#this time I’ll play sun (my first game was moon)

[sugiarttime]

Pokémon Sun and Moon ☀️ 🌙

[soni-dragon]

trainer lineup for all my main trainers! i reuse the name Snap a lot :P

[scoupsakakitty]

More than Words | idol!Mingyu x idol!Reader | fluff

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow through the expansive windows of the villa where the two groups were staying. It was the kind of light that softened everything it touched—much like the way Mingyu’s gaze always softened when it landed on Y/N.

They had been friends for what felt like forever. From the moment her group joined HYBE, Mingyu had gravitated toward her like the earth toward the moon. It wasn’t something he could explain; it just felt natural, like breathing.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much to keep pretending that’s all they were just friends.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, her laughter ringing out as one of the members from her group told an embarrassing story about their early training days. Mingyu didn’t even register the punchline. All he could focus on was the way her smile lit up the entire room, the way her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she laughed too hard.

“You’re staring again,” Seungkwan whispered, nudging Mingyu’s side with a knowing smirk.

Mingyu shot him a look that could kill, but it only made Seungkwan grin wider. “I’m not.”

“Right.” Seungkwan leaned back, arms crossed. “And she doesn’t look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.”

Mingyu’s ears burned, and he turned his attention back to the group just in time to see Y/N glance his way. Her gaze lingered for a second too long before she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Everyone saw it. Everyone knew it.

But neither of them had the courage to say it out loud.

———————————————————————————-

Later that night, after dinner and endless games that left everyone exhausted, someone suggested watching a horror movie.

“No thanks,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head. “You all can watch, but I’ll pass.”

“Scared?” Mingyu teased, his lips twitching upward.

“No,” she lied, narrowing her eyes at him.

Mingyu tilted his head, clearly not believing her. “Then stay.”

“You just want me to stay so you won’t get scared,” she shot back.

Her words made the others laugh, but Mingyu only grinned wider. “Stay,” he repeated, softer this time.

And because it was him and because she could never really say no to him she did.

The movie was worse than she expected. Every jump scare had her clutching Mingyu’s arm until, at some point, he just wrapped it around her and pulled her closer. She didn’t even resist.

By the time the credits rolled, Y/N was thoroughly spooked, but she didn’t let it show. Or at least she thought she didn’t until Mingyu leaned down and whispered, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, but the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her.

Mingyu only smiled. “You can sleep in my room if you get too scared,” he said casually, like it wasn’t a big deal.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

————————————————————————————-

She was not fine.

The villa was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional creak of the wooden floors. The movie had ended hours ago, but the images still played in Y/N’s mind, making every shadow on the wall feel alive.

She had tried everything burying herself under the covers, listening to music, even counting sheep—but nothing worked. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the way Mingyu had held her during the movie, his arm warm and steady around her shoulders. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that, but tonight, it felt different.

Maybe it was the way his hand lingered against her skin, or the way his voice softened whenever he spoke to her. Or maybe it was just her, overthinking everything the way she always did when it came to him.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. Her feet carried her down the dimly lit hallway before her brain could catch up. By the time she reached Mingyu’s door, her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he’d hear it the moment he opened up.

She knocked lightly, half-hoping he wouldn’t answer.

But then the door creaked open, and there he was Mingyu, shirtless and half-asleep, with his hair sticking up in every direction.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, husky, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “The movie…”

Understanding flickered in his eyes. “Come in.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Y/N.” His voice was softer this time. “Come here.”

That was all it took. She stepped inside, and he closed the door behind her before leading her to the bed. It was warm, and the scent of him clean soap and something distinctly Mingyu wrapped around her as she settled under the covers.

When he lay down beside her, he didn’t hesitate to pull her close. Her head rested against his chest, and the steady thump of his heartbeat calmed her almost immediately.

“Better?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Yeah,” she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly against his bare skin.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in the quiet, until Y/N started tracing small patterns on his chest circles, hearts, meaningless shapes that only made her more aware of how close they were.

Mingyu’s hand drifted to her hair, his fingers threading through the strands slowly, almost absentmindedly. It was soothing, but it also made her hyper-aware of every single point where their bodies touched.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured.

“So are you,” she shot back, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, and the vibration of it against her cheek made her stomach flip.

“Y/N…” He trailed off, but she heard the hesitation in his voice.

She tilted her head, looking up at him, and that’s when it happened. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there for a moment before he looked back into her eyes.

Her breath caught.

Neither of them moved at first. It was like time had stopped, and all she could feel was the heat radiating off him and the weight of his arm around her.

And then he leaned in.

It was slow, almost tentative, giving her every chance to pull away but she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance, her lips meeting his in a kiss that sent sparks shooting through her entire body.

Mingyu’s hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek as he deepened the kiss. It was warm and soft and everything she had ever imagined it would be.

Her fingers curled against his chest, clutching at him like she was afraid he might disappear.

And he didn’t stop.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as though they were both trying to make up for all the time they had spent pretending this wasn’t what they wanted.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling in the small space between them, Mingyu’s eyes searched hers.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice a little unsteady. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

Her heart skipped. “Pretend what?”

His hand stayed on her cheek, grounding her. “That I don’t want you. That I haven’t wanted you since the moment we met.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

“I’ve been falling for you this whole time,” he went on, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I know we’re both scared of what this means, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, but she didn’t look away.

“Say something,” he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down her cheek.

“I feel the same,” she whispered. “I’ve felt this way for so long, but I was scared. Scared of what it might mean for us for our groups for everything.”

Mingyu let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “You don’t have to be scared. We’ll figure it out together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And when he kissed her again, it was slower this time sweeter. Like a promise.

————————————————————————————-

The morning after felt different.

There was no awkward silence, no avoiding each other’s eyes. Instead, there were lingering touches and soft smiles exchanged across the room, even as their friends gave them questioning looks.

“Did something happen last night?” Seungkwan asked, narrowing his eyes at them.

“No,” Mingyu said too quickly, making Y/N laugh.

“Definitely not,” she added, but the way she looked at Mingyu betrayed her.

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow. “Right. Sure.”

But neither of them cared.

For the first time, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

Because they had each other and that was enough.

———————————————————————————-

[ghoulxh]

Light In The Shadows

Astarion x GN!Wizard!Reader

These pictures are not mine! You can find the originals on this Pinterest account!

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 700 Not Proofread Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, Cazador's name in the first sentence, maybe Astarion is a tiny bit out of character. If you'd prefer to read this on AO3.

A/N - Hi! This is my first time posting something I've written outside of the Ghost (band) fandom, but I've been playing BG3 since August and it's taken over my life. I might write for more BG3 characters in the future, but for now here's some Astarion since he's what got me into the game in the first place! <3

It had been a few days since Cazador was finally defeated, and Astarion had yet to acknowledge it. You’d given him as much space as he desired after swaying him away from the choice of completing the ritual and ascending himself and allowing him to deal with his grief in his way. Yet as his partner, you only wished to comfort him and help him deal with his loss.

As your other companions retreated to their tents for the night your eyes lingered on Astarion who remained seated by the dwindling glow of the campfire. The corner of your mouth twitched upward into a small smile as you watched Karlach pass by him and give him a firm pat on the shoulder with a reassuring nod.

You took a deep breath before finally going towards Astarion. You said nothing as you sat beside him, your eyes fixed on the dancing flames of the campfire before you. You left some room between yourself and Astarion, being cautious as the last thing you wanted to do was upset him any further.

“Once this is all over this is what I’ll be reduced to.”

You turned away from the fire and looked towards Astarion. “What?” 

“Once we’re all done with this tadpole business I’ll have to return to living in the shadows.” You hardly knew what to say. Was there even a cure for vampirism? Could you create one? “I’ll be alone one day once all of our friends and you…”

“Don’t say that,” you said quietly.

“But why not? It’s the truth is it not?” You stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking up again.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know.” You reached over and placed your hand over his, your fingers slowly wrapping over his palm. He looked over at both of your hands and you noted the way his thumb caressed your fingers softly. “I’m with you until the end. If you’re cursed to live in darkness I’ll endure the curse alongside you.” 

Astarion finally lifted his head and looked at you, the soft look in his eyes was a sight of which you were sure you’d never grow tired.

“Besides these stars are beautiful,” You said, looking away from him to look up at the stars that had finally emerged. “And if these are not to your liking I remember the Underdark had some beautiful sights as well. A night under that Sussur tree I’m sure would be a night to remember.” 

Astarion smiled softly at your words. “I do not deserve you.” 

“Nonsense.” Astarion shuffled closer to you and pulled you into his arms as the fire in front of you became even dimmer. You rested your head on his shoulder as you both admired the stars in the distance. “And we can… pretend while we figure this out.” 

You held one of your hands out in front of the two of you, as your fingers brushed gently through the air golden threads of arcane energy came from your palm enveloping the two of you. The navy sky above you began to turn into a beautiful shade of light blue, the stars expanding into fluffy white clouds, and most importantly the moon faded from silver to gold. The ground changed from stone to grass.

The two of you were now sitting in a sunny field looking up at the sunny sky. Though Astarion could feel the slight chill of the night, he could also feel the warmth radiating off of you and that was more to him than any warmth the sun could ever offer him.

“You never cease to amaze me, my love.” You smiled as you melted impossibly closer to Astarion.

You had hope that one day the both of you could lay under the real sun together without the assistance of a Mind Flayer tadpole. Until then you’d follow him into the shadows. His love was all the light you could possibly need in your life, the same could be said for him. The light of the sun could never be compared to that of which he found in your eyes every time you smiled at him, and laughed with him.

Thank you so much for reading this if you made it all the way to the end!

Please consider reblogging! It's free, and it would really support my work! 🤍

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 25

Dramatic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

The moon set, the sun rose, and began to set again.

On the day of the end –– I was walking through the wilderness with the Owner.

We pressed on, using a stole to protect ourselves from the desert path we had become so accustomed to.

Emma: It’s come into view.

At the end of our hurried journey was an oasis bathed in the twilight.

A settlement had been built around a large spring, and people were going about their daily lives.

Perhaps because this place was far from the city, the news of the end hadn’t reached it, and it was peaceful.

Akatsuki: The map says it’s further ahead.

Emma: Um… Is it that building?

We stood before a relatively luxurious building in the settlement.

There were no guards in sight. I inserted the key I had been given earlier into the lock and opened the door ––

Clavis: Haha, that makes it 49 wins and 49 losses, doesn’t it? I never thought you’d be this good at card games.

Luke: I’m getting tired of this.

Clavis: We agreed on the first to 50 wins, didn’t we?

Luke: Never heard of it. Sleeping would be more productive than entertaining you.

Clavis: Don’t say such sad things. Is it okay for your brother to cry?

Luke: You’re annoying…

Luke: Wait, why are you here, Emma?

(Thank goodness… It seems like they’re both safe.)

Luke, who had thrown his cards on the table, rested his head on the back of the chair and looked at me.

Clavis didn’t seem particularly surprised either, greeting me with his usual suspicious smile.

Clavis: An envoy of the Living God?

Emma: Correct. I have a message for you two.

*flashback to last night*

Azel: I’ll give you this.

In an indescribable atmosphere, somewhere between sorrowful and embarrassed, Azel dropped a key into my palm.

Emma: What’s this key for?

Azel: Haven’t you forgotten about the guests from Rhodolite?

Emma: …!

Azel: They’re in a building owned by the Tourism Bureau, some distance from here.

Emma: …Didn’t you say you weren’t aware of the movements of foreign guests?

Azel: I said I wasn’t aware of “everything,” not that I didn’t know where they were.

(He played dumb when I mentioned Silvio.)

-

Azel: Perhaps they were individually asked to do some errands.

Azel: More precisely, not “them,” but maybe just Luke.

Azel: Perhaps their disappearance this time is related to that.

-

Emma: About Obsidian…

Azel: That’s true. If Obsidian interfered with the end, my plan would be ruined.

Azel: Prince Chevalier is sharp. He sent the suspicious guests to a remote location just to be safe.

Azel: However, they haven’t made any particular moves since being confined.

Azel: I thought Luke might do something… Well, if it’s just a false alarm, then that’s fine.

Azel: I have to thank them for also playing the role of dispersing the city’s soldiers.

Emma: …With this key, I can save them, right?

Azel: That’s right. Leave as soon as the sun rises.

Azel: You should be able to reach your destination by nightfall.

Emma: Does that mean…

(Even though the apostle’s problem has been solved, I can’t see it through to the end?)

I clenched the key so tightly that it dug into my skin.

Azel: If you don’t go, I won’t guarantee the safety of the guests.

Emma: …To think you would take them hostage at the very last moment.

Azel: You wouldn’t abandon them, would you, kind Miss Emma?

Emma: At least tell me why.

Emma: Why can’t I stay until the end?

Azel: …

Azel took a breath and averted his gaze.

Azel: The end sounds nice, but what I’m about to do is a grand death.

Azel: Unless you have the noble hobby of wanting to see blood, it’s best to avoid it.

(…!)

Emma: Even though you… hate blood…

Azel: It doesn’t matter once I’m dead.

(…It’s not a beautiful death that might scar you.)

The tears that had finally subsided threatened to spill again, and I furrowed my brow.

Azel: By the way, you don’t have the right to whine.

Azel: I haven’t used your “Special Service Ticket to Grant Any Wish,” have I?

Emma: …Can I cry a little more?

Azel: You never run out of tears, do you?

A hand reached behind my head and pulled me closer, my forehead pressing against Azel's chest.

I felt like I had been given permission to cry as much as I wanted, and my vision blurred even more.

Azel: You should go back with the Rhodolite bunch.

Azel: Akatsuki alone would be enough, but you can never have too many bodyguards.

Emma: …Those two… haven’t fulfilled their purpose yet.

Azel: Then tell them this.

*back to present*

Emma: “The tri-nation alliance begins with the end of Tanzanite.”

Emma: “The country you should be investigating is not this one, but another.” …That’s what he said.

With a tingling sensation in the back of my nose, I closed my eyes and relayed Azel's words exactly.

Clavis: That’s quite a kind warning from Azel.

Luke: That God, he tricked us, but he’s awfully sweet to you.

Clavis: This is love.

Luke: Alright, alright. That’s all you’ve been saying.

Luke: What are we going to do now?

Clavis: If we’re taking God’s message literally, it’s “get out of the country now,” right?

Clavis: We’re at a disadvantage right now. It’s a fact that we’re involved with Obsidian.

Clavis: This is probably where we should back down.

Luke: Well, that’s a reasonable judgment.

Clavis: But Luke, if you haven’t finished your business, you can still stay.

Luke: ………… No.

Luke: I don’t have any business. Let’s get out of here.

(It’s all going according to Azel's plan.)

(…Don’t think about it, Emma. I cried enough yesterday to last a lifetime.)

Emma: We’re going to head to the port and return home. Are you coming too, Prince Clavis and Prince Luke?

Luke: We are.

Luke got up from his chair and suddenly noticed the bag I was carrying.

Luke: Hey, have the contents of your bag changed?

(Ah…)

*flashback*

Luke: I told you I would carry it for you, Emma.

Emma: Thank you. But this is my first trip, so I want to carry the luggage myself.

Emma: Selling books in a foreign land, buying them…

Emma: I’m really looking forward to seeing how much the contents of my bag will change between when I leave and when I return.

*flashback over*

Emma: …Yeah.

(The books in my bag were replaced as I carried out the Owner’s errands.)

(But more than that…)

I unconsciously touched the unicorn earring cuff.

The parting gift that Azel gave me is worth more than what can fit in my bag.

Emma: It’s changed.

(The weight of my bag is completely different now compared to when I came here.)

(That’s how many memories are packed inside.)

Clavis: Haha, it’s not often that you have such a hard-earned experience that you cry your eyes out.

Clavis: I hope it will become a good treasure for you in the future.

(…Clavis and Luke might have an inkling of the reason for my tears.)

Emma: You’re right.

Emma: …I’d like to cherish it.

-

We borrowed camels from the settlement and headed for the port through the desert.

It was the Owner who first noticed the anomaly.

Akatsuki: …The sky.

(The sky?)

When I looked up at the sky, I immediately understood what the Owner meant.

Emma: The moon…

The beautiful full moon that illuminated our journey gradually lost its light and was covered by a red shadow.

The surroundings were engulfed in a faint darkness, and we silently gazed at the sky.

(“When the moon disappears… the people will awaken from their long dream”…)

(Just as prophesied… the moon has disappeared.)

The sound of my heartbeat echoed in my chest, heavy and sharp.

Clavis: Oh, so this is the so-called end.

Luke: That’s pretty convincing.

Akatsuki: …Indeed. God calculated this.

Emma: Calculated?

Akatsuki: For several years now, God has been asking me for various astronomical books from all over the continent.

Akatsuki: His purpose wasn’t the wisdom of divination, but probably the records of the moon.

Akatsuki: Based on past records, he calculated the exact time the moon would become like this.

(Can he really do that…? …Azel is truly extraordinary.)

Clavis: As expected of God. This isn’t something a mere mortal could do.

Clavis: Such a perfect disappearance of the moon is a rare sight.

Clavis: It’s the perfect prop to make people believe in the end.

(Right now, Azel is…)

The red moon looked like blood.

I couldn’t bear it when I imagined Azel, the incarnation of the moon.

A single tear escaped and fell onto the dry sand.

Fortunately, no one noticed my tears in the moonless desert.

(Please…)

(May the people awaken from their eternal dream, just as Azel wished.)

-

––During the long voyage, I had a dream.

Emma: …This place again.

The dreamland I stepped into after a long time was still the same half-baked world, with only a few roses blooming here and there.

I felt like there were more roses than in the scenery in my vague memories, but that was all.

I casually walked to the end of the path and stood before the oak table.

(I don’t remember it well, but… I should have met someone here several times.)

I looked around, but there was no one in sight.

The lonely rose garden swayed in the wind, carrying faint sounds.

(…The incarnation of the moon is also the God of dreams, right?)

(I wonder if I can meet him. Even if it’s only in a dream…)

Even though it would be an illusion that disappears like a bubble when I wake up, I found myself sincerely wishing for it as the days passed.

(I haven’t actually seen Azel's death with my own eyes, so honestly, it still doesn’t feel real.)

(Since I can’t get any information about Tanzanite while I’m at sea…)

(I cling to the hope that maybe he’s still alive.)

(...)

(Is that why I’m seeing strange hallucinations?)

I felt like… I saw familiar hair growing from the rose hedge in the distance.

It was an unnatural sight, as if someone was buried there.

(No way, that can’t be true. No one would dive into a rose hedge.)

(But… this is a dream, isn’t it?)

(Anything can happen in a dream.)

(...............)

Emma: That’s… really absurd, isn’t it!?

When I called out into the distance, the hedge shook noticeably.

I hurried over and peered in, and there was a suspicious man with his back hunched.

Emma: …What are you doing, Prince Azel?

Azel: No…

Azel: …You’ve mistaken me for someone else.

Emma: I’ve been wanting to see you for so long… and you say I’ve mistaken you for someone else?

Azel: You have. I’m not your acquaintance.

Emma: …It’s alright, it’s not embarrassing, so please come out.

Azel: Don’t grin… Please don’t grin. I beg you, my spirit will die.

(It really is Azel.)

(…Since this is the dream world, it’s okay to be a little forward, right?)

I hugged Azel, who finally emerged from the hedge, still covered in leaves.

Emma: Why were you hiding?

Azel, without chasing me away, awkwardly looked to the side.

Azel: What if I was just in the mood to?

Emma: You get into a rose hedge because of your mood?

Azel: …Is there something strange about that?

Emma: Everything is strange.

Azel: …

Azel: It would be awkward to meet so easily after making you cry so much.

(I see… That’s so like Azel.)

Emma: I’m happy.

Azel: Is that so?

Emma: Are you blushing?

Azel: Yes, that’s an insult.

Emma: You’re being childish.

Despite his prickly words, Azel put his arm around my back.

Being embraced like this vividly reminded me of our last parting.

(If dreams are a mirror reflecting my heart, then surely the Azel I’m seeing now is also a convenient illusion.)

(But even so…)

Emma: …Hehe.

Azel: What’s so funny?

Emma: I just thought it was funny how realistic the “it would be awkward to meet” part was, even though this is supposed to be a dream.

Emma: It’s as if the real Prince Azel is here–

Azel: That’s impossible. I’m dead.

My words were denied without a moment’s hesitation.

Emma: Let me dream, even in a dream.

Azel: Haven’t you dreamt enough already?

(…Does this mean that my understanding of you is so deep that I can dream of Azel, who is no different from the real one?)

(I don’t want this dream to end.)

The more I realized it was a dream, the more likely I was to wake up, so I tried to numb my thoughts as much as possible.

The silence, broken only by the rustling of leaves, enveloped us for a while.

Azel: Hey… Can I talk about a hypothetical situation?

Emma: …?

Azel: Suppose I’m still alive and dreaming somewhere.

Azel: Maybe our dreams are mixed together, and that’s why we were able to meet like this.

Azel: Assuming that’s the case, what would you do if you found me next time?

Emma: Of course, I’d demand compensation.

Azel: …Huh?

Emma: It’s a natural claim since you made me cry so much.

Emma: It would make paying off the remaining debt a lot easier.

(Though I have a feeling that if I’m with Azel, I’ll soon be in debt again.)

Azel: What if that debt was gone?

Emma: I’d be happy to have it paid off, but I don’t think that will happen.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Because you’re good at making me go into debt, Prince Azel.

Emma: I feel like I’ll get another invoice.

Azel: …

Azel: Would you dutifully pay off a new debt too?

Emma: Of course.

Azel: Even if it’s a scam?

Emma: …I’d gladly accept it.

Emma: Because…

I lifted my face, which had been pressed against his chest, and peered into Azel's eyes, which had a clear outline despite being in a dream.

Emma: If I were to go into debt again, I think it would be Prince Azel's way of saying “stay with me.”

Azel: ............

Azel: That’s not true.

Emma: Even if it’s not… I still want to be with you from now on.

Emma: There’s no other reason for me to pay off a scam-like debt.

Azel: …

(You’re so easy to understand.)

Azel, his cheeks flushed, lightly pecked my lips as if to distract me.

(…This is a… dream, right?)

(But if he’s really… really alive ––)

Azel: ………… Sigh.

Emma: Why are you sighing?

Azel: It’s nothing. Just…

Azel: Don’t forget the offerings.

-

After returning to Rhodolite, my daily life at the bookstore resumed.

I switched with Rio, who had been looking after the store, and the events in the Land of Illusions became a distant dream.

But –– I occasionally received suspicious letters.

The letters, with no sender’s name, described the current state of Tanzanite and always ended with “don’t misunderstand.”

Written in illegible handwriting except for the first letter of each sentence, these letters prevented the illusions from fading into a dream.

*flashback*

Azel: Tanzanite itself is a dream to you.

Azel: When you wake up, you’ll forget everything and return to your everyday life in Rhodolite.

*flashback over*

(Even though you said that…)

(…Even though you said “goodbye” to me.)

(Your words and actions never match.)

(You’re so stubborn.)

-

––And then, six months later…

Emma: Here we are!

Using every trick in the book, I was once again lured to the desert country, and the first place I headed to was the solitary castle.

When I looked back, Kamal, who had guided me to the gate, was waving.

I waved back and stepped inside the familiar solitary castle.

(In Tanzanite, it seems God really did die.)

(That day of the end… Azel was killed by someone on stage.)

The people still respected God.

However, it seems they had accepted the reality of not being able to rely on divination and had begun to seek knowledge.

The letter mentioned that a new bookstore had opened, along with a map.

It included the usual phrase: “You must be interested. You should visit it sometime.”

(I’ll visit that bookstore later…)

There was no sign of anyone in the entrance.

Even when I stepped into the corridor on the right…

Even when I peeked into the kitchen, the master of the temple maintained his silence.

(To think you’d go out of your way to write so many letters and then decide to be absent.)

It seems the people who accepted God’s death no longer visit this temple.

However, there were clear traces of life in the kitchen.

A mountain of fresh ingredients caught my eye, and I could almost hear a hallucination telling me to “hurry up and cook.”

(…It can’t be helped. I’ll use that tactic.)

-

I knocked and entered Azel's room.

I looked right, I looked left, and after confirming that there was no one around, I put down my bag and took out the offering.

What I had prepared were simple meat skewers made using the castle kitchen.

As I opened the package, a delicious aroma that stimulated the appetite filled the room.

Emma: Well then… Let's eat!

???: No, wait, that’s absurd!

(Ah, he was easier to lure out than I thought.)

Azel, who seemed to have been hiding in the shadows of the room, jumped out and snatched the skewer from my hand.

Even though it was the first time we had seen each other in a while, it didn’t feel like it had been “a while” for some reason.

(Is it because I’ve had dreams about Azel several times…?)

Azel: Is it customary to eat offerings in Rhodolite?

Emma: Of course not, but I was about to tearfully eat it to lure out the Prince Azel who can't be honest.

Azel: Who "can't be honest"? I'm a ghost now, so I can't just appear before you easily.

Emma: So, Mr. Ghost can eat offerings?

Azel: I can. Didn't you know that?

His face looked somewhat awkward, and even though I knew he would sulk, I burst out laughing.

Emma: There are a lot of inconsistencies.

Azel: …Shut up.

Azel held the skewer in his hand, but his eyes were fixed on me.

Despite eagerly requesting the offering, his current interest seemed to lie elsewhere.

Azel: I can't believe you actually came.

Emma: After all that appealing for me to come, I couldn't not come.

Azel: Who made such an appeal?

Emma: Prince Azel did.

Azel: I don't recall doing that.

Emma: I even brought all the letters.

Azel: I don't know what you're talking about.

Emma: …I thought you'd say that, so I won't mention it any further…

Azel: …

Emma: I do think you could have told me from the beginning…

(If I had known that dying was just a “pretense,” I wouldn’t have cried my eyes out.)

Remembering the sorrowful farewell, I couldn’t help but complain.

Azel: Could I really say “actually, I’m not going to die” in that sorrowful atmosphere? Of course not.

Azel: Besides… I didn’t intend to see you either.

Emma: But you called for me?

Azel: I didn’t call for you, it was unavoidable.

Azel: …You said you wanted to be with me, didn’t you?

(I… think I did…)

(…It’s hazy, but I think I had a dream like that.)

Azel: You heard my wish. So, I have to hear your wish too for it to be a fair trade.

Azel: This is my pride as a creditor, and it certainly doesn’t mean I wanted to see you.

Despite saying he “didn’t want to,” Azel moved closer to me, not to the skewer.

(Logically, I think Azel believes that the fewer people who know the truth about God’s death, the better.)

(Especially since I have connections with the princes of Rhodolite, there's also the risk of other countries finding out.)

(But his heart hasn't caught up, so he's always inconsistent.)

When I accepted the kiss, Azel put down the skewer and began to greedily devour me.

Even though his words said the opposite, I could hear his heart saying "I wanted to see you."

Azel: Could you put up some resistance? I won't be able to stop.

Emma: That's… impossible. I don't dislike it…

Azel: ......

I was pushed onto a nearby bed and assaulted with kisses once again.

(…S-So obvious, and yet… so stubborn…)

When I opened my mouth, our intertwined tongues brought with them unfamiliar sensations.

I was engulfed in conflicting emotions: embarrassed yet blissful, my body burning hot yet not wanting it to stop.

Large hands casually unbuttoned my blouse, loosening my clothes.

Emma: Is this okay?

Emma: …I’m expensive, you know?

(If you’re going to do this…)

(…I will never let go. I won’t let you go.)

At my words, spoken with a hint of warning, Azel's eyes widened for a moment, and then he gave a mischievous smile.

Azel: In that case, allow me to tell your fortune once again.

Azel: This time, not with the Standard Plan, but with the Professional Plan.

(That’s…)

(Just how much will the invoice be?)

––The curtain of night fell, and the divine moon ascended into the sky.

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

(Huh… That’s…)

It seemed I had fallen asleep, and I was wrapped in a blanket as if to protect myself from the cold.

When I sat up, I saw Azel sitting on the edge of the bed.

(He was awake the whole time.)

(…He seems to be lost in thought.)

I wrapped the blanket around myself so it wouldn’t fall off and crept up behind him.

Just as my finger was about to touch his shoulder, his mystical eyes caught me.

Azel: …What is it?

Emma: I was trying to surprise you… That’s a shame.

Azel: ………… Sigh.

(That’s strange…)

Emma: Why are you so sulky?

Azel: I’m not sulky.

Emma: Yes, you are.

Azel: …

I hugged Azel from behind as he turned away sulkily.

(He seems more awkward than in a bad mood…)

The silence stretched on, and I poked his cheek with my finger as if to urge him to speak.

I poked and poked him meaninglessly, partly to get back at him for all the times he had done the same to me, and finally, a deep sigh escaped Azel's lips.

Azel: …I just don’t understand.

Azel: I don’t like you or anything…

(He’s still saying that.)

Emma: If you tell me we’re “not lovers” after this, I’ll cry.

Azel: .......

Emma: Are we not?

Azel: ………… We’re not… Maybe…

(He finally admitted it.)

Even though Azel's “affection” is obvious, it always takes a lot of effort to get him to say it out loud.

Emma: In that case, there’s something I want you to say.

Azel: No.

Emma: I think you already know what I want you to say…

Azel: I don’t.

Emma: .......

I continued to poke and poke his cheek, and Azel's brow furrowed.

Azel: I’ll never say it, not even if my mouth is torn apart.

Azel: That I love you, or anything–

Emma: …Ah!

Azel: Ah, no, that was…

Emma: That was?

Azel: …

Azel: ............

Azel: It’s not true, but it’s not untrue either, damn it.

(Someday, I want Azel to know that love isn’t “violence.”)

(Love may be something that torments people like a curse…)

(But the happiness of this moment is definitely love too.)

.

.

.

Dramatic End Ch. 25 His Side Story

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to leave me a tip here or buy me a coffee through the "Leave a Tip" button on my navigation bar!

[cabinseventheaterchick]

BLOG NEWS: Check back later!

I now run a Riordanverse roleplay Tumblr Community! Everyone is welcome!

Kat if she had a Wikipedia page (her lore summarized)

Portrait done by the incredibly talented @apollos-coolest-child

Oh, hi! Didn’t see you see there. I’m Kat Carter!

Okay, lemme think… I’m fifteen, daughter of Apollo currently at Camp Half-Blood with my homies <3

When I’m not at camp, NYC is my home base. You can probably find me in Apollo cabin: practicing monologues/songs, playing matchmaker (it’s not just for Aphrodite kids!), or staging a kitchen coup d’état so I can bake something delicious.

he gets his own category:

@ellis--wakefield — my boyfriend <333

he’s really cute and he’s great at capture the flag and he’s nice to the newbies and damn he’s just idk how to even describe him ‘cause words cannot

Former… um… let’s just say people I used to know:

@lukemessedup — Good boss, bad business

@lieutenant-of-kronos — I regret letting him convince me to join up but he’s a nice guy.

@alabaster-c-t — Yep. You read that right. Bro is apparently not dead, nor has ever been.

@the-song-of-the-moon — We’re starting an ex-Titan Army therapy group together :3

Uncle Kronos (links to the Wayback Machine of the first version) — Literally cannot believe I wrote this. Uncle Kronos was a good person. I think I’ll always miss him, but I’m glad he found peace. Here’s to you, Uncle K.

@existence-is-pain-ahhhhhhhh — need I say more? He’s awesome. Case closed.

@the-better-castellan — new addition to the List Of People Who Aren’t Dead After All! They’re cool trust me

@peyton-is-cool — I missed him loads. Thank the gods he’s safe—he’s been in Texas? I guess?

Totally irresponsible pseudo-father to half of CHB (he does actually care about campers but he’s got a reputation to uphold):

@dionysus-god-of-all-things-wine

My fellow campers, love y’all:

@thanatoss-favorite-demigod — best murder road trip buddy a gal could ask for

@thehadescabincounsler — I’ve adopted them into Apollo cabin. They’re now officially an honorary child of the Sun Dude.

@thatonebitheaterkid — my sibling. too many pets (affectionate)

@that-dam-daughter-of-poseidon — my absolute bestie <3

@poseidons-favourite-daughter — training together ⚔️! She’s so sweet and a year rounder so I won’t be alone come fall

@yes-im-a-daughter-of-hades — she just got back from Tartarus, so you know what that means!… binge watching everything pop culture. Phineas and Ferb say what?

@lady-ariadne-of-milan — my coolest big sister. Be nice, she’s been trapped as a flower since, like, the Renaissance.

@bill-son-of-boreas — Ayyy! My Norwegian bestie!

@internal-bloodshed — I’m like ninety percent sure he wants me dead. If I step a toe out of line and hurt Ellis, my body will apparently never be found.

@the-better-stoll-brother — If anyone messes with him one more time I’m throwing hands.

Shoot me an ask, camp can get kinda boring!

(Psst. My general tag is #kat carter on the case, and my lore tag is #from the archives of kat carter)

(Extra psst. Do you want more Kat Carter content without actually having to roleplay? Send me an ask by picking something from my tag #ask game!)

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 9

Harlow

My God. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Where the fuck is Talia ? I pray Noah is right, and that she’s fine, hanging out somewhere, frantically looking for her phone. But my gut tells me something is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

I glance over at Noah, at the way the shadows play across his handsome face. He’s so damn hot—far hotter than he has any business being. But it’s not just his physical appearance I find so strangely alluring, it’s the way he carries himself. The undeniable power and confidence he exudes. Like he owns the world, and he’ll challenge anyone who questions that fact.

That level of self-assurance is infuriatingly attractive, and I won’t lie, I need his confidence right now. I need someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing. And he’s right. If I’m going to find Talia , then I’ll need his resources.

He glances at me briefly, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “We’ll find her,” he says, somehow reading the direction of my thoughts.

“Did you grow up around here?” I ask, looking out at the night sky, and down below, to the churning ocean. The road hugs a cliff that overlooks the Pacific Ocean, and if I weren’t in a panic to find Talia , I might actually find it beautiful.

“Yeah,” he says. “My family has lived in this area for a while. At least four generations.”

I nod, soaking in the information. The more I know about him, the better, I guess.

Know thine enemy.

Isn’t that the proverbial quote from Sun Tzu's The Art of War?

Am I at war with Noah Sabastian , though? He wants something from me that I’m unwilling to give, so I guess in that sense, yeah. As soon as all this Talia shit is over, I’m cutting all contact with him. His world is too big for me, and way too complicated. I thrive in the shadows, and that’s where I’ll return.

But first, I have to find my best friend.

After only a few minutes, we pull over on a dark section of road. It’s a lookout point that drops steeply off a rocky cliff, with only a short stone partition to keep people from toppling over the edge.

Noah cuts the engine and steps out of the car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and follow him to the waist-high retaining wall.

“What are we doing here? Why did we stop?” I glance around, but all I smell is brine, and all I hear is the turbulent ocean in the near distance. It’s too dark to see anything, really, even with his headlights on, illuminating the area directly in front of his car .

He leans against the retaining wall, arms crossed over his chest. He’s turned toward the ocean like he’s waiting for it to speak to him.

“What are you doing?” I ask, annoyed. We don’t have time for whatever meditation bullshit this is. For fuck’s sake. “Noah-”

He leans forward and places his warm hand on my mouth. He’s close, his warmth snaking around me, pulling me in. I suck in a sharp breath and blink.

Without removing his hand, he leans in a bit more. “This is a popular spot for people to hang out,” he says.

I nod, and he slowly removes his hand, but he doesn’t take a step back. I feel crowded, but I don’t move either, because I don’t want him knowing he intimidates me. He’d probably find it amusing. Just another one of his little

games. And I can’t stand the thought of being entertainment fodder for some bored rich boy.

Been there. Done that. Not interested.

I look again at the vast stretch of darkness in front of us, just a sliver of moon illuminating the water as it rushes up the shore. “Okay, well, there’s no one here.”

We’d see lights, or something, right?

He takes my hand, and on instinct, I try to tug it out of his grasp. “Listen, Little Rabbit,” his tone is hard, devoid of that playful edge it

usually has. “You’re with me now, and the sooner you accept that the easier this will be for you. I don’t fuck around. I don’t play games. It’s us now.” He grabs my chin with his other hand and pinches it painfully. “And I’ll help you find your friend, but make no mistake, this isn’t a fucking favor. This is what I do for the people inside my circle. And you are not only inside my circle, you are my circle, baby girl. Get fucking used to it. ”

When he releases my chin, he does it with a flourish, which causes me to stumble backward. What a fucking asshole. How do you just tell someone you’re dating them? I didn’t ask to be in his fucking circle. He acts like it’s a privilege or something. And maybe for some girls it is, but not for me. For me, it feels like I’ve been hit by a colossal wave, and dragged three feet under the water with no possible way to escape.

But I will escape. I have to. After what happened last year, there’s no way I can be under someone’s control again. No fucking chance.

As I stumble, he’s still holding my hand and stops me from falling. Pulling my hand from his, I straighten and struggle to keep cool. I want to scream at him, to tell him to fuck himself, and then walk away. But, again, I need him. I can’t risk pissing him off. Not yet, at least.

“Talia obviously isn’t here,” I say evenly. “Where else could she be?”

His heated gaze flicks over me, and for the first time, I wonder if I’m out of my depth with this guy. I can already tell he’s not easily manipulated

—so fluttering my eyelashes and pretending I’m into him isn’t going to cut it. If I want his help, I’m going to have to make it seem real. Make him believe I’m here for him, and only him.

Swallowing, I take a step forward. My heart feels like a wrecking ball inside my chest—slow, heavy thuds that jerk my entire body. Thud. Thud. Thud.

When I’m within half an inch of him, I reach out and place my hand on his chest. He’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt, and beneath the thin fabric, I can feel a wall of muscle. He must work out on the daily, because his pecks are chiseled to perfection, like a slab of marble. Perfect.

“Help me,” I say in my most sultry voice–which, honestly, is really just a deeper version of my own voice. “And I’ll give you what you want.”

I have zero intention of following through with it, but he doesn’t know that. I’m not above lying to get what I need from him.

“That’s cute.” He catches my wrist and pulls me flush with his hard body. When he smiles, it’s dark like the devil. “Because you never had a fucking choice, Little Rabbit.

[smilingformoney]

Rickmas Day 1: December Moon

Character: Elliott Marston (Quigley Down Under) Relationships: Elliott/Mary (OC) Warnings: None

Based on In Another Life

Read on Ao3 or below:

Mary had always loved Christmas, and although living in the Outback with Elliott was far different from London, the spirit of Christmas was still the same. She had thought long and hard about what to get her husband for their first Christmas together - her first thought had been to make him something, but she always made clothes for him, and she wanted to do something a little different for Christmas. So instead, during a trip into Perth, she excused herself from him to go shopping for a gift, one which she had to hide in a crate of fabrics she’d bought in order to avoid his finding it too early.

Knowing his love for the American West, she bought him a book on American ranching. She didn’t quite understand his fascination with American culture, but she knew he’d be delighted to learn more about how to emulate their culture.

He was indeed overjoyed to open the book on Christmas Day, so much so that he began reading it that very same day. On Boxing Day, Elliott disappeared after dinner, and when Mary went looking for him, she found him behind the house, fiddling with a rope.

“What on earth are you doing out here, El? It’s freezing!”

He looked up at her and smiled.

“I’m tying a lasso,” he explained holding up the rope, which he’d tied around in on itself.

“And am I supposed to know what that is?”

“I read about it in the book you bought me. Americans use it to capture cattle.”

“Ah, of course.” Mary smiled. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he found something in that book he wanted to emulate. “How does it work?”

Elliott explained it to her, showing her how the loop would tighten to hold its target. Mary didn’t quite understand how it was any better than his current methods of controlling his cattle, but she wasn’t about to question his work, just as he never questioned hers.

He tried to demonstrate it to her, but although he managed to land the loop over the haybale he was using as target practice, as soon as he tried to tighten the hold, the knot he’d tied fell apart.

Mary giggled. “Well, you’re halfway there, darling.”

“Quiet, you,” Elliott said warningly with a cheeky wink. “We don’t want my men thinking I’m no good at this, do we?”

He began pulling the rope back towards him.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re practising by moonlight! You do realise, of course, it’d be a lot easier in sunlight?”

“Perhaps. But where’s the fun in that?”

He looped the rope around again and began tying another knot, firmer this time, and Mary knew he’d not give up until he had it perfected.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, darling. Don’t stay up too late, will you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be there to keep you warm, don’t you worry.”

Mary smiled, kissed her husband on the cheek, and went back inside, wondering if she ought to have a look at the book herself if there were any details of the American rancher’s fashion, so she might create something for Elliott to make him look the part he admired so much.

Elliott spent days working on his lasso technique. Every evening after dinner, when the sun had gone down, his men had finished their work, and Mary was either working on her tailoring or keeping her diary up to date, Elliott would go around the back and practise with his lasso.

On New Year’s Eve, everyone at the station gathered together to ring in the New Year. Mary mostly stayed by Elliott’s side, but when she became distracted playing a game with Tommy, she realised a little before midnight that she’d lost Elliott.

Not wanting to miss out on a midnight kiss with her husband, Mary went looking amongst the men for Elliott. Kelly pointed her to the barn, but he wasn’t there; O’Flynn suggested he might be in the cellar, where he kept his whisky, but he wasn’t there either. The gathered crowd began counting down to midnight, and Mary stepped glumly down from the porch, disappointed that she couldn’t find Elliott.

As the countdown reached twenty, Mary suddenly saw a length of rope cross her vision, and she found herself pulled aside by the waist; before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she was spinning into Elliott’s arms. He caught her, laughing as she found her footing.

“Well, hello there, little lady,” he said teasingly. “Seems I caught the prettiest girl in all Australia.”

Mary saw the rope in his hands, and realised what had happened - he’d caught her in his lasso.

“It seems you have,” she giggled. “I thought you wanted to lasso cattle, not women?”

“It’s multipurpose. Now, would you entrust your husband with a kiss to start the new year?”

“Of course I will!” Mary agreed enthusiastically. She leant up on her tiptoes, and as the gathered crowd cheered in the new year, Mary’s lips met Elliott’s, and 1865 begun as they intended it to go on - her, in his arms, safe and protected from harm.

[robinette-green]

TW: Blood/nose-bleeds

How would Sun and Moon (both human and animatronic) feel/react to the reader having nose-bleeds?? Especially when it’s the first time they see reader have ‘em. As someone who has a lot of them, and quite frequently too, I have wondered about this, quite a lot

And I’ll completely understand if you don’t want to answer, this is (in many ways) a weird question, I’m just curious is all

I don’t think it’s a weird question! (I used to get nose bleeds a lot when I was younger so I know how it goes 😅)

Human Sun (Solaris): He’d panic. Depending on the AU, Solaris usually has a handkerchief on him and would fumble for it frantically before gently taking MC’s face into his hands and holding the kerchief to their nose all the while babbling about how everything would be alright.

“A-AH! Hold on! I have a-! Here it is! Here! Keep your head down! It’ll be okay! Promise! Did you hit your nose? What happened? Everything’s going to be alright! W-we’ll get the bleeding to stop and then get you cleaned up! Oh dear.”

(Meanwhile MC probably had it handled and is bemused at Solaris’s panic.)

Animatronic Sun: This Sun would also panic. Rays shooting out in shock before pulling in in destress. He’s got tissues for when the little ones have runny noses and would scramble to get them.

“DEWDROP! Y-you’re bleeding! I’ve got- I have! Where did I put them! Here! Oh! Try not to get any blood on the floor! Tilt your head forward! Come sit over here! It’s okay! Are you okay? It’ll be okay!”

(Sun’s biggest worry is you but he’s also a little concerned about any blood that gets on anything. It is a bio hazard)

Human Moon (Lucien): He’s panicking but doing his best not to let it show. Lucien would probably take MC’s face into his hands and look for any damage or distress before finding something to stanch the flow of blood.

“What have you done to yourself. Come here, let me see.” He’d use a calm voice and if MC was upset he’d provide forehead kisses and murmur reassurances.

Actually he’d probably provide forehead kisses anyway. His silly little starlight started to bleed out of nowhere.

Animatronic Moon:

I wrote a little bit about Animatronic Moon handling a Reader nose bleed in A Door You’re Unable to Close (though it’s brought on by MC slamming face first into a play structure)

I’ll slip that down below.

I cowered on the floor, hands clamped over my ears as Sun struggled and screamed, his shift over to Moon a painful one as Sun fought to prevent it.

It took longer than I would have liked to kick myself to move. Sun's scream turned into a growl as I forced my legs underneath me and scrabbled at the floor to pull myself into a run.

"You're up past your bedtime."

I didn't chance a look as I ran for the closest play structure. Moon's voice was as raspy and creepy as it was in the game. There was a faint red glow behind me, then with an evil giggle, it was suddenly gone as Moon, presumably, using his cord to lift into the air.

Dashing across the floor to the nearest play set, Moon dropped in front of me, and I had to skid to a stop and change directions.

I could barely see the padded floor before me in the dark, so I didn't see the kiddie chair set to the side until I'd tripped over it.

I was sent flying into one of the plastic walls of a play structure with a yelp. Smacking into it face first, pain rocketed up my nose accompanied by a metallic smell.

This was pathetic. I was going to be caught, and I hadn't even made it into a structure.

Slowly, I sat up, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as pain radiated from my poor nose.

A whimper left me as I lifted my hand to my nose and found that hot, sticky liquid was trickling down my face. Was that blood? Had I broken it?

Then Moon landed next to me, and I panicked, scrambling away with a pathetic panicking noise.

On my hands and knees, I dove for one of the tubes at ground level but got stuck, back hitting the top of the tube. I'd have to slide through on my stomach if I wanted to get any further, but I wasn't given the chance.

"Stop. You'll hurt yourself more."

Large hands easily halted my escape, snagging me around the middle and lifting me out of the tube and into the air.

"N-NO!" I yelped, covering my nose and squeezing my eyes shut.

Moon had caught me so easily. There'd been no chase; I'd just immediately put myself out of commission. Would he kill me now? Choke me to death like he did in some of the fan fictions I'd read? Maybe he'd take me to Vanny, and she'd kill me.

Tears were pouring down my face now, body trembling, blood dripping into my hands from my throbbing nose, convinced that this would be my end. I'd lost the game so quickly, and there were no save files I could switch to.

Carefully, the hands holding me set me down on the edge of the security desktop.

My eyes flew open, and I looked up, confused and scared, into red eyes. With a soft, comforting noise, Moon carefully pulled my hands away from my face. I struggled, but the animatronic was much too strong.

"Let me see what you've done," Moon murmured, his red eyes flicking over the tears and blood.

A flash of blue light blinded me in the dark, leaving me squinting with an afterimage left in my eyes.

"You didn't break it, but I'm sure it hurts."

I was having a really hard time processing what was going on. Moon wasn't trying to kill me. Instead, he was caring for me as though I was a small child who had had a tumble.

I did have a rather nasty tumble, but I wasn't a child.

Though I am crying like one… and my nose really hurts.

"I-if you're not going to hurt me, t-then why aren't you allowed to come out anymore?" I asked, voice muffled from my messed up nose.

Moon just stared at me. That was probably not what he'd expected me to say in this situation.

"Stay." He instructed before vanishing into the dark.

He didn't answer my question.

If Moon wasn't dangerous, why had Sun tried so hard to keep him contained? Or maybe switching between the two hurts, and that was all that was to it? But Sun seemed too nervous about the lights for that to be the only thing. I was missing something. Had something happened that made Faz co. forbid Moon from coming out with anyone in the daycare? That would explain the generators. But what had happened?

Hugging myself, I trembled on the desktop, adrenaline still coursing through my body as I came down from my scare, blood dripping onto my knees as I let it flow, not wanting the hot red gross to flow down my throat.

"Here." A paper towel was gently held to my nose, and I flinched, having not seen or heard Moon's approach.

"Head down till the bleeding stops, then we'll use a cold pack on your nose for a bit to help with the swelling."

Holding the paper towel to my nose, I did as instructed and tilted my head down. Moon was standing just to the side of me, crouched slightly, his face plate level with my head, as he reached up to rub my back with one of his massive hands comfortingly. The stars on his puffy jester pants and the little nightcap on his head were glowing faintly in the dark.

"Thanks…" I mumbled.

Moon said nothing, continuing to watch me, hand still on my back. We sat there in silence until my nose stopped bleeding, then Moon brought me the cold pack I'd been using on my shoulders.

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hey everyone, welcome to my blurb masterlist !!

This is for the cute little ideas I’ll randomly come up with instead of the one shots that take up a lot of time and energy.

This is for when I have random bursts of creativity!

There will be angst, fluff and sometimes poorly written smut 😭

Word of warning, these blurbs will most likely be under 5k as there only supposed to be short, so enjoy <3

morning kisses.

in which, it’s the morning of harry’s birthday and what better way to wake him up then with kisses.

new years eve.

in which, this new years is the most different one that you and harry have ever spent together, instead of going out to a party, your both cuddled up on the sofa with your newborn fast asleep on there daddies chest.

sweet dreams.

in which, its christmas eve, and harry is tucking his daughter into bed, just like he does every night.

just how fast the night changes.

in which, your out at a christmas market with your friends, you end up hurting yourself on the ice rink, resulting in you going to the hospital, where your fiance is doing the night shift.

baby, you’re a firework.

in which, some school friends of harry’s is hosting a firework display round his house, and thought it would be nice to invite harry and the family, the wife is over the moon and the little one is awestruck.

sun, sea and sandy footprints.

in which, it’s your daughters first time at the beach, the sun is shining, the sea is cooling and this is where you realise there’s no place you’d rather be.

family bbq.

in which, with a rare day of sunshine in london, harry and the missus decide to throw a little bbq where all of the close family are invited, drinks are spilled, games a played and memories are created that last a life time.

daddy’s little girl.

in which, harry holding his baby for the first time is everything he had wished for and more.

he knelt to the ground….

in which, you and harry have been together for three years now, and at this point your relationship basically has a third with the amount of times you play taylor around the house, so at the eras concert he surprises you with something you’ll never forget.

the best interruption.

in which, harrys been in his at home office for the majority of the day, and your little one is getting antsy after not spending time with there best friend, so when he’s typing away and answering emails, they stroll into the office, crawling onto his lap.

the finish line.

in which, harrys wife is running the london marathon, having been signed up by her sister in law gemma as a joke and now as she is nearing the finish line, harry is determined to be there to greet her.

airport security.

in which, harry and his daughter madison have a tradition of going on a little father-daughter holiday, they first did it when she was six months old, just before her first birthday and now there doing it just before her second birthday, but today, let’s just say little miss is in a very cranky mood.

in the stars.

in which, harry is remembering you, his beloved wife, mother of his child, that passed away, this is him grieving, remembering the lives that the two of you shared together and will always share together, no matter the circumstances.

sky high.

in which, your an airhostess for british airways, and harry’s been a pilot for british airways for the last four years, and your both working on the same a380 to the big apple.

school pick up.

in which, harrys on school pick up duties for his little one, and it’s his babies favourite time of the day when he sees her best friend, her father standing at the gates.

uncle harry.

in which, after the birth of her baby, you and harry decided to stop by the hospital to see her, where tears fall and memories are created.

boys day out.

in which, manchester united are playing luton town fc in the premier league, and so what better thing to do then take your two football obsessed children to watch there favourite team hopefully win.

carribbean privacy.

in which, you and harry decided to go for a little family holiday to start the new year off on the right foot, and went to a caribbean island, where your just trying to enjoy yourselves, and spend some quality time with your two children, when a couple of fans spot your husband.

when the clock strikes midnight.

in which, you and harry broke up just over a year ago, and have not seen each other since, but when your friend invites you to a new years eve party with all your close ones there, the last person you expected to see walk through the door was him.

underneath the tree.

in which, since officially dating harry for a total of eight years now, courting for three, being married for three and parents for two, you’ve both given each other, such wonderful gifts over the years, and here’s a few of them.

do you still love me?

in which, harrys been acting shifty lately, when your looking for a shirt in his wardrobe, he gets hostile, when you say your going to go and shower, he gets hostile and for some reason doubts start to creep into your mind about what he’s been doing, so when you confront him about it, he tells you of his secret all along.

santa’s grotto.

in which, harry takes his two year old son, sebastian, to go and see santa because your at home sick from the flu, but it doesn’t go aswell as he hoped seeing as all little kids appear to have a phobia of the man dressed in red.

i saw mummy kissing santa claus .

in which, when you and harry are putting the christmas presents under the tree on christmas eve, with harry dressed up in a santa costume just for his own novelty, and share a little moment to themselves, unbeknownst to them that there four year old son arlo, was watching the whole time.

daddy’s new hair style.

in which, your fiancé returns home one afternoon, shocking both you and your son milo when he appears to be sporting a new hair cut, neither of you seemed to be prepared for.

pumpkin patch.

in which, you and harry decide to take your son teddy to the pumpkin patch in honour of it finally hitting october, the three of you decide to make a day of things, and let’s just say the day doesn’t exactly turn out how you all expected it, a series of unfortunate events occur and that all starts out with your fiancé getting annoyed that the sat nav isn’t helping him very much.

snack wars.

in which, on this episode of snack wars, we sit down with a certain curly headed lad who goes by the name of harry styles who happens to be comparing british and american snacks.

the terrible twos.

in which, travelling with your husband around europe hasn’t been the most smooth sailing, especially when your daughters currently experiencing her terrible twos.

sick on tour.

in which, touring europe was meant to be a fun thing to do as a family, but when your toddler suddenly developes a sickness bug, you watch with fond eyes as your husband takes care of your little one, nursing them back to full health.

london experiences.

in which, whilst walking around the streets of london with your fiancé harry and two year old daughter mila whose currently getting her molars growing in, things appear to be going swell until a fan asks for a photo and your little one has to be disturbed.

broken ankle, karma rules.

in which, going on a run with your fiancé of two years means harmless flirting and teasing, that is until an incident occurs and he has to carry you back to the car.

jealous baby styles.

in which, five days ago, you and harry welcomed another little baby into the world, but the blissful baby bubble isn’t all it turns out to be when you have a toddler as well.

airport chaos.

in which, harry’s just finished his show in barcelona, and is en-route to madrid, but there’s one more hurdle that needs to be jumped when fans bombard him, you and your one year old son finley. this results in a very agitated harry, a tearful toddler and a wife that’s claustrophobic.

like father like son.

in which, in 2018, you and your fiancé harry welcomed a little baby boy into the world, and his name was sammy. him and his father were exact replicas of each other, same brown tousled curls, forest green orbs, matching dimples and bunny teeth, harry jr. loves everything to do with his father, wherever he went, he wasn’t far behind.

the box.

in which, your husband is ready to go on stage for fifteen out of fifteen nights at the kia forum, and the crew team come up with a way for him to get to the stage unnoticed, but his three year old daughter wants to get involved as-well.

the bath tub.

in which, your looking for your husband backstage at his concert, and get directed by a crew member that he’s in his dressing room. things get heated the second you walk into the room, and there’s nothing like a quick quickie in the bathtub.

styles on the reins.

in which, harry’s looking after his two year old son, parker whilst you go out with your aunt, so they decide to go on a walk around the small streets of italy where your currently residing, but that’s easier said then done when the little one is just as feral as his father.

a helping hand.

in which, your six months pregnant, your sweaty, ankles are swollen and your nauseous all the time, getting on the boat was a slightly easy task, but the task of getting off the boat is a lot harder, but luckily your husband is there to help you.

wedding day blues.

in which, it’s your and your fiancés wedding day, getting married in the garden of your shared italian villa, surrounded by your close friends and loved ones, but you can’t help but let the nerves get to you.

tired baby styles.

in which, you, harry and your one and a half year old son, elliott are holidaying in spain, where your little one won’t go down for his afternoon nap, so your boyfriend comes up with an idea to get him to doze off.

your blue birds.

in which, whilst your at home dealing with your sickness bug, harry takes the little one to the stadium with him so he’s out of your hair, that’s where you get sent a photo of them that makes you feel ten times better.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

I Found You Again

3. Spoiler alert! Chapter 1044/Episode 1071 Spoilers!!!!!!

"Nika!Luffy and fem!reader where reader is the moon goddess. In the legends, the moon goddess and the sun god Nika were lovers that seperated to help humanity. Before Luffy is awakened, he feels a strange bond toward reader and so does she. Reader always loves being by his side, even in battle, which leads to her joing the crew. After the battle with Kaidou, Luffy was seriously injured. However, Luffy's awakening also trigger reader's awakening. Reader turns into goddess form that helps healing Luffy. Seeing reader in that form, Luffