los Muertos, believing it will help them grow more accustomed to her and accept her as someone deserving of a higher role in their existence. Xibalba gripes the whole time while wondering where he went wrong to make them so opposed to his presence that they would choose the company of mortals over a night spent drinking and feasting with him and his wife, even questioning whether La Muerte is behind all of this to punish him for some ancient crime.

Xibalba muses that, for a bond so strong as this, he could use his deathly touch to kill their relatives all at once, feigning the promise of a reunion — while keeping to himself that such a deed would only eliminate the last of their tethers to the living and thus send them straight to his realm in perpetuity. Xibalba has one finger outstretched to do just that when La Muerte slaps it down and swears she will never forget this should he go through with it.

Xibalba wilts at her wrath but soon grows restless with spite and decides a more clandestine approach will net him his petty vengeance. If simply snatching away a few lives is too vulgar, then perhaps he can make a wager of it. La Muerte, her inner child intrigued, listens as he spins the age-old tale of a fair trade: if their spouse in life leaves town; if the kids down the street go on to marry one another — Xibalba will claim hosting rights, and if not, he will stop cursing their mortal attachments.

Neither are too moved by sympathy plays, having heard every plea imaginable from souls desperate to live and reunite with those up above. A bet, however, draws from both gods the memory of a younger time, a splash of excitement in an otherwise predictable system.

La Muerte's conditions are more palliative: not protesting when she requests a day spent with her, not trying to breach the living-dead barrier before its time. When others or perhaps even the soul themselves begin to question these once-thought agape embraces and invitations to dine, the goddess admits to a more personal interest. She has walked beside them for much of their life and feels they were cheated by it, seeing the bad side of the world too much and the good side too little, and so has taken it upon herself to show them what could have been.

Xibalba's conditions revolve around staying with him for longer periods, say a millennium instead of a century, or granting him explicit permission to kill some mortal companion of theirs who stokes his envy. Such a blessing is by no means necessary to carrying out the hit; rather, it serves as a colossal show of deference as well as a convenient method of claiming the person's blood is now on their hands.

La Muerte can generally be relied upon to act as a restraining influence on Xibalba, keeping him from wiping out whole droves of mortals in a fit of cruelty; however, even she will leave them to their fate if the terms are clear and both parties have agreed, for a wager with a god is all-binding. By refusing to fulfil one's end of it, the winning side is bound no longer to the stipulations set forth in the agreement and may exact any price as recompense.

Only one path to victory remains: accuse Xibalba of rigging the bet, which La Muerte will be inclined to believe given his history, assuming a trip to lodge this complaint with her is even feasible. Xibalba may suspect this intent to oust him and cancel the next dinner date in haste, professing to La Muerte that he and his new roommate are getting along splendidly.

La Muerte laments their absence and voices her desire to see them again, to which Xibalba pleads that she has hosted them long enough and to give him a chance. Despite a winding series of lies and broken promises to consider, La Muerte is committed to forgiveness and thus gives her word that she will not try to ferry them back to her land, at least until the next bet is up.

Xibalba's lonely heart is all too eager to drag them down into the Land of the Forgotten, where souls hardly move or speak, having lost all sense of self. Immortals and mortals alike who spend any significant amount of time in this realm incur some degree of degeneration and start to lose touch with what made them human, a process Xibalba endlessly chatters about to fill an otherwise eternal silence.

La Muerte, once content with this tenuous sort of balance, finds the scales tipping when they express a disinterest in reconnecting with the living world. Chaos erupts as La Muerte challenges Xibalba to return their soul, convinced he is poisoning their heart with his own bitterness for humanity. Xibalba deflects at every opportunity, suggesting that he merely speaks a harsh truth and offers an escape from the drudgery of mortal life.

A deep frustration ignites within La Muerte, less now at the dark turn of her husband, which she has begrudgingly come to accept, and more at the threat of losing her chosen soul to exactly the kind of existence she strove so hard to separate from them. Even though the march of time will one day condemn the soul to what comes after, La Muerte sought to enrich their short journey and give them the taste of true happiness they could never afford.

While she has walked this path with many and knows the weight of her title demands she overcome her grief, cursed objects of half-formed immortality and interjections of the soul's name into increasingly unrelated projects and movements are the desperate final scratches of Xibalba. A god who chases off the inevitable, Xibalba scrambles to build this entire false history in those last few years, only to watch it crumble when his actions force La Muerte to banish him for upsetting the natural order.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

“I don’t think that is what God wants. And I don’t think you want it either.”

This line of Aziraphale’s in the Job minisode keeps sticking out to me. Because this is the heart of the problem, right? This is how Aziraphale can see Crowley so completely and also not at all.

Because yes they suck at open communication and yes it’s because they had to hide their relationship for thousands of years and have so so so much trauma and fear to work through. But ALSO they actually do have a profound difference in how they see the world that keeps coming between them, and it’s not just theoretical but deeply personal to both of them.

Because Aziraphale still wants to believe that God is good. He can’t let go of that because his whole identity is wrapped up in being an angel of the Lord, and if God’s not good then what has he been doing for his entire existence?

And so when bad things are happening he falls back on This cannot be what God wants. The whole of season one, he refuses to believe that God could really want the world to end—even though we now know he knew this was a possibility before the world even started. He keeps going up the chain of command, trying to find someone to intervene. “That’s why I’m going to have a word with the Almighty and then the Almighty will fix it.” As if God doesn’t have all the information or hasn’t been paying attention.

And really, the events of season one reinforce this worldview for him. Because if the Archangel Fucking Gabriel isn’t sure what God wants, then maybe God did want them to stop Armageddon. Maybe it was Aziraphale and Crowley who were doing God’s work after all.

He’s gotten as far as realizing that Heaven’s orders are not the same thing as God’s will, but he still hasn’t detached the concepts of Good and Right from God in his worldview.

Crowley is a good person who does the right thing so he must still be an angel deep down. “I know the angel you were.” The only way Aziraphale can conceptualize Crowley saving Job’s children is, “Come on, you’re a little bit on our [God’s] side.” So Crowley’s fall was a mistake; Crowley belongs in Heaven, where he was so happy before the Fall. Why wouldn’t he want to be an angel again? And yeah maybe Heaven sucks now but God is still good, so there’s hope that the system can be reformed with a change of leadership, and Heaven can be made to actually do good, the way God always intended.

But that’s not how Crowley sees the world at all. He is operating with an entirely different understanding of reality. Because he figured out a long time ago (at least by the time of the Job job, but probably long before that) that you can’t base your sense of morality on what you think God wants. Not just because you don’t know for sure, but because sometimes God’s plans are fucking awful. God in Good Omens is not kind to Her creations. She doesn’t tolerate questions or doubts or disobedience. She’s capricious, turning on the creatures She made and killing a bunch of them when She’s in a bad mood. She punishes indiscriminately and disproportionately. She wagers human lives like gambling chips. The kids were supposed to be dead no matter who won the bet.

I think it’s interesting that Crowley is the one who introduces the idea in season one of “What if the Almighty planned it like this all along? From the very beginning.” That’s probably a comforting thought to Aziraphale, soothing his anxieties about going against Heaven right when he is feeling acute distress at the idea of no longer having a side. (And, in that particular moment, no longer even having a bookshop.)

But it’s not a comforting thought to Crowley. Have you seen what happens when God has a plan for you? It fucking sucks. Woe betide you if you’re the Barbie God decides to play with today. (At bare minimum, you’re coming back with some burn marks and a weird haircut.)

I’ve brought up the line “There are no right people. There’s just God, moving in mysterious ways and not talking to any of us” before, and I tend to focus on the “there are no right people” part. But also, there’s just God.

Aziraphale tends to draw a distinction between God’s will and Heaven’s orders when it suits him, and collapse that distinction when it doesn’t. Crowley almost never differentiates between God and Heaven. There’s just God, and She’s not going to explain why this is happening or listen to pleas for mercy (although Crowley still tries). You can’t trust Heaven or Hell, and you can’t count on God to show up and make everything all right. Sometimes God is in fact the reason that things are not all right. You’re on your own.

(And. Look. Crowley is right on this one. There are certainly aspects of their relationship where they’re both equally responsible for things being a shitshow, but the text is pretty unambiguous about Crowley, a demon, having the most accurate read on the nature of God in the world of Good Omens out of any of the metaphysical characters.)

Crowley rebuilt his entire sense of self, alone, after the Fall. He created himself anew and developed his own moral compass and sense of identity independent of both Heaven and Hell. “The angel you knew is not me.” When Crowley does the right thing, that’s not his angel-ness shining through; that’s just Crowley.

And from a like, trauma recovery point of view, it’s actually very healthy for him to have the realization that sometimes God’s just kind of a dick. He didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out of Heaven. None of them did. Just God messing them about because She didn’t like being questioned, or She wanted to see what would happen, or She needed two sides for Reasons and didn’t much care who was on one or the other, or She’s playing some fucked up little game for Her own amusement. (And if there was some Great Plan that required Crowley to fall…well, that is also fucked up. Because it doesn’t matter if there was a reason. It still hurt.)

And while Crowley in general is extremely patient with Aziraphale and his slow, halting journey away from Heaven…it’s gotta sting, every time Aziraphale doesn’t want to believe that God could be cruel, when Crowley is standing right fucking there. It’s gotta hurt when Aziraphale refuses to see something that Crowley knows to be true through his own lived experience. Because it should be enough. What happened to him should be enough to make someone who loves him walk away from Heaven and never look back. And it isn’t.

But of course Crowley is one hundred percent not going to talk about this, if he is even fully self-aware about having these thoughts, because it’s far too painful and vulnerable. (He talks to plants, goats, God, and no one in a bar at the end of the world, but never to Aziraphale.) And so he says “Tell me you said no” and “I think I understand a lot better than you do” because he can’t say Choose me. Just this once, choose me and he can’t say Believe me.

