#they're all muddy now

[sleep-nurse]

Holy shit these people really aren't used to be around nature

[invinciblerodent]

I really love how Rook is a clear foil to Solas as the very base of the main narrative, because it really gives me room to play with the different aspects of Solas' personality quite a lot. Like at a superficial glance it seems like a rather one-note concept, but specifically because Solas is so layered and complex as an antagonist, there are actually quite a lot of very distinct ways to try to come up with characters who are somehow, in some aspect, the opposite of him.

Like, my first playthrough and "canon" Rook, Verbena, was sort of the "intended" opposite, in the way that she's the unwilling leader who focuses on the human aspects of her team, and, unlike him, doesn't fall victim to being made a "Lone Wolf" by that burden. She too was raised up to the level of a hero by a mentor figure who then let go of her hand abruptly, and she too fights because she is compelled to fight by all the ills she sees in the world (and her being a Shadow Dragon is a very direct parallel to him)- but unlike Solas, she doesn't think of her team as tools to use, pawns to sacrifice, and she succeeds, because she never lets herself forget who and what it is that she's fighting for. Unlike Solas, who at his core is the god of treachery (depending on the story), she's honest and straightforward, her goal is to preserve what is there rather than bringing back what isn't, and she doesn't need tricks and duplicity- until she chooses to employ them, which is why she catches Solas off guard. She is Rook, as support.

(I can't wait to sink my teeth into a writeup of all the ways she is a play on my Inquisitor as well, and how she is sort of the logical conclusion to this chain of protagonists I've had- I really love how it ended up that the Warden and Hawke kind of posed a thesis- and antithesis of Protagonist, the Inquisitor attempted to make them come together in a cohesive unit but was foiled by circumstance, so Rook took up that mantle, and she made it happen. She, imperfect a person as she is, still was the perfect protagonist by the end, and ended the story 15 years in the making as a culmination of all that's come before. I love that.)

Marcus on the other hand, he is insecure, and in a backwards sort of way, that is what makes him suitable to fill his role. On top of him being a Mourn Watch mage and therefore not sharing Solas' perceptions of death and the Fade in general (the world of the dead is far more familiar to him than the world of the living, and there is the whole angle of accepting and even loving grief that I want to sink into with him), he also doesn't think himself above anyone else, and doesn't have a crumb of Solas' arrogance, or callousness, or unquestioning belief in his own righteousness.

In the back of his mind, there is this constant mantra of "but what if I'm wrong" (something Solas could have stood to ask himself every now and again), he knows painfully well that he is an imperfect person with an imperfect understanding of the world, and that ability to question himself, consider many different angles of approach, accept life as imperfect and finite, and listen to the team as equals rather than as a general listening to underlings, makes him a stronger leader who will then triumph because of it. He is Rook, as strategy.

And I'm thinking so far that another very interesting (and somewhat obvious) angle is through the regret: to which Tristan lends himself very well.

Initially, I thought that he'd be a foil the way blunt force trauma is the foil to delicate clockwork, but on a level one deeper than that, I feel like I'll play him as someone who opposes Solas the most in the way that he can live with the consequences of difficult decisions, make calls hard and fast and to the best of his ability, and take responsibility without letting the guilt of failure eat at him- which is kinda perfect for a Warden background.

Tristan will fail and make the wrong call often. His manner will be blunt as a hammer, and in a lot of ways he'll be about as sharp too. But nevertheless, he'll be a person who naturally accepts his failure and mortality (how could he not, he is kind of already dead-- or, well, undead, but, details), and is willing to do what needs to be done without letting it swallow him whole. Theirs will be a lovely contrast of Wisdom and Purpose, the very spirits that they, in their separate ways, are. Tristan will be Rook, as drive.

(..... and yeah, it does bother me a tiny little bit that it's all my human characters who wound up fitting my thoughts most, but what can I do, lol. I know I'll wind up playing the dwarf girls I dreamed up eventually because their stories I still find really fun, but my partner kinda made the male version of the elf I was planning as his first Rook, and he ended up calling dibs on the Tal-Vashoth Saarebas lady I thought up for Taash too, go figure- I might do something less obvious for when I next replay the entire series from start to finish, lol. ❤️)

[dazzelmethat]

Dnd oc Nadia for pose practice, and lineart practice. I'm doing some art training these past few months.

[orcelito]

oh yeah uh i forgot to talk about my day. i havent rly been existing as a person whoops. uh

work kinda sucked but not NEARLY as bad as yesterday. honestly yesterday was probably the worst shift ive had in uh. well at least a year im betting. it was really so very bad.

today was better except Whoops my bike broke a little bit. forgot to mention that too. i left it at work overnight in the storage room n im gonna bring it to the bike shop tomorrow. so im gonna be without my bike for a few days </3

uhm. otherwise ive been procrastinating, still not doing my dishes, reading trigun fanfic and rewatching trigun stampede and reading trigun maximum. and also browsing etsy for trigun merch, of which i bought a few things.

now im thinking about skipping class again bc it's accidentally oh so late and i am very tired. i can rationalize it to myself that it's Totally for the sake of finishing my lab tomorrow. but really ive just lost control of this semester and i barely wanna do shit anymore. lol.

[ponett]

Any opinion on the Pokemon Gigaleak or nah?

I think seeing some of the WIP assets from when gen 3 was in development is kinda neat, because Game Freak is normally so secretive about that kind of thing. But beyond that I mostly just find this whole situation tiring.

Fans have a tendency to almost treat scrapped material as "more canon" than whatever actually made it into the finished product, in a way. It's treated as this pure, unfiltered insight into the creators' true vision. In reality, most of the time this stuff gets cut for a reason. Sometimes they very quickly realize it was a bad idea that was never gonna work, and they don't go very far with it. Sometimes it's a pitch from just one guy on the team that was never gonna get accepted. Sometimes they're just spitballing. Experimentation and iteration and knowing when to cut things are integral parts of the artistic process.

And hell, a lot of the time creators will just mess around with an idea purely as a creative exercise, or to get an idea out of their system, or to explore a crazy what-if scenario, or even just as a joke, with no intention of ever actually using those ideas. We recently saw this same thing happened with those leaked Rebecca Sugar sketches, where people were like "OMG Rebecca ships this, this is what they REALLY wanted to do with the show, this is canon, this was happening off-screen!!" And it's like, y'all have no idea how much crazy shit your favorite artists draw with their characters just to amuse themselves. The crew on Clarence had a not-so-secret Tumblr where they redrew scenes from Evangelion with Clarence characters. That doesn't mean they wanted to turn Clarence into Eva. They were just screwing around. This happens all the time, and with way more extreme examples than these. Lord knows how many Disney animators have drawn Mickey Mouse with his dick out over the years. That doesn't mean they ever actually wanted to make an official Mickey Mouse porno.

And, of course, there's the response to those myths that were never supposed to see the light of day. Anyone who's even passingly familiar with mythology from just about any part of the world shouldn't be surprised to hear fables about humans and animals having babies or whatever. But now people are responding to those unused stories and going "OMG Game Freak is a bunch of gooners who want humans and Pokemon to have sex!! This is canon!!!" It's so fucking tiring. So much of the modern internet, particularly Twitter, is driven by people who just want an excuse to whip out their favorite shocked/disgusted reaction image and ham up their reaction to something that isn't actually all that shocking. Everyone just wants to get their funny dunks in and feign moral superiority. It's childish. And it's because of reactions like this that this stuff was never supposed to see the light of day in the first place. But fans feel like they're owed every single shred of info from the development of their favorite franchises, so these leaks happen and people run wild with them.

