#the warm greys and the blues with like a tiny bit of yellow......

[vxmp111re]

Here's to never growing up || Jegulus

James Potter x Regulus Black - In which the Marauders are a group of crime fighting vigilantes.

Basically Marauders in the DCU!

Blog masterlist | Fic masterlist

2.0k words!

CHAPTER ONE - NOT-SO-WARM WELCOME

11:27pm.

Regulus Black was mad. 

Now at 19, he had finally reclaimed his spot as Robin. But of course, now he had a name to live up to. The oh-so-great Sirius Black had essentially graduated being Robin with flying colours, now going under the moniker of ‘Nightwing’. That was supposed to be Regulus’ spot. His name. He was supposed to be the best, whoever came after Regulus was supposed to live up to his name. Regulus Black should not be living in the shadow of someone else.

But as Batman said, I am the shadows.

Only thing was… Regulus was not Batman. Nor was he Nightwing. He was simply Robin. Batman’s scrawny little sidekick. Sure it was fine when he was 9, but being 19 and still training as a sidekick… a little humiliating, no? 

But that’s not why Regulus was mad. He was mad because he was getting ready to go on patrol with his father, but his Robin suit had been ruined after a run in with a group of gang members so both Orion and Kreacher, the family’s butler who, in Regulus’ eyes,  should had passed on 1000 years ago, insisted that he should just wear his old Robin suit.

The only issue was, Regulus was no longer the tiny, skinny boy he used to be. He had grown into his features now, he was much taller now (thank, gods) and had some muscle on what used to be bony arms. And not to toot his own horn, but Regulus was considerably more handsome than he was when he was 9 years old. Now having a sharper face with tired, grey  eyes, he had grown his hair out a bit, letting the curls hang around his face, he was now considered, to Lily at least, the ‘perfect cocktail of a perfect man’.

Not that it meant much from Lily. It was the equivalent of a person calling a puppy cute or your mother telling you how handsome you look in a tuxedo that was two sizes too small coming from Lily. She was always doting on Regulus, telling him what a pretty boy he was. It felt like he was a pet, to be honest.

The other issue was that… the suit was absolutely atrocious and Regulus had no idea why he ever wore it in the first place. The red, green and yellow were so garish and contrasted awfully with Regulus’ pale skin, giving him a grey look. Not to mention the fact that he was literally wearing green underwear. Why in the world was he even allowed out in that? 

“This is ghastly,” Regulus muttered under his breath. He had just come out of the shower, his towel wrapped around his waist as he stared at the costume laying flat on his bed, thanks to Kreacher. 

“I can’t not wear a costume, though,” he sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

His grumbling was interrupted by two loud voices.

Sirius and someone else. Regulus didn’t recognise the other voice. He rolled his eyes at the yelling.

“Did you see the way he hit the wall?!” Sirius laughed.

“Mhm! And when the bag broke when he tried to run!” the new voice cackled. His voice was cocky and deep. “The money went everywhere!”

The voices and laughter got louder, nearing Regulus’ room.

“I’m gonna go change out of the suit,” Sirius told the other guy.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll stay here,” the voice responded. 

Sirius walked past Regulus’ room, nodding to the younger boy as he looked into the open door. 

“Hi, Reggie,” Sirius grinned.

“Don’t call me that,” Regulus grumbled quickly in response. Sirius simply snorted as he strutted past. He was in his blue and black Nightwing suit. Normally, Regulus would consider the suit obnoxious, Sirius specifically made it tighter in some areas, but now he couldn’t complain, not with the ridiculous little gymnastics attire lying before him.

Surely, Father and Kreacher know I’m too big for this stupid suit, he thought to himself. His internal cursing was quickly interrupted.

“Reggie, huh?”

“Sirius, for the last time, stop calling-,” Regulus whipped around to lock eyes with someone who was absolutely not Sirius. Instead it was a boy, a very pretty boy, with a mischievous grin plastered on his face, leaning on Regulus’ door frame. He was extremely good looking; dark brown, almost black curls framed the warm brown of his face, making him look like those pictures of colourised Greek gods. He had dried blood on his upper lip, making Regulus realise he’d been punched in the face,  and glasses on. Shame, it felt like the glasses were blocking a perfectly good view.

“So, you’re the little Boy Wonder?”  the boy smirked and crossed his arms, making Regulus notice the outline of his biceps from under his blue suit.

“You could put it that way,” Regulus muttered. He hated the nickname ‘Boy Wonder’, he wasn’t a child anymore, there was no reason for the news to continue calling him that.

“How would you put it?” The boy tilted his head. His curls fell over his eyes, making Regulus’ breath hitch.

“Robin is acceptable,” he mumbled. 

Regulus never mumbled.

“Not Boy Wonder, not Reggie, gosh, you’re boring,” a sigh escaped the mystery boy’s mouth.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I’m not boring. Anyway, who are you and why are you in my room?”

“James Potter, y’know, Superboy,” the boy grinned. “I work with your brother.”

Regulus looked at the suit he was wearing. A Supersuit. Oh, gods, that James. 

Regulus sighed. “Oh, I know about you,” he grumbled. “Sirius won’t stop talking about you.”

“Good things I hope,” James grinned. A bit of dried blood fell off his lip and onto the ground, making Regulus grimace. Kreacher had just cleaned the floor.

“Do you need something for…?,” Regulus gestured to James’ face.

James quickly shook his head. “Makes me look more rugged, y’know?” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you gonna do anything about that?” James gestured to Regulus’ towel.

His face went red, realising he was still very much naked under the towel.

“Well, I would if you would get out of my room,” Regulus said rather defensively while frowning. 

“Shame,” James pouted exaggeratedly. “But you didn’t seem to be complaining the whole time I’ve been here.”

“Just get out,” Regulus pointed at the door.

“Boooo-ring,” James said in a sing-song voice as he walked out the room. “You’re hotter than Sirius.”

Regulus’ face heated up again.

“I heard that!” Sirius’ voice called from his room.

“It’s the truth!” James started walking down the hall to Sirius’ room after shutting the door. Regulus could hear their muffled argument through the door.

The boy rolled his eyes, deciding he’d skip out on patrol today. No amount of praise from his father would be worth putting on that ridiculous costume. He might as well go out in his underwear. Regulus scrubbed his hand over his face before changing into a shirt and tracksuit pants, planning to go read a book instead of fighting some idiot criminals. Not like he provided much help to Batman.

Not the way Sirius did, at least.

He walked into the hallway, still hearing Sirius and James yelling about God knows what.

“Dumbasses,” Regulus grumbled. He walked into the library, James’ voice still echoing in his ear.

‘You’re hotter than Sirius.’

He was joking. 

Obviously. 

Probably.

But who would think Sirius Black’s scrawny little brother was hotter?

But Sirius had told stories about James to Regulus. His recklessness, he seemed awfully cocky, like he had everything handed to him. 

Not that Regulus didn’t, but James seemed like it got to his head. No one who was that close with Sirius would have an ounce of modesty in their body, at least that’s what Regulus thought. James was awfully loud.

Regulus didn’t fancy loud people.

He sat down in a large plush armchair, picking up the book he was reading and a pen to annotate.

Regulus couldn’t hear the older boys yelling anymore.

His reading was disrupted by a loud alarm.

A distress alarm.

‘The Justice League is missing. The Justice League is missing. Batman has been taken.’  The automated voice rang around the house.

The book fell out of Regulus’ hand and thumped to the ground.

Sirius and James burst through the door.

“Oh, thank gods, I know you’d be here, if you weren’t on patrol. Thought you were with Father,” Sirius panted, a panicked look on his face. 

“What happened?” Regulus frowned.

“Dunno, seems like there’s a new villain now,” Sirius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And they’ve taken Father?” Regulus crossed his arms.

Sirius nods and James sighed and  scrubbed his hands over his face.

“And the rest of the League,” James groaned. “They took my dad as well.”

“Oh, come on, no one is possibly strong enough to take out the entire League,” Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Regulus, be serious, this is an emergency,” Sirius shot Regulus a glare.

In all honesty, Regulus wasn’t too fussed. Mostly because it gave him a chance to prove himself to his father and the rest of the League. He’d finally have a chance to prove that he was just as good as Sirius, Robin is just as heroic as Nightwing. 

But also, some part of Regulus, a very deep, dark part of Regulus, was glad his father was taken. No more pressure to be as good as Sirius. He could finally be just Regulus, not the second Robin.

He was having some very conflicting feelings.

Regulus huffed out a short breath. “Does this villain have a name?”

“Kind of,” Sirius grimaced.

“What the hell do you mean kind of, how can you only have kind of a name?” Regulus threw his arms up in exasperation.

“I dunno, he’s going by You-Know-Who!” Sirius exclaimed, in just as much frustration.

“You-Know-Who?!” Regulus asked in a rather accusing tone, as if it were Sirius’ fault that the villain went by such a ridiculous moniker.

“You-Know-Who?” James repeated. “What a stupid name! No, I do not know who, all I know is that he’s taken my dad!”

“Calm down,” Regulus and Sirius snapped in unison.

James immediately shut up.

“He gave us a stupid riddle to solve to find out where he is,” Sirius sighed.

“Are you sure it isn’t The Riddler dressed up differently?” Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“Do you honestly think The Riddler could take out the entire League?” Sirius asked.

Regulus opened his mouth then paused. “Touché. Anyway, what’s the riddle?”

Sirius pulled out a piece of paper with a messy scrawl on it, like he’d been writing in a hurry.

“I’m in a place of rest, but not sleep,” he read out loud.

“What?” James moaned. “That’s stupid.”

“Lots of things are stupid right now,” Regulus said to him, flatly. “A graveyard?”

“That… yeah, that makes sense,” Sirius frowned. “Whatever, we need to make a plan with the Marauders,” Sirius turned to James.

“Wait, you’re gonna do this without me?” Regulus’ face dropped. He looked much younger now. Sad. Like when Sirius would walk past his room and see him crying in the middle of the night.

“You’re not ready,” Sirius sighed. James chewed his lip, like he wanted to say something.

“You’re joking!” Regulus crossed his arms again.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you!”

“I’m nineteen, not eleven!” Regulus snapped. Sirius looked taken aback by Regulus’ tone.

“Sirius, maybe… maybe he can help,” James put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder and squeezed. Sirius shrugged him off.

“Fine,” Sirius said in a tight voice. “Welcome to the Marauders.”

Sirius placed his hand on both of Regulus’ shoulders, as if he was knighting him.

“This is only temporary,” he added quickly.

“Sirius, I-,” Regulus started.

“Temporary.”

Regulus sighed but nodded.

James’ face dropped, as if he didn’t like the tension in the room.

“Welcome to the crew, little man,” James joked in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood and nudged Regulus’ side with his elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” Regulus barked.

“My bad.”

Regulus felt weird. This was not the circumstances he wanted to join the Marauders in. It’s better than nothing though. 

Even if it was temporary.

eek!

NEXT PART

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

i could go on forever about how much i love ruby vroom like purely from a visual standpoint ,,,,, aughfhhgg its so pretty and nice i adore it

[m1rotics]

the act of wanting

seonghwa x fem!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings: nonconsensual drugging (reader receiving), noncon, sir kink, lil spit play, heavily implied cannibalism, seonghwa's a wee bit mean, trampling, light breath play, masturbation, thigh riding, humping, heavily implied dom/sub dynamics, mouth inspection, red flags all over the place, reader doesn't suspects anything at the end.

the wind bites at your skin, the tip of your nose. it seeps through the thin fabric of the dress. baby blue satin. painfully thin. you suppress a shiver, running your fingers over the goosebumps on your arms. the white fur stole keeps your shoulders warm at best, and the pearls wrapped around your neck are nothing but tiny ice cubes pressed against your skin. the necklace feels too tight, the dress feels too loose, your heels feel uneven. everything feels all out of sorts. all wrong. passer-bys create gusts of wind that leave your teeth chattering as a result.

the city bustles around you. cars passing, headlights blinding. people chattering as you pass, streetlights wrapping everything in a yellow film. the sidewalk is still damp from hours-old rain, puddles drying up in the middle. the air is thick. your feet ache. you wish the bus could just drop you off directly in front of his house, saving you from all this effort.

you're going to be late.

the realization hits you as you stand at the street-corner, waiting for the red light so you can pass. you check your phone as you cut through, narrowly avoiding getting hit by a taxi that races past, kicking up water. you have around twenty five minutes, and you're certainly not going to make it within that time frame. you mutter curses as you continue forward. that could've been you in the backseat of a cab, lounging in the warmth of a heater. however, money is tight, and you blew the rest of your spending money on takeout yesterday.

do you regret it?

a little.

would you do it again?

absolutely.

you check your phone again, joints screaming from the movement, but you need to make sure you're going the right way— luckily, you are.

you're heading into the nicer part of town now. where the houses are all well-kept and they’re surrounded by nice little picket fences. three stories, brightly colored. lawns so damn big, you'd make it less than half-way before running out of breath. their grass is all properly maintained.

the grass truly is greener on the other side, who would've thought?

you still have about ten more minutes till you reach his house.

seonghwa's house.

seonghwa.

the name bounces around in your head, sits in the hollow of your throat. it's a pretty name. still, trepidation coils around your bones. what if this doesn't go well? what if he's crazy and no one sees you again? he seems sweet from what you know through messages and occasionally calling. proper. handsome. he looked well off in profile, but you didn't expect this level of luxury. already, you feel so out of place like someone's gonna come out and order you to go back to where you come from.

soon, his house comes into view and it's different from the rest— it's huge, insanely big. mansion big. far too big for one person. your entire family could fit in there and still have room. it's far off from the rest, isolated. the house is painted a blackish-grey, contrasting from all the mint greens and yellows you saw earlier. it looks antiquated compared to the rest. dreary. his porch is plain. empty mostly. you take a second to make sure you look decent at the door, fixing your makeup, adjusting your dress. you ring the doorbell and take a step back.

it takes him a bit to answer the door, and you gawk when he finally does. he's bewitching; a siren trapped in human skin. straight nose, defined cheekbones, tan skin, plush lips. his black hair reaching his neck, and curling around his face. a gold chain sitting around his neck with a sanguine velvet suit. he looks decadent. regal. money made man.

pictures did not do him justice.

he regards you with mild interest, his eyes black and chamsic. sharp enough to gut you. he gives you a quick once-over.

“you're late,” he notes. curt in nature. you startle.

his voice is molasses thick. molten gold. you shift from foot to foot, fumbling with your purse. uneasy.

“the trip took me longer than expected,” you admit.

he nods, stares for a second, inscrutable, then steps to the side, “come in, you must be freezing.”

you walk in slowly, warmth encompassing you the further you go. you let out a sigh of relief. tension melting off of you.

“your place is really nice,” you comment as you glance around.

it's more modern than you thought it would be, definitely renovated over time. it's huge but that's not surprising anymore. most of his furniture is black with hints of gray. an occasional splash of white to break up the monotony. you don't want to seem nosy, so you try not to look around too much. it's clean, lacks pictures of any friends or family. there's an empty glass on the coffee table, a blanket thrown on the couch. you hear him shut and lock the door behind you. he strolls past you.

“thank you, you can leave the stole in here. i'm incredibly sorry for the mess,” he murmurs, folding the blanket and setting it on the sofa, “i was reading in here before you came.”

“oh, really? what were you reading?” you say, as you place the stole on the arm of his couch.

“a star wars book,” he replies honestly, and turns to lead you through a hall, and you have to muffle a chuckle. not because you're making fun of him, but because it's cute.

“I've heard so much about star wars, but i've never been able to get into it.”

“if you're willing, the next time you come over we could watch one.”

“even if i don't understand anything,” you tease.

“i'll tell you everything you need to know,” he rebuts easily.

“then it's settled,” you agree.

seonghwa leads you to the dinner table and it's made of tempered glass. you were sure it was gonna be some type of expensive wood painted black. the chair is soft, velvety, cushioning you as you settle into it.

“enough about that, you walked here?” he pulls your chair out for you when you reach the dinner table.

“well, not the entire time, I took the bus at first and then walked the rest of the way.” you explain.

he pushes you in, and you expect him to leave, but then his hands drop to your shoulders and he bends down to mutter, “i forgot to tell you how stunning you look at the door, i hope you don't find me rude.”

his warm breath caresses the back of your ear, brushing along your neck and you shiver. he's so close, too close, and he lingers. waiting.

you don't move a single inch, stuck staring at the empty plate laid out before you, counting silverware. gooseflesh threatens to break out over your skin.

“oh, um, it's fine,” you swallow, shaken by the sudden close proximity, “thank you, you look amazing too.”

his hands run over the bare skin of your shoulder and up to skim over the pearls around your neck as he stands up straight, “good, good. I'll go grab something to drink, is wine okay?”

you blink, “um, yeah, it's perfect.”

seonghwa excuses himself to the kitchen and whatever string holding you taut loosens. you slump, hands falling into your lap, hitting your purse with a soft thud. the racing of your heart makes your chest warm. the uncomfortable type of warmth that feels an awful-like fear. you chalk it up to nerves. first date jitters. especially given how drop dead gorgeous he is. he looks like he should be on runways, dripping dior and speckled with gold.

he comes back with a bottle, and pours your drink first. he fills his glass and sits down, puts his arm on the table and rests his cheek in his palm. shooting you a warm smile, you smile back. common courtesy. you take a small sip, and find that it's surprisingly sweet. he has good taste.

“tell me about yourself,” he says, “it'll pass the time while the food finishes cooking.

conversation comes easy after that, your nerves calming the more you tell him about working for your psychology degree, specializing in children's psychology, and in the meantime you're working at a little daycare. you tell him you moved further into the city to pursue your education, and that your family lives around an hour away.

“is there a story behind your choice of career?”

“no,” you confess, “i just like kids and i wanted to do something useful. i've always wanted to do something helpful.”

“you're perfect for the job if that's your mindset.” he replies.

he asks about your hobbies, and you happily tell him that you dabble in different types of art. your favorite would probably be drawing, but you also enjoy painting occasionally.

he admits that he writes a little.

poetry, he says, takes a sip of his wine with a little flush to his cheeks.

“I'm not any good, but it's something I like indulging in sometimes,” he mutters.

“well, if you're ever comfortable, i'd love to read some.”

you find out that he's a ceo through family connections. which, you have to stifle a chuckle because how cliche. he makes a point to clarify that he does actually manage things in the office and he does take his job seriously. you giggle, and give a totally-not-sarcastic sureeee which manages to get a laugh out of him.

it's melodical, soothing to the ears, and you wouldn't mind hearing it again.

you find he cooks to pass time, and at the moment, he's making steak. a beep sounds from the kitchen, and he excuses himself to grab it out of the oven.

he emerges with two plates in hand, smoke rising from them. they smell heavenly, you might float out of your seat with your nose pointing up cartoon style. your mouth waters when he sets the plate in front of you. the steak is drizzled in a thin red sauce and peppered with asparagus.

“did someone teach you how to cook?” you ask after taking a sip of your wine.

“I used to cook with my mother,” it's painfully frigid. all that previous fondness lost, bleeding disdain at the edges.

ashamed and slightly embarrassed at ruining the mood this early on, you fall quiet, cutting into your steak. it cuts clean, easily, straight through like butter. medium rare. the meat falls apart in your mouth, tender, juicy. delicious. it's different though. you don't think you've had whatever this is before. when you look up, you find seonghwa already looking at you, smiling. his food untouched. you're just happy whatever that was before is gone now. flushed down the drain, wiped clean. a new canvas. that movement of bitterness wished away.

“is it good?”

“good?” you scoff, “this is literally gourmet, are you sure you're not a famous five star chef, and you're just not telling me?”

seonghwa chuckles, deep and gauzy, “nope, just a corporate worker.”

“i don't believe that,” you snicker, “but if you insist, i'll take your word.”

“i’ll take what i can get.”

it’s silent after that, and you take to finishing your steak, but the more you shovel into your mouth, the more meat starts to taste like meat. fleshy and real and irrevocably meat. you make it half-way before your curiosity gets the best of you.

“what type of meat is this?”

“if i recall correctly,” he drawls, cutting into his steak. his silence stretches excruciatingly long. your fingers tighten around your fork.

“it's beef,” he says, lifting a piece to his mouth.

“for a second, I thought you were going to say human or something,” you quip.

seonghwa cocks his head, amused. blinks at you real slow as he chews. lazy and feline.

“you never know,” he replies.

seonghwa's smile gets eerie after that, the edges too sharp, showing too many teeth. it looks like it hurts. like his cheeks are contorted, stretched thin. uncanny. in the light, it looks like his lips are stained red, you tell yourself, it's just the wine. you can see the flex of his jaw, the slow, deliberate chews. meticulously grinding it down.

the moment drags on. seconds turning to minutes. or maybe a minute, but right now, it feels like hours.

you shift in your seat, stomach churning, a sour taste in your mouth. you take a gulp of wine to negate it. it doesn't work, and it makes you nauseous. it's too sweet. it causes the richness of the meat to stand out, staining your taste buds.

you can see the exact moment he swallows, it's like x-ray vision. you follow it down the length of his throat, his adam's apple bobbing as it works. you watch till you physically have to force your gaze away to look him in the eyes.

you're going crazy, you must be. you don't know why you're so on edge. he hasn't done anything. he made a joke. you can take a joke, it's normal. this is normal. it should be funny.

you suck in a deep breath, eyelashes fluttering.

you give a non-committal hum in replace of an answer. attempting to focus on one problem at a time. your food is good. well, it was, but you're hurtling into that territory where good morphs into bad. it's starting to repulse you, each bite a chore, you chew as little as possible. something about tastes too… you can't describe it. too sweet, too raw, too much. it's not right. you're queasy, there's pressure in the back of your throat. your stomach is pulsing, threatening, begging to hurl everything back up.

“are you okay?”

his voice sounds muffled, distant, like you're underwater and your ears are stuffed with cotton. time creeps by. your eyes dart to his, you swallow, blinking, “I'm not- I don't feel too good.”

a hand touches your shoulder, and you jump.

when did he get so close?

“do you need anything?”

“no, i don't think so,” you mumble, shaking your head.

you try to shrug him off and rise from your seat, planning to excuse yourself to the bathroom for a breather or something. but as soon as you're up on your feet, the world spins and your head begins to pound. you stumble forward, and seonghwa steadies you with a strong hand. you sag into him, forehead pressed against his chest. your head feels fuzzy. your thoughts static, dead line. you can't think straight, but seonghwa's so warm. so, so warm and he smells so good. tangy, citrusy. you can taste it in the back of your mouth, sticking to the back of your throat. his suit is soft against your cheek, and you fist it as you try to keep yourself up.

“sorry,” you murmur, “i’m so sorry.”

you don't realize how silent he's gone until he's shushing you, swaying the two of you. side to side. he's firm beneath you, steely and strong. a pillar propping you up.

there's something buzzing underneath your skin. unbridled energy turning into pure heat. it starts from the outside in, cooking you slowly. you feel gooey inside. center soft, ready to be bit into. sweat pricks at your forehead.

“seong…hwa, I feel hot,” you huff, thoughts foggy, and you feel his chuckle. it rumbles through him like the purr of a cat.

“I think you're getting a fever, sweetheart, do you want to lay down? you can use my bed.”

you nod, and seonghwa guides you through the house on wobbly legs. you're like a new-born fawn, hobbling and tripping over yourself. his room is nice, dark. clean. the smell is clement. neutral, almost. pleasant. he lays you down as gently as possible, and you melt into the mattress. you kick off your heels, and they hit the floor with a small thump. his bed smells like him but fainter, you bury your nose into his pillow. seonghwa clicks on a bedside lamp.

“do you need anything?” he asks, running a hand over your back, tickling your spine, and you squirm.

“I don't think so,” you whisper, hazy and small, blinking up at him.

seonghwa beams, eyes crinkling with sheer delight,“ oh, aren't you a sweet little thing?”

the praise racks through you, glides down your throat like syrup, and you shudder. it makes the heat worse. it turns blistering, boiling, like you're going to burst at the seams.

“seonghwa, don't feel good,” you sob, “make it stop.”

“you want me to help you?” he asks, and you nod with a flimsy mhm.

“get up,” he orders.

you hesitate.

seonghwa clicks his tongue, “I don't have all day. get up.”

pushing yourself off the bed takes tremendous effort. you're trembling, so much weaker than you normally are. still, the heat burns bright, and you're determined to listen because he said he'll help. he said he'll make it better. even if you don't know how exactly he'll do it.

you're wobbly on your feet, weak in the knees.

seonghwa sits on the edge of the bed, leaving space between his legs for you, “come here.”

you shuffle closer.

“on your knees.”

your knees sting from the impact. the hardwood doesn't help.

“you want my help?”

you nod eagerly and seonghwa laughs. the sound ringing in the air like heaven's bells.

“then ask politely, use your words,” he instructs, voice firm.

“please, help me,” you breathe.

“look at how lovely you are,” he intones, and cups your cheek, “you listen so well.”

a low whine crawls out of your throat.

seonghwa tuts, “when i compliment you, you say ‘thank you, sir.’ pretty things like you should always use their manners.”

you try to respond. you really do, but the words catch in your throat. your tongue isn't cooperating. instead some disfigured groan comes out, and seonghwa’s nails dig into your cheeks, punishing.

“spit it out,” he barks.

“t-thank you, sir,” you splutter. more pathetic than usual. too much breath, too shaky.

seonghwa doesn't respond, just hums. pleased. slowly runs his thumb over your bottom lip. he does it leisurely, takes his time, really looks at you. from your eyes, your nose, to your lips, the. back up. he slides his thumb in– you let him, opening wide. his gaze falls back down. his presses his thumb against your tongue, stroking it like he's petting a cat. he does it painfully slow. like time doesn't exist anymore, like the world has come to halt and night will last forever.

you think you try to talk because he shushes you, plush lips pulled into a tiny frown.

two fingers find their way inside your mouth, and plunge so deep down your throat. you can't help but gag. an unceremonious punishment. you take it in stride. seonghwa coos, entranced with how fast your eyes glaze over. you look so brittle, so doll-like. he hooks his fingers over your tongue, and holds them there, letting you swallow around them.

his fingers trail over your molars, lingering on each one.

“you did so well,” he sighs, “finished your plate. most people don't even make it half-way, they can't handle it, but you did. you’re so sweet, so good without trying.”

you gurgle a thanks around his fingers. you don't understand, can barely remember what he's talking about, but you know what praise sounds like when you hear it. you feel like you're floating. cloud nine. sky-high. the praise slinks down in between your legs, gathering in your chest. pure warmth. heartburn. you need him to do something about it, you need him to make it better. his fingers press into your incisors, dragging along the length of them. almost like he's measuring each one.

he pulls back to palms himself leisurely, leans all his weight on one hand. crests the outline of it. back and forward, forward and back. keeps the rolling of his hips nice and smooth. he's scrupulous, attentive. teasing. he's tenting his pants, a bit of a wet spot staining the nice fabric. he keeps his breathing steady, worries his lip.

his tongue begins to poke out in concentration, cheeks ruddy.

he pulls back to unbutton his pants, unzipping his fly to take out his cock. it's pretty– that's the only word to accurately describe it, long and a tad bit tanner than him. the tip flushed scarlet, beading pre-cum. your mouth waters, and you lean forward. just to get a taste, but seonghwa tsks and tugs your hair. not enough to hurt, but enough to sting.

“don’t touch.”

you want to protest, to scream and cry, and take him fully into your mouth anyway. but you're too dopey, too dumb, these ideas are fleeting. what's normally achievable seems far fetched now. your limbs are far too heavy to move willingly.

seonghwa extends his hand, and you stare.

“spit.”

you listen, collecting saliva on your tongue and drooling into his palm. his barely lubed fist loosely wraps around it, starting up a steady pace. not too fast, but not slow. seonghwa's groan is strained, trapped in his throat. his hips roll up into his hand. his eyes roam your face, darting around. bouncing from your eyes and your lips like he doesn't know what he wants to look at more. your gaze can't help but stick to the sight of him touching himself. he keeps his touches light. doesn't tighten his fist, barely giving himself enough.

he swipes his thumb over the tip for extra lube. it makes the slide easier, the sound of it wetter. more obscene. his grunts are bitten off and subdued, his mouth parted and slick with spit. strands of hair stick to his cheeks, a few on his forehead. sweat glimmers on his chest, a bead of it rolls down the column of his neck.

he oozes eroticism without even taking off his clothes. he looks deliciously sinful. a painter's greatest muse, someone who people wax poetic about, the perfect model for a sculptor.

true artistry.

you're aching with need, antsy with it, balling up your dress in tight fists. you're half-way as wrecked as he is and he hasn't touched you yet. he's being purposely cruel. he could give you something, anything. you'd happily grind against his shoe. you're a dog waiting for a bone, like a man starving, eyeing a piece of meat.

each pass of seonghwa's hands echoes throughout the room, a lewd squelching sound. seonghwa groans when his eyes lock with yours. they roll up, up, up into the back of his skull. his hips stutter, and they flick back to you.

he looks dazed, damn near delirious. his pupils are blown. shot. two little black holes swallowing you up.

“don't look away,” he demands, but it sounds like a plea. like he's begging you. he keeps his eyes trained on yours, doesn't blink too long, doesn't throw his head back. he refuses to miss a single second.

he's close. you can see it. his eyebrows pinched together, his lips red and swollen, the sweetest moans spilling from them like strawberry lemonade. his tip is an angry red, pre-cum cruising down his knuckles. he's rutting into his hand now. fucking his fist with real intent now. his cock twitches every so often and he chokes out a gasp.

he looks ready to pop like a balloon. cheeks dusted red, the tip of his nose, dipping down his chest too.

the most pitiful whimper escapes him when he wrenches his hand away. his cock twitches longingly, watery cum leaking from the tip like a broken faucet. his hips chase after nothing, desperate for the previous friction, and he whines.

deep from his throat. high pitched and needy.

his eyes clamp shut and he huffs. inhales hard and exhales slow. his cock weeps. small spurts of cum still dripping down, soaking into the fabric of his pants. his hands white-knuckle the sheets. his head lolls to the side.

finally, his eyes peel open.

he runs his fingers through the mess, and lifts it to your mouth, smearing it over your lips. he pushes the fingers into your mouth and you lazily suck on them, eyes shutting.

“i wanna fuck that pretty mouth of yours, but that'll have to wait,” he murmurs as presses down on your tongue. you whine in indignation. why can't he do it now? you want it. you want it so badly.

“you're so desperate,” he sneers and shoves his fingers a little deeper, your throat flutters around his fingers, “be patient. you'll get it soon enough.”

you're yanked off his fingers when he presses a foot to your chest knocking you back. you yelp, catching yourself on your elbows. you're on your back now, belly up like a dog. seonghwa stalks over and presses a foot to your chest before you can get up, holding you down.

“down, girl,” he jeers.

his heel digs into the softness of your stomach. you whimper from the discomfort, and seonghwa presses harder, crushing your ribs. you squirm, grabbing his ankle, trying to weasel away from him, shift his foot a little. it doesn't work, and he adds more pressure. your lungs ache, and your breath feels too shallow. thin. insubstantial. he increases the weight, and you fall limp. a little dizzy, a little sick. your stomach twists.

“hwa, sir, can't breathe,” you rasp.

he waits a beat before he removes his foot completely.

you sigh, chest heaving. your heart pounding in your chest. hummingbird fast. your chest throbs dully. seonghwa hikes your dress up your legs with the tip of his shoe, revealing the white of your panties. dainty and cute with a little bow in the middle.

“you're soaking,” it's said with a laugh, condescension dribbling from his lips like nectar. he rams his foot against your cunt, and your hips buck instinctually.

he pulls away and sits back on the bed, “come here.”

you move to push yourself off the ground, but he interrupts, “no, crawl.”

you're on your haunches, confused, blinking at him, “huh?”

“crawl to me,” he says plainly.

gingerly, you lay your hands flat on the floor and begin your trek to him, stopping in between his legs.

“stand up,” he instructs.

lifting yourself up is hard, you have to use his thighs to hoist yourself up. your knees popping under your weight. you're shaking, unstable on your feet. lightheaded. you sway in place, knocking into his thighs.

he rolls your underwear down your thigh, and you lift your feet out of them. he sets them somewhere off to the side.

seonghwa slots his thigh between your legs, “sit.”

you lower yourself carefully, gasping when you're fully seated. the pressure against your clit feels beautifully agonizing. seonghwa places his hands on your hips, leans in and presses a kiss to your mouth. his lips are petal-soft, smooth. he pulls back before you can deepen it. he places a kiss to the curve of your neck, up the length of it. he lingers at your pulse point, trails his tongue over it, lightly nipping. presses his teeth into the skin around it to leave little indents. he holds you there, face buried in your neck, not quite biting.

canting back to rest his hands on the bed, seonghwa tilts his head, bounces his leg, “hump my thigh.”

you take a moment to balance yourself, resting both hands on his thigh as you roll your hips forward. the glide of your hips is smooth, and you shudder, a pathetic mewl claws its way out of your throat. it's a bit awkward, the movement, the bend of your legs but you make it work.

it's hard to get friction because of how silken his pants are, and you press down hard enough to ache, shuddering at the delicious zap of pleasure it sends to your clit. your cunt clenches around nothing. you're gushing, leaking, dripping over him. a deep red stain growing on his thigh. seonghwa's watching you with that detached look— the one he gave you at the door. the one that looks a little bored and stony. barely held interest. mild amusement. black eyes pointed at you, piercing you. bullet through the heart. you let out a bit-back moan through closed lips.

“s-sir, ‘m so close,” you stammer, “can I? can I cum?”

“so well-behaved,” he grins, “go ahead, I'm not stopping you.”

you're so close. you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. the saccharine taste of relief. artificial sugar. your hips move faster, you grind harder. your nails press into his pants. you need it. you need it. you need it.

almost there– and then, the feeling stagnates. halts. everything stalls.

your vision is blurry, eyes glossy with unshed tears. your bottom lip wobbles. you don't catch the upward quirk of seonghwa's lips, the predatory curl. you're panting, in still recovering from your lack of an orgasm. your hips slow to a stop.

he flexes his leg, and you keen.

“go on, make yourself cum. make a mess,” he croons.

so, you do, or you try.

you rock your hips again, attempting to get more pressure against your clit. more stimulation. you grope your chest, pinching your nipples and rolling them between your fingers through your dress. still, your high remains just out of reach. something elusive. unreachable.

seonghwa doesn't make a move to help besides occasionally tensing his thigh and watching your body shiver. you're a pathetic display. a dumb little thing that he wants to squeeze the life out of.

but he won't— because he likes this more. likes watching you debase yourself like this. it's embarrassing really, but you don't seem to notice. pleasure clouding your judgement. lust-drunk and stupid.

then, a tear falls off your lash line. then another, then two more. until there's a constant stream of them running down your round cheeks, coalescing at your chin.

“you poor thing,” he coos, kisses your wet cheeks, “what's wrong?”

you sniffle, “can't cum.”

“silly girl, you need me to help you feel good?” he asks, “ want me to make it better?”

it comes out small and girlish, “uh-huh”

“manners,” he lightly chides.

“please, help me cum, sir,” you correct.

“there you go,” he purrs, plants a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “lay down for me, and then i’ll make you feel better.”

seonghwa helps you climb onto the bed, lifting your legs and keeping you from falling on the floor.

“on your back, sweet girl.”

you flip over, and seonghwa crawls in between your legs. he can't help but survey, take a second to admire. dress rucked up past your stomach, the straps falling off your shoulders. eyes glossy and wide. you're as dumb and docile as a sheep. your chest rises and falls. your fruity perfume tints his sheets. all soft at the edges. a cotton candy wet dream. you look… delectable. enough to make his teeth ache in anticipation. you'd be a wonderful dessert, but not now, not yet. he won't get ahead of himself and ruin it. he can wait. he'll always wait it out. his hand splays over your stomach, and he groans.

you're so soft. squishy. there's so much give when he pushes down. you're warm, too. like a living pillow, like a plushie that's been thrown in the dryer for a few spin. he lifts his hand to grab your hips, watching his thumbs dimple the skin there. so malleable. so fucking pilant. his eyes land on your plump lips and he bets you'd taste sweet.

leaning forward he captures your lips with his, and god was he wrong. you aren't sweet, you're cloying. literal honey on his tongue. your strawberry lip balm fills his mouth, and it takes a minute for your silly head to catch up because you just lie there. you don't kiss him back, and he presses harder, tugs your bottom lip with his teeth, jolting you into action. your lips part and your spit tastes like wine.

you are addictive. pure heroin– seonghwa is nothing but a slave to his vices.

seonghwa wrenches his lips from yours, and tugs his cock out, bucks his hips forward. it nudges your hole, and you start trembling like a sopping wet cat.

a small, soft bleat leaves your mouth, and seonghwa cock throbs. he gets a little lightheaded from how hard he is. you're so brainless. foolish. his hand wraps around your neck, but he doesn't squeeze. simply holds it there, pinning you in place. it seems like you've gone laconic, mouth parted but unspeaking, looking at him with starry eyes. your hips are moving, but there's nothing happening in that empty head of yours. seonghwa drags his hips back, and snaps forward bumping into your clit. he shouldn't tease so much but it's fun to watch you hiccup.

seonghwa presses a thumb to a clit, and your back arches like a woman possessed. garbled pleas spew out of you. your scramble against his hold, and seonghwa gives your neck a slight squeeze, and you melt. your hips rut into his hand. you're a messy little thing. slick is dribbling out of you, thick and viscid, sliding down your ass crack and pooling down onto his bed. it turns the sheets a stormy grey beneath you. he traps his tongue between his teeth, holds it hostage, a little awestruck at the sight of you. his cock aches, pre-cum dripping off onto your cunt, but he doesn't push in.

he won't. not tonight at least.

he rubs circles on your clit, watches how your face screws up. noting that more pressure makes your eyes shut and you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. incomprehensible gibberish spilling out of your mouth, babbling like a baby. your hands are clasped over your chest like you're in prayer. you're close. he can tell. your pussy is clenching around nothing, thighs twitching, your breath speeding up. your hips moving so fast that occasionally his finger slips off your clit.

drool trickles down your cheek, and seonghwa coos. he angles himself forward and spits on your clit, letting it slowly drop so that it cools by the time it hits your clit.

your back stretches as you kick out your legs. your thighs attempt to slam shut, but seonghwa's body stops it, and this god awful squeal forces its way out of you. then, you still. your body shivering like you've seen a ghost. you're gushing. bursting. geyser. monsoon. catastrophic. horrible sobs ripping through you. seonghwa guides you through it, keeps rubbing your clit, other hand on your throat.

keeps you there like a pinned butterfly.

“what do you say now?”

your eyebrows pinch. you can't think. you don't know. you don't know anything. you only the euphoria overtaking you and the feeling of seonghwa's thumb on your clit.

“I don’, I can't,” you slur, fucked dumb.

“you're so ungrateful,” he hisses. spits it through his teeth, and you shake your head, rattling your brain.

“no, no” you warble, reedy, “I'm sorry, so sorry. ‘m thankful, very thankful. thank you- thank you, sir. feels good.”

he keeps his thumb on your clit until your shakes ebb away, until your breathing is mostly back to normal. your chest gently rocking instead of heaving. seonghwa latches onto your front, burying his head into your neck. his cock pressing into your stomach. slowly, he grinds his hips into the warmth, into softness. his pre-cum smearing over your skin. he's a living furnace against you. blazing sun. it's tacky and wholly uncomfortable. too hot, too cramp. seonghwa's heavy, leaning basically all of his body weight on you but you can't push him off. you don't really try to, you just let him take what he needs.

blinking slow, your eyelids feel like lead; your body a bag of brick, or maybe that's seonghwa. he's essentially crushing you. his thrusts lack any finesse. small little bunny humps that feel odd, a little slimy, a little dry. skin against skin. too much friction to possibly feel good, but seonghwa's groaning, panting, whimper. his arms somehow snaked around you and are now pushing you further into him. he's muttering something into the skin of your neck, too muffled to identify words.

he only pulls back when he cums, just to watch his cum paint your skin, pooling in your belly button and running down your sides. luckily, none of it reaches your dress. your eyes close, and seonghwa's scratches your head, crooning, “go to bed.”

the bed shifts, a light clicks off. sleep plucks you under after that.

you're uncomfortable.

you're quenched. your throat burns. your head is pounding, throbbing, sharp needling pain. your entire body feels like a pulled muscle, taut and sore, like you've done a ten hour work out. you need water, some food, and a deep tissue massage. scratch that, you need a new body. you roll over, kicking out a leg. sprawling yourself across it. your foot doesn't reach the edge.

this bed is too big to be your own. your eyes twitch open. this is not your room. panic doesn't flood you like it should, it comes in waves. you're too worn out to be emotionally overwhelmed right now. every swallow burns, you really do need a glass of water.

recollection happens as you come to your senses. you were on a date with a rich guy named seonghwa.

speaking of, where is he?

gingerly, you rise to your feet, shivering when they make contact with the cold ground. you don't pull your heel back on because you already know you'll fall. you fix your dress, pulling it to sit correctly on your chest, smoothing out a few wrinkles. you're sweaty but not too sweaty. however, you don't stink and that's what matters.

you exit the room and look down the hall. on the left there's a door, and on the right there's light. you follow it into the kitchen area, where you stand at a counter. seonghwa’s on the other side, back facing you, stirring something it seems.

“sorry for hogging your bed,” you say, sheepish.

“don't worry about it,” he hums.

you don't know what to see now, so you don't say anything. you let the silence ruminate, but it's not awkward so you can't complain. seonghwa turns around and places a glass on the counter, sliding it towards you.

“what's this?”

“water with some supplements,” he explains. you nod and accept it, taking a quick swig then setting it back down. the relief is immediate.

“do you feel better?” he inquires as makes his way to the fridge.

“nope,” you reply, popping the p.

“then stay a little longer, I'll drive you back home. I don't think it's good idea for you to walk by yourself in this state,” he pulls out a container of grapes, and turns back to you, planting on the counter.

you contemplate saying no, but he is right. walking here is what got you like this in the first place, and he hasn't killed you thus far.

“fine.”

“actually, i'd prefer if you let me pick you up from now on, you scared me last night.” he chuckles, but you can hear the concern. the seriousness imbued into it.

you fluster at that, “sorry for ruining the date.”

“you didn't,” he assures, “I still had a great time.”

“me too,” you mumble.

“so, you'll let me pick you up next time,” he asks, expectantly.

“fine,” you sigh.

the smile he flashes you is blinding and smug. it's cute in all the worst (best) ways.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou

[headcannonsbutwrittenbyasnake]

Some of My Genshin Impact mains (current and past) but as cat personalities I've seen and lived with

Xiao

The "Unhand me Fool! I Will Paint the wa- Oh hey, This is nice."

Violence is his love language <3

Was probably found in a trash can alone and feral

SMALL, like mistaken as a kitten despite being full grown small, with sleek black fur and yellow eyes. If it wasn't for the small bits of green on the tips of his tail and ears he would blend in with the shadows

Again- feral, but a ride or die once you get his trust

You don't need a guard dog with him around

Actually you don't need anyone around!!!!(he's jealous)

God forbid you're talking on the phone around him

He won't do anything to you, he just stares

If he's asleep around you, and you leave while he's still asleep and he wakes up- he panics

Where are you?? Did you just up and leave? Did he do something bad in his sleep? He just panics until you come back

"Xiao what's the matter? Did something spook you?" "Meow meow!" (You came back! You do still love me!)

Seriously he kinda has attachment issues... if it's just the two of you living together. With the other cats. He's... fine with them, doesn't really trust them at first

Decides Razor and Albedo makes good company

Is on okay terms with Kokomi and Tighnari,

With Wanderer and Al-haitham, it's on sight

They'll play nice if you're around, but one you leave the house, it's go time

After the fight, it doesn't really matters who wins, they just need to make sure you don't find out.

Kokomi and Tighnari fix their fur and make sure the house is in order while the winner sits in the window, waiting for you to come home, and the loser sulks.

Razor

The "I'm Totally a Cat, Trust me!"

A scruffy, medium-sized, light grey cat, not a kitten but also not full grown. Kinda in that awkward cat phase

Probably found by someone's pet dog

Dog just took a look at scruffy little Razor and thought "Alright you're mine," but the dogs owner is, conventional, allergic to cats

So now he's yours :D

Can't really meow. Kinda just squeaks and/or howls

He just doesn't cat

Doesn't like tall places, takes bits of water instead of just dipping his tongue in, likes playing in water and mud, forgets to clean himself constantly, and just all-around is bad at being a cat

Is fine with being alone for a few hours, but he can't sleep alone. He needs so be with you or on you to sleep

Isn't violent or aggressive to humans or other animals in the slightest, but with bugs and mice. Well they don't last long in your house

Loves living with other cats

Even if Xiao at first hissed at him or Wanderer smacked him on the noggin, he just keeps trying to be their friend

It worked with Xiao, jury's still out on Wanderer

Tighnari's teaching him how to be a cat and Kokomi and Albedo are making sure his fur keeps clean and nice looking

Other than that he's just happy to have more friends in the house

Kokomi

The "Tiny and Cute, but Beats the Neighborhood Dogs Daily."

Menace to society

A medium-to-small sized cat with sleek light pink fur, fading into a light powdery blue at her paws, her ears, and the tip of her tail

Could be a show cat if she wasn't so much of a trickster

She isn't mean, just smart. Waaaay too smart

Likes going outside and luring dogs into her traps

Again nothing mean or life threatening, just kinda funny

Like luring them over puddles that are deeper then they look, or taunting them to lunge at her only to watch them face-plant into a glass door or scaring them with their reflection

Doesn't trick you, you're her favorite human!

Not really a snuggle cat, but likes laying on you and having the occasional head scratches

Over all, a pretty good, mostly normal cat

I say mostly because if she sees any water, she wants in it

Sink full of soapy water? She doesn't care, let her swim. A bathtub of warm water? Ah her favorite. A fish tank with no cover? Well the fish are luck she doesn't see them as prey! A whole swimming pool? Sign her up, she's swimming laps!

If you have a cup of water and aren't paying attention, she's going to stick her paws into it. Not to drink, just to swish around

Flat out leads the other cats like an army

Oh? The mice are trying to invade thier land? Alright, Razor go get Xiao and Wanderer

Outside of the mouse turf wars, or other threats to tge house, she doesn't really interact with them much

Wanderer

The "Appears out of Nowhere Just to Watch you Scream, (you Swear he's Laughing.)"

Roughly the same size as Xiao, but less malnourished

Literally just the cat in his story quest (or was it in the Archon quest, I can't remember.)

Was left at a cat shelter and considered un-adoptable, but you said fuck it and took him home

Has little dog syndrome despite being a cat

You swear he teleports

You turn around for one second, then turn back, and he's there

Snickers when you jump, and pouts when you catch him off guard

Be careful when you pet him, he tends to get overwhelmed easily.

And then he bites

Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark

After a while though he gets more comfortable with it

The type of cat to sleep on your face

Also very picky about food and what water

Only drinks ice water (spoiled brat)

Has an ongoing rivalry with Xiao

They often see who can catch the most 'invaders' (i.e. the mice, bugs, and other pest)

While he might seem like he hates the other cats, he's the first one to jump into the fray for them

Did once absolutely decimate a dog because it was chasing Kokomi (he didn't know the chase was part of her plan)

Albedo

The "Hey I found this, I want to keep it." And also "What are you doing? Where are you going? What are you eating?"