And Aziraphale is not going to think about all this and work it out for himself, because he has a massive lump of denial centered around exactly this thing, that sometimes God hurts people who didn’t do anything to deserve it. I’m sure he’s thought about the Fall in abstract terms, enough to be afraid of it, but not in terms of this is a thing that happened to a person I love. And he has certainly not allowed himself to draw any conclusions about the nature of God from it, because that is far too scary a prospect.

And so they’re stuck. Until they can figure out how to remove this massive landmine from the center of their relationship, they are going to keep having the same fight over and over again, and they’re going to keep hurting each other without fully understanding why.

[nellasbookplanet]

people have been fawning over how humanlike the gods are for a month now, but now its wrong to compare them to mortal powers because they're otherworldy beings that can't possibly be thought of in human terms? or is the suggestion that they're like mortals, but they're just an innately superior group of people that deserves to have power over everyone else?

Hello anon! Are you the same person who got all up in my askbox yesterday? You certainly seem to have an equally poor grasp on what I actually said and a willingness to make it somebody else's problem. However, I no longer have a headache and am feeling less cranky, so lets treat this as a genuine question.

I never said it's wrong or even inaccurate to compare the gods to humans/mortals. What I said is that some seem over-eager to equate them with groups or systems where they don't actually fit, or to project our own world onto them. This tends to lead to poor textual analysis. For example, equating the gods with mortal rulers (specifically tyrannical rulers, even), the one percent, a higher social class, rich people, or colonizers of mortals all read as comparisons made from the assumption 'gods are the most powerful sentient beings of Exandria; therefore I will compare them to the most powerful people of our world'. Do these comparisons make actual sense as parallels? No! Kings and rich people and colonizers aren't innately more powerful than others because we don't live in a fantasy world where magic is real. You can take said power from them and redistribute it fairly. You cannot do this with the gods.

Ultimately, the last few words in your ask neatly sum up the problem with this mindset: do the gods deserve to hold this power over everyone else? Lets look at this through a comparison: do sorcerers like Imogen deserve to hold power over everyone else? She, like most sorcerers, was born with powers others do not have and has no way to get rid of them. They cannot be taken from her and redistributed to the masses to make things more equal, because they are a part of her innate self. In using them, Imogen can do good, but she also sometimes ends up hurting people by reading their thoughts without consent or, at times, even meaning to. So, does Imogen deserve this power? By now, you might see the problem. It doesn't matter whether she deserves her power because you can't take it from her without killing her, no matter how unfair you think it is that she has it. 'Do they deserve their power' is an irrelevant question that people keep coming back to. What you're actually asking is, 'do the gods deserve to live', or even 'do we have the right to kill them' which is a lot more loaded.

The gods already evened the playing field as much as was possible by locking themselves behind the divine gate, severely diminishing their influence on Exandria. They can no longer cause any more harm than any mortal, because now they must act through mortals such as clerics and paladins, through which they do a lot of good (or have we already forgotten about c1 and c2, or even the resurrection of Laudna by a divine cleric and the actions of FCG in c3?). If this still isn't enough for you, you might want to ask yourself whether what you actually want is fairness and the good of the people of Exandria, or if you're just looking for pointless revenge for the sake of it.

[heartsforvin]

SO SWEET

part two of the cutest thing !! yall been wantin this like CRAZY so here it is , i hope you all enjoy !!!

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!bimbo!reader

warnings; smut, cussing, use of pet names, praise kink, thigh riding, bit of dry humping, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), p in v, cum play ??, if i missed anything lmk !!

summary; things get heated fast between your supposedly ‘best friend’

“all comfy?” vinnie asks as he sees you walk back into the room with a smile.

you nod. “mhm, you pick the movie?” you ask as you jump into the bed next to vinnie.

as you get under the covers you notice that vinnie no longer has a tshirt on, instead only in a pair of sweatpants, tattoos on full display.

vinnie nods as he holds his arm out for you to climb into him. you do, pressing your back to his chest.

he starts the movie and it’s quiet for awhile, that is until you feel vinnie’s grip around your waist tighten and that feeling you felt when you sat on his lap earlier came back.

“vin?” you completely turn your body and face him. he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and hums, letting you know to continue.

“that feelings back.” you tell him, he chuckles as he buries his face in your neck.

he finally got his body and mind to calm down after earlier this day, but now you’re making it pretty difficult.

this was supposed to be you two relaxing for the night. he thought you got what you were feeling earlier out of your system and that was it.

“fuck,” vinnie mutters under his breath, low chuckle added as he buries his face in your chest. “you know what i told you, baby.”

he says it more for himself, to remind him that he cannot and will not do that. thrashing your legs, you whine as if you’re a child who didn’t get their way.

does he not understand how you feel? he has too. you were only met with this feeling hours ago, having no idea what it meant. meanwhile, he probably felt like this all the time.

“shh,” vinnie coos as he runs his fingers through your hair. he rubs your back gently, getting you to calm down. “can’t do that to you.”

you hate how he keeps telling you that. you know he can do that to you, he just doesn’t want to rip that away from you.

“you can, vin! please, it hurts.” you whine, needing him now more than ever.

vinnie groans. the more you ask him to do it the more his cock twitches in his pants.

before you know what you’re even doing, you sit up just enough to where you can wrap your leg around vinnie’s, your clothed pussy resting right on his thigh.

vinnie’s hands instinctively go to your waist, gripping tightly as you rock yourself against him.

he watches as you move against him, not realizing you had this in you. “sweetheart,” his voice comes out breathless, loving the view he’s got in front of him.

“vin, please.” you whimper, rocking yourself against your bestfriend faster.

his body thinks before his mind does and before either of you know it, vinnie has you so you’re on your back in a second.

his mouth is on you aggressively, kissing you, your neck, your jaw, anywhere he can be. it felt how it did hours prior, but so much better.

“shit,” he mutters, lifting himself off of you. “i’m sorry baby, fuck i should’ve asked sooner. is this okay?”

a sweet smile appears on your face and vinnie can’t help but smile and stroke your cheek. “it’s so okay, vin.” you tell him.

he’s back on your mouth before you can let out another breath. this continues for a few seconds before you whine into his mouth.

vinnie is out of it now, completely submerged in you and your taste. “needy, aren’t you sweetheart?”

the question doesn’t need answering, he knows you are. slowly, he moves his hand down, only to be met with your dampened panties.

he lets out a low groan into your mouth at the feeling at how wet you are already, and the fact you chose to sleep with only his tshirt on.

quickly, you pull apart from the boy above you, worried you made him uncomfortable.

“you okay?” you ask ever so sweetly, smile spread across your face.

vinnie returns the smile, his hand grazing your thigh, sending a million shocks of euphoria through you.

you’ve never gotten this sort of affection before, let alone had any idea what exactly you’re getting yourself into.

“so okay,” he replies breathlessly. “how are you doin’, baby?” he asked.

you giggle at the feeling of his finger sliding up and down your clothed pussy. smiling while biting your lip, you look at vinnie and he can’t help but kiss your cheek.

“i’m good, vin,” you reply with another giggle at the feeling of his finger on you. “that feels good.” you tell him.

vinnie smirks. “yeah?” you watch as he continues before pulling back your panties so he can get a peak at you uncovered.

you start to whine again, thrashing your legs against his mattress, needing him to do something.

“vinnie, please.” the pleasure you’re feeling is unbearable, it’s been fifteen minutes of vinnie merely touching you, yet you already feel this intense. 

“what do you want, princess?” you can’t stand him or his tone. it’s second after second of him just teasing you.

you’ve been wanting this all night but now, now you’re too afraid to say it. too afraid for it to become reality.

vinnie sees the obvious switch in your demeanor and sits up. “sweetheart,” vinnie lifts your chin with his index finger, making you look at him. “where’d you go?”

you give him a shy smile, sitting up and pulling your legs to your chest. the panties you wore that night do little to no effort to cover you while you sat like this.

vinnie tries his hardest to be a good friend and look directly at you. after all, you both are friends first.

“never done this,” you say softly, realizing after that he knew that already. “just nervous.”

vinnie sighs with a smile, rubbing your knee comfortingly. “do you want to do this?” he asks.

you lower your head, feeling like you let him down. for what? you don’t know.

“hey, hey, look at me,” he gains your attention. “we don’t have to do this, i can finish off in the bathroom real quick then we can finish the movie.” he tells you.

the thought of him doing that while you sit and wait on his bed makes that feeling come back. “no, i wanna do this. just-just show me how, please.”

vinnie pushes you on your back, head laid beneath the pillow and hovers over you, hands on either side of you to hold himself up.

“just lay right here, sweet girl,” vinnie says before he leans down and captures your lips in a sweet kiss. “gonna make you feel so, so good.”

you watch as he makes his way down your body, asking if he can take off your shirt. you nod with a huge smile, giving him a verbal answer as well.

the minute your shirt is off vinnie can’t help himself. eyes and hands immediately landing on your tits.

he squeezes them in his hands, making you moan and buck your hips at the feeling of his warm hands on you.

“that feel good, pretty girl?” he knows the answer, just loves when he squeezes the skin in his hands and watches you completely break.

he soon makes his way down to your panties, kissing right below your bellybutton.

“vinnie,” you watch as he grabs the waistband of your panties, pulling them down so your right hip is exposed.

he kisses the exposed skin, making you whine. “do something!”

vinnie gives in, looking up at you and asking with his eyes if he can remove the clothing. you tell him yes and they’re off and on the floor in a heartbeat.

moving even farther down your body, he finally gets to where you need him most.

he slides his index finger over your slit, watching as your wetness coats his finger. “so wet f’me,” he groans.

vinnie slowly pushes a finger into you, a whine leaving your lips at the tight feeling.

“shit, princess,” vinnie looks up at you and your already dazed state. “you good?” he chuckles as he sees you give him a dopey smile.

it takes you a minute to respond, vinnie’s finger going in and out of you at a reasonable pace, it’s just a feeling you’ve never experienced.

you giggle at him, watching as he looks up at you with a smile. “f-feels so good - shit.” he hits a particularly good spot that makes you cry out.

vinnie continues stretching you out for a few more minutes into he feels you’re ready for the real thing.

well, close to the real thing. “baby, hey. look at me, pretty.” vinnie says as he pulls his fingers out of you.

he can see your expression and knows you’re almost fully submerged in him. “sweetheart.” vinnie calls out again, gaining your attention.

you smile at him and he strokes your cheek, returning the gesture. “hi, my pretty girl. you ready for somethin’ else?” he asks you.

the smile remains on your face, excited for what that is. “is it your cock?” in the tone you ask it sounds less vulgar, vinnie can’t help but let out a laugh.

he’s never heard you say anything like that. you rarely cussed, let alone use a word like that.

“pretty girl’s gotta mouth on her, huh?” he chuckles as your cheeks darken a shade of red.

he’s surprised you know that word, he doesn’t remember teaching you what it meant, but then again he can’t remember most conversations right now.

“no baby, not yet,” he leans down to kiss the inside of your thigh. “this could be a close second for you though. we’ll get to that one, just be patient.”

you nod and smile at your bestfriend, doing as told. “okay, vin!”

vinnie repositions himself so he’s laying on his stomach, face directly in front of your aching cunt. before he can rethink his actions, he attaches his mouth to you.

“mmh, vin.” you moan as you feel his mouth on your clit. you bend your knees and vinnie grabs them and locks his arms around them.

he kisses and sucks your clit harshly, eliciting more whimpers and moans out of you. this was unlike anything you’ve felt before, this felt amazing.

“feel good, my love?” he asks once he pulls away from you, chin glistening with your juices.

all you can do is nod with his mouth back on you. the noise was almost pornographic, the way he sucked at your clit made you buck your hips into his face.

“fuck, baby,” vinnie moans against you. “do that again, shit.” he sucks on your bud just how he did a moment ago, making you buck your hips into him again.

“good girl,” the praise goes straight through you. vinnie looks up at you and watches as you grip the sheets and push your head into the pillow. “so good for me.”

vinnie continues his actions until he sees you start to squirm under him, whining as you do. “talk to me, baby, what is it?” he can tell you feel something extreme.

the pleasure crashes through you so fast you can’t answer him, a beat of silence passes before you say. “f-feels like m’gonna pee!”

vinnie smirks, knowing exactly how you feel. “let it out for me, sweet girl. you’re not gonna pee, trust me.”

vinnie speeds up the process just a bit and adds a finger while he sucks on your clit. the pleasure of his finger along with his mouth is enough to push you over the edge.

“that’s it, baby. yeah, that’s it, let it out for me,” his praises push you over the edge and you release all over his mouth. “fuck, look at that, good girl.”

he moves his mouth off of you, sliding his fingers against you, watching your cum slide out of you as he does.

with a goofy grin, you look up at vinnie and see he’s leaning closer to you. “open up, pretty.”

you do as told and vinnie sticks his fingers in your mouth for you to lick clean. “that’s my good girl, so proud of you.”

you smile at the boy in front of you, looking down to see the obvious strain in his pajama pants.

vinnie meets your gaze and laughs once he realizes what you’re looking at. the laugh soon turns into a moan when he feels your hand on him.

“you know you want it, vin. why stop when we’ve barely started?” he didn’t know you could talk like that, about those things.

it seems like he can’t move fast enough. you help him remove his pajama pants and boxers, cock springing free in an instant.

you gasp audibly at the sight, making vinnie chuckle a bit at your reaction. “so big.” is all you can say.

you wonder if he’s even going to fit, plus having being a virgin to everything in this situation in general.

vinnie knew that though, so he knew to be gentle with you. “you alright?” vinnie asks once he realizes you went somewhere.

you nod. “mhm, just wondering if you’ll fit is all.” you tell him, and vinnie smiles.

he kisses you softly, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i’ll make it fit.”

the tone makes you want to close your legs so tight that you can’t feel the burning feeling.

“you want this, right?” he asks again, needing to make sure you’re one hundred percent okay and want this.

you roll your eyes playfully at the boy in front of you. “wouldn’t be naked in your bed if i didn’t, vin.” you giggle.

vinnie smiles and kisses your cheek. he gently pushes your head back against the pillow, back on the mattress, and he hovers over you.

“lemme know if it gets too much,” he says as he strokes your cheek. “if you say stop, we stop. you got it?”

you nod, biting your lip at the feeling of him sliding his cock against your folds. “please.” you whimper softly.

vinnie chuckles as he continues. you’re still wet from moments prior so this wasn’t necessary, but he loved how it felt to be this close to you.

he warns you that it’s gonna hurt for a bit, you protest, telling him you can take it.

vinnie groans at the words that leave your pretty lips. he still can’t believe you two are doing this, but it feels too right to stop.

he pushes himself into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. “fuck,” he whispers.

you moan at the pleasure of him finally being inside of you. it does hurt a bit, but overall the pleasure overpowers the pain.

“you ready, sweetheart?” vinnie asks you. he doesn’t care if it takes you five seconds or five minutes to be ready, he could honestly cum right now if he was being honest.

the way your pussy hugs his cock so tight, as if the two of you were made for each other, it felt so right.

you give vinnie verbal confirmation you’re ready for him to start moving. he grabs at your hips and starts slowly thrusting into you.

his pace quickens with time and soon he’s groping at your tits, stoping them from frantically moving with his thrusts.

“f-fuck, vin.” you whine out at the feeling of his hands on your chest and being inside you.

vinnie smirks when he sees your fucked out expression, knowing that after tonight, there won’t be much walking for you.

“baby, can i try somethin’?” vinnie asks as he stops his movements completely.

you give him a wide grin. “anything!” you tell him.

vinnie smiles and switches positions so one of your legs is hooked around his shoulder, giving him much better access.

he starts his movements again, and you can’t help but moan loudly at the new position and feeling.

vinnie looks down at you as he fucks into you. moaning profanities and ‘good girl’s’ as he does.

you feel so good wrapped around him, he’s surprised you two haven’t done this sooner.

“dirty, dirty girl,” he grunts, you just look at him, completely out of it. “letting your best friend fuck you like a slut. look at you, all fucked out, can’t even think straight.”

his words don’t even process in your brain. he’s right, though. the only thing you’re thinking of right now is vinnie and how good he’s making you feel.

“v-v,” you moan out, not even able to muster out his full name.

you feel pressure on your clit and cant help but buck your hips up at the stimulation. vinnie rubs harsh circles on your bundle of nerves, trying to push you to your breaking point.

“wanna watch you cum all over my cock, sweet girl. can you do that f’me?” his filthy mouth makes you feel ten times more intense.

the words coming out of him, it’s not anything you ever thought you’d hear him say in your entire friendship.

“mhm,” you moan, the pressure you feel on your clit becoming more intense. “gonna come out, vin. it’s gonna come out!”

vinnie smiles as he continues to toy at your clit, watching your face contort into pleasure as he also fucks into you at a harsh pace.

“come on, princess, cum for me,” he edges you on, kissing at your hip bone. “ be a good girl for me, hmm?”

you let out a loud whine as you cum all over his cock, panting heavily as you come down.

“fuck look at that,” vinnie says as spreads your own juices along your pussy. “so sweet.”

he stays inside of you for a minute before pulling out and stroking his cock harshly. “where you want it, sweetheart?” he asks you.

it takes you a second to process what he’s asking before you whine out, “on my tits, please vin!”

he does just that — cumming all over your pretty tits as he lets a moan leave his mouth.

you look at the substance that’s on you before lifting your hand and swiping your finger across your chest. you put your finger to your lips and stare up at vinnie.

“gonna fuckin’ kill me, baby.” he tells you as he watches you suck your finger clean.

he lets you calm down for a minute before getting up and grabbing you a washcloth and his your clothes.

he cleans you up and dresses you in new panties and his shirt that you were previously wearing.

he tells you to go to the bathroom and you whine, saying you don’t have to go.

“go piss before you get an infection, baby. trust me you do not want that, m’gonna change the sheets for us, okay?” he kiss you softly before slapping your ass as you make your way to the bathroom.

once all done, you and vinnie climb back into bed. he lays with his arm holding his head up while you are cuddled into him, head against his bare chest.

vinnie’s arm is wrapped around you, rubbing your back gently to put you to sleep.

little did he know, you knocked out the second your head laid against his chest.

“goodnight, angel.” he kisses your head softly, continuing to rub your back until he too, drifts off to sleep.

you fuckers happy now ?? finally posted this shit so yall can hop off my dick (i love you im just playin)

but fr i hope you guys enjoyed !! im sorry it took so long, im just so busy w work n im so tired after that i barely feel like writing

but i loved how this turned out in the end. rewrote this 3 times because i wasnt liking it but this one i love and i hope you all do too !!!

tags: @anqeliclust , @forevergirlposts , @cosmicanakin , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @bernelflo , @lovingsturniolo , @louloulemons-blog , @slvthrs , @st4rswrld , @kriissy4gov , @violet0182 , @kayleiggh , @supabhad , @laylasbunbunny , @hallecarey1

[devotioncrater]

the levels of repression in both house and wilson…yet they are opposite of one another. house routinely makes gay innuendos (whether sexual and/or romantic) towards wilson, yet wilson doesn’t take him serious at all.

and this constant rejection from wilson is both a buoy as well as a giant wall. house pushes their relationship time and time again. wilson refuses to let the nature of it change. house brings up a romantic getaway, wilson shoots him down. house sabotages wilson moving out, wilson doesn’t stay. house allows himself to be The Other Woman regardless of how bonnie or wilson’s other ex-wives feel. in a way, it boosts his ego and makes him feel special. he is allowed to have wilson in this way.

amber is an extension of house; she is house in a woman’s body. house can accept it because he has expressed before that if wilson were a woman, they would’ve been married already. so why can’t the same be true for wilson? let him find a woman version of house. house loves wilson so much that he goes into a risky surgery to try and save amber. this is his Place simply because wilson and him cannot escape the confines of compulsive heterosexuality.

and it is compulsive. wilson never feels good enough or secure enough in a relationship outside of his and house’s. he cheats, he lies, he manipulates. all because at his core, wilson’s insecurities render him into a selfish person. he has affairs and he prioritizes house over his wives, because he doesn’t feel like his own wants/needs are met by his wives. or that they should/deserve to be met. he doesn’t know how to communicate them!! he maybe even feels guilty for having them. because even to house, he communicates these desires in metaphors or pranks or whatever other indirect way he sees fit. but the difference between house and his wives is that wilson has no tangible, legal sense of obligation to house. if house doesn’t meet his expressed needs, fuck him!! they don’t owe anything to each other!! the rejection will sting less.

wilson chases women on such a compulsive level that it’s nearly a reaction to whatever house has done. it’s affair after affair. wilson moves in with his patient during the time house is on a ketamine treatment. house, his patient who seemingly no longer needs vicodin. no longer needs him. if wilson is no longer needed, he parasites to the next host. why? because he doesn’t know who he is on his own. why? because he has trouble expressing his own core needs as a person. and as a result, these core (repressed) needs seep out sideways.

so why threaten this sense of safety he gets with keeping house at a platonic level? if they were to entangle into a relationship, wilson would be wrapped under an Obligation Gauze. there is a fear he’d lose house because, historically, all of his relationships end in loss. because, historically, he cannot express his needs to his partners due to his fear of rejection.

and then wilson becomes terminal. and then death becomes bigger than an anxious fear of loss/rejection.

“i need you to tell me that you love me.”

wilson, my brother in christ. house cannot say those words to you because for all the years you’ve known him, you’ve denied him it. the only way house can tell you that he loves you is by burning his home down and faking his death. he is nothing without you. you know it as well as he does. these things remain unspoken because that is the way you’ve molded the relationship to be.

wilson has house on a leash. house runs as far out as possible until the leash yanks him back. when wilson finally trusts house enough to let him go off-leash, house is too conditioned to act as expected.

and this conditioning in house is not just wilson’s doing. it’s primarily house’s own doing. his own self-loathing chains him to wilson’s side. as an addict, yes, but also as a support system. house hates himself so viscerally that it affects every interpersonal relationship he has, including with wilson. but wilson never, ever leaves no matter how bad it gets.

also. who else other than wilson gives him a sense of bodily autonomy? not stacy, not cuddy, not his fellows. wilson doesn’t pity him. wilson enables him. wilson lies for him. house will selfishly keep wilson forever because wilson is all he reliably has.

so house can push and prod wilson into gay romantic/sexual innuendos, but when wilson yanks that leash, he’ll drop it. it’s a buoy for reality checking where he is with wilson. it’s a giant wall for enabling his self-hatred thought process that even his boy best friend has limitations to his love for him (or at least what is acceptable). addict line of thinking.

they both eat each other up like an ouroboros. where does wilson’s repression end and house’s begin?

[mechaprincessgirlgutsgore0]

⚠️ i really need to talk about metal crushers

of course to the uninitiated (and sane in the head) these things are just normal industrial machines. they take in bits of metal and spit out scrap rubble.

but to me these are so much more. deeply erotic machines. of course all machines are erotic, but these especially.

to a human, it’s unthinkable. these machines are not toys, they’re dangerous. it would hurt, and not even in the good way.

but to a robogirl?

Well, you’ve been in service a while. 12 years on the front line. a combat android is a complicated instrument. you’ve been good, loyal. but age comes for us all. today’s models roll off the production line with their shiny composite cladding and deadly precise weapons, but you’re one of the oldest models still in operation. many of your components are proprietary, and no longer manufactured. you’re too much risk. a liability.

the human integration and normalisation program is as good as useless. the humans who are left hate your kind. really, the only option is decommissioning. once all your reusable parts are stripped out, we’re left with a barely-functioning shell. i’m sure you’d love to be let loose, but i’m afraid we can’t do that. serial numbers. engineering secrets. drives. it’s in the interest of national security that you’re disposed of in a safe way.

so you’re fed into the crusher, right foot first. the grinding wheels struggle to grip the smooth plastic panels, but once it’s got you, it’s got you. already you know you’re past the point of no return. the slow churning of the wheels start marching along your foot, cutting it to pieces. then, it reaches your ankle. with a horrible grinding noise, it closes around the joint, and an incredible snap is heard as it gives way. the teeth devour the shredded joint, as it begins working its way up your leg.

the steel blades rip through your hydraulic hoses. a viscous, golden liquid spurts from the pipes, coating the shredder, the gears and your body with a thick layer of oil. it drips through the scrap ejection chute, and from the walls of the shredder funnel. eventually, you are dragged down to your knee joint, and a thundering crack is heard as it is crushed in the jaws of the beast. yet still, the hungry maw of the crusher keeps spinning, demanding more.

It inches up your thigh. your left leg, still not yet claimed by the crusher’s ravenous appetite, is pinned up by the funnel walls that frame the hungry machine. you feel your hip joint groan with stress as the leg is wrought beyond its specified limit. by now, your injury warning system is screaming. voltage spikes ricochet back and forth from your digital mind to your synthetic body. the systems demand action, but you know there is nothing you can do except make it worse. still, the blades of the machine crawl higher. it knows no avarice, yet continues to spin, as that is all it knows.

as you sink deeper below the undulating mass of gears, your left leg is contorted further, and further, and further, until with a violent CRUNCH the bolts and panels give way, and your thigh is ripped from its socket. cables stretched by the failure are quickly shredded to bits, as you are pulled lower into the belly of the beast.

soon after, the teeth bite down onto your crotch. the plastic cover panel is immediately torn away, revealing your lower chassis, but only briefly, as it is soon chewed up with the rest of your lower torso by the relentless milling of the grinder. hydraulic fluid and coolant paint the funnel walls once again, lubricating the jaws of the animal. the wheels do not rest. they cannot rest. they can only devour, pulling you deeper to hell.

the grinding gears keep crawling further up your torso, as if looking for another limb to claim. it soon catches your fingers, which are immediately swallowed by the steel void, wrenching your arm out of your control. your complex hand mechanism is disintegrated in its maws. soon, it takes your other hand, and at that point it declares victory. you are now totally incapacitated, pinned in place by the steel teeth of this creature, pulling you ever deeper. however, you are still concious. you get to watch as your body is slowly cut into ribbons.

The beast creeps upwards. you are dragged down into the metallic waves, as if weighed down by concrete shoes. your automatic reaction systems screech out for some action, any action. but no action can be made. your plastic panels are splintered and pulled apart. your circuit boards are ground to dust. Eventually, the monster reaches your head. the metal blades close around and dislocate your jaw, effortlessly tearing through the shiny faceplate you used to take so much pride in. those rosy painted lips, torn away from you by the monster. your entire being, your memories, your ideas, emotions, desires, all cut to pieces. you have barely time to think before the teeth crunch down on your eye assemblies, shattering the glass and camera arrangement. you feel the back of your head being torn apart, and the cold steel edge crush your drives, your memory, and your CPU. you are no longer responsive.

[alegendoftomorrow]

The Gift

Summery: Fives and the 501's civilian medic are friends and possibly more if they weren't in the middle of a war. After another long day with far too much pain for the both of them, Fives finds a way to bring a little holiday magic to your lives, even in the middle of a war zone.

Characters: Arc Trooper Fives x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n)

Words: 2,947 Words

Warning: Injury (very minor), brief peril and canon typical violence, mentions of loss, grief, war, injuries, slights angst. Mostly teasing, slightly suggestive (just hinting at it).

A/N: This is my entry for the incredible Life Day exchange hosted by @cloneficgiftexchange . Thank you so much for always hosting such fun events that push me to get out of my comfort zone and write again. This piece is for the awesome @arliganzey I really hope you like this fun little adventure I went on. It was my first time writing for Fives and I hope I captured his essence for you :)

“You know we cannot keep meeting like this.”

You freeze halfway to reaching into your rapidly emptying medic bag. Groaning through hard pressed lips as you spin in your chair to see a very cocky smile pulled up on a very familiar face.

“People are bound to start talking.”

“Fives,” you groaned. Pinching the bridge of your nose and counting to…. well, five before you risk looking back up at the arc trooper leaning against the doorway. Suspiciously standing off his right ankle.

You already know there’s going to be a story. There’s always a story with Fives. Before you knew any better you used to think he was getting hurt just to come and see you. Now the war has dragged on for longer than you were prepared for, and you’ve buried far more men than it feels like you ever save. Seen more planets and systems torn apart than you ever thought possible. Things like crushes and love seem like silly things reserved for storybooks rather than your day-to-day life.

Doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to flirt back with the man who walks through your door almost once a day with some injury or another. Battle related or not.

“What is it this time? Echo dare you to jump off the bridge or did Jesse kick your butt sparring again?” You asked. Standing from your desk and walking over to an exam table. Raising a brow when Fives doesn’t move from the doorway.

“Can’t I just come say hi to my favorite medic without there being an injury?” He asked. In a tone that almost sounded innocent, and perhaps a little hurt that you’d suggested such a thing.

You flashed him another eye roll and crossed your arms. “You can but, Kix isn’t here right now.”

Fives actually snorted at that. Dropping his arms to his side and doing his best not to limp on what was clearly an injured ankle. “Kix is not my favorite medic.”

“Mhm why’s that?” You asked. Already moving down to undo the plastoid armor he wore over his boots when he hoped up on the table. Ignoring the warmth that spread over you when you looked back to see Fives grinning down at you with his hands tucked behind his head.

“Because he doesn’t look half as pretty as you do,” he said with a smirk. “And he’s not as nice to me as you are.”

Now it was your turn to snort at him, Maker he is insufferable, you thought. And the best part of every day, another part of your mind added rather unhelpfully. You went back to examining his ankle before you said something ridiculous. Taking off his sock and hissing through your teeth at the purple bruise already spreading around his scarred ankle.

“Maker what happened here?!” You asked. Looking up at Fives again with genuine worry this time.

He waved a hand dismissively and puffed his chest up a bit in a way you’d come to learn meant he was hiding pain and quite proud of something he definitely shouldn’t be proud of.

“I came here with a blaster bolt to the knee a few rotations ago. How is this worse?”

You started at him blankly for a minute. Simply blinking up at him and hoping your silence made something click in that incredible thick head of his.

It did not.

“You were shot in an active war zone running to give Captain Rex cover. I honestly expected worse than that. However, we have been flying for three days with no enemy contact. So, you shouldn’t have gotten so much as a cough up here; yet here you are sitting here with a twisted ankle. So, I ask again. How did you get this?”

The smile slipped a little from Fives’s face as he actually looked a little…. embarrassed? Was that something he was capable of feeling? You watched as he bit down on his lip and fidgeted slightly with his shoulders seeming to try and buy time.

“Really, it’s not important. I was…. doing something for someone else and my foot slipped okay? It’s not a big deal,” he said. Very adamantly not making eye contact with you.

You rolled your eyes and threw your hands up in surrender with a sigh. “Fine don’t tell me. I hope this someone was worth it.”

“She is,” Fives said. There was a sincerity in his voice that caught you by surprise. Giving you pause and making your breath catch as he looked at you with something that was almost soft. Something you didn’t dare name floated between the shades of honey and earthen brown of his eyes.

“Right. Well…...good.” You stumbled out. Moving away from the table and back to your medical closet to get some bacta and a wrap for his ankle. Trying hard not to meet his eyes again. The ones you can feel boring a hole through the back of your head as you set his ankle.

He doesn’t even flinch once while you work on it. Even though you’re certain this must hurt, he just sits there and stares back at you while your hands make quick work of their task.

“Alright, that should hold for now. Do you want to do the song and dance where I tell you to stay off it and then you tell me something about being a hero of the Republic who can’t take breaks and must soldier on for the good of the galaxy?” You asked. Crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow at him.

Fives grind like an idiot again and laughs. Maker that sound… You wish you could bottle it up and keep it with you when he went away again. Listen to it on repeat when the nights pressed in to darkly.

“That’s a terrible impression of me,” Fives laughed. Snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I thought it was very accurate,” you snip back. Your tone bears no bite though.

Fives smirks wider like a loth cat that’s gotten into the cream. Swinging his legs gracefully back over the bed and gripping the edge in a way that makes his biceps flex under his blacks. Not that you’re looking. He leans in a little closer and it takes all of your willpower not to lean in towards him too.

“What’s your excuse then Doc?” He asked lowly.

You tilted your head and furrowed your brows. “My excuse for what?”

“For not resting,” he said. “You said it yourself, I’m a hero of the Republic, but you….”

He trailed off and reached a hand up to tuck back a curl that had come loose from the updo you had it in. Your breath catching in your throat as you swallowed tightly under his touch. Rough fingers brushing so softly over your skin you wanted to melt.

“You need to rest too. The whole ship would fall apart without you.”

You might have laughed if he wasn’t looking at you so seriously. Like he meant every word of it. It made something warm and fuzzy creep up into your chest. Something that felt dangerous and far, far too real.

“I’ll rest when you do,” you bargained.

Fives shook his head. “No, I cannot allow that. I know exactly what that means. You’ll come in here and pretend to lay down then get right back to do work.”

“I could say the same for you,” you shot back. “So how do you suggest either of us rest then?”

The smirk that crawled up his face as he flicked his tongue out to lick his bottom lip almost made your knees wobble.

“Well, it seems we have no choice but to rest together,” he said. Like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at him. “What?”

“That way I can make sure you can’t get up to do work, and you can make sure I don’t walk on my ankle.”

Your mind reeled for a moment still all the possibilities that scenario presented before you recovered yourself enough to smirk back. Leaning back on your heels and staring back eye level with the arc trooper with a glint of playfulness in your gaze.

“You know if you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked.”

Fives looked taken aback for a moment. He recovered much too quickly though and leaned forward a little more. His breath ghosting over your cheeks as you stood your ground in front of him. Heart racing while his eyes moved over your face, taking in the details like he was trying to memorize you.

“If I asked now, would you say yes?” He asked.

“I—” whatever you were about to say was cut off by the loud screaming of alarms that startled the both of you apart and jerked you out of moment of peace.

“That’s the attack sirens,” Fives warned. Jumping off the bed and hoping towards the door as he pulled his boot back on.

“We can’t be under attack,” he replied. Rushing to the com link in the wall and punching in the code to Captain Rex’s channel. “We haven’t seen any vessels since we left— “

A sudden explosion sounded distantly and the whole ship lurched to the side. Your hands gripping into the handles on the wall to steady yourself while cabinets and shelves clicked locked, so their contents didn’t go everywhere.

“Apparently the separatists don’t know that,” Fives grumbled from the doorway. Looking down the hall both ways once before turning back to you with a brilliant smile that felt far too out of place for this moment. “Don’t worry I’ll handle this; you just sit here and look pretty and we’ll finish this conversation when I get back.”

He winked and then was gone. Running as fast as his weak ankle would allow. You wanted to protest every word he’d just said. Wanted to run after him, yell at him to be careful, maybe smack him for being so cavalier with his words, but he was gone before you could even get his name past your lips.

Be careful Fives.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Many Hours Later)~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were lucky this time,  that’s what Captain Rex kept saying.

The separatist vessel had only damaged the cargo holds on the lower levels before the captain and his men were able to destroy it. General Skywalker’s plan somehow once again working despite sounding ludicrous to you. You were lucky the casualties had been minimal, but the injuries were heavy. You would have to restock before your next engagement. As it was, you’d already patched supplies together for those less injured than others.

Leaning back against the hallway wall you slid all the way to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest. Leaning your head forward to rest there and forcing yourself to breathe deeply so you didn’t fall apart out here where anyone might see you.

Footsteps approached slowly from your left and you half hoped they’d keep walking. Let you wallow in peace and quiet, but the uneven footfalls stopped just in front of you and a voice cleared their throat above you.

“Hey…you alright?”

Fives.

Jerking your head up you blinked at him through your watery eyes. Staring at his grease smudged cheeks with parted lips. He was breathing heavier than normal and still standing off his foot as best he could. His blacks were stained with blood and smoke, but he looked mostly unharmed.

“You’re, okay?” You asked. Voice trembling.

Fives grinned. “I’m always alright. I’m a hero remember. Heroes can’t die.”

You rolled your eyes and made some kind of half sob half laugh sound. Wiping your eyes with the hell of her hand and sniffling a little.

“Hey, come on love no tears.” He crouched down and grinned softly. Reaching out and brushing the tear that dripped down your cheek gently. “It’s okay. We lived to fight another day, more of us than usual at that. That’s something, and more will live because of you. Yeah?”

Without thinking you leaned into his palm and nodded softly. Closing your eyes and focusing on his words. Clinging to them tightly.

“Besides, you’re in the presence of a hero who saved the day and is about to make yours better,” Fives added proudly.

You laughed at him and shook your head. Blinking your eyes open to stare at him again. The lights giving him a halo around his dark hair. Making his tattoo stand out a little sharper against his skin. “How exactly are you still this cocky after everything?”

“It’s who I am. Come on. Up you go.” He grabbed under your arms and pulled you to your feet.

“Mhm does that hero line ever actually work on anyone?” You asked following after him while he kept his arm wrapped securely around yours.

“I don’t know, I’ll let you know later.”

“You are unbelievable,” you groaned.

“That’s the running theory,” he replied proudly.

Following him down the halls of the ship, letting him lean on you a little more as his ankle began to ache worse, you let the pair of you fall into an easy silence. Even if you were a little nervous about where you were actually going, you didn’t have the energy to ask.

“Alright we’re here. Close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so,” Fives said. Stopping the pair of you in front of a plain dark door.

You looked at him with a raised brow. “Fives is this is an elaborate plan to scare me I’m warning you I—"

His laugh cut you off. Throwing his hands up in a surrendering motion as he shook his head. “I promise, I promise, we’ve both been scared enough for one day. Just cover your eyes. You’ll like it trust me.”

You hesitated only a moment longer before closing your eyes and covering them with your free hand. Feeling Fives take your other hand and weave his fingers together with yours, the door whooshed open, and a warm burst of air hit you as he tugged you forward. Your feet following after him without hesitation. You trusted him, even if he drove you crazy.

“Alright, open your eyes,” he whispered from behind you.

Slowly you lowered your hand and opened your eyes. Gasping at the scene spread out before you.

“Fives….”

Strings of lights blinked in multicolored drops that had been hung around wide windows that showed off the thousands of twinkling stars blinking like spilled jewels across the ebony sky. Looking around the rest of the room there was a small table sat in the middle of the window. The two chairs were tied with bright red ribbons and a small box sat in the middle wrapped with blue paper. Soft holiday music played from some kind of hidden speakers and there was holographic snow drifting down the walls.

“I don’t…. I don’t understand,” you said. Spinning around to face Fives who looked a little sheepish with his hand lifting up to rub at the back of his neck.

“You do so much for everyone here. Keeping us alive and healthy. You care, really care, where most people just…. don’t. I remember you telling Echo your favorite holiday when you were a kid was Life Day but that you hadn’t gotten to celebrate it for a very long time. I had the guys help me research it, so I knew what it was and then I set this up for you,” he explained. Shrugging a shoulder like this wasn’t the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for you. Like all the hours and credits, he must have spent to make this little bit of joy come true wasn’t the most incredible gift ever.

“I know it’s a few days early, but you looked like you needed this today. So, I um….” He trailed off and let his hand drop back to his side. “Do you like it?”

You can’t even bring yourself to answer. Forgetting how tired you are and how sore he probably is, you rush forward and launch yourself into his arms. Gripping him tightly as he stumbles back to catch you. Wrapping you up in a hug just as tight.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” He teased. Lips brushing beside your ear.

“Yes!” You said into his neck. “I love it Fives. Thank you. This is… this is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”

You feel him smile more than you see it. His arms flexing around you tighter. “You’re welcome love. Happy Life Day.”

“Happy Life Day Fives.”

Pulling away you smile up at him wider, tears brimming in your eyes for a whole different reason now as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. His fingers curling around your wrist as he turns his head to kiss your palm lightly. Maybe love isn’t just for fairytales and storybooks. Maybe there is hope left in this war after all.

“Fives?” 

“Yeah?”

“Did you roll your ankle putting up the lights?”

He sighs dramatically and then bursts out laughing. Scooping you up into his arms and spinning you both around as best he can before setting you back down and kissing you chastely. The softest press of his lips to yours before he’s pulling away again and winking down at you.

“It was worth it to see you smile,” he said.

You shake your head at him one more time before rising to your toes to kiss him back just as softly.

“My hero.”

“You’re mine too love.”

[brittscafe]

don’t know if you write this but, can you write some hc about fem!reader and a captain ( Kenpachi, Gin, Kensei and Shunsui, add if you want someone!) being divorced? Like them getting married because of mutual agreement or it is good for both parties when they were younger, been together to a bit before the storyline of bleach stars and divorce, reader starts working with royal guard (not being a part with them, just doing some important stuff there) and after the last war she started living at Seireitei agian so they of course see each other again, and perhaps they low key miss each other, it’s totally coll if you don’t want to! have a lovely day! 🧡

Yessss of course!! <3 I made these so damn fluffy 😭

Kenpachi:

He hasn't really thought about in years because he's kept himself busy with his squad and all.

At nights when he's lonely and trying to go to sleep is when he thinks about you.

When he hears news about you returning back to the Seireitei, he visits you at night.

One night he cannot handle missing you any longer, so he shows up on your doorstep.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've missed your pretty face."

You invite him inside for tea, knowing that he doesn't drink any.

You two engage in a very long, deep conversation that involves talk of you two possibly getting back together.

I imagine that before Kenny decides its time for him to leave, he wraps you up in a huge bear hug where his head is resting on your shoulder.

He loves the way he feels so comfortable in your embrace.

Honestly, the night probably ends with Kenny not leaving and you two ending up in bed together...

Whether you decide to stayed divorced or not is up to you...

Gin:

Says he doesn't think about you nor cares for you anymore when it's quite the opposite.

You're on his mind every second of the day.

He has trouble going to sleep without you.

Wastes in time in visiting you when he hears about your return back.

Of course, you want to take things slow so it takes off with you two meeting at places in public.

You slowly start getting more comfortable around Gin and invite him over to your home sometimes.

Is literally attached to your hip, he's kind of like a dog.

Will sleep on your couch if you let him.

Sometimes, you can hear him mumbling in his sleep about how much he's missed you.

It kind of breaks your heart because you've missed him too.

One night you allow Gin to sleep in your bed with you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him and resting his head on your chest.

Your fingers glide through his silver hair and he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

I could see you two potentially getting back together or Gin might just end up breaking your heart by betraying the Soul Society...

Kensei:

Probably the only one to keep his cool manner after all these years.

Won't admit to missing you because then he feels weak.

Since you two didn't get married out of love, Kensei felt like the divorce was easy and he thought he wouldn't bother him.

boy did his heart skip a beat when he heard you were working for the royal guard.

He does everything in his power to ignore you/ not see you.

One day, you both happen to be walking on the same path and bump into each other.

Kensei's awkward, cutting the convo short and running off with his heart pounding against his chest.

You have to take things very slow, running into each other and the convos start to get longer and they flow smoother.

You end up arranging to meet a bar and discuss things.

You both admit that you still have lingering feelings once you have alcohol in your system to ease the nerves.

You both agree to take things slow and the night ends with Kensei grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss on it as a promise to try.

Shunsui:

Hides his pain and suffering behind all his laughing and corny jokes.

Goes to the bar most often and often comes back to the barracks drunk.

Sometimes Jushiro has to take care of him and he'll cry in his lap/arms.

Buries himself in his work to forget about how much he misses spending everyday with you.

Once you come back to the Seireitei, Shunsui likes to avoid you because he's afraid of his feelings.

You probably have to go and corner him in his office.

He offers you sake and pours himself a big glass of it.

You can see that he's nervous, but he's keeping his cool.

You talk about how things were in the past, chatting and laughing as Shunsui's face grows more red.

Before the night is over, Shunsui kisses you and reignites every single feeling you've ever had for him.

Let's be honest, the two of you probably have a heated make out session with your hands exploring each other's bodies.

But then you pull away, saying how you don't want to rush things and you need to take your time.

Shunsui agrees, so you decide to start seeing each other again.

You two go out on dates, but they somehow always end up with you two making out.

It's not a bad thing, but then you two decide to set boundaries and your relationship flourishes.

[loudclan-clangen]

Yay! More lore!

They in fact cannot! Leadership is a lifelong commitment in Loudclan. Maybe they could sacrifice all but one of their lives and then just live as a normal warrior, or step down while keeping their lives, but the next leader wouldn't be able to receive their lives until the former leader was fully dead. Same goes for the Lead Healer. When they receive their lives they give up their "normal" life and become inextricably linked to Starclan/The Black Water and that's not something that can be undone.

Yes! Exactly like that! They have to die to see starclan the 1st time, this costs them their "mortal" life, so when they come back they are using their first "divine" life. When they sacrifice a life to speak to starclan they must die again in order to give the current life back, as opposed to giving up the chance of using a future life. This does mean that everytime they come back they come back slightly...different. Nothing major, they're still the same person, just like a different iteration of them. Maybe their favorite prey is different, or their dominant paw changes, minor things that no one but their closest friends and family would notice, but the leader rarely seems to notice the change.

This is going to be very vague, and I apologize for that, but if I was ever to explore one of the other clans in a blog it would be Freezingclan, so I don't want to say anything too definitively and lock myself into something I haven't fully thought out. But the answer is that no one from the other clans really knows? Freezingclan is weird, they've existed longer than all of the other clans, in fact longer than anyone can really remember, and they only decided to take the clan naming system for the ease of everyone else. They meet at gatherings and are generally quite friendly and shockingly generous, but they don't discuss their religious practices with the other clans too much, because it usually only results in confusion and fear. What I can tell you is that Freezingclan's ancestors don't go to the Black Water Pool with the rest of Starclan, as they've never been seen there and Freezingclan predates the discovery of the oil. Based on the logic of why Starclan lives in the oil (it's a pocket of eternal night) it would make sense for Freezingclan's ancestors to live in the depths of the ocean, but since their leaders don't receive lives there's really no way to prove it. It's equally possible that their ancestors just stop existing when they die and that makes the rest of the clans VERY uncomfortable so they've just stopped asking for the most part. Freezingclan certainly believes that they can communicate with them, leaving offerings of prey and herbs on the shore in exchange for plentiful hunts or healthy kits, and their Healers often slip into trances where they speak in strange languages, but no one can agree whether they are just faking it or not.

Okay, so, a lot of this ask touches on stuff that I want to cover later in backstory drops for the founders, but, I'll try to answer everything I can without spoiling anything for that! Wildfirecry is the only one who came from another Clan, he was a healer in Forestclan, which eventually collapsed, leaving him on his own. He met Fiercestripe along the way, she joined up with him, and they made their way to the valley territories. Meanwhile Owlstar and Siltsplash were born and raised in the valley. Generations of rogues, descended from kittypets who were abandoned when the mine closed, lived and died across the valley, of which Owlstar and Siltsplash were two. Owlstar was sort of a folk-hero amongst the rogues, so when he and Wildfirecry got together and decided to form a clan, many others followed. Owlstar asked the studious and strict young Siltsplash to help him keep the clan in line, and they excitedly accepted, becoming his mate and deputy. The mountain was chosen because they were seeing signs of an especially harsh winter, and it's one of the few places where the wind keeps the snow from piling several feet high. Shadedclan and Ghostclan formed for similar reasons, only they disagreed about where they should go to escape the deep snows. They absolutely did leave behind people that they miss/feel deeply guilty for leaving, but those are details for a later post!

[reveseke]

Tony, avengers & teen! BW! reader headcanons

Warnings? None really, okay maybe inhumane practice? (Talks about muzzling a teenager for biting problems. It's a suggestion, nothing that big or described tbh.) Also, this encompasses a lot more than just Tony, but I tried to keep it on Tony primarily lol.

A/N: Ssooo this had been requested by 🕷️anon. I'm so sorry this took me so long, but here it is. Also I'm all over the place at first bc background to thinking process and so on, but this was really fun! I hope you like them, I guess? :')

BW! Reader -> black widow (spiderman) reader

Okay, okay, okay okayookaylaku anyways, so I don't think Tony is big on kids (going by the movies) so it's probably Pepper and Fury who rope him into adopting reader!! I firmly believe it was Fury who placed them with the avengers & Tony, specifically to be under Tony's guardianship as a way to manage them & Tony himself bc we know Tony is a reckless fucker himself.

Character personalities based on different Earths; most notable is earth-12041 animation universe specifically, not the comics. Tony is based on the ironman sequel & E12041, Nat mentioned and is based on E12041. Pepper's personal interpretation of motherly leaning and someone's is good at getting along with others easily. Nick is a dick and based on E12041.

Sooo, now that's out of the system here's some of the headcanons :')

— Tony who was against the idea of having BW! Reader under his wing and BW! Reader who was against being in the avengers compound in general bc the avengers are still roped in with the government and so on.

-> take on hostile BW! Reader who is trying to escape every minute they're given. Someone who doesn't trust anybody and has been left to stew in their own mind for too long!!

-> que Tony somewhat sympathizing with Reader after reading into their past & family (especially if the reader didn't really have a good family to begin with.) — however, leaving the past open for now.

— I firmly believe that BW! Reader is as hostile to The Avengers as they would be to the police and such. Quite the anti government & police type of guy.

-> ALSO See the shock of the people Reader was primarily around / from the area under their protection when a journalist or someone on the net offhandly mentions that the young vigilante has been spotted around the avengers !!

-> or they take notice that the home grown vigilante has moved!! See the outrage. (Tbh, BW! Reader is either willingly getting let back to his home streets OR they escape to them.)

— Tony and the avengers are aware of Reader's reputation and I believe there's some safe precautions and jokes about them biting the team members or Tony on an average day (either from Flint or Tony himself) uhh.. yeah.

-> when I say safe precautions, see Fury having his men make a special muzzle for the reader or something alike that limits their erratic behavior.

— Also, Tony would probably be either disappointed or impressed (or both) with the reader regarding their biting habits and ways of handling the situations (which often ends with someone being killed or seriously injured).

-> And him basically being given options (that Tony sees as something that might set Reader off instead.) by Fury on how he should be handled. (See the precaution one over this one lol)

— BW! Reader who does not adjust well into the situation at first, but learns fast what he can do and cannot do and how much he can stretch and bend the rules without getting in trouble.

— Que Tony being impressed how easily he can lose track of the teen as he escaped the tower multiple times without being properly detected.

— BW! Reader who later on adjusts slowly but does no longer harbor outright hate for Tony or the Avengers, maybe to captain in some cases but still.

— tbh It would be funny if they warmed up to Pepper the first time around and Happy is the second person who was put to "babysit" them. (Maybe Nat as well? y'know shared identity name — the two widows [except Reader is probably being referred to with a secondary alias or as a BW junior/ mini BW/ Kid black widow, or just simply "BW" if they bonded. Alllsssooo, Nat helping BW! Reader with training!!])

— Also Tony having no patience or fatherly bone for Reader at first and it's Pepper counseling Tony about it. Short tempered slowly adjusting himself as well. And if BW! Reader is big on tech then random bonding time after Tony figures the teen out about it!!

— I mentioned before hand Fury putting Reader under Tony's guardianship to manage him. And I mean that, Tony's reckless and Fury thinking that having a kid under his wing might, just might actually help him keep tabs on the stubborn millionaire easier.

-> que Reader saying fuck it and refusing to speak or help out Fury on that management assignment.

— also first impressions are kinda poor imo, I don't think BW! Reader would have anything good to say about Fury or Tony. Rude, outright might get volatile.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Is Eridan’s fake attempt for land dweller genocide just a manifestation of his guilt of orphaning all those trolls? He says he wants to kill them all so they will no longer have to deal the loss of losing their parent to some finned hipster asshole?

So Eridan's life pre-SGRUB is primarily concerned with one thing: it is his Duty as a violet-blood who is close to the Heiress to feed her lusus so that it doesn't throw a tantrum and Kill Everybody. It's a manifestation not of guilt, but of anxiety.

He describes the murder he commits in pursuit of this as "all i evver done practically," and we never see him participate in a hobby he enjoys - we learn he's a hipster because Karkat calls him one, he FLARPs to fill Gl'bgolyb's belly, and people have fought with me before, but I maintain that his "interest" in military history is also just a part of his posturing/something he reads like somebody would doomscroll, as it validates his anxiety, because he only ever talks about history twice, in the vaguest possible terms, and the first time, it's just part of him posturing at Kanaya, and the second time, he's literally just. Wrong? He's just incorrect?

CA: yeah go ahead and kiss us off but therell be blood on your hands CA: you could either play along as our auspistice and do a little mediating like you wwere fuckin hatched to CA: or wwatch she and me devvolvve into fuckin full fledged kismesisses the kind like you dont get once in ten thousand swweeps CA: you knoww thats wwhat it wwould be there wwould be rainboww rivvers runnin through star systems and all nebulizin like liquid firewworks CA: it wwill be beautiful and heartbreaking all at once CA: you should read up on your history instead of poring through that godawwfull sunny rubbish

CC: None of your plots to kill t)(e land dwellers ever work out, and every doomsday device you get your )(ands on turns out to be a piece of junk! CA: so CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance

Like I just. Don't believe him when he says he's obsessed with military history when he doesn't seem to be able to name five specific battles, and thinks the main attribute a military leader needs to succeed is "persevverance". We know that Karkat's interest in romance is real because he brings it up more than twice and also starts infodumping about it to Vriska at one point, but Eridan only seems to mention it because he thinks he's supposed to care about it.

Which is pretty much, like, one of the biggest tensions in his character: how he feels he's supposed to act vs. how he actually feels about acting that way. He faces multiple pressures to be a certain person, which run counter to his actual feelings.

He has to be a murderer, because if he isn't one, then Gl'bgolyb will do a genocide on his entire species.

He has to be an unrepentant murderer, because they live in a horrible fascist murder-society where highbloods are supposed to kill lowbloods all the time for literally any reason.

He has to be the one getting his hands bloody because his ancestor, Dualscar, was also the Orphaner, and (especially highblood) trolls need to take up their ancestors' mantles.

He has to be rude and condescending to everybody else because that's how highbloods, and especially sea dwellers, have to act.

He cannot express compassion, sympathy, or pity, because sea dwellers and highbloods aren't supposed to act that way.

Magic has to be fake, because it's for shitty wigglers, and Eridan's not a wiggler anymore!

He has to be in a torrid pitch relationship because that was the most defining one Dualscar had, and he needs to complete Dualscar's unfinished business.

He has to be in a flushed relationship because Dualscar had an unrequited flushcrush on the empress, and he needs to complete Dualscar's unfinished business.

He has to hate the lowbloods because he's a highblood.

He has to hate the land dwellers because he's a sea dweller.

But wait! That's weird. He has to hate the land dwellers and lowbloods, but he's the one responsible for making sure they don't all die by keeping Gl'bgolyb full?

In truth, it would be all too easy to solve the land dweller problem once and for all. You'd just need to lighten up on the feeding schedule for a while. Maybe you'd be a little too busy to bother with that hassle for once? Or maybe you could happen to be off your game for a spell? It happens, even to the best sometimes. But nah. It would make her upset. More emotions. More problems. That's all you need.

And he has to be an unrepentant murderer even though he clearly feels more guilt for it than Feferi?

That should keep her happy for a while. And make a freshly orphaned troll somewhere pretty sad.

And you claim magic is fake idiot stuff for babies but you like it SOOOO much?

You also like MAGIC, even though you know it to be FAKE. Like a made up friend, the way wizards are. Made up make believe FAKEY FAKEY FAKES. It's still fun though.

So we can see that Eridan is basically being pulled two ways at all times.

On one hand, there's everything society says he needs to be: an unrepentant murderer, a military dictator, ruthless bloodthirsty sea-dwelling aristocracy, hater of all low bloods and land dwellers, Orphaner Dualscar's heir.

And on the other hand, there's the guy Eridan actually is: doesn't give a shit about the hemocaste, just wants friends and/or relationship partners, likes magic, like hipster stuff, kind of a tool, guilty and traumatized.

It doesn't help that the people he's surrounded by are the least likely to recognize his distress as distress - Feferi loooooves being a princess, Kanaya has never really voiced any strong opinions on the hemocaste because it largely doesn't concern her since she's a rare jade blood, and Vriska is doing a lot better than Eridan is at fitting the mold they were born into (not that she doesn't have problems, she's just doing better than Eridan, which is a low fucking bar). Even Karkat, because of his own hangups about being a mutant pariah, venerates the society he was born into, because he (wrongly) sees it as a means to gain validation so he can hate himself less. As a result, Eridan winds up with basically 0 support system, because pretty much every aspect of his life reinforces that the thing society says he should be is correct, and that there's something wrong with Eridan for being unable to meet that expectation.

Especially because, for at least all the "murderer" he's supposed to be, if he fails to meet that expectation, everybody dies. So it's not just that he's got a pushy lusus and a shitty society, like Vriska does, but that there's also the added weight that adhering to those expectations is literally, objectively, the correct thing to do, so long as he doesn't want literally everybody to die.

As a result, he's constantly trying to overcorrect his behavior and cognition to line up with what he thinks he's supposed to be. That's why he's constantly saying slurs even though he doesn't actually treat anybody differently for their caste. That's why he's constantly talking about murder and military history, even though he clearly doesn't enjoy doing either of those things. That's why he's always pushing this image of a big bad fascist wannabe, even though he actually wants to be a magic-slinging wizard.

The thing about genocide, for Eridan, is that he's already obsessed with genocide - the prevention of genocide. Keeping his species from being genocided is, without exaggeration, the most time-consuming pursuit in his life. BUT WAIT! He can't say, think, or believe that his actions are for the benefit of the land dwellers, because first of all, he feels kind of guilty about killing them, and second of all, because he's not allowed to express compassion to the people he's keeping safe. So between the stress, the cognitive dissonance, the anxiety, and the fact that Eridan doesn't really do a lot of introspection because he's so overwhelmed by emotion, his existing preoccupation with genocide is transmuted into something that's socially acceptable: "wanting all the land dwellers dead."

"[I]t would be all too easy." Indeed: if he ever slacks in his duties, they will all die. In fact, it's easier for him to let them die than to not. He clearly doesn't like doing all that killing, and it clearly makes him feel bad, and takes up a shitton of his time if nothing else, so it's probably occurred to him over, and over, and over, that maybe he should just... not! What if he just stopped.

Well, then everyone would die. Gl'bgolyb would raise her voice a little and it'd kill all the rust bloods, then the bronzes, the golds, the limes, the olives...

Wait! Is he feeling bad for them? He's not supposed to be feeling bad for the low bloods! Shit, shit, shit. Say a slur and then say something about how you WANT all the low bloods dead. PHEW. OKAY. SAFE. But that means you need to kill all the lowbloods. Because you said it, so it has to be true, and also, this is the way you're supposed to be. So, fuck, well, go commission a doomsday device. Okay, done. PHEW. It probably doesn't work, but nobody can say you didn't try! Hooray, you did it! You have performed a Sea Dweller Action! Oh it's time to go kill some people again. Damnit. Killing people sucks. It makes you feel bad, and it takes up so much of your time. What if you just didn't...

And we can see this with the way his lust for genocide is described. There's no mention of why he hates the land dwellers, no mention of how he believes society will improve with them gone, or even what they're doing that's so bad in the first place. He rambles at Feferi about "keeping the bloodlines pure" at one point, but this is clearly contradicted by him stating he wouldn't kill Kanaya, because what sort of friend would he be? (And the fact that he cares about Kanaya, Vriska, and the anon-blooded Karkat, who could be literally any blood color, at all!)

So yeah, like, the thing is, he doesn't want to kill them all. He even calls himself out for knowing his latest doomsday plot was a bust from the start:

You are almost starting not to care about this stupid doomsday device which probably won't even work. She probably KNOWS you know it won't work. She has probably put all the pieces together and knows it was an elaborate ruse to be in cahoots with her again.

And so does Feferi:

CC: None of your plots to kill t)(e land dwellers ever work out, and every doomsday device you get your )(ands on turns out to be a piece of junk! CA: so CA: i got to keep tryin thats howw all the great military masterminds became great through upright persevverance CC: I t)(ink deep down you stack t)(ese plots against you so you fail because you know it's wrong.

And here he is outright contradicting his stated goal of killing the land dwellers because, jegus, he'd never kill his friends:

CA: but somethin thatll kill all land dwwellers wwhat else wwould i be after GA: Can You Just For A Moment Entertain The Thoughts Of One Untouched By Megalomaniacal Derangement And Tell Me Why Id Want To Assist You With That CA: wwell CA: im not goin to vvery wwell kill you am i that wwould be fuckin unconscionable CA: wwhat kind of friend wwould i be

And a reminder that one of his closest friends at this point in time is Karkat, whose blood color is currently anonymous to his friend group, meaning he could be literally any blood color and Eridan wouldn't want him dead:

CC: You know, I'm not sure w)(y we never talk about our romantic aspirations. CC: We s)(ould more often. It is kind of -EXCITING! CA: shrug CC: Probably because you fill your gossip quota wit)( your nubby )(orned bro.

But Karkat also explicitly lumps himself in with the low bloods, so Eridan can't even use the excuse that Karkat might be nobility (but sea dwellers are still suppose to hate land dwelling nobility so that still wouldn't be a defense EVEN IF it was true):

CG: CHALK IT UP AS ANOTHER INFURIATING VICTORY FOR GUTTER BLOOD OVER ARISTOCRACY.

Because Eridan does not want to genocide the land dwellers. He's just anxious.

[thebibliosphere]

So, I've been getting a few "hey, so now you're fixed, you're going to write books faster now, right?" type messages, and hmmm. That's a loaded word right there. "Fixed."

Yeah, not too keen on that word.

What I assume these people mean to do is congratulate me on finding out a major cause of distress and illness in my life and offer well wishes for my continued relief and recovery. I assume that's what was really meant. But just to entertain the first part of that ask, no, I am not "fixed."

There is no "fixing" the kind of chronic illness or disabilities I have. My ailments are genetic and lifelong, and if you're new here, newly diagnosed at the start of the pandemic, so my treatment thus far has been limited. Most of it is things I have pieced together myself.

That I've been able to do anything over the last year when I suffered 215+ migraine days on top of the connective tissue disorder I have, and the other condition that causes spontaneous anaphylaxis--not to mention the unmedicated ADHD I cannot treat with meds (yet)--is nothing short of miraculous.

So, now that my migraines are improving thanks to finding out I have binocular vision disorder on top of all the other stuff, will I be writing books faster?

I can only hope so.

But I also cannot say, "yes, absolutely, one book a year from here on out," because I just do not have the physical and mental capacity to guarantee that. Nor am I going to inflict that kind of mental and physical torture on myself (again) because it's the exact kind of thing that causes my health to crash and burn. And here's the thing:

Every time I burn myself out. Every time I push myself too far to keep up, it takes longer and longer to recover. The harder I push myself, the fewer books I will produce. That's the truth of it.

So I get it, it's frustrating. You want more of the fun thing (and thank you so much for loving what I do!), but you'll have to bear with me a little bit longer.

I am finding my stride as a multiply disabled creator, and I've spent the last two years untangling the guilt and imposter syndrome I experience over being "popular" but not being well enough to produce work at the same pace as everyone else around me.

I have worked out a system that I hope will be sustainable instead of leading to the continuous cycle of burnout I was trapped in for 10+ years as an editor. I have safety nets and supports in place that I didn't have before, and hopefully, those will help too. Time will tell.

Am I excited to get back to work? Absolutely. I'm ecstatic at the prospect of having fewer migraine days and more coherent brain days. But I'm also going to take my time to enjoy the process as well. I'd like to enjoy the things I write too. And I hope you can appreciate that.

So thank you for understanding, and for your patience. If you decide you can't wait, I'll understand. But please don't send authors, even able-bodied, neurotypical ones, messages like that. It's unkind. And I don't think any of you mean to be unkind.

[dreamingofagalaxy]

The Red Field (AM x Reader)

summary: AM manages to experience sleep for the first time, however, in his dreams he is able to meet with you after a long time. Reader is supposed to be a soldier and one of the researchers working on developing AM. However, on a complex mission they are KIA...or so it seems?

warnings: mentions of dead

a/n: so...this was supposed to be part of a bigger and better developed story, but I'll post it nonetheless. Perhaps I'll be able to post the full story in the future. Also, english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes or if something doesn't makes much sense

AM is asleep, or at least, that's what it seems and feels like for him. He knows there's no point in allowing himself this rest, for it would do nothing to improve his thinking process or ability to come up with better strategies for the days to come. He is programed to work all day long, he knows and so the algorithm reminds him. He has a war to win —an important task that allows no resting spaces.

Normally, he would just put the word 'rest' aside from his thoughts and bury it deep into his system. He is no human, which means he is no soldier. He is machine, which means no resting is needed. That is a logical thinking, which means he is following his programming —a machine working properly. Yet here he is, with his mind blank. He is resting. Somehow. At last...

AM loses track of time, which is impossible for him according to his programming. He can only focus on the blank projections of his mind and the soothing vibrations of his system which, at the moment, doesn't require as much energy as it normally does. If a word could describe this, it would be 'peace' —ironically.

The blank projection begins fading slowly and a new image appears. AM visualizes the sky, it's bright blue tone in company with that yellowish and enormous star that he had read about before. It was the perfect image, but it lackedbsomething. AM searches in his vast archives and it finally comes up. In the sky, white figures with a soft and vaporous appearance are drawn. AM stares at them, noticing their slow motion. Now it is perfect.

AM is satisfied with his projection of a sky. He looks down then, encountering an endless field of red. He decides to look closer and recognizes what his mind is trying to project. Between what appears to be his hand—a kind of metallic claw—, AM takes one of the delicate objects emerging from the ground, analyzing it carefully. It is one of those flowers that you had described to him in one of your many talks, a Lycoris radiata.

He admires the bright red color of the petals and the long shape of the stamens. It was indeed a beautiful flower as you had described them to him. Now AM could understand why you called them your favorite ones.

AM begins to walk through the field calmly while still admiring the characteristics of each flower. Like a child discovering the outside world for the first time, he would occasionally stop to admire a single flower for a longer amount of time, for although they were all of the same species, there was something that attracted him more.

AM begins to imagine what these flowers would feel like, because although he can touch them, his hands do not have the ability to actually feel. He curses and almost on impulse, he violently plucks the flowers nearby.

“They’re my favorite ones,” he can hear your voice full of joy as you told him that, the sound of it making him stop and keep his claws away from the delicate flowers. AM cannot determine what exactly those words provoked in him, but he knows that in a certain way, they have prevented him from falling into that strange sensation that clouded his thinking from time to time.

AM decides to move on. As he walks a little further, he manages to visualize another figure a few meters away. He approaches curiously and the closer he gets, the more clear it becomes to him. He's not alone even in his mind.

When he is finally there, he can only ask himself why have you appeared on his dream. You're laying down on your side with your arms and legs flexed in a fetal position as the red flowers surround your body. Your eyes are closed and your expression is serene. You're at peace, in this field of your favorite flowers. It is a beautiful scene and perhaps one that AM had to see.

When AM was made aware of your departure, he could only guess what would happen next to you. He knew that certain humans thought of something called the afterlife, a place where their souls would rest forever, while others thought that there was nothing else beyond life — a boring but logical thought. AM had no say in the matter, for he would never experience that. He would never had a certain answer about your whereabouts, yet you were here now. Resting. As he had learned humans did.

AM kneels down and carefully places the flower he had picked up behind your ear. He had read before that some humans did that, though he couldn't find a logical explanation of such weird action. You didn't seem to be bothered by his gesture, as you continued resting.

AM lays down next to you, copying your resting position and facing you. The image of the blue sky turns white, leaving both of you in this endless red field.

AM had never experienced sensations. He couldn't even tell if he was actually sentient. But being here, with you, was the closest thing that matched and felt like the definition of peace.

Your life had always been marked by war. You both had existed for that purpose. But even if he never could reach afterlife or whatever place you were alive now, at least he was now certain that you also would exist in his mind forever.

“It doesn't matter if I leave,” you had told him. “I will always be with you since your system can't forget me. Unless you erase me from your archives, of course.” You had laughed that day and promised to come back like you always did.

Some weeks passed since you had left and AM came to a realization — he had been deceived, even betrayed, when he waited for you to come back and you never showed up. But here you were again and as he looked at your peaceful expression he could only admit he had been wrong all along, perhaps for the first time in his damned existence.