(It also doesn't help that this is all just sourced back to a 4chan thread, so people were posting fake shit between the real leaks and muddying the waters. And also most of it is in Japanese, so people are just sticking documents through Google Translate and going "whooooaaaa this is canon")

[homunculus-argument]

Random worldbuilding idea: a culture where everyone is a goth, but for perfectly sensible environmental ressons.

Wearing mainly/almost exclusively black clothing because either the dye protects them/the fabric from something in the environment, black clothes are the most convenient ones to maintain, or then a century ago black dye was extremely difficult and/or expensive to produce and only the wealthiest of society could afford it, but now a cheaper dye method has been invented and after a huge trend of Now Everybody Can Wear Black, it just stuck and nobody even remembers why all clothes are dyed black. It's just tradition.

Everyone wears demonia-style platform shoes because the climate is wet and cold, and for most of the year the ground is either muddy or covered in icy slush, so knee-high tall boots are simply the most pragmatic way to keep the rest of your clothes reasonably dry and clean.

Silver and leather jewellery is widespread because the land is rich in metal ore - while the rich can afford to buy/commission delicate silver threads, even the peasants can afford some sort of rough iron chains and studs on their wristbands. Studded leather is more sensible than having metal rings touching skin directly, due to the cold weather. Studs and chains also double as armour and weapons which technically speaking don't count as such, allowing people to circumvent any "can't openly carry weapons during peace time"-laws. Law enforcement could not confiscate someone's bling without causing public riots.

Everyone is about as pale as their natural complexion allows since the climate is cold and dark and the sun does not rise much during the winter. Cold dark winters are also the reason why the culture is so morbid in general - in the heart of the darkest months there's fuck all else to do than write poetry about the moon's silver light and the howls of wolves and the beauty of death, while polishing your iron chains until they shine like silver.

Domesticated ravens are more covenient for messenger birds than doves are, as they're hardier and can manage the climate better. Even if more modern messaging technology has been invented, people prefer sending letters by bird because it's more romantic and poetic. Sending someone a raven message poem about how you'd like to be buried in the same grave together one day is a very standard way of flirting.

[chase-solidago]

pssst - hey field work/ecology work/rugged folks of all types

carhartt has a 25% off code right now (CREW25Q1).

ya girl just got herself some excellent new plus size work pants in multiple colors, I'm hype.

also if you're looking for an excuse to pick up some overalls, I can vouch for them. I've used my carhartt duck overalls for 6+ sweaty nasty muddy field seasons, and they're great. The secret is to buy them in whatever men's size fits close enough, then get them professionally tailored. Mine had to have the straps and pantlegs shortened, but it was the best money I ever spent. They also hold embroidery well, even with machine wash!

[plumipal]

I just had a thought- how would Grim and the ramshackle ghosts feel about all the stuff happening to us?

Especially if the yandere(s) are coming over to our dorm too! Would they, depending on the severity of the yandere and their specific actions, range from supporting it cuz yknow reader gets to be happy with someone who treats them well and loves them to concerned because sweetie please get yourself outta there 😭

I can imagine Grim is NOT alright with it and for a multitude of reasons, they are taking away your time with HIM, and once he pays more attention to the bigger picture? Yeah messed up things be occasionally happening that could very well hurt you!! He does not like that!!!

im just imagining Grim being visibly not alright and reader will not have it either when it comes to him, they are a PACKAGE deal and that is that no matter which yandere comes their way 🗣️

we have many people more alright with Grim being reader’s number one priority, or yknow silently(?) wishing it was them, poor Grim and Reader man encountering yandere after yandere 😭

Grim would give us a look if we expressed any sort of romantic interest in any yandere I think lol

‘Pologies if it was too long or ranty, though I am curious who you think would be the most and least alright with this? I imagine Leona and Ace (legally required to bring up Ace he’s my all time fav next to Grim) would NOT like it lmao

.. first off, this is the longest ask ive ever gotten, I gotta just say oml thank you so much????? You, wrote all of this, fpr me?? 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖 this literally made my week thank you so much bestie 🥹😭 second off, this inspired me to rant too, I hope you enjoy!- (not proofread btw)

So im mainly gonna focus on grim, no offence to ramshackle ghost fans, I just really like the silly little fire-cat/rat/weasel/creature. He was literally our first friend, our first companion (I bet Ace and grim bicker on who was your first).

And oh boy, guy is NOT HAPPY when he sees all these dumbasses vying for your attention and either trying to butter him up with tuna (which will not work on the mighty grim!) or ugnore him completely! Like you stated you and him are a package deal! Get the prefect and get their silly hungry companion!!

Now, grim surely uses his position as your closest companion as a safety net, they can't kill off the closest you have to family in this world! Guess they gotta live with him if they wanna have a life with you.

Ace hates that grim was your friend before him, feeling annoyed whenever he bullied (Juice) Deuce about being friends with you before him only for grim to butt in. Ace isn't too annoyed with grim though, and grim thinks that Ace is one of the better choises of the roster you have, they're both friends after all.

Of course most students in the cast don't liek "sharing" you with grim, especially the more territorial ones. Leona is probably the worst, I mean come on they're both feline looking creatures. With scent being a heavy thing for felines (yes even beastmen dont come at me) Leona is not happy to have his scent on you be muddied by the little rodent (the greatest mage of all, grim). Probably the worst choise since they're just gonna bicker to the end of the world..

Floyd doesn't like this either! Not fair that he has to share!! And with grim no less.. Floyd results in biting you instead of scenting, his chompers being good for nibbling on you. He also has the advantage that grim is sorta afraid of him (honestly who wouldn't be? Especially yan Floyd...).

Kalim tries to brime grim, with anything he could ever think off! Unlimited tuna for grim, and the best there is as well!! Nything grim could ever want on a silver platter, only if grim let's kalim marry you! That alone doesn't sound too bad, but that unsettling horrifying servant that follows Kalim around. He knows what jamil can do, and he sure does NOT want you with that dude!- guy is manipulative and creepy (he would definelty seperate you and grim!-)

Malleus... Malleus scares grim, guys is honestly horrifying. Threatening to curse him into an eternal slumber so he can whisk you away from him, he doesn't want that! You would also get sad id malleus did that, so luckily the possessive dragon had to share (for now...)

Whoever you choose, grim would probably disapprove, guy thinks of you as family (he will never admit that tho). He cares about you, and he is not okay with the invasion of privacy from these teenagers! >:(

I know you didn't ask fpr any drawing or such, but I couldn't help myself sorry 🤭 hope you like my ramblings back at you!

[crocwork-clockodile]

I'm a little more than halfway through reading Terry Pratchett's Night Watch (yes I know, it's taken me a while, hush) and my dad, who introduced me to them when I was in high school, told me this was the first Discworld book he'd ever read. That made me feel all sentimental anyway, but this evening I realized this book has been part of my life far longer than I'd realized.

Young Havelock Vetinari, student at the Assassin's Guild school, has been researching different forms of camouflage found in the animal world, and thus is breaking Assassin tradition of wearing all black. It's stylish, but it's pointed out several times in this book that black silhouettes still stand out in the shadows. So he's taken to wearing grey and dark green, muddy colours. And reading that, I was overtaken by the memory of my dad, years ago, when I was just little, explaining to me that if you want to blend into the night, don't wear black, because the night isn't black, it's dark blues and greens and greys, and black will still stand out. I don't remember why he was giving me this Assassin instruction, but it stuck with me forever. And now, here I am, finding the man who taught my dad all those years ago. I love these books so much, they're such an intrinsic part of my heart, sometimes in ways I don't even realize yet!

[sheepispink]

FIX IT SIMON! ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Pairings: Lieutenant!Ghost x civilian, baker! reader

Part 5 of Sweet As Sugar Series ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Summary: Simon’s been put on leave, much to his annoyance, and due to the Christmas period your shop isn’t even open. So he has to wait painstakingly for two days for it to reopen once more, and when it does, he doesn’t plan to leave.

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Finally, he’s been pushed on holiday, by force no less, and his first feeling is that he’s bored— extremely so. The initial plan was to sleep through the entire first day, but he could barely get more than a few hours in before he was awake in a cold sweat. At least back at base he could work it off in the gym, or with a few laps around the muddy track. Here in this apartment, he couldnt nearly do as much as he’d like to, especially with the eerie quietness about it. Usually he could hear Soap snoring next door, or at least Price’s quiet murmurs as he reads over another mission plan. It didnt help that he got let off right on Christmas Eve, which meant today and tomorrow he could barely do anything around town since nothing would be open, especially your cafe.

He could never relate to the other soldiers about the joy of returning home though. They’d groan on and on about how they missed the smell of home cooked food, plush pillows in their beds, being warm on the coldest nights and most of all being fussed over by their parents, siblings or well.. their lover. He can hardly remember where he left the spare toilet paper let alone find comfort in the scent of his ‘home’, nor actually find comfort in his bed. The sheets move around too much, pulling off the corners of his bed every time he tosses, and they're rough against his bruises, not doing anything to soothe his aches.

A few years back, he moved out of Manchester to stay in Cardiff. It didn't affect him much anyway, considering he was barely at his own apartment throughout the year, but it did make it particularly easier on the odd chance he was kicked out of base— part of the rules for the Christmas holidays. He really had tried to argue with Price, but he wouldn't have it, telling him to ‘just take a damn break’. Soap had even joked a few times about dragging him over to Scotland with him, but Ghost wasn't too sure if he could handle another Mactavish let alone just Soap. Plus, any type of family gathering was really not his thing.

So, after surviving his second restless night, he makes the impulsive decision to drive down to your town at seven am, arriving there in half an hour. The bell jingles, early regulars already filtering in and out the cafe for their coffee before their jobs start. He usually either went now or near closing time, trying his best to avoid the busiest hours— otherwise he’d never get to see you.

“Cardamom tea.” He grunts at you before placing a five pound note on the counter, eyes catching onto the mess behind the counter before he raises a brow at you.

“What the hell happened back there?”

You sigh, glancing back at the wet floor sign and the spices hastily swept underneath the cupboards. “The front sink suddenly burst this morning. I've been using bottled water but it’s starting to become an issue.”

You ring in his order though, turning around to dispense the premade tea, the large airpot keeping it warm. It was way better than any teabag, the fresh spices balancing out in his mouth in a way that makes some part of him melt.

“Have you called a plumber yet?” He watches as you strain the spices out before pouring into a cup for him, placing the lid on and grabbing your pen for your signature doodle. It’s not like he wanted to admit he liked them, but you’ve been getting increasingly creative with the mini-version of him who's been up to all kinds of things.

“Ah.. well, the closer it gets to Christmas the harder it is to find anyone. It’ll have to be fixed in the new year.” You give him a shrug as you hand over the cup, obviously looking a little down about having to deal with a dodgy sink on top of running the shop each day. It’d certainly makes your tea products a struggle to produce and he doesn't even need to ask to see you contemplating shutting it down. “Let me ‘ave a look.” There’s not much he could do to make it worse anyway, so you unlock the small swing gate, letting him walk around the corner. Usually , you would’ve helped him inspect it, but a group of regulars returned for their usual meeting and you knew this would be an order you had to handle now. Though, when you finally complete it, he’s disappeared off again.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” Just like the first day you met, your music is blaring in the background, considering it’s half an hour till closing and many don't hang around till now. Finally you lift your head, meet with Simon’s familiar black mask and you smile, though slightly tilting your head in confusion.

“Oh— what are you doing back here? Wait- did I forget a plan?”

Your face grows into one of panic and he quickly quells it with a firm shake of his head. A soft thud rings out and you look down to see a toolkit he had just placed on the table, what looks to be plumbing supplies.

“We’ll have that sink workin’ by the end of today.”

He had gotten to work immediately, muttering to himself about how bad the previous owners had been to let it get to this state as he crouched in front of the sink cabinet. “Simon, you really don’t have to—“ He shakes his head,reaching into a carrier bag to pull out a flexi hose and other things you don't recognise. “You got a customer waitin’ for you.” You squeak, having not even realised and quickly apologise before taking the order. In no time, your sink is working again, although Simon did get a little drenched when he tested it and the water pressure was a bit too high. The sight had you in fits of laughter as you quickly searched for a towel. Besides that, you marvelled at how he had restored the sink with a bit of diy, cringing at the dirty state of the old pipes and the like.

“Thank you for everything today. I’m thinking about getting a filter attachment for the water so it’s better quality. You’ll be the first to try the new teas, of course.”

That’s accompanied by your usual emoji, that of which is a little smiley with its tongue sticking out. He has no idea why you’re so enthralled by the mini pictures but he’s made no effort to stop you, just replying back in his own usual tone.

“You’re welcome. Filtered water sounds good, tea will taste better too.”

Okay, so maybe he didnt text as nicely as you and had a bad habit of getting straight to the point— you didn't seem to mind too much though, and it’s better than leaving you on read like he’s heard some men have done. A sigh puffs out his chest as his head hits the pillows, looking at the speckles on his ceiling as he thinks over the day. It felt good to be occupied, and not in the usual ‘planning something that could end up killing people if done wrong’ way. His job helped people of course, damn every mission was always for a better cause but something was different with the way you had lit up, grinning at his handiwork. Families had thanked him before— nervously because of his heavy armour but thanked him nonetheless. Yet still he didn't get that rush, the one that made his teeth grit, eyes avert awkwardly and his fists to clench a little. One that made him a little uncomfortable, though sent him reeling all the same. ‘If i didnt fix it, I'd never get my tea for a long while..’ He concludes that must be why he ran out to the nearest home diy store, and definitely not the frown on your lips. it must be.

Despite that, he was seemingly having an internal battle with himself the longer the days continued with little sleep. He just had no excuses for what he was doing anymore, nothing was making sense. Most of all was when the next day he made his way to your shop again, muttering something about ‘The fridge made a loud noise when i was here. It’s annoying.’ before he was stalking around the counter and pulling it away from the wall. He checks all the vents, and clears the dust buildup from many years of use. You confess your parents planned for a new one but you haven't been able to afford it yet.

“I don't need it.” He shrugs as he hands you the military discount card he keeps spare, supposed to be for family members but now he’s giving it to you. It’s still early when he's done with the fridge, and decides to check out the lights in the main kitchen, where all the bakes are made. He’s been here before, when you needed to clean it at closing time and he stayed late again. One of them needs to be replaced, obviously and so he takes it upon himself to do that. Somehow he finds another problem, fixing the squeakiness of the back door.

This carries on until a third day, he had come by after munching down some dinner, and he somehow migrated his problem fixing to your small apartment upstairs. You didn't mind of course, and he hadn't pushed, in fact he sounded more awkward than you when he spoke up. “If your pipes were this rusty downstairs, I think the ones upstairs can only be worse. You should.. get that checked out.” He mutters, his arms crossed over as he crouches before the kitchen water pipes. You have to stifle a smirk, nodding along with his words instead. Whilst he worked, he’d ask the odd question and you had explained that the previous owners barely used the apartment themselves— explaining his assumption.

“Ah.. I really should get someone to check it out…”

It feels fun to act like this— you almost feel like you’re saying no to a kid about buying a toy. He’s sitting there silently but you know he wants to go up and sort it out for you. The reason? You’re not sure, but you have a few suspicions. “You’re on holiday now, right?” You glance at him as he stands from his crouched position, and he nods. “Are you doing anything for it?”

“No.” He grunts almost a little too quickly, the boredom practically agitating his soul now as he shifts, fidgeting with the tools as he places them back in the boxes. “Oh.. well, would you mind checking my pipes out upstairs then? I mean… as long as you're not too busy. You can just tell me what’s wrong and i’ll hire a plumber later—“

“I’ll fix tha’ by tonight.” So, you close up the shop, since it’s late now already, and walk up the small staircase up to your apartment. It looked far smaller on the outside, but you had planned your space well. There was a kitchenette, looking a lot more modern than the bakery downstairs. Rather than the dark mahogany, it was a lighter brown and off white walls, matching the plush leather couch before your tv. It was clear you had done some work on it yourself, or hired someone at least, to renovate the place. He takes his shoes off by the door and you take his jacket from his hands to rest it on a little hook. It was cute to him, to see how you’ve cosied up this space to be one of your own. The first thing he notices is how warm it is, not a sweaty hot but like sitting infront of a fire on a freezing day. It’s welcoming, the warm light rather than the sterile white he’s accustomed to, as well as the little picture frames among the walls of artwork you’ve grown fond of over the years. He even smiles at your key holder, the way a cat pops out as you place the key down.

He’d describe it as a home, a real one. From the small clutter of dishes that you shyly hurry him past, or the blanket still splayed over the couch from a late night movie— hell even the bin full to the brim. It’s full of life, something his apartment has never known. “Alrigh’ let’s see the damage here.”

“Will you be fine here on your own? I still need to clean up downstairs..”

He nods quickly, even going as far as to shoo you away and you laugh hurrying down again.

You come up at eight, wanting to deliver him a cup of the leftover tea from today whilst you washed out the large airpots you kept them in. “Simon?” You call out, looking around until you see him standing before the sink, finally repaired and looking a little.. dazed. “I’ll be finished in a bit, why dont you take a seat on my couch and watch some tv?”

“I should go home—“

“No! ..I mean, I can't just force you to go now after all your hard work. Stay and drink the tea please?” He cant say no to those eyes and so he grunts, letting you tug him over to the couch and sit him down. Then you hurry over to the cabinet, rummaging out a pack of nachos and some salsa. “Help yourself, okay? I’ll be done soon. Promise.”

Then he’s left alone again, sitting there quietly as he sips on the mug of tea you gave him. It’s in a mug that has prints of skulls all over it, and a ghost on the centre with a little ‘boo!’ next to it. He finds it awfully fitting, a bit curious on when you even bought this and when you planned to show him it. Like he said before, your tea is just perfect. The right mixture of sugar, spice and everything else nice. It breaks down a part of him he hadn't known existed, muscles relaxing into the plushness of the couch. He’s got a large cushion behind his back, something you must love since there’s a few more littering the couch too. The tv is quiet, on one those stupid adult cartoons that he’s never found quite funny but the ambience of this is too cosy to deny, too comforting. Has it really been that long since he’s slept? He hadn't wanted to admit it, but he’d been avoiding sleep recently just to escape those nightmares for a bit. This was comfy though, almost too comfy, but you said you’d be back soon— he’s sure the military trained him to wait that long anyway. So he sits there quietly, waiting.

When you return, you call out again, only to recieve silence in response. Confused, you walk further in, seeing him sitting upright. “Lt! Simon! …Ghost?” Still no reply, that is until you hear quiet breathing, and you step closer to see his head is slumped back a little. Carefully tiptoeing around the couch, his blonde eyelashes are pressed against the black cut outs of his mask, lips gently parted as his chest rises and falls. You can see his chin properly for once, the small curves of his lips and the pin prick of a scar near his neck. That makes you swallow sharply, only images of him being near death coming to your mind. For now, you shake it out and try to figure out what to do with the sleeping hunk of a man on your couch. Of course, you’re far from being annoyed but you’d feel extremely guilty if you didn't at least try to wake him.

What if he feels uncomfortable when he wakes?

“Si..” You whisper, the nickname unintentionally slipping out as you gently rub his shoulder. No response is heard, only a deep breath leaving his chest as he relaxes into your couch. “Si, you fell asleep.” This time, you think he’s woken but he just shifts his body, head leaning back further to press into the back of the couch. You sigh, not sure what else to do than to just leave him here until he wakes. There’s no point attempting more drastic measures, knowing damn well you likely cant even lift his arm just from the sheer muscle on it. “You gonna lie down at least? That’s gonna hurt your neck in the morning.”

It had been a murmur to yourself but he had seemed to have the same idea, head sinking a little more in search for a comfortable place to rest. He grunts in his sleep, mask crinkling near his eyes as they squeeze. You tug his arm gently to lead him, and he subconsciously follows, adjusting himself until his head rests on a cushion you placed on the armrest. His arm lazes over his stomach as he gets comfortable on his side, cheek pressing in to the pillow just slightly. Smiling to yourself, you grab the thick throw blanket from the back of the couch and tuck it around him before reaching out towards his face. Your fingers tangle on the fabric of his mask, his nose twitching until you slowly drag down the bunched fabric to his chin. “Sleep well, Si.” The couch creaks as he sinks in further, the light ahead flickering off with the touch of your fingers.

It’s late in the morning when he grunts, though today it’s not the light from the curtains annoying him, nor does he wake up to silence neither. Infact, a soft hum is heard not too far away and he’s almost positive he’s dreaming now. Quickly perking up at the unfamiliar surroundings, he whips his head around only to see you standing in an apron, teeth biting your lip as you concentrate on scooping an egg perfectly in the plate. You practically beam at your own work, finally looking up to see him stare back at you, throw blanket sliding off his shoulders. “What the–” His voice is cold, instantly reverting to his military instincts before you chuckle, the sound easing something in him. “You fell asleep on my couch, silly. Looked exhausted too– have you been sleeping well recently?” He sits up properly now, glad for the mask to cover his warming face, before walking over to the counter you stand at.

“Not my fault your couch is comfy.” He takes the plate you slide towards him, lifting his mask to his nose as he takes a bite of the sausage.

“You’re avoiding my question, Si.” His eyes flicker up, caught off guard by the nickname but any challenge he wanted to give you for having the audacity quickly dies in his throat. He’s not the man for you, but you’re so damn tempting to him. Never has he hesitated to set a boundary, yet here he is letting you call him Si. “Fine, I havent been sleeping well. Just adjusting, tha’s all.”

You don't believe him, but there’s not much you can do, not when he’s being stubborn as it is right now. Despite that, you still couldn't just let him deal with it on his own either, not after everything he’s been doing for you. So you shuffle through your cupboards, grabbing a packet of Chamomile tea and offering it to him. “Take it. It might not be perfect, but it helped me relax when I had insomnia.” Then you’re grabbing a diffuser too, and a few candles, placing everything into a small carrier bag. “If it doesn't work, then I guess you’ll just have to sleep on my couch forever.” He rolls his eyes at your cheeky words, and grabs your empty plate to stack atop his.

“Alrigh’ fine. But I'll hold you to that promise.”

He might have to start praying they dont work.

—————————————————————-

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Taglist:

@hidden-treasures21 @bieberismysoulmate @gallantys @tessakate @galactict3a @krispymagazinepizza-blog @silas-aeiou @kupids-arrow

[cinemamind]

Goodness, so many new messages.

I will try to address everything and collect my thoughts as best I can.

[This is in regards to my recently stolen animated short film, 'Pleasant Inn.']

First, thank you all so much for sending me such tremendous support and kind words. These past few weeks have been incredibly frustrating for me, so it's nice to know that there are artists and fans out there who feel incredibly passionate about this as I am.

Having said that, I am unamused by any calls to violence against the thief. No harassment or death threats, please.

I just want to share my animations on YouTube without having to worry about anyone trying to steal them from me. I also don't want other channels to get strikes just for reacting to my animated short films.

Recent developments must have gotten the thief's attention because pretty much all of their social media has been taken down or made private.

Though, it seems like they're trying to muddy the waters by changing up the title and release date on the fake Imdb page??

(at least they added 'Crime' in the tags, which... yeah. It is.)

(a bit of a late edition, but the Imdb page is just GONE now ʘ.ʘ)

That was quick!

And hey, Facebook finally heard my appeal and took down the 'Paradise Hell' video, so maybe Youtube will listen and take action as well.

Hopefully things improve by next week and I will try to keep everyone posted if any significant changes happen.

Again, thank you all so much🖤 It feels good to be overwhelmed by love for a change.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia comes home from work

Alexia comes in from a long day of coaching to find carnage in the house but no more than usual.

Jaume's muddy football boots are scattered in the entrance hall along with his school bag and his training bag. His jacket is thrown callously on the ground and she can just make out the dishes he hasn't cleaned up from his afternoon snack on the kitchen counters.

Her son is found in the living room, whirred into a game of FIFA and talking into his headset to his friends.

Your own ballet bag sits at the bottom of the stairs and Alexia can hear rhythmic thumping from your bedroom. She pops the door open and throws your bag onto the bed.

You're sitting at your desk, breaking in your pointe shoe by thwacking it against the corner of your study space. You're attacking the shank of your shoe viciously while your other one lays perfectly broken in next to you.

You've raided the sewing box too, a needle already threaded so you can sew on your ribbons as soon as you're done breaking in your second shoe.

"Did that one do something to you?" Alexia says and you jolt in shock, not having realised she came in.

"Yeah," You reply with a wry smile," It didn't come broken in." You whack it one final time against your desk and test its flexibility, finally content and get to work sewing your ribbons onto the shoes.

"You left your bag by the stairs," Alexia says and you roll your eyes.

"Jaume left his stuff all over the house," You reply," He's so messy."

"He's a boy. Boys are messy."

"Have you made him clean it up yet?"

"I'm letting him finish his FIFA match. It might embarrass him in front of his friends."

You roll your eyes again, tying off your first ribbons before moving onto the second. "They're so annoying."

"They're hormonal," Alexia replies. She takes your other shoe and starts sewing a set of ribbons on. "They'll grow out of it."

"Can they grow out of it now?" You mutter," I'm sick of them watching me."

Alexia freezes, like a pail of icy water has been thrown on top of her. Her mouth goes dry. "What?"

You give her a look. "Huh?"

"What do you mean they're watching you?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They're hormonal boys. I'm Jaume's older sister." You wrinkle your nose. "They say gross things sometimes. It's not a big deal."

Alexia hates that aspect of you. You're so resigned to the concept that it is what it is. You had problems like this when you were younger too, merely accepting bullying and rude words at you because you didn't think it would matter if you tried to fight it.

It's something that Alexia's never managed to snap you out of but she never thought that she would see it in a situation like this.

"What kinds of things?"

You frown at her. "I thought you knew."

"No! Is that why you didn't tell me?"

You shrug. "I thought if you were fine with it happening then I should be fine with it happening."

"No...Bambi...You should never think that those kinds of things are okay. They're not and if it happens again, you come to me right away."

You nod, not fully convinced. "Okay, Mami."

"Hey," She says," Put on your shoes. We're overdue a catch up."

Alexia's busy coaching at Barcelona most days. She's almost always working but she tries to find the time for you and Jaume both together and alone. It used to be a tradition that she would take you out once a week by yourself to 'catch up' but work has been so busy these past few weeks so you're long overdue some one-on-one time together.

"I'm sewing my ribbons!" You complain and Alexia fondly ruffles your hair.

"And you can take a break. You've just come from a full day of dancing. Go put on comfortable shoes. You can sew your ribbons tonight."

You huff but do what you're told.

Alexia goes back downstairs, switching the tv off.

"Mami!" Jaume complains, pulling down his headset," I was in the middle of a match!"

She gives him a pointed look. "And your stuff is in the middle of my house."

"I'll pick it up later."

"You'll pick it up now," Alexia says," This isn't your room, Jaume. I like my house to be tidy."

He huffs and moves to get up.

"And tell your friends to stop saying foul things to your sister."

He freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid and stiff. "What?"

"I know what teenage boys are like, Jaume, and I understand peer pressure and not saying anything so you can fit in but this isn't school. Your sister deserves to come home and feel safe."

"It...It was just jokes, Mami."

"Was it? You may think they were joking but were they actually?"

Jaume's face grows a little confused. "But they had to be! There's...There's no way they'd come to our house and...and say those things to her and actually mean them! Right? Mami, right?"

"Jaume..." Alexia sighs. It's clear to her now that Jaume genuinely had no idea that his friends could actually mean what they said. Alexia takes some comfort in knowing that, at least, Jaume hadn't done this out of spite or any other malicious feeling towards you. "Even if they were jokes, your sister doesn't need to be made fun of in her own house. If you let them get away with stuff now then they're just going to keep building and building and building on it until it's too late to stop them."

"Mami..." Jaume looks heartbroken now, glancing up the stairs where he knows you're doing something in your room. "They...She...Is she okay?"

"I'm taking your sister out," Alexia says," She's had a long day at practice and she needs some time to decompress, okay? Can I trust you to clean up your stuff and get started on your homework?"

He nods.

"Good boy." Alexia kisses his forehead. "Your Mama should be home soon. No tv until your work is done."

"Okay, Mami."

Jaume sits himself at the kitchen table, going through a mind-numbingly boring Physics worksheet when you come down.

"Ready to go?" Alexia asks and you nod.

"Hey, wait!" Jaume calls out and you stop, turning to look at you. "I love you."

You frown in confusion. "I love you too."

"Good," He says," I mean, it's good that you know that I love you." He nods several times and a small bubble of laughter erupts from you.

Jaume grins like he just won the lottery and Alexia trusts in her son to lay down the law with his friends.

She guides you out the door and to the car, driving down to some quaint café that's opened up nearby.

"A milkshake?" Alexia offers after you've found a table," I heard from Mapi that they do those big monster ones with a cupcake stabbed through the straw."

"Mami," You admonish," I still have dance tomorrow."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You're right. It's probably too big for one each. We can share."

"Mami!" You laugh," I'm trying to stay healthy. The Spring Season starts soon. We have performances to do."

Alexia reaches over to pinch your cheek and you roll your eyes. "Well, I'm your Mami and I say it's okay. You know, I'm quite wise."

"Fine," You say," But if we're getting a milkshake then let's get the red velvet one."

"Whatever you want, bambi."

Alexia orders some cupcakes and a cookie with it and rolls her eyes as you mock complain with no actual annoyance in your tone.

"Now," She says," I've spoken to your brother and he's going to sort his friends out or else."

You roll your eyes, poking at your food. "It's fine. I can deal with it."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it." Alexia reaches across the table for your hand. "Boys will be boys but that doesn't mean they should be saying those things to you. I...I just...Bambi why didn't you tell me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes darting to the side.

"Bambi," Alexia says again," Come on. You can tell me things, you know that, right?"

You nod. "I just...I was worried that I was being silly. That..." You shrug. "You know, you would think I was overreacting. It shouldn't bother me as much as it is. They're just stupid boys."

"Boys are always stupid," Alexia says decisively," And I don't think you're overreacting. It's going to be sorted out. If Jaume doesn't then I will."

She speaks so firmly that you can't help but agree, saved from replying by your mouth full of cake.

You still look a little awkward talking about it though so Alexia pivots the conversation away.

"So," She asks," What ballet is it this season?"

You're not usually talkative about the ballets you're practising, preferring it to be a surprise when you gift the family tickets to opening night but with the season approaching, you don't mind as much.

"First half of the season is La Sylphide," You say, sipping on the straw of the milkshake," Second half is Giselle."

Those words mean nothing to Alexia but you look excited so she decides to be excited for you.

Your cheeks go a little red and you pick at your cake. "Actually...I...er..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No...I...Do you remember when I told you that a few of our soloists got injured?"

Alexia racks her brain. "I think so. You said it was after the Nutcracker performances, right?"

You nod. "Well, they're still not back and the balletmaster decided to start doing understudies in case of injuries and sickness."

Alexia nods along. It's a smart choice, like rotating the players in a team.

You don't look at her, staring down at your plate.

"They're guaranteed one night though, you know, as the lead."

"Okay?"

"Mami, I'm playing Giselle."

Alexia chokes. "What?"

You finally look up at her. "I'm playing the lead, Mami."

"I..." Alexia whips out her phone. "What day is it? I need to check I'm not busy. No, I'll rearrange my meetings if I am. Oh, we'll have to call your Abuela and your Tia. Oh! And Mapi too! Jenni, as well." She starts typing away at her phone. "Wait, let me just text Olga. We'll have to get Jaume a proper outfit if you're going to play lead. And-"

"Mami," You cut her off though your voice is soft and quiet," It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?!" Alexia scoffs," You're seventeen years old, playing the lead in a professional ballet company! How could you keep this a secret?! Oh, bambi, we have to sort out tickets. What day did you say it was?"

You laugh. "I didn't, Mami."

Alexia crams the rest of her cake into her mouth. "We have to get home. We have to tell Jaume and Olga!" She looks at you for a moment. "So grown up! My little baby, playing the lead!"

You slouch in your seat. "Mami, calm down. It's for one night. People are staring."

"Up! Up!" Alexia insists," Come on! What do you want for dinner?"

"Mami-"

"You choose. Anything! Anything you want!"

"Mami-"

"What about that fancy place near Alba's house? I think I can get us a reservation."

"Mami!"

"Sorry, bambi. What did you want?"

"Can I just have a hug?"

Alexia pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with her hand. "You make me so proud, bambi. I love you so much."

[david-talks-sw]

Hello. You and GFFA are probably the two most reliable blogs I know when it comes to what GL actually intended with star wars and also have the most on point finger on the pulse of fandom and such without letting the discourse get to you. So I just have to ask. Where does the idea of the jedi being space cops come from in canon? Especially in more left leaning circles. Haven't they seen that there are indeed actual cops in SW? And who are portrayed like how leftists view cops?

Hey there!

Firstly, it's always an honor when someone puts me and Lumi in the same sentence 😃 been a while since I reminded people, but my blog started because I read hers (and a few others) and I was like "oh shit she makes great points!" and started doing the research on my own.

I mostly attribute my rediscovering my childhood love for the Jedi to her early meta posts. Like, you think I'm good, wait til she gets started again! So thank you, for that!

Onto the subject itself: I've seen the notion pop up in all circles. And it's not exactly wrong, it's just not entirely accurate.

You can find a large collection of George Lucas quotes here, about the Jedi's place in the Republic.

You will see that he uses varying terminology and that's what I think partially muddies the waters.

For example, early on, Lucas describes them as "police officers", but years later he says "they're not cops, they're Marshalls of the Old West" but actually "they're mafia dons" or "intergalactic therapists."

But the one that explains it best, for me, is the following:

"They're not like [the kind of] cops who catch murderers. They're warrior-monks who keep peace in the universe without resorting to violence. The Trade Federation is in dispute with Naboo, so the Jedi are ambassadors who talk both sides and convince them to resolve their differences and not go to war. If they do have to use violence, they will, but they are diplomats at the highest level. They've got the power to send the whole force of the Republic, which is 100,000 systems, so if you don't behave they can bring you up in front of the Senate. They'll cut you off at the knees, politically. They're like peace officers. As the situation develops in the Clone Wars they are recruited into the army, and they become generals. They're not generals. They don't kill people. They don't fight. They're supposed to be ambassadors." - The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005, 2020

Bottom line: yes, they're authority figures. But they're not "beat cops" chasing after robbers and criminals.

They're, first and foremost, ambassadors/negotiators/diplomats. They're police for planets and their governments, not the people of the Republic. Again:

They're peace officers.

Now, they can investigate and take more active "police-like" roles during their mandate, but they're not gonna be called upon to investigate a murder (unless that murder is very strange and local authorities are unable to make sense of it).

It's why, when Anakin is talking about "we'll search for the killer, Padmé" Obi-Wan is like "uuuuh... no we won't?"

[astarion-approves]

Hello! So hopefully this isn't too similar to stuff you've done previously if it is feel free to skip, but may I perchance request a wee drabble of soft astarion caring for a particularly vulnerable tav after he takes maybe a bit too much blood. Like, tav is all pale and cold, tremble-y and dazed- maybe a wee bit delirious or confused, ya know blood loss things. (Someone needs to be making sure Tav is getting some juice or something after all the blood they're giving to astarion and losing in battle) thank you!!! I love your work! You're doing a great service for the astarion lovers <3

Astarion x GN! Tav

A poor bloodless Tav is just a bit out of it.

Tags: Gn! Tav/reader, OOC Astarion, confessions, hand feeding, 850+ words, short and sweet

Read below or on AO3

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

“Astarion.” Shadowheart approached him, waking him from his daytime nap, her lips pressed together and a glare already prepared before she even reached his tent. “Have you noticed something wrong with Tav?” 

“Hm?” Astarion blinked up at her, his arms resting behind his back and not bothering to move as she stared down at him. “No, why?” 

Shadowheart rolled her eyes and tilted her head to the side, gesturing for Astarion to look in that direction. Astarion sighed and sat up in his bedroll, glancing to where Tav stood. 

They held a single kiwi in front of their face, their eyes narrowed as they stared at the fuzzy fruit. 

Astarion blinked as he watched them. “Shadowheart, for just how long have they been standing there like that?” 

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Long enough for me to notice?” 

“By the Hells,” Astarion cursed and stood up, jogging past Shadowheart and making his way to Tav. 

They didn’t even notice him approach, their staring competition with the kiwi still on going. 

“Tav,” Astarion gently grabbed their shoulder, earning a gasp from Tav and the thud of the kiwi as it fell to the ground. 

“Shit,” they said with a frown. “I was going to eat that.” 

“I didn’t mean to startle you—“

“Do you wanna share it?” 

Astarion looked down to where the kiwi laid at Tav’s feet, it landed directly into a muddy puddle. “I’m not sure you should still eat that, darling.” 

“Damn,” Tav replied and sighed. They turned to walk away, bumping into Astarion’s shoulder and nearly falling to the ground. 

Astarion reached out quickly and caught them, holding Tav in his arms, surprised by how little strength they had. They trembled in his arms, their skin a few shades lighter than it normally was—

“Tav, did you eat anything after I fed from you last night—?”

“Yes! Actually… No… I’m not sure?” 

Astarion clicked his tongue at Tav, letting out a quick sigh before scooping them up and into his arms completely. They both said nothing as Astarion carried them to his tent, the human opting to snuggle their head into his chest as he carried them. 

He carefully lowered them into the makeshift bed, Tav smiling up at Astarion and attempting to pull him down and into the bed with them. 

“Ah, ah, ah, not quite yet, my dear. We need to get you a little snack.” 

“I’m your little snack.” 

“Yes, you are. My cute little snack.” Astarion chuckled as he left the tent in search of some food. It was rare that Tav would forget to eat something after one of their feedings, the human insisting on being awake for it these days as they claimed they enjoyed the intimacy. Not that Astarion disliked that, in fact it made his bite much more enjoyable knowing that Tav was there and happy to share their blood with him. Amongst other things…

Soon Astarion returned with clean fruit in hand, cut strawberries and a few blueberries prepared and resting in a bowl for his companion to enjoy. “Here,” he said and held a strawberry to Tav’s lips. “Eat this.” 

“I wanted a kiwi.” 

Astarion smiled and ran his free hand through Tav’s hair before pausing and carefully easing their head up and into his lap. “I’ll make sure to get you more kiwis later. For now, please eat.” 

Tav pouted, but allowed Astarion to feed them the berry. 

“My apologies, Tav. I must have taken more blood from you than usual. I didn’t notice how you were feeling.” 

“Don’t be. Maybe I just like when you hand feed me.” 

Astarion rolled his eyes and pressed a blueberry against their lips next. “Then I will gladly feed you fruit every day. It’s the least I could do.” 

“I love you.” 

Astarion froze, a slice of strawberry halfway in Tav’s mouth as they gazed up at him with tired eyes. “Tav—“

They pushed the berry to the side of their mouth with their tongue, only struggling slightly as they quickly chewed it and swallowed it down. “I know you’re not there yet, that you might not ever be there, and I know I probably look like shit right now—“

“Never—“

“But I love you, and I’m always willing to feel faint for a little bit if it means making you happy.” 

“Tav,” Astarion placed the bowl to the side. “What would ever make you think that I don’t love you?” 

Tav’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Do you have any idea how much I adore you?” Astarion laughed. “I don’t need your blood. Of course.. I do rather enjoy it, but I don’t need it.”

“But—“

“Could you honestly see me hand feeding fruit to Lae’zel because she gave me a little blood?” 

Tav snorted. “No.” 

“Of course not, my dear. Only you.” Astarion lowered himself, kissing Tav softly, briefly swiping his tongue over their berry flavored lips before pulling back with a smile. 

“So… does this mean we’re dating?” 

“I would certainly hope so. What other vampire spawn is going to feed you strawberries? You won’t find another like me.” 

[blightbright]

Solas' story has always been about resenting authoritarian slavers but I don't think he himself was ever enslaved? like I don't see how his relationship with Mythal is really like Fenris and Denarius sorry

I'm curious if you played DA:I, Trespasser, and Veilguard all the way through, did you recruit Cole and bring him along regularly in main game and DLC, and did you do the Redeem ending in Veilguard?

Isn't it so silly that I have to ask all these highly specific things? This is what I mean about the Veilguard writing tbh, I don't think they landed the plane so to speak in terms of really letting players understand Solas' arc. or maybe they intentionally left it open because they didn't want to make people who hated Solas feel bad??? Or wanted a secret for a future game that will now never happen??? idek

Basically I can completely see why you feel this way, because it's some Deep Lore shit that doesn't really get laid out plainly. I think that's unfortunate in terms of the writing. Solas was absolutely enslaved by Mythal. He had her vallaslin (which he calls slave markings in DA:I) and burned them off leaving a scar, was a spirit bound to/by her will (which he calls slavery and abuse in DA:I), and had to be magically freed by Morrigan channeling Mythal's fragment in one of the Veilguard endings, after which he immediately stops doing terrible things. Check out what Solas says when he freaks out about an Inquisitor drinking from Mythal's Well, too, or what Morrigan says if she drinks: they're talking about slavery. His enslaved Wisdom friend in his personal quest is a direct parallel to his own experience. He led a slave rebellion because he himself was (IMO, is, until the optional last ~10 mins of Veilguard) a slave. Solas regularly tells people he wants to stop XYZ but cannot, which is a very specific word choice.

There's more that I don't have the chance to write an essay about right now (tbh my current WIP fanfiction is partially an essay about it in story form lmao) but yeah. Legit that you feel this way, though, given Veilguard kinda dropped the ball on fully revealing this, and then Trick Weekes' somewhat tricksy, ambiguous wording (I would bet money they were instructed to keep things vague and open-ended) about regret requiring choices, when responding to a fan on social media, IMO muddied the waters even more about Solas' literal slavery.

[thegnomelord]

heyo!!! here for the prompt game!!!!

can i have 19 with monster au ghost and soap (make em trans if ya can).... reader is male and a top/dom and he's an older dragon hybrid so he has a bit of a dad bod and is a little insecure about his looks and also his age affecting his performance (two lizard pp) i want the boys to comfort their dilf

Ngl this took me so long to do as I just couldn't figure out how to write it 😅 Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Becoming self conscious after the clothes come off

CW:NSFW, monster 141 au, FTM wraith Ghost, FTM werewolf Soap, M!dragon reader, afab language, double dick, oral, double penetration, body worship,

Dragons only stop growing when something kills them and you're old enough to have shed blood on Jerusalem's walls; you know how you look — fat widening your frame and hiding the sharp musculature you possessed, old age muddling fogging the gemstone like shine of your scales until they look like low quality stones, wing membranes dotted with holes and broken horns capped with gold and iron again and again and again throughout the ages.

You watch Ghost and Soap disrobe after a long day of running drills, Simon periodically giving one word answers to Johnny's insistent but welcome chatter as he helps Soap take off his gear after he'd sprained his back. It's domestically calming, watching your boys—your hoard— take care of each other, Soap's eyes settling on yours as he licks his lips; dread stabs your ancient heart. It picks a new spear morning you wake to find them huddling next to you when you expected them to be long gone, sharpening it throughout the day until you find yourself back in your bedroom with them so dark dread can stab your heart once again.

How can you even call them yours?

You're not dumb. You know no partner deserves to doubt their own abilities when you fail to become hard immediately like they do, hairpin triggers that they are. Nor do they deserve to be left needy and wet, bodies rearing to go again quickly while exhaustion claws at your eyelids after just one orgasm; curse your draconic blood for turning more than just your body lazy as the years go by.

You're so deep in your head you don't notice them until four hands grip you and before you know it you're being flung onto the bed. You land with all the grace of a mountain, the bed's groaning under your weight not helping to stop the thoughts in your head. They're on you like wolves, straddling your thighs as if mortal men can pin a dragon down.

"Now whaet's gotten yer tail in'a twist?" Soap asks, greedy hands sliding beneath your shirt to trace the swell of your firm stomach. Your heart preens at his touch before your mind can remind you that in society's vain eyes-their eyes- you're less, just bragging rights, a notch on the bedpost.

"I'm fine." You growl, pulling Johnny's hands out beneath your shirt. He looks defeated like a child deprived of a toy, though your sharp senses pick up a spike of arousal.

"Sure," Ghost's sharp eyes track your every movement, blackened hand gripping your forearm, claws tracing the place were muddy scales melt into human skin. Even completely nude atop your thigh his form strikes a sharp image compared to you. "What, did you get a shite tatt while we weren't lookin'?"

"Is it a tramp stamp?" Johnny perks up at that, a low sound coming from him and his thighs clench around your own, slick dampening your skin. "No, no, a dick tatt." And suddenly his hand's at your groin, fondling the smooth surface of your pelvis over your boxers in an attempt to coax your cocks out of your genital slit. It doesn't work, like usual.

"Fuck's sake," You growl and grab his arm, trying to ignore the swell of your heart when your rough action makes Johnny's arousal spike. "I'm fine, really."

"Mhm, and I'm the Queen." Ghost snorts, using your temporary distraction to lean in and lick a long stripe up the side your neck, nibbling on your ear until a treacherous rumbling purr leaves your chest. Your body doesn't care of the shit going on in your head, only recognizes the sweet arousal of your hoard and the soft touch they leave on your body, rough hands sliding across your skin and feeling the hard muscles beneath the fat.

"More of a princess, sure 'r bossy like one." Johnny pipes up and ducks to escape a swat over the back of the head from Ghost, unperturbed by your grip of his arm Johnny slides his other hand down your front, sharp claws shredding your shirt before you can stop him. "What's wrong bonnie? Not 'nough that this handsome knight comes t' lay yea?"

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes closing to escape their gaze, "I just-" You breathe out, "-just don't know what you see in me."

Silence follows your words and you're sure the next moment they'll get off and this thing you had will just be over. Then a hand grips your hair, your eyes falling open just in time to catch Simon's before he roughly kisses you. Soap is close behind, tail wagging rapidly as he licks the side of your lip and taking Simon's place when you seperate.

"How about we show you, yeah?" Simon growls, briefly groping the firm swell of your abdomen then sliding his hand down to cut your boxers away with his claws, leaving you as bare as they are. Ghost's clever fingers sneak down further to slide across your genital slit, sharp claws tenderly scratching the smooth scales around it and fingers spreading it open, thumb rubbing the head of one cock as it's starting to peek out.

"Not going tae stop us will yae?" Johnny's hands wander over your exposed chest, roughly groping your fat pecs as you both groan into the kiss. "Cause ah been wantin' to do this for a while," Then he pulls his head back and pushes it between your pecs, a low sound escaping him as he shakes his head.

A surprised laugh leaves you as you realize Soap's fucking motorboarding you, nipping and kissing your fat chest. His touch makes fire burn in your stomach, the way both of their hands roam across the wide expanse of your body making goosebumps pop up on your skin.

"Way to ruin the mood mutt," Simon chuckles alongside you, then his eyes go down. "Oh, like us being sweet on you, huh?" He smirks, fingers wrapping around your cock as you only now realize you've gotten hard, "Want us to keep going?" The sharp scent of their arousal is impossible to miss, only making both of your cocks just that much harder.

"Yeah," You breathe out, letting them maneuver you however they want. You end up flat on your back with Ghost stradling your face, cunt leaking slick down on your face. Soap's between your legs with his plump lips already latched on your lower cock, sucking and licking your cock like it's a popsicle.

"Fuck-" Simon yelps when you follow Soap's lead and pull Ghost down firmly on your face, your obscenely long tongue sliding out to lick a fat stripe across his folds. "-just like that. Shit, you take such good care of us." Ghost groans, his voice stroking that draconic need to guard your hoard and making you worm your tongue inside him. The sudden intrusion of your tongue inside his fluttering walls makes him double over you, but soon after you feel him latch on to your second cock.

Even with all your senses consumed by them you still catch the slight whine in Johnny's chest, already imagining him roughly fingering himself as he sucks you off and watches Simon's eyes grow bleary every time you twist your tongue to hit that special spot inside him. Without thinking you slide your tail between Soap's legs, mind flooding with endorphins at Soap's pleased groan around your cock before he's roughly grinding against your tail, cunt wetly pulsing and drawing more sounds from him each time his clit scraps against your scales.

You don't know how long you float in a fog of pleasure, Simon's sweet slick flooding your mouth, skin feeling hot like magma from their hands wandering and groping your flesh like you're some god, mind buzzing from the sound of their collective pleasure and the sweet tight heat of their mouths on your cocks. At some point you become aware of the orgasm steadily encroaching towards you and you'll be damned if you cum before them.

Giving Simon's sweet cunt a final lewd 'slurp' you pull your tongue back, jaw and throat covered in his fluids. Ghost slumps against you, breathing hard while still continuing to suck you off, his eyes meeting Soap's while the Scott desperately humps your tail and whines because it's not enough.

"On the bed." You growl, low and possessive, your strength still surpassing them as you maneuver them. Simon ends up on his back with Johnny pressed up on top of him, both bodies flush with heat and sweaty.

"Fuck, bonnie-" Johnny sucks in a sharp breath and grinds his hips against Simon, biting his shoulder and groaning as the motion makes their cunts rub together, mingling their slick. "Come on, fuck me-us, just-"

"I know," You chuckle, wings subconsciously spreading out to show how big you are, how strong, how you can take care of them. "Need me to fuck you boys good and hard huh?" You let out a low rumbling growl, draping your body over theirs and not holding back so they can feel your weight. You don't miss how their scents sharpen with more arousal.

"Stop talking," Simon growls, brown eyes meeting yours and urging you to press your slick cockheads against their wet holes, each cock almost tailored just for them. Simon groans as you slide in, your first cock not as long as your second one but fat and Simon relishes the burn as you spread him to his limit.

"Shite," Johnny grinds his hips back to meet yours and whimpers when your cock head brushes his cervix, both of their bellies bulging from you being inside them. "God, fockin' love you for this,"

Another small laugh escapes you, "Love you too," making a few short pumps of your hips to get them acclimated to the stretch of you inside them you start making deeper thrusts. "Love you both so much," Your confession is honest from the deepest part of your heart, a deep draconic groan leaving your lips at the way they clench so wonderfully around you.

You see Ghost open his mouth but words escape him as your cock saws into him, all the bumps and ridges on your shaft scraping their soft walls until they're both shaking, soft little moans and deep growls leaving them. You pick up the pace, sharp had thrusts into their pliant bodies making the bed smack against the wall.

You fuck them hard and fast until they're shaking with an orgasm but you don't stop, teeth bared as if to scare off your own pleasure so you can fuck them over and over and over again.