A medium sized, kinda fluffy, blonde cat with bright blue eyes. Also has a strange marking on his neck, kinda like a scar

Just kinda walks in through a open window one day, and stayed

Nosy real fucking nosy.

A shopping bag- What's in it? Oh you bought a new backpack- let's see if he can fit in it! On the phone? With who?

A leash cat

Please let him explore around, he's so curious

Will bring you LIVE mice- just don't scream or else he will panic and drop it

Will also bring you other things too

Rocks, feathers, bottle caps, a kitten, twigs

Wait a kitten?

Yep, he brought home a little blonde kitten with red eyes. I think you can guess who it is...

He is now her parental unit.

He tries to keep her out of trouble, but it's kinda hard.

Him and Klee have accidentally broken something on multiple occasions

They both sit in the corner ashamed of themselves

Albedo is not really a 'cuddle' cat

Or a 'people' cat (atleast people who aren't you)

If you have guest over, he'll just watch

Not with a mean or angry look, just looking

Him and Tighnari are planing something, you don't know what it is, and it's suspicious

(The plan is just how to wrangle in Wanderer when you're gone)

Al-haitham

The "Please for the love of God don't ask me to do anything other than the bare minimum."

A large, fluffy, grey cat. Has a little spot of green on his chest

Such a pretty cat, but has such an awful attitude

Well that is to anyone but you

Doesn't catch mice or bugs, doesn't do much of anything

He just want to lay in the sun and nap

Gets grumpy if anyone wakes him

Doesn't like Xiao because he tried to get him to do things (Xiao thinks he's a freeloader)

Hides from Razor because he keeps trying to play with him

You know that video of the cat just letting the automatic toy hit them in the face- yeah that Al-haitham

Just wants to do nothing with you

He's laying on your lap whether you like it or not

Don't try to stand up, he'll just dig his nails in

Read to him, he might look like he's napping but he's listening to everything you say

The type of cat to meow if you talk to him

"What do you think? This or that?" "Mreow,"

Shockingly, will use cat beds

Also likes to sleep in clean laundry, that you just folded

The reason you need to now check the dryer before you put wet clothes in

You know those cat who like to lay in the most uncomfortable position? Yeah that's Al-haitham

Tighnari

The "I Have a Schedule and you Will Stick to it!"

A medium sized cat with fluffy dark, nearly black, green fur that has spots of light green around his ears and tail.

He has large ears and a bushy tail, honestly might just be a cat-like fox, but it's hard to tell

You will wake up at 6am on the dot or else

The 'else' is just him screaming at the top of his lungs

Can probably read the clock

He has a routine: Wake up, breakfast, pest hunting, lunch, nap #1, cuddle time, dinner, run around like the devil himself is coming to finally collect your soul, nap #2, stop Xiao and Wanderer from killing each other, more cuddling, make the human get ready for bed, make sure everyone is in bed, then go to bed.

The only reason there is some semblance of order in this house

Like seriously if it wasn't for him, the other would have found a way to burn the house down

Breaks up any fights, stops the others from getting into to much trouble, and making sure Razor keeps his fur clean

Strangly protective of any plants around the house

The only time he'll out right hiss and swip at the others

No Razor! You can't dig around the plant pots, you'll kill them! No, don't eat the leaves!

[genshin-impact-redesign]

I absolutely love the redesigns you showcase! They’re so gorgeous and the artists are talented!

Can I ask for your opinion on the design of my Dottore Segment OC Natalia? Keep in mind I didn’t make her outfit design as complex as hoyo does for their characters because I am not drawing all that detail.

OOUGHH

I am a sucker for multi-layered, long dresses. It gives a very medical vibe, which can either be inviting (ala cute/trusting nurse) or can be intimidating. They defo give off the latter vibe, like a creepy WW1/WW2 style nurse garb. Also the curly but still spiky hair makes me think of rose petals with thorns somehow <3 I also adore the little rope that keeps the mask and feathers attached to her shoulder, its a nice bit of asymmetry :D

Also I 100% get you on not wanting to draw all that detail!!

I actually study concept art at the moment, so I know a decent bit about character design. I'll put a more detailed analysis of the design + some ideas for them under a cut so you can choose whether or not you wanna read that, but I think she's super cute and I love her name <3 I would pull her

So the biggest thing I've noticed is that the design could use a bit more contrast, but since they're still meant to be monochromatic like Dottore's design, I'll compare to him to show what I mean by contrast!

If we put a black & white filter over the image, we can see that dottore has a lot of dark layers underneath bright layers, and then more dark layered on that! The contrast could be increased on her existing clothes (make the lightest colours lighter, make the darkest a bit darker) or you could add a few more layers so that contrast is spread throughout, instead of being localised to the mask & boots.

You could make the belt on her skirt a darker colour, change the shoulder piece to be darker, brighten the shirt, etc!

Another way Dottore's design has contrast is through the greys:

If we look here, his boots are actually more of a warm grey. This is the same with all of the metal detailing too! So even though his design is very monochromatic since it's all blue, there's a tiny bit of contrast created by making the neutrals warm tinted.

All the neutrals are slightly yellow/green hued, so they're warmer than blue without being extremely far from blue :) So you could make Natalia's boots & gloves more warm hued to get additional contrast :D

Lastly, you could exaggerate her silhouette by adding more volume to each of the layers of her skirt.

I don't have my tablet on me right now so I just did a quick draw over to show what I mean:

Just having each layer stick out a bit more so it stands out. You could also exaggerate the feathers on her shoulder if you wanted :D The simplicity of the outfit works super well for her actually, so having each layer stand out more will really elevate that!!

Despite the long winded explanation of colour theory, I really like her design and it'd only need a couple adjustments to improve, but she's so cute as is and you did an amazing job making her <3

OH AND LOOK AT WW1/WW2 NURSES they're amazing inspiration for plague-doctor style dresses. I used them as reference in one of my character designs for an assignment.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

the second, cooler gravity falls post

anyway, this one requires a bit of context. did you know that this creature has synesthesia? well, now you do! specifically, the kind that makes you associate different things with colors (and patterns and...its a bit hard to explain. its mostly about the colors)

without further ado, lets talk about what synesthesia-assigned colors the gravity falls casts' names are (of course everyone sees them differently, this is just how i see them)

---

Gravity Falls and Pines are both green! More specifically, Gravity Falls is a slightly desaturated green and Pines is a deeper, darker shade. They also both have a bit of somewhat dull orange thrown in

Stanford/Ford/Sixer - as a whole: bright electric blue, dark melancholy blue, bloody red, silver. Stanford is slightly reddish-brown + labcoat beige, Ford is a pale sienna with a tiny bit of ash thrown in, Sixer is dark coral + dusty rose

Stanley/Stan/Lee - as a whole: burgundy, bloody red, and ash. Stanley and Stan are both shades of red, though Stan is lighter and more vibrant. Lee is a sort of pale, desaturated yellowish green (it looks nicer than youd imagine it would)

Fiddleford - this guy is green as hell. it gets more yellowed and dusty as time goes on, until hes eventually more dusty yellow than light green

Mabel - bright pink and a sort of warm, pale yellow. the shade associated with stars and dreams (realizing now that that might not make any sense)

Dipper - torrential downpour blue. color of mist at night

Soos - shade inbetween Gravity Falls green and Pines green. also a very dark shade of green

Melody - pale warm colored with no yellow! a sort of mix between orange and red, leaning more towards reddish. coral if coral was made of meat, mayhaps (like with Lee, its a lot nicer to look at than it sounds). also a bit of purple

The wonderous married couple known as Waddles and Gompers - warm greyish brown

bonus time eras!

Young stans era - youd be surprised! yellow (not highlighter yellow, though)

Mullet stan - reddish brown, burgundy, night but warm-colored

Paranoid ford - grey with just the slightest bit of color thrown in, that color being dusty brown. veins and sleep deprivation (again, something that does not make sense to anyone but me)

Researcher era ford - the most labcoat beige of any ford to ever ford. theres also a bit of dark navy blue, but not much

Pre-betrayal everything - pale green and sickly yellow

Post-betrayal everything - a lot of dark greyish color. extinguished crimson and spiderweb blue

Portal era from Ford's side - navy/ocean blue, cool grey, slate. imagine you were looking at a neon sign (the kinds where only the lettering is neon). the blue/grey/slate is the background, the lettering is vibrant reddish-orange and pink

Portal era from Stan's side - pale orange and yellow, some pine-bark-brown. you would think there would be a lot of grey, but theres really only a tiny bit

Weirdmaggedon - hoo boy thats a lot of dark dark red and orange and firey colors and- wait what do you mean weirdmaggedon isnt yellow? not even a little bit? huh.

Sea grunks era - dark ocean blue and cool grey :]

[colourvalley]

Colour Psychology in Home Painting: Choosing the Perfect Shades for Every Space

Summary

Colour psychology plays a powerful role in home painting, influencing how we feel in different rooms. Cool tones like blue and sage are great for calming bedrooms, while warm hues like yellow and terracotta energize kitchens. Balanced neutrals work best for living rooms, and blues or greens can boost focus in workspaces. Even hallways and entryways can benefit from bold or creative wall paint colours. With CVally’s curated range of paint shades, you can create a home that feels as good as it looks.

If you’ve ever walked into a room and instantly felt calm, energized, or even a little moody—you can probably thank (or blame) the wall paint colour. Believe it or not, the shades you choose to surround yourself with at home do more than just look pretty—they actually affect your mood, focus, and overall vibe. That’s the power of colour psychology!

So, whether you’re dreaming up a cozy reading nook or trying to bring more energy into your workspace, picking the right paint colour can make all the difference. And with CVally’s wide palette of thoughtfully crafted paint shades, your journey to a mood-boosting, personality-packed home just got a whole lot more exciting.

1. What Is Colour Psychology (And Why Should You Care)?

Colour psychology is the study of how different hues impact our emotions, behavior, and even physical state. It’s why cool blues tend to relax us, while bright reds can raise energy levels. When applied to home paint, it’s about using colour to create spaces that feel as good as they look.

Choosing the right wall paint isn’t just a design decision—it’s a lifestyle choice. Your bedroom should invite rest, your kitchen should energize you, and your living room should strike that perfect balance between welcoming and stylish. And the best part? You don’t need a design degree to get it right—just a bit of colour insight and a brush.

2. Serene Bedrooms: Go Cool and Calm

Let’s start with the bedroom—your sanctuary. For restful sleep and a peaceful atmosphere, soft, cool tones are your best friend. Think shades of sky blue, pale lavender, or gentle sage green. These paint shades lower stress levels and promote relaxation, making them ideal for winding down after a long day.

Want a slightly warmer feel? Muted blush, soft greys, or cream-based neutrals can also create a cocoon of calm without being too cold. CVally’s collection of soothing home paint tones offers plenty of options to create the dreamy retreat you’ve always wanted.

3. Energizing Kitchens: Warm It Up!

Your kitchen is the heart of the home—and it needs to feel alive! Warm colours like yellows, oranges, and even earthy terracottas stimulate appetite, conversation, and a general zest for life. They make your space feel cozy and inviting, which is perfect for those family meals or late-night snack runs.

If you prefer a modern look, consider mixing warm neutrals with natural textures. A creamy white backdrop with pops of sunny yellow or coral accents can give your kitchen just the right dose of energy. It’s not just a paint job—it’s a recipe for good vibes.

4. Living Rooms: The Colour Balance Game

Ah, the living room—where you Netflix, chill, entertain guests, and maybe even do some yoga. This space needs a bit of everything: warmth, calm, and personality. That’s why mid-tone house paint colors work beautifully here.

Consider soft greys, taupes, dusty blues, or greige (yes, that’s grey + beige—it’s a thing, and it’s fabulous). These colours are neutral enough to work with any décor style but still add warmth and character. Looking to add a little pop? Accent walls with bolder tones like teal or plum can elevate the whole look.

CVally’s range of rich yet balanced wall paint colour options ensures your living room looks curated, not chaotic.

5. Productive Workspaces: Think Focus and Clarity

Whether you’ve got a full-blown home office or a tiny desk in the corner of your living room, your workspace deserves its own home colour design strategy. Blue tones are known for enhancing focus and productivity, making them a great pick for walls near your desk.

Want a more creative energy? Greens promote balance and calm, while a splash of orange can boost enthusiasm and innovation. Stay away from overly bright or dark colours—they can be distracting. The goal is to create a space that helps you stay on task without stressing you out.

6. Entryways and Hallways: Set the Tone

These transitional areas are often overlooked, but they set the stage for the rest of your home. Go bold with navy or charcoal for a dramatic entry, or keep it light with airy neutrals to create the illusion of more space.

And don’t forget—your hallway is the perfect spot to experiment with paint colour trends. Stripes, colour blocks, or even soft ombre effects can add flair without overwhelming the senses.

Conclusion : Paint with Intention, Live with Joy

Choosing home paint isn’t just about matching your sofa or jumping on the latest trend—it’s about creating a space that reflects how you want to feel. Whether you’re calming the chaos in your bedroom or energizing your mornings in the kitchen, the right wall paint colour can help you design a life that feels good every single day.

With CVally’s expert-approved colours and high-quality finishes, you’re not just painting your home—you’re crafting a mood, a mindset, and a masterpiece. So go ahead, explore the psychology of colour, and let your walls do the talking.

[sparrowandbee]

The Sparrow, Chapter 12

Synopsis: Being thrust from the arena to the hungry, expectant eyes of the Capitol, Marian begins to reckon with the real cost of her so-called Victory.

1111 Words

Masterlist

-

I opened my eyes, barely remembering when they had been closed. I was lucid on the hovercraft ride back to the Capitol, trying my best to not drift off before I saw Haymitch.

The mammoth hovercraft floated above the arena and I almost forgot to drop the axe as I held onto the ladder. It took me a while to process where I was, the cold, silver interior of this aircraft was nothing like the one that had brought me into the arena. It felt a lot more sterile… or maybe it had felt less foreboding with Haymitch by my side. Even though I was physically whole, I was still escorted into a medical room where I sat on a gurney for the entire ride back. 

No one came in. Against the white lights overhead, I craved any human interaction. I couldn’t detach a body from a person, not after everything I had seen. I just needed to hear a voice, feel a touch. Remind myself that I’m still alive. So I laid back and started talking.

The light blue sheets of the gurney were cold against my bare arms, but the chilly room was welcome after so much sun. 

“My name is Marian Cartwright,” I tell myself. I hadn’t really spoken out loud for two weeks, I realized. I had tried so hard to shrink myself in the arena, but I couldn’t let myself forget who I am now. Not after going through so much to retain myself. Not after killing them. 

“I am 18 years old, from District 12. I work outside the coal mines. I embroider flowers and I- I try to see beauty in everything.” Deep breaths. Tears started pooling in my eyes as I recentered myself towards the person I am and away from the monster I was forced to become. Would I ever look at crimson poppies at the market without seeing my bloodstained hands? Would I ever be able to run through the woods, crunching twigs under my sure gait, unafraid of an imaginary threat? “I see beauty in everything,” I force myself to repeat, more of a whisper through gritted teeth.

More deep breaths. Whatever those answers, I knew I wouldn’t get them now… it was a wisdom that only time would tell. 

Maybe the adrenaline had run out or maybe there was something in the air of the confined room, but I soon dozed off but didn’t dream of anything. I wouldn’t truly be alive until I saw him again- it was as if the whole world was put on pause until my brown eyes met his grey once more.

-

The ground beneath me no longer rumbled. My hair had been pulled back and my skin felt plump and moisturized, though still a bit sore from the sunburns. It took me a while to regain full consciousness as flashes of the blue sky and city soundscape of the Capitol returned to me. He was sitting beside me, his eyes bloodshot and hair tangled. Yet it was the most beautiful sight I ever had the privilege of witnessing. 

My eyes fluttered open in disbelief and my vision focused on his upturned lips and crinkled eyes. The dim yellow light looked almost like a halo around his untidy hair. The only thing proving to me that he was real was the soft touch of his calloused fingers tracing my hairline. 

He is real. He was there. A visceral sob escaped me, one that came from deep within me. I felt tiny as I jumped into his arms, burrowed against his alcohol-tinged shirt. I’ve never been happier to feel his warm, sour breath against my head, and his large, rough hands against my back. His chest quivered simultaneously with mine as we shared tears in a suffocating embrace.

“You’re safe. You’re safe,” He whispered into my ear as he held me tighter. “You’re going to be okay. It’s over now.”

It’s over. I was in his arms and it was all over.

At that moment, I let myself believe that the worst was behind us.

He laid down next to me and I let my head fall on his chest as he wrapped his arms around my curled-up frame. It felt like a dream, to have a slice of heaven after a living hell.

We stayed static in our bubble of warmth until Haymitch broke the ice with a soft whisper, “I had no idea you had it in you,” he spoke to the white ceiling above. “I couldn’t believe it… and you did it at such close range. I couldn’t even do that.”

I kept my eyes closed, focusing only on the warm stream of tears running across the bridge of my nose and onto his button-up. I didn’t want to think about that.

“I know it's not easy, and it won’t be easy to live with it, but I need you to know how proud I am of you for coming back,” he continued, despite my silence. His voice was shaky. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re alive, Marian.”

Not M. Marian. It sounded like a song against his tongue. No one’s ever said my name like that, so overflowing with love, like a verbalized sunny day.

I pushed my body upward until my nose met his, just a hair’s width apart. I touched him like he touched me, running my fingers against his arm. I looked at him, trying to memorize every line and dot on his face, to capture his eyes and nose and mouth so close to mine forever.

“You’re going to learn some terrible things about being a victor and that breaks my heart,” I don’t think he stopped crying that whole time. Smaller tears were still pooled around his eyes and nose. “But the first one is that I really care about you and that’s dangerous. We have to be careful with Snow-”

I brought my fingers to his lips, feeling their cracked texture and his shallow, warm breath. It was all going to be okay, I told myself. Snow had no one to threaten back home. We would lead a quiet life, just him and I. We would watch the sunset every day and slowly but surely, the world would become beautiful again. 

“I care about you too,” I whispered back. My own eyes were still shiny and wet. 

“I know, my brilliant sparrow, I know,” he said and kissed my finger.

We lay in silence for a few moments, just feeling each other’s heartbeats and counting each other’s breaths- still hardly believing that we were alive to bear witness to that moment.

-

Next Chapter

[parasitejasper]

CONTEXT OR SOMETHING

this story is about a coyote who is in a band with his 3 friends and his boyfriend!! he is a little bit silly!!! and is very!! very!!! gay!!!!

this is mostly just character appearances btw :3

kunzite is a tall, chubby coyote with a neon purple coat and a beige underbelly. his tail is a large spine which extends all the way up his back and ends at his neck, and his ribs wrap around the outside of his chest. the beige on his chest is splotchy near his shoulders. his hand paws are purple apart from his fingers, which are beige. his left palm has a large beige spot on it, and he has brown paw pads. his left and right thighs have white moon and star on them, respectively. his feet paws are beige, with the pattern spiking into a triangle on the back of his knees. his toes are a dark purple. he has medium length curly, dark purple hair with a tinge of grey in it. he has a large curl that rests on his forehead, between his ears. he has heterochromia, with his right eye being light grey and his left being golden yellow, and both of his eyes have star-shaped pupils. he has dark purple tear markings under his eyes. his snout and cheeks are beige, with his snout peaking into a narrow triangle between his eyes. he has a scruffy beige goatee. he has round, beige eyebrows. he has a silver nose piercing, and his nose is brown. his ears are tall, with dark purple tips that splotch. his ears are heavily pierced, mostly with rings, spikes, and studs. he wears a white button up with cuffed sleeves, a black vest, black slacks, and a rainbow striped necktie with matching suspenders. he is the vocalist, bassist, and leader of the band.

azure is an average-build fox with a baby blue coat and a pastel pink underbelly, with darker blue accents. he has a long, fluffy tail with a blue stripe above the pastel pink tip. his back is marked with small, pastel pink speckles. his chest has a large patch of fur in the middle which extends up his neck and often pokes out of his shirts. his chest, belly and inner thighs are pastel pink, and are outlined by darker blue. his forearms and shoulders have small, freckle-like pastel pink spots on them. his hand paws fade into pastel pink at the wrist, and he has pink paw pads. he often wears bangles. the front of his thighs are covered in small pastel pink speckles. his feet paws are pastel pink with a darker blue band near his ankles. he has long, straight hair that is a deep sky blue. he has straight bangs that end just above his eyebrows. he has 2 buns near the back of his head, there simply for looks. he has flaming amber eyes, framed by long lashes and often thick eyeliner. he has round, pastel pink eyebrows. his snout and cheeks are pastel pink, with his cheek pattern sharply turning upwards and almost meeting the bottom of his ears. his snout pattern has a tiny peak between his eyes, and he has a black nose. he occasionally wears small earrings. he wears a white button up with cuffed sleeves, a black vest, black slacks, a striped rainbow bow tie, and a matching belt. he is the guitarist and vocalist of the band.

rockyclaw is a tall, lanky snow leopard with a blue teal coat and a warm, muted brown undercoat. he has a long, thin tail that has a tuft of fur at the end. the tip and underside are brown, and the overside is covered in white rosettes that extend all the way up his back. his chest, belly, and inner legs are brown. his entire teal coat is covered in white rosettes. all four of his paws are brown, and he has pink paw pads. he has short, straight brown hair with short bangs that part at the middle. he has round, white ears with small fur tufts at the bases. his head has no rosettes. he has large, round white eyebrows. he has pastel periwinkle eyes, with swirled pupils. his eyes are framed by brown markings, with 2 white spots under each of them. he has brown whisker pads, chin, and cheeks, and he has a large pink nose. he has a small brown beard. he wears a white button up shirt with cuffed sleeves, a black vest, black slacks, a striped rainbow bandana, and matching wrist cuffs. he is the keyboardist and occasionally vocalist of the band.

malachite is a short, slightly chubby fox with a jet black coat and emerald green underbelly. she has a medium length tail that curls at the green tip. the top of her tail is covered in green stripes that extend all the way up to her neck and down to her knees. her chest and belly are emerald green, with a black band just before the edge of the pattern. her outer arms are covered in green stripes that end before her wrists, and she has green hand paws. she has black paw pads. her feet follow the same pattern. her hair is buzzed on the right side, and she has a short, wavy dark green fringe above her eye on the left. she has small, round green eyebrows. her eyes are a hypnotizing royal blue. she has 2 green stripes at the corner of each of her eyes. she wears large, round silver glasses. her snout and cheeks are green, with the pattern dipping under her eyes and sharply spiking between them. she wears a white button up shirt with cuffed sleeves, a black vest, black slacks, a rainbow striped collar, and matching rings and earrings. she is the drummer of the band.

peridot is an average build wolf with a pastel green coat and white underbelly. she has a short tail with a white underside. her hand paws have white fingers, and her feet follow the same pattern. she has black paw pads. she has long, straight dark green hair with long bangs. she has a silver earring in her left ear. her ears are tall and pointy. she has white round eyebrows. her eyes are a deep dark green, and she has long lashes. her chin and cheeks have a white pattern, with her cheek fur slightly drooping downwards. she wears a white button up shirt with cuffed sleeves, a black vest, black slacks, a striped rainbow ascot, and matching fingerless gloves. she is the guitarist of the band.

their band is called The Nightcrawlers :3 eeerm that's it. i guess. also yes, their outfits were heavily inspired by tally hall :3

FUCK IT STORY TIME

uhh grahhhh!!!!!!!! i haven't written anything in over a year but i've really been meaning to get back into it lately. i've also needed to get some oc lore out. those are what i'm using as reasons to get my lazy ass up and start writing. if this is shitty let me know. i won't fix any mistakes though i'll just read everything over and cry. everything in all lowercase because fuck you. um. wghat the sigma

c==================================3

3:24 AM.

the clock next to him ticked in an almost mocking manner. he was the only one up, for the 5th night in a row. he was doing so good before this. he was doing normally. but just like always, he fucked it up soon enough. he always does.

he tries to push these thoughts out of his head. he always tries. it never works, but he always tries.

always, always, always.

he decides to just ignore it. it's worked for long enough, it'll work tonight.

he sits up in his bed, and looks at his bandmate lying next to him. he yawns, revealing a snoutful of knife-sharp teeth. slowly, he gets up with many loud pops, grunts, and groans. 'big show tomorrow,' he thinks to himself.

performances like this had always been a little stressful for him. sure, he loved seeing the crowd smiling and cheering when he started to play, but he hated the expectations they had for him. that he had to do everything perfectly. if he missed even a single note, if he had even the slightest voice crack, that they'd hate him.

but he pushes those thoughts away. he always does.

since he's awake, he figures it'd be a good idea to get his outfit ready and his stuff packed. he shuffles around in the dark, trying to move as quietly as possible as to not wake anyone. everything on his (arguably very messy) floor feels the same. he can't tell what's his and what isn't, and if he accidentally took someone else's clothes he'd surely never hear the end of it. he decides he's had enough of aimlessly pawing at the ground when he grabs his phone and turns the flashlight on. it's dim, but it'll work.

he looks at the pile of folded clothes on the ground with an expression that's between confused and exasperated. that's the thing about wearing matching outfits- you never know what belongs to who.

either he's gone insane or the lack of sleep has gotten to him, because instead of first checking the sizes of everything, he decides to smell them instead. who the fuck does that?

he quickly singles out his outfit, using nothing but his nose. coyotes have a very good sense of smell, don't you guess. he set it down on something in his room. it could've been a chair, it could've been a desk, hell, it could've even been his bandmate's head. not like he cared, though.

he tiptoed over to the door and quietly opened it, hoping that their old-ass hinges didn't betray him.

he walked downstairs, not paying attention until he saw a soft glow coming from the kitchen. he stepped closer until he could see the source, and- wait, what the fuck?

"rockyclaw? what the fuck are you doing up this late?" he whisper-yelled, staring at the leopard in front of him who seemed to be raiding the fridge.

"got hungwy. 'm sorry, did i wake you?" rockyclaw said, through a snoutful of who knows what.

"no, no, you didn't wake me. it's just- why are you awake at this hour? it's almost 4 in the morning, for fuck's sake." one of his tall, purple ears was tilted.

"sorry- sorry" he apologized again. "i just couldn't sleep. i can go back into my room, if you want-"

he was cut off before he could finish. "no, you're fine- you're fine. i'm actually glad you're up, i couldn't sleep either. i was planning on just going to the store or some other shit but now i guess i won't. if you're fine with staying up, that is." the coyote said awkwardly. he doesn't often find the others awake with him, so he didn't exactly know what to say.

"yeah, cool."

it seemed neither of them knew what to say.

"we could watch a movie, maybe?" rockyclaw said, trying to break the awkward silence.

the coyote simply nodded and hummed in agreement. they both made their way over to the couch, rockyclaw still carrying his snack haul. they sat there for around 15 minutes before finally settling on some random movie from a few years back.

the both of them barely lasted 30 minutes until they were both asleep.

they were rudely awakened by the sound of their bandmate calling their names. well, it was mostly just one of their names being called.

"kunzite, i swear to god, if you don't get your lazy ass up right now, i'm going to shove this fucking drumstick up your-" before she could finish, she was interrupted with a loud, pathetic 'fiiiineee'.

kunzite sat up from his uncomfortable position, looking around only to notice all but two of his bandmates staring at him with slightly annoyed expressions. rockyclaw was holding back giggles- and he was doing a terrible job at it.

he turned back to the fox standing above him, and whispered a lighthearted fuck you to her.

she flicked her tail before walking away, leaving kunzite to figure out for himself that he had somewhere to be today.

as soon as he remembered, he near instantly got up, running upstairs as fast as he could without falling and mumbling a string of curses.

he quickly ran into the bathroom and jumped into the shower, trying to make himself look like he didn't just crawl out of a wet dumpster. his fur was oily, his tail and ribs had begun to turn a slight ochre color, and his claws had who knows what collected under them.

he heard a voice from outside the door "are you jerking off or something in there? what's taking so long? we've gotta leave at 9!" he wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure it was malachite yelling at him to hurry up. she did have a reputation for being impatient...

he ran out of the bathroom, his normally curly hair still straight from the water, and rushed to get dressed. it all went smoothly until he had to put his tie on. despite having worn one for the past 1.5 years, he still wasn't entirely sure how to put one on.

after struggling with his tie for around 5 minutes, he was now tasked with figuring out where he put his bass. this happened every time after a show, and he would always say that he'd put it somewhere that he could remember. but he never puts it where he can remember. after what felt like an eternity, he finally finds it, and slings it over his shoulder. his spine scraped uncomfortably against the back of it, but he didn't care enough to adjust. he just wanted to be out of the door in time.

by the time he had made it back downstairs, all but one of his bandmates was waiting in the van for him. it was azure. he always was patient with him.

azure gave him a soft smile before gently grabbing his paw and leading him out the door. they wrapped their tails together as they walked, even if it was a bit uncomfortable due to kunzite's spikes.

"i heard you getting up last night," azure said, his voice soft and filled with understanding. "i'm sorry you were woken up like that. i know you were tired."

kunzite simply presses his snout into azure's cheek fur, earning an amused sigh from azure.

before kunzite could sit down in the van, azure stopped him.

"i know why you were awake. you shouldn't bottle that kinda stuff up. you know that i'm here if you ever feel like that." azure looked at him in a way that made him feel like he could die on the spot. before he could say anything back, azure pressed a kiss to his snout, lightly touching his nose against kunzite's before pulling away.

they sat down next to each other, a comfortable silence between them. sometimes words are simply not needed.

[itsmeatballworld]

| to the night sky |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | It’s autumn in Virginia so Daryl invites Reader to spend a night cuddling under the stars.

wc | 857

warnings | kisses, autumn time in Virginia, and soft boyfriend!daryl... so nah, no warnings <3

a/n | note this has some spoilers for season 9 but nothing crazy. Also posted on my ao3!!

His eyes were so bright. Bluer than the sky. Bluer than the sea.

You’ll remember that ‘til the day you die.

You tore your gaze away for a second, just to glance up at the tiny twinkling lights above.

His callous hand latched onto yours as the hearth outside flickered in and out. “Should get some rest,” Daryl whispered.

“We should.” Your fingers twirled across his rough palm. “But look… damn, look at those stars. They’re beautiful. You gotta look. The clouds are gonna block them.”

Daryl smiled, his eyes never leaving your face as you watched the sky. “Yeah. Beautiful.”

“You didn’t even peek,” you murmured as his hands snuck around to caress your round hips.

“I did too.” His tone was playful as a smirk etched across his lips.

Tonight, the sky was black and painted in tiny twinkling lights. Dark and looming from the east, thick grey clouds slowly began to shadow the moonlight cascading through the trees.

You were somewhere in Virginia between a dried up creek and spacious woods. Location never mattered anymore. You were living—surviving—and enjoying the brief moments of peace left for the breathing.

Colors of cinnamon, brick red, and yellow as bright as corn litter the ground in piles. It was the fleeting beauty of Autumn, until the heavy rains and mud blur the colors in a dark, murky haze.

Atop the little hill was your makeshift campsite. Daryl tugged and tied each layer down as tight as possible. The lopsided tent with a worn clear-plastic sheet roof showed the sky. An old pail near the zipped-up entrance used as Dog’s water bowl. Wool and cotton blankets dragged from Alexandria covered the thin tent floor. The dying light of a small fire pit was nearly out after hours of ignoring its plea for more firewood. Daryl wanted to keep you safe when visiting. Less light, less problems, he’d murmur.

Tonight, you were snuggled up to Daryl. His arm around your waist, pressing your chest to his in a tight embrace. He loved holding your warm body close, trailing his hands up and down your hips and thighs, as if you were his lifeline.

Tonight was perfect. A peaceful autumn night alone with your lover.

“Aye.” He drops his voice. “You should head back in the mornin’. Safer in the sunlight.”

Back. Back to the group. Back to your home in Alexandria. Back to safety and walls.

“Sure,” you mumbled.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you liked being outside the walls of safety. You liked the wondrous and dangerous world surrounding you. Life was precious but you never wanted to waste time living in a bubble. “Come with me?”

Daryl paused, his fingers drawing light circles into your skin. It might not have been words, but you knew his answer. No. He had a job to do. Look for Rick.

You sighed, resting your head into the crook of his neck. “Alright… but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Breathing in deeply you tried to bury the smell of him in your memory. He smelled like homemade soap and tobacco.

“Carol stopped by, huh?”

The stoic man let out a soft chuckle. “You can tell?”

“Soap… a new haircut… blankets without holes? I’d say she prepped you with the good stuff for this weekend.” Those blue eyes were glued on you. His fingers trailed your side until he dug in a bit deeper. He hugged your curves into his body like he never wanted this to end.

“Mmhm.” Daryl smiled. “Good stuff.”

Your hands slipped up his chest, digging your fingers into the cotton tee. “Hole-less blankets,” you giggled. “Gosh, Mr. Dixon, you know just how to please a girl.”

He grumbled as he tugged the waist of your pants down an inch. “Anythin’ for my girl.”

That deep, raspy voice scratched an itch deep in your soul. “Your girl, huh?” Your lips pressed into his as those rough hands wound underneath your clothes.

He grumbled a response as he continued to kiss you deeply. Every morsel of your being tingled and buzzed with excitement to be near him. To be so close to him.

Maybe it was the forced time spent together, but Daryl Dixon is someone you never thought you’d get after the world stopped moving forward. You never thought you’d have a man who loves you so deeply. Who pines for you. Who finds you funny—and genuinely laughs at your jokes. Some days he doesn’t talk much but hugs you from behind and kisses the crook of your neck. It was love. Pure, endless love.

He pulled back from your lips. The hazy look of exhaustion mixed with lust washed over him. “C’mon, I mean it. Get some sleep.”

“How can I when you kiss me like that?” You smiled as those blue eyes lingered on your swollen kiss-stained lips.

Daryl grunted. He pecked the edge of your smile before pulling you into a tight cuddle. “Sleep.”

You closed your eyes.

The night sky was beautiful but all you could think about were those bright blue eyes.

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a/n 2.0 | ily *mwah* and ily daryl dixon

[coffee-in-veins]

What are your headcanons for DD characters' eyes? We never see them, and as much as it is a hidden gem of a design choice, I've always been curious what other people think of this.

hello hello! o/ thank you for the ask

In fact, I actually do, quite a few of those. I love overanalyzing things, and eyes were a thing I loved poking (figuratively! mostly...) in my characters. I wish naming eye colours wasn't so exhausting, though, because let me tell you it is a mess! It almost feels like everyone tries to outshine the name from another site, so I'll try my best to be descriptive but won't add images because finding proper ones is a doozy.

Please note that mostly I have headcanons for characters used in the fic the most (since most of those headcanons are for writing RRR), and some will be far less thought-through than others.

Abomination/Bigby – dusty green eyes with a bright, yellowish-green shine to them when he transforms or is close to transforming or uses his power; imagine the colour of the veins on his beast form arm's veins.

Antiquarian/Josephine – light, amber eyes, almost the colour of linden honey. Because of them, she looks trustworthy, sweet and approachable, and she knows that. Do with this what you will.

Arbalest/Missandei – light brown eyes with a bit of yellow and a dark limbal ring, which can make them appear black at a glance under a right angle.

Bounty Hunter/Tardif – brown eyes with grey flakes, but very few people ever saw those.

Crusader/Reynauld – bright blue eyes with a steel tint to them and a ring of tiny yellow flakes around the pupil, but those are almost impossible to see from afar.

Flagellant/Damian – striking, pale baby blue eyes which look amazingly out of place on his face and with his stature.

Grave Robber/Audrey – prominent bottle green eyes with a darker ring around the pupils. Prefers dusty-blue clothes to make them look shinier.

Hellion/Boudica – bright, leafy-green eyes with a prominent limbal ring and sparse yellow flakes.

Highwayman/Dismas – dark, almost black, brown eyes with tiny yellowish specks around the pupils, but very few people know about their existence due to him not liking people being close to his face and squinting quite a lot.

Houndmaster/Willam – grey eyes with prominent green flakes, darkening and more green than grey around the pupil.

Jester/Sarmenti – he has incomplete heterochromia; most of his eyes are dark hazel green with sectors of brown in each eye. This was one of the reasons he was forced into the role of a jester, who often had deformities in the middle ages.

Leper/Baldwin – pale brown eyes with milky, hazy pupils due to his deteriorating condition. Used to be brown, maybe with a bit of amber flakes.

Man-at-Arms/Barristan – dark grey eye, paling in colour to the pupil.

Musketeer/Margaret – sapphire blue eyes with hazel flakes around the pupils.

Occultist/Alhazred – dark carob eyes with a greyish ring around the pupil. His eyes probably look dark wine-red/purple if the light falls under a right angle, but that is mostly a result of his Pact.

Plague Doctor/Paracelsus – steel-grey with a prominent, thick dark limbal ring. They appear foggy behind her glasses if she's without her mask.

Shieldbreaker/Amani – dark brown eyes, almost the colour of buckwheat honey, since those are considered the prettiest colour in the part of the world she supposedly is from, and she is 'a beautiful thing' after all.

Vestal/Junia – warm brown hazel eyes with gray flecks which appeared in them after her 'enlightenment'. She believes this was because of her 'rejuvenation' by the Light.

Phew, that was a lot! Hope you liked my ideas ^^ Did they match any of yours?

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844 

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Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes. 

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door. 

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones. 

Suffice to say, the twins were very different. 

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb. 

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle. 

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips. 

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist. 

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression. 

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”. 

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4” 

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!” 

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work. 

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton. 

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen. 

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler. 

“That’s really good pat-” 

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun. 

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

“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school” 

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands. 

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building. 

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job. 

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched. 

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded. 

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe. 

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work” 

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will. 

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director. 

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t  look marginally like a cave. 

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects. 

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before. 

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid” 

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding. 

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep. 

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

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was. 

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family. 

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree. 

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day. 

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up. 

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Strange Side Quests

Geralt of Rivia x (f)reader

- reader is part of my Of Monsters and Men series

Summary: After some fortune teller had given you two a tarot paired with directions to a town. You find yourselves on a new adventure, but is the coin worth it?

Warning: blood and gore, fluff, slight smut mention, reader being a smartass, Geralt loving reader unconditionally up in here; also reader is half human half vampire. Enjoy!

Kicking a rock across the beaten down path until the tiny grey object flies into a nearby bush. You let out a dramatic huff in boredom, how you almost wish Jaskier was traveling with you now to fend off the silence. Then maybe this trek to Vizima wouldn't be so tedious and lengthy, oh if you only knew where that bard had traveled off to. On second thought, maybe you don't.

The surrounding area is forest on both sides, tall trees with leaves turning colors of reds, oranges, and yellows as autumn calls them home to the earth. A brisk wind causes your long dark coat to flap against your legs while you walk side by side with Roach.

The day is bright and beautiful, evening it is with puffy white clouds that scatter across the large blue sky. You absolutely love this time of year on the Continent, and how else would you rather spend your traveling time then with a smelly mare and a Witcher all to yourself.

"We should look for a place to set up camp." Says Geralt, "Looks like it's going to be a cold night."

"For you." You can't feel the cold, however, he does.

Geralt hums, "Then perhaps we could find a way to keep warm."

"A fire usually does the trick. Also no worries, you can use my blanket and coat to keep warm, I'll just sleep naked under the starlight." You add with a telling smirk, eyes glancing over at Geralt who shares a knowing look with you.

"Y/N, you speak dangerously."

You smile, "These are just simple words coming out of my mouth. Solutions to your chilly night problems so my dear Witcher does not feel like an ice sickle. Nothing more."

He snorts, "Yes and the sky is red."

"It could be." You laugh, "I knew a mage once who could turn the clouds green. It was quite something to witness and it was definitely real."

"Well green clouds will not prevent me from shivering if we don't find a place to set up soon."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it." You mutter before giving him a wink and shifting into a pack of bats, flying off down the trail in search of a suitable place to set up camp. Somewhere far off enough from the trail where a fire cannot be seen by any unwanted prying eyes, and somewhere that's flat enough.

In no time at all have you located a spot under a thick pine tree not too far away from where Geralt is still riding. Leaving the place at once, you find Geralt again before changing back into your original form to better lead Roach to the area. Thankfully making camp doesn't take too long, because before you even knew it darkness had begun to creep into the valley and away goes your light and the last bits of the suns warmth.

Blanketing the woodland in pitch blackness with lack of even a tiny sliver of moon, nothing but dark sky and earth. Luckily with being half vampire and all, you're able to see in the dark just fine as you would in daylight, the world just appears as cool blues and greys with lack of firelight. So here you are now, on stick duty to keep that fire glowing so Geralt doesn't get cold and start whining about it.

With arms full of dry sticks, you start heading back to camp without incident until you take a step into the firelight that's illuminating a small glow around the tiny camp. A silver sword is sent mere inches from your face, you stiffen before sending a raised brow at the golden eyed man behind it.

"I presume you thought I was a monster and haven't all of a sudden decided it's time to cut down your dearly beloved...Correct?"

Geralt immediately brings the sword to his side, face flashing with annoyance for himself, "Correct. Maybe I'm still a little jumpy after last night's debacle."

You set the pile of sticks next to the fire, "Oh right, that one drunken dipshit who walked right into camp looking for somewhere to piss. Fucking idiot couldn't tell his left hand from his right."

"Next time we don't camp next to merchants no matter how nice they are, I honestly thought you were about to cause a murder." Teases Geralt as you sit down across from him, "You were very close."

"And let's not forget about you huh." You add, tone light and playful, "As soon as that fool stepped out from the trees you had your fists at the ready. I was very impressed. Quite the fast reflexes you have...like a rabbit.....a big one."

He simple rolls his eyes, "I wasn't expecting it.....clearly."

"No, and clearly you're still a bit tense."

Geralt tosses a stick in the fire, "Apologies my love, I didn't intend to point a sword at you."

"The silver one at that." You point, "My arch enemy of human weaponry. The cause of my kinds pain and demise, besides the sun of course...and werewolves."

"Silver." Says Geralt, "For monsters, which you are not."

You tilt your head, raising a brow at him, "My red eyes say otherwise. Maybe subconsciously your inner Witcher is always ready to take me out. Hence why you snatched up your silver blade and not the steel one."

Geralt shakes his head at your teasing, "It's what I was cleaning when I heard you walking back..."

"Ah! So you knew I was walking back, and yet you still drew your sword on me." You point a finger at him, before setting it down while your brows furrow, "Was that a test?"

"A test?"

"Yes. Did you do that deliberately to see if I would do something about it, the sudden sword in my face?" You ask, knowing he did it accidentally though you're having too much fun egging him on about this.

"Well we weren't training, so no."

"Are you certain?"

Geralt blinks slowly before muttering a blunt, "Yes."

You lean back onto your hands, "Yeah alright......so, cold yet?"

"Not at the moment, but I'm sure I'll be soon enough."

You smirk, "If only you were half vampire like me, oh the worries of men are lost to the wind with my life. I have not a care in the world with who I meet or where I go, it's the world who is cautious about me passing through it."

"I am writhing with envy." Replies Geralt bluntly, voice obviously sarcastic.

You nod, "Understandable. You're not as fast, strong, or cunning as I, thankfully you have your fighting skills and bodily muscle to keep you alive. Also you are an incredibly attractive man, but that only gets you so far." You send him a wink.

He forces himself not to crack a grin, "What's that cunning to say about you? Your half vampire, in love with a Witcher. That's quite the predicament wouldn't you say?"

"It is. But who was the one who fell first for the other here? A Witcher is supposed to slay all monsters. Aren't I part monster?"

Geralt's expression turns oddly serious and sentimental as he looks into your gaze, "You are still no monster to me."

"Well, I think I like that answer." You add, "I must have just found the right Witcher when I needed him most."

"Maybe you're right."

You let out a laugh, "You're allowed to say destiny. The word is not going to slap you in the face like an angry whore for speaking it this once. Destiny Geralt. Destiny."

He doesn't say a thing for a long moment until he finally shrugs before saying, "Fated circumstance."

You cackle with laughter, falling onto your back as you hold your stomach from laughing so hard. Geralt just shakes his head at you, smile apparent while you try and regain yourself.

"Fated circumstance?" You repeat, "My gods you're something else.....and all mine."

He smiles at that before glancing from the bunched up blanket next to him then back to you, "Were you serious about sleeping naked?"

"Only if you'll indulge me for some physical pleasure. Just a little."

He raises a brow, "A lot?"

"A lot works too." You nod, standing up on your bent knees as you take off your shirt, "Just keep that sword over there, I don't fancy getting burnt by that silver shit before I climax. Kind of ruins the mood."

He sets his shirt on the grass, "We wouldn't want that. Not at all." ——

Crouched down by a burnt tree off to the side of the path, you poke at the crispy squared chunks of bark that break and crack when your dagger touches it. From behind, you can hear the thump of Geralt's boots against the grass as he dismounts from Roach.

His footsteps approach, as do the mares. Geralt's dark boots stop at your side. "Feels like magic."

You purse your lips together and hum, "A mage practicing fire magic perhaps? That's supposed to be banned..who's to say anymore, some mages do as they please with little regard for others. Hmm, all I smell here is burnt wood and squirrel."

"I was hoping you'd say it was just a storm."

You stand to face him, "It was just a storm."

He gives you a deadpanned stare, blinking slowly, "Lets just find wherever this tarot leads us."

"Oh that thing! Right." You mutter before walking around to Roach's side pack and pulling out the tarot. "This here." The tarot shows a shimmery red background with four rocks floating in a circle around a wooden staff and two purplish white lighting strikes printed on opposite corners of the card. Whatever the hell any of that means.

Geralt's golden eyes trail over the mysterious markings, "The name that woman gave us what was it again? Vizla...Vezlo...Vizeth...something like that I think?"

You shake your head at him, "Well it's certainly a good thing I'm here. None of those were even remotely close."

"Alright then what's the name?"

"Vizima."

"I was close."

"Knowing the actual name would get you far, knowing a variation of the name would get you five leagues in the wrong direction."

Geralt shakes his head at you, "Alright then, do you remember what that old fortune teller told us?"

Flicking the tarot, you nod, "The old fortune teller said we must head to Vizima in search of the towns only mage where we will get all our questions answered." You add with a dramatic flair of your hands, “Then she made her windchimes move on their own, however I cannot do that nor do we have windchimes.”

"She didn't say where this mage is, now did she?"

"First off, if I was to say a random name would you have believed me?"

Geralt opens his mouth but pauses for a moment as his brows furrow in thought, "Depends on how convincing it would sound."

"Well it doesn't matter because the cranky old bird didn't say shit about where this so called mage of Vizima is. So, all we gotta do is ask around which shouldn't be too hard if the place only has one mage."

"Right. This town can't be that big if its in the middle of a forest."

"Right. Easy hunting." ——

"And don't be comin' round here you fuckin' red eyed pointy toothed bastard!" Shouts a bearded round faced tavern owner as he spits onto the mud, "We ain't tellin' you not a single thing ‘bout that mage or his whereabouts in the north end!"

You lend the potbellied man a humored grin as you nod, hands folded behind your back, "Ah wonderful, so it's a he and he roams the north district somewhere around that area huh, very good." You send the angered man a wink, "You have been so inadvertently helpful so thank you and your kind heart for that very very much."

He scowls before glancing at the two biggest men standing in the small market crowd off to the side, they nod in silent mutual understanding before walking towards you. Unsheathing a sword each, faces dirt smudged and less then friendly.

You raise a brow at them, "Oh well come on now I'm just a defenseless woman trying to get some answers." They keep walking, you take a step back, "Okay guys must we do this? I mean I didn't even bring my dagger, can I at least have a stick?" You ask before the curly haired one swings his sword at you.

In a blurred flash have you practically disappeared from his grasp while he swings at nothing but air. Both him and his blonde friend whip around to face your smirking face. You give them a wave, "I really don't see how killing me will do any good. I’m fantastic if you haven’t just noticed and Geralt would miss my lovely face and even lovelier lady par..”

Blondie circles the blade in his hand threateningly, "No one bothers our mage. That's the rules."

You throw your hands to the air in bewilderment for how this whole interaction is going, "Made by who? The mage?" The blonde begins running towards you, he swings but you're gone in a flash. Standing casually off to his right, "That's not very social of him. How's he going to meet anyone new?"

"He don't like meeting anyone new." Grumbles the curly haired man as he takes a bold step forward, "And we don't like outsiders. 'Specially a half demon like yourself." He spits onto the muddy ground in disgust yet again.

You grimace, "Unnecessarily rude. You kiss your mother with that jabbering pie hole you call a mouth?"

He chuckles darkly, "Don't have no mum." They both start taking cautious steps closer, intent to kill apparent.

"oh that's nice, guess no one's going to cry if you're bleeding in the dirt then." They don't have a second to speak as you've already thrown them to the mud covered marketplace. Swords flung across the matted sludge as they both groan and moan in pain.

You turn to face the man who summoned them, his eyes are wide as he locks gazes with you, you take a step towards him while he takes a step back. You stop and tilt your head at him, "Where is the mage? Exact location in this shitstick of a town and you'll keep your cock for another day because don't worry." You hold your hands up, "I don't like to kill people, however I will maim and cut choice body parts off."

The man points left, "N-north district, tallest house there, you can't miss it."

You smile, fangs prominent as you show off your pearly whites to the nervous man, "Now that wasn't so hard." You then give a little nod, "Good day." You add before walking off to find your wandering Witcher, and by the scent of him he's a little ways past all the popular taverns.

When you finally spot him by a stall selling all sorts of shiny nick nacks and beautiful jewelry, he's standing there trying to understand a dwarven man speaking in the thickest accent from wherever he is you've ever heard. By the looks of it all, Geralt's nod getting anywhere.

Approaching his side, you set a gentle hand upon his right armored shoulder when he gives you a warning look until he realizes it's just you. You hand him a grin, "Making friends are we?"

"No." He grumbles out.

"Buying me something pretty then?" You tease, "Something big and sparkly for a royal lady of the court, a stand out admirable gem. Fit for a princess.." You lean in to whisper, "..which is what I am. I believe I deserve it, by law and by my blood." You are the daughter of the vampire queen after all, however that doesn't get you far with this type of crowd.

Geralt raises a brow, "And what would you do with a.." His golden eyes wander over the table of jewelry then to the hanging necklaces as he reaches a hand out to hold one dangling from a hook, "...one of these?"

"Wear it. What else would I do with it?"

He lets it go, "Alright. Oh I had forgotten, we don't have the coin."

You press a finger into his leather armored chest, "You don't have the coin."

He smiles a pursed lipped grin at your theatrics, you're just stalling to find that mage since you have a deep rooted love/hate for them in general. Geralt removes your hand from his chest, "Another time." He says before looking at the dwarven man, "Not today, we have somewhere to be."

"Oi yuh relvy? Wecha beva couym ack." He rambles with a nod. Both you and Geralt wander elsewhere, leaving the jewelry stand to round a corner and talk to one another somewhere quieter.

The two of you face each other, "You found where the mage lives didn't you?" Implores Geralt as your brows furrow.

"Did you understand a single word that guy said?"

He takes your hands with his in an attempt at getting you to focus, "Y/N, I know you found where the mage lives."

"How would you kn.."

"That vendor was exclusively selling silver jewelry."

You open your mouth to speak but stop and look off to the side, "oh." Your eyes wander around the vendor lot until you face him again, "Hadn't noticed."

He holds back a grin, "Now where is the mage?"

Your face falls as you then show off a scowl, "He is located in the north district, yunno only big pointy tower in the whole section? Oddly resembles an erect penis, that one?"

Geralt snorts, "Yes I remember seeing it."

"I like to think every mage held up in their prick tower is a reflection of their own personal attitude...which is they're all pricks and we cannot trust them." You point, "Most of them at least."

Geralt nods, "Yes. Now let's go find this prick. Shall we?"

You cross your arms and look from him to the path ahead and then back to him again, "Fine. But you're knocking." ——

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You stand off to the side, arms crossed defensively while your snowy haired Witcher knocks on the giant mahogany door covered in vines, using the doors metallic gargoyle head to create such ruckus. Staring back at him with its two dark beady stone eyes and ugly little face, you wish to punt this doorknocker into a pond.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Geralt releases the gargoyle head and takes a step back, soon the twisted vines guarding the massive door move like snakes before receding from their post up into the doorways overhang. You can hear footsteps on the other side when they halt abruptly at the entrance way, whoever it is remains unseen. The door shimmers a sapphire hue before rippling colors of lapis lazuli as a blurred body forms from within.

Out pops a tan skinned elven boy, glancing curiously between the two of you with his big opal eyes that flicker with every color of the rainbow. "I am Fyrn of the Nimnar Valley. Welcome Geralt of Rivia, the Witcher....and Y/N of Alcatraz, daughter of the Vampire Queen. He has been expecting your arrival."

Both you and Geralt share a mutual look as you then take a threatening step forward, "Does this he of great mysterious title have a name?" The eleven boy simply smiles, he nods, fingers folding together as his eyes trail from Geralt to you.

"He does. But only he can tell you. Now please, come with me." Directs the elven boy Fyrn as he then disappears into the enchanted door. Fucking mages and their magic entranceways.

"Ladies first." Teases Geralt as he points a hand like a polite butler. Setting a hand upon your hip, you tilt your head at him while he simply shrugs, "I knocked first."

Shaking your head at him, you push him back when he makes an attempt to go forward so that you disappear first into the shimmering door of sapphire. Geralt just holds back a laugh while he follows you through the magic door.

After a brief trek to the mages chambers on the second floor, Fyrn knocks on a door of pure oak with strands of gold woven in clusters here and there. Nothing is heard on the other end until he speaks a word in elvish, only then does the door open. He ushers you both inside and just like that does he vacate the area.

Leaving you and Geralt in a giant study filled high with books to either side and a ginormous stained glass window on the center back wall depicting a beautiful woman with wings of black webbing spread behind her. She stands on a bed of skeletons, one arm filled with roses as the other holds delicately a dagger resembling yours.

All around her are colors of purples, blues, reds, and blacks; footsteps are heard on your right, you turn to see the owner. A man as tall as Geralt stands in long robes of dark reds and blacks though his body is noticeably leaner. Hair black, beautiful and long, eyes the color of fire embers he smiles at the two of you warmly. You take notice of an obsidian staff in his right hand, you immediately tense.

The mage rests a hand on his heart before directing it towards you two as a form of greeting, "This is a good day indeed. I have awaited your arrival for many moons and countless suns, I am glad you are here at last." Speaks a soft velvety voice, this mage looks more like a pretty elf then anything human.

"Why has our tarot brought us here?" You ask, "What do you want?"

He smiles, "I will tell you shortly. In the meantime I believe I owe you my name...I am Saraphim of Vizima, mage to this lovely residence and all her people within." Lovely people may be a stretch.

"Very nice." You interrupt, "Now, the reason for us being here? Why the fuck did some fortune teller say Vizima and this here tarot shows us these sticks and shit? Also why us?" You ramble when he brings his hand up to shush you.

"A Witcher knows how to handle a magical situation out of my grasp. However a creature such as yourself can kill it like a deadly adder....especially someone with your kind of gift." Says the mage Saraphim knowingly, "You have what is needed to kill a certain kind of being where it stands, and save countless life in the process."

Geralt grumbles, "Enough with the riddles and mysteries tell us what you want and why our tarot led us to you?"

"There is a rival mage hiding like a coward in the ruins of Vaska three miles east of here, she has stolen a prized artifact of mine and to protect herself has created a golum. If you kill this stone monster I will reward you greatly, and if you are able to kill the mage I will reward you tenfold." Presents Saraphim as he wanders to the center of the room to open up a book laying on a large table holding other various magical type trinkets and other things.

"We'll do it."

He raises a brow at your quick words, "As I expected so."

"Now answer us this." Says Geralt, "How are we to properly kill this creature? They can't be killed by simple swords and arrows."

"No. No they cannot." His ember eyes trail over to you, "You know who this winged woman is?" He looks up at the stained glass.

Your eyes study the colorful piece, "I assume you're going to tell me."

He chuckles lightly, "She is the Vampire Queen, your mother."

"Her hair is longer." Why are you not surprised?

"So it is. I have heard stories of her, fantasized about walking in her court and claiming a title of mage of Alcatraz, being by her side." He says breathless, eyes turning back to you as he snaps back to reality, "Those were just childish fantasies of course. A court of vampires would be no good company for me, so here her beauty remains...and here you stand. Most certainly a close image of her greatness."

"Well I'm certainly not going to fuck you if that's what you're thinking."

Saraphim's eyes widen in embarrassment, "Oh no, no, you misread me my dear princess. I simply admire your mother's great influence and power...you see, I admire the beings of your kind. They are exquisite creatures who walk this Continent, the rulers of the night, beings of beauty and power." He takes a step forward, "And you, you are the most powerful of them all. Half human, half vampire, you walk like a wolf amongst sheep. Never to be broken by the sun.."

"Yes yes I'm very flattered, and a tad weirded out. Now what do you actually want of me?"

Saraphim takes a step back, "May I see your tarot?" You nod before quickly fishing it out of your leather gauntlet and handing it to him. "You see here? The lightening bolts, yes?"

"Hard to miss." Mutters Geralt, feeling a bit more protective over you even though this mage means no ill intent for you. Nor does he appear to be attracted to you.

"Yes good. Well, as it turns out. In order to destroy a stone golum crafted by a witch, wizard, or mage...only lightening magic can do what is necessary."

Geralt's brows furrow, "We don't posses such power."

Saraphim points to the lightening before handing the tarot back to you, "The gift I was speaking of earlier, Y/N's dark gift.." He gives Geralt a quizzical look like this white haired man knows a thing, the Witcher simply hums while the mage nods at this, "..every vampire or dhampir is born with a dark gift. For some it is taking the form of a beast, perhaps manipulation of a humans will, or to read the minds of others. For Y/N here, she needs no magical training..."

"Lightening." Geralt's eyes are on you in a second, "How could I have forgotten?"

You shrug, "I never need to use it.....well apparently until now."

Saraphim smiles, "Precisely. Now can you two do this for me is the final question I ask? After all that I have said?" ——

Throwing a pine cone in the air as you walk beside your Witcher and Roach, you catch the thing once again, completing your rhythm as you go. An almost annoyed scowl marked onto your features while you take a second to breath from your ramblings about the unfriendly tavern goers and the mage. Who has summoned you two for this quest.

You throw the pine cone into the bark of a tree, "Can you do this for me? He says, can you do this because I'm too much of a lazy little fuck to do it myself. Oh, my pretty robes, oh no ahh dirt get it away from me." You add dramatically, flailing your arms like a fearful maiden as you regain your composure, "What do we look like? A courier service for monster hunters?"

Geralt laughs from atop of Roach, "He wants this done for the safety of Vizima, these old ruins are sacred ground to them. And anyways, we need to kill the mage and bring back the artifact."

"He can kiss my ass."

Geralt hums, "He was kind, and seemed to have good intentions."

"He's a loner obsessed with vampires."

"Everyone has a quirk."

You throw him a look, "Yeah alright and what's yours oh great and mighty Witcher who doth know it all?"

"You tell me." Counters Geralt with a friendly smile, enjoying when there's a given moment to challenge you.

"Hmm. Let me see here, oh I know, for one you talk to that horse whenever I'm elsewhere. Oh and you always pat down your bed before laying down..ha like a cat.....and you always stand a bit in front of me when you think I need protection."

"Do I?"

"Yes. Clearly I can handle myself, however I find it adorable so I don't mind." You admit as he shys away with a small grin, golden eyes trained to Roach's leather reins in his gloved hands.

"Hey I think we're at the ruins." He looks up to find an opening in the woodland, a large overgrown field with massive broken chunks of grey stone placed methodically about. Like they are a far off memory of castles long ago.

He clicks his tongue for the mare to halt, "I believe you're right." He then slips from the saddle to stand next to you, "I'll tie her up and then we'll find this damn golum."

You nod before slipping into the woodland in search of some viable sign that a golum is indeed here and not just a dramatic fabrication of a paranoid mage. You walk over some roots jutting out of the earth before kneeling behind a square hunk of stone covered in patches of moss.

In no time does Geralt find himself crouched down next to you, sword out and ready while his golden eyes scan the area ahead. It's not anything too out of the ordinary by any means, the ground is large and open with knee high grass. Stone placed around like they could have been either religiously settled there or are the aftermath of hundreds of years of abandonment.

There is not a place around where a suitable house for a hidden mage could be found. Geralt nudges your side, "Can you see anything I can't?"

"No."

"Smell anything odd?"

"Besides Roach all I can smell is grass and bird shit." You mutter, "Let's get a closer look. Maybe Saraphim was fucking with us just so he could meet me."

"Maybe." Says Geralt as he looks to you, "Have you ever seen a golum?"

"No, just gargoyles. The two are very different though even if they're both creatures of stone." You add, "However I don't think golums can be reasoned with." You stand and jump over the stone edge as Geralt follows suite.

You stand in the knee high grass with him a few feet away by your side, sword at the ready while his eyes trail over the ruins. You look over at him, "I'm going to take a look around, give me a minute and I'll tell you what I see." The Witcher gives a mutual nod as you shift into a pack of bats.

The dark winged creatures flap and squeak as you navigate your way through the old ancient ruins. You fly quickly past downed trees, more field, and a plethora of other ruins with a single one imprinted with a strange marking on it. Revealing a pyramid with two sticks coming out of the top making a v towards the sky. Whatever the hell that means.

Geralt waits patiently where you left him, eyes and ears cautious for trouble as he spots your pack of bats flapping through the ruins headed for him. Soon does the pack lower for the ground as a black mist engulfs them resulting in your beautiful face greeting him yet again.

"See anything?"

"Nothing of any significant but a weird rune I've never seen before. Other then that I really am starting to believe that mage was fucking with us." You mutter before picking up a rock, "I mean, we should have seen a golum by now right? They're made of stone, sticks, and magic..not to mention are fucking huge. How the fuck have we not seen one yet!" You shout in frustration before launching the rock into a large boulder.

The grey object explodes, leaving a small dent in the stones side from the force of your supernatural strength. Geralt drops his hand to his side, "Maybe shout that louder next time."

You scowl at his sarcastic tone, "Alright Witcher what do you got?"

He leans the sword against his shoulder, "Saraphim told us a bit more if you remember.."

"I do.." You pause as your gaze diverts from his, "..maybe I don't because I was too interested in his collection of troll skulls."

Geralt hums, "Well he said in order to wake a golum who's asleep, which I'm assuming is in our best interest here, it must be shot with lightening. A lightening rod and a storm is in order for this to occur, however we are lucky enough to have you."

"Right. Right I knew that, I remember now..it's all coming back to me." You nod as he gives you an unconvincing look, "Now where is this golum huh? So many boulders and ruins here, a stone beast can't be that difficult to find. It's literally a tall humanoid made of stone! Fuck this!" You shout, deep irritation flowing through your body as your fists clench.

Geralt sheathes his blade before walking over to rest a hand on your shoulder, "Maybe the one stone with the rune is our golum. Lead us there and that's where we'll start."

You take a breath, "Alright. It's this way." He follows your lead until you stop at the huge boulder appearing rather unassuming in the grass.

He stands off to the side while you ready your stance a couple yards away, "This better be the fucking golum." You grumble before closing your fists and opening them again to purple flashes of lightening crackling in your palms.

Geralt hides halfway behind an old tree as he watches you bring your hands together before yelling and throwing your arms towards the boulder. Lighting kisses the air as it crackles across the short distance to the stone before crashing into it.

Stone breaks and flies away from the point of impact as you call more lighting to the area for a couple seconds more until you close your fists again, dissipating away the lightening. Breathing a bit heavier now, you tilt your head curiously at the unmoving boulder of rock.

You turn to face Geralt across the small grassy field, "What do I have to do to wake up this damn golum! Tickle it?" You open your mouth to speak more when a crumbling sounds from behind you.

Geralt's golden eyes widen as he steps into the opening, you twist around to watch as a ginormous stone golum creaks and crumbles to life. Standing at around three elk high; the monster appears humanoid with its big stone body. However it's facial features must have been half-assed in the crafting process, as it's face is a pebbly mess.

Whatever it has for sufficient eye sockets trains itself onto your puny form, the stone snorts a dusty mist of dirt as it takes a single step with its huge boulder of a leg. The ground practically shakes as you take a cautious step back, the golum stops and stares down at you.

"Uh Geralt." You mutter nervously, "What do I do now?"

"It can only be killed by a lighting strike."

"Just one?" You swallow as the golum studies if you're friend or foe.

"Three strikes."

Your face falls as you turn your head to then glare at your Witcher, "THREE? THREE FUCKING STRIKES?" You can't help but shout. He's about to answer you when a groaning roar pierces the air, you turn to face the golum. Anger clear on its big ugly face.

The stone beast takes another thundering step forward, man sized arm swinging down towards you right after to wipe your tiny life from this plane of existence. Anticipating this, supernatural reflexes have you standing next to Geralt as the golums huge paw swats nothing but tall grass where you once stood.

The Witcher gives you a double take when he realizes you're right next to him, "Y/N?"

You give him a glance, "What?"

He nods towards the grumbling golum of confused angry stone, "Kill it." You send him a bewildered look as the stone humanoid starts walking closer.

"And what are you going to be doing? Sitting back on a bed of flowers as a forest nymph feeds you grapes naked?"

"Preferably yes."

You shake your head at him as the blundering golum raises its arm to kill you two, in a blurred flash is Geralt and yourself safely atop a tall overturned boulder. "Fine then you handsome cunt I'll do it myself, stay here and don't get killed." He feels the ghost of a kiss as your body materializes into a pack of bats.

In seconds are you swarming around the annoyed golum while he raises his heavy rocky arms to do some damage. Not making any apparent contact with a single bat, the golum becomes even more enraged and roars. Put off by the sudden belching scream of lion-like fury, you vacate the air before materializing on the ground a few feet away.

"Look here you fucking piece of birdshit! Hello there! That's right pay attention to me, just me." The golum takes a step towards you, "That's right, let's go. You and me!" He throws a hand up just as you launch a crackling burst of lightening straight into his center chest. He yells mightily, staggering back like a drunken fool.

Geralt watches from a safe distance as you jump with excitement, he's subconsciously smiling at your theatrics when you land another blow to the pissed off golum. Then just like that do you throw a bolt of electricity straight through the stone monsters stomach. It groans miserably, holding its hollowed out tummy as it then breaks apart where it stands.

Smiling victoriously down at the crumbling stone, Geralt finds himself by your side, "Nicely done." He praises with a genuine grin at your impressive feat.

"Yes I know." You teasingly boast, "Now lets find that fucking mage."

A stick snaps. Out from the woodland does a woman with tangled grey hair step into view, a staff of ebony in her left hand. Eyes of light blue almost glow as they trail from Geralt to you and back again. She smiles grimly, "That was my guardian. Why have you strangers come into my territory?"

"A mage has sent us in search of something you have stolen." Answers Geralt truthfully.

A flicker of hatred flashes through her pale eyes, "Saraphim." She hisses with malice, "And he has sent me two hunters to do his bidding. Clever, last time he sent a party of mercenaries that didn't last longer then a wolf's cry. Nonetheless you will not leave this place with the Neh'tza sephira."

An enchanted stone? That's what the mage in Vizima wants, whatever gets you coin then.

"Hand us over the magic rock and you keep your life."

She scowls at you, staff pointing in your direction, "I think not you undead halfbreed."

Your crimson eyes darken, in a blurred flash do you disappear before halting all movements a few feet to her left. Your hair and clothing sways when you stop to look at the mage. She stands there, eyes wide in shock as a waterfall of blood flows out of her slit throat. Her staff falls to the earth.

She sputters and gags, gasping for breath that never comes while her hands try desperately to stop the bleeding. It seeps through her fingers as you clean your dagger in the grass. Geralt races to her side, "Where is the sephira!" He shouts as she falls to her knees.

He kneels down as she smiles a sick grin, blood still trailing down her neck and hands as it stains her clothing and the grass below. She gargles on broken words of hatred while you walk over to his side. She eyes you fiercely. You point the tip of your blade at her temple.

"I'll make it a quick passing if you tell us where it is. Point to it if you must." She simply slumps to the ground, hands still around her bloody throat as she chokes on laughter.

You unsheathe your dagger before kneeling down to rip off a piece of her clothing's fabric, standing once more, you drink in the scent. Blinking, your eyes gaze up at the woods to find an aurora of her scent leading the way. Perfect.

You glance down at the dying mage, "Sorry about that.....and uh, don't haunt this place or I'll have to kill you again." She smiles a bloody grin up at you before releasing her hands from the slice in her skin. Blood oozes out, the sweet scent causing you to almost drool. She knows what she's doing.

Geralt, eyes flickering between the two of you quickly stands to grab your forearm, "Y/N. Let's go." Your eyes snap up to meet his, "Lead the way." He says, doing all he can to prevent you from ripping the mage to shreds from a sudden spell of bloodlust.

You swallow, "Right. The magic rock." Leading him away towards the forest as your vampiric instincts fight internally within you to stay and feast. Gods the things you do for coin. ——

Bursting through the doors of Saraphim's study, he jumps, dropping a book onto his desk before whipping around to see what all the commotions about. Once his ember irises fall upon your self assured face and that of Geralt's, he relaxes once more.

"You two have survived." He says almost surprised, "This is most fortunate news. Do you have what I asked?"

"Do you have our coin?"

He nods, "Of course." Eyes set to the elven boy by the door, "Fyrn retrieve our friends gold they have rightly earned." The opal eyed boy bows respectfully before disappearing down a hallway.

Saraphim looks expectantly at the two of you, "May I see this object for myself, I must know it is safe and true."

"You mean this magical rock?" You hold up a black sack, undoing the tie as you pull out a rock with a peculiar rune engraved into it. "It's not much but stone."

His eyes light up with excitement, "So you have." He takes a couple steps forward before hesitating, "May I?" He asks.

You hold out the rock, "Please. We've dealt with enough rocks for awhile, I don't care why you needed this and I certainly don't care for an explanation into whatever the fuck this artifact does for you." He takes the rock as you cross your arms, "We'll be satisfied with our coin and gladly to never cross paths with you ever again."

"Very well, I will not bore the lady dhampir and her Witcher of Kaer Morhen any longer then necessary." Agrees the dark haired mage as his elven apprentice walks into the room, "Oh good, Fyrn would you give them their dues."

The elven boy hands each of you a sack of coin, big enough to fit nicely in the whole extent of your hand. You throw the sack up, catching it soon after as you then shake the sack to hear the distinctive jingle of coins. "Very nice indeed."

"Yes." Says Geralt, "It was a pleasure to meet you Saraphim, but we must be going now. Good day."

"Yes, good day and goodbye." You add with a wave of your hand, feet already leading you towards the door.

"Safe travels." He calls after, though you've already made it down the hallway.

What a trip that was.

-

Tagged:  @seninjakitey  @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce​ @diegos-butt​  @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @beck07990​

[appledew]

Andi is all set!

Made for  Blshbker on Twitter!

Andi is made of Minky and custom dyed minky, and a tiny bit of short pile minky. There is a gingham patterned heart and has Birthday cake scented disc inside the plush from everyone’s favorite ursid-construction company! :) This plush stand at about 18 inches from the top of the head to the bottoms of the feet, 20 inches including the hair. The spots, feet and hand detailing, and face are appliqued and machine embroidered. The gradient on the base body is dyed on.

Andi is too cute! This little sweetheart took a bit out of me but it was totally worth it! *u *

The gradient on the back was quite a unique experience and more info on the can be found here!: https://ko-fi.com/i/ID1D8C6G7J This is something I plan on working on privately to iron (haha, pun) out some issues. One thing that does look a little obvious is the uneven dye. I’m not sure what exactly when wrong, but I’m assuming it has to do with the distribution of dye. Despite looking a bit uneven, I do really love the results! Especially since I actively avoid doing gradients on teddies. Its not something I’ll offer right away, but there may be changes in the future! :)

The pattern took little to no effort the change! I just elongated the neck a bit and resituated the arm slots! One things that didn’t pan out the way I wanted to was the hands. I was aiming to make them a little more tub like with the hooves coming in at a SLIGHT angle, but they came out a bit flat. :( They’re still pretty cute, and get the point across but I wish they would have been a bit different.

The embroidery was nothing too special, aside from a bit tedious! The embroidery took about 2 days of work, not to mention the time it took to make the files, but it was worth it! Unfortunately I skipped out on adding the cute little gradients on the spot since I couldn’t get proper color matches and transitions going. One small thing I wish I could have done was add, the blue-grey color transition to the back of Andi (the grey blue spots on the shoulder). Unfortunately I couldn’t figure out how to do it without absolutely eliminating a row of colors. and having to change the big warm purple spot to something else. Perhaps I was just over thinking it. ^^;

Moving on.. I did struggle a tiny bit color matching in general; the biggest culprits were the hooves and the green with the blue-ish tint color. I couldn’t get a neon-ee color dyed, specifically for the feet, as tempting as it was to look at overseas vendors of minky (not custom, just more options), I couldn’t justify the price and protentional months wait time. In the end, I like to believe that I made some at least... good choices for the colors. Oh! Back to the body! There was a slight oopsy when dyeing the gradient! some of the orange dye soaked into the yellow and stained it to be a yellow with a veeeeery slight orange tint. To be honest I rolled with it! I hoped that the other colors would balance it out, and it seems to have worked! In general, this little sweetheart came out warmer in color.

Aside from all that, Andi wasn’t too much trouble! There were some small hurdles that needed to be figured out, and I hope i jumped them all correctly! ^u ^

I’ve mentioned this once or twice, I’m absolutely LUCKY to have had a chance to bring Andi to life in teddy form and hope I did her justice! Qu Q My work space now smells like birthday cake, and I’m NOT complaining; she smells so good! <3

________

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[teddypoi-qd]

{ID - digital art, a timeline of Martin from The Magnus Archives, as his appearance changes with each major event/season. Each appearance has a series of notes surrounding it. As a rule, Martin’s hair is curly and starts off auburn brown before turning various shades of grey and white. There is a puff of hair on top that looks like a heart. His eyes start off dark blue, and become foggy grey. He is white and freckled, fat and drawn into himself, with rounded features.

S1 - Martin is wearing a bright yellow jumper with orange starbursts on i; it doesn't fully hide his chest. He has rounded glasses and messy, curly hair. He wears trousers with scuff marks on. He waves gently at someone offscreen, and holds a mug of tea in his other hand. He wears a trans flag badge, and a simple orange one, as well as a green lanyard that says "STAFF". He has the start of a beard. Notes - (pointing to hair) "Bird's nest" "Yeah I'm in my 30s! I know I don't look it; baby face!" "Charity shops love him!" (pointing to his chest) "Non-op (too expenny)" "Repairs his own clothes" "Children's TV presenter vibes"

S1 (archive livin') - His hair is slightly longer and messier, and he is wearing pyjamas. His pyjamas are a matched set; a blue shirt with paw prints on the chest, and a pair of blue boxers with dog faces on. His arms and legs are visible, showing a lot of body hair and two tattoos. On his left bicep is a black cog, and on the inside of his right thigh is a small spider. In one hand, he clutches a corkscrew. His left hand clutches fearfully onto his right arm. Notes - "Matching PJ set (from Sash)" "Mechs tattoo lol (Jon FREAKED out)" "No haircuts for lads in quarantine" "Is that a corkscrew in your pocket or- (it's a corkscrew)" (pointing to the spider) "Stick n' Poke from when he was like 16"

S2 - His hair remains long and messy, but he now looks generally more exhausted and tense. He is wearing a pink jumper with a small heart design on, and his trans pin. The jumper sits on top of a pink-grey shirt. He is also wearing purple-grey suit trousers. He still clutches onto his corkscrew. Notes - "SO tense SO jumpy" "Nearly stabbed Tim one time" "Dressing better (to impress Jon)"

S3 - His hair is shorter now and his outfit is more muted. He is also slightly fatter. He wears a thick green sweater vest and a grey-beige shirt with his suit trousers. He clutches a tape recorder in his hand. He looks incredibly sad, and his fists are clenched. Notes - "3AM sadness haircut" "Sad" "Putting on worry weight" "Tries to remain progessional despite it all (colours remind him of Jon), "Using 'Jon's' recorder"

S4 - A dramatic change for Martin; his hair is longer again, and cloudy grey. His glasses are clouded by fog, and he is looking stern and stubborn. His skin is much paler, and his freckles are faded. He is wearing a navy blue turtleneck and jeans. He holds a piece of paper in one hand, and a blue mug in the other. Behind him are soft blue clouds. Notes - "No more Mr Soft Boi" "Depression Hair Returns" ""Peter's evil, sure, but he's right about turtlenecks." Talking to a recorder" "Paler" (pointing to the paper) "5th Extinction statement of the week" "There's Red Bull (warm) in this mug" "Gets cold easily now" "Freckles fade" "Glasses fog up" "Mist & clouds help him leave unnoticed"

S5 (cottage) - A slight return to his season 1 design, but clearly changed. His hair is pale brown, and his skin has a little big more colour back to it. He is wearing a big blue jumper with pawprints on the arms and a dog's face on the front with text that says "PUP" in primary colours. He is also wearing a scarf striped with purple, magenta, and green. He is still wearing his jeans. He looks gently happy, but very tired. He doesn't wear his glasses. Tiny wisps of cloud hang around behind him. Notes - (pointing to the scarf) "Jon's scarf" "He refuses to see it" "A little colour comes back" "At least 3 layers on" "Convinced Jon he doesn't need gloves indoors" "the tiniest bit of hope" "Sad and tired but in love {heart}"

S5 (Kill Bill) - Martin has fallen back to the Lonely somewhat. His hair is almost entirely white, and his skin is pale again. He looks dangerously angry. He is wearing his S1 jumper with jeans, a brown trench coat, and Jon's scarf. He scowls, breathing out a puff of blue fog. Notes - "Clawing for a happy end" "He just wanted to be soft." "Peter was right about big coats too. Fuck." "Becomes more/less Lonely based on mood"

Doodles - Three goofy line doodles of Martin 1 - A tiny S5 Eyepocalypse Martin, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed. He is screaming, "OI DICK'EAD" 2 - A S5 Cottage Martin, glasses off. An arrow pointing to him says, "His ass can't see shit" 3 - A doodle of S4 Martin that is transparent. He is making a peace sign and is being surrounded by clouds. A note next to him says, "Peace Out"

END ID}

i also. love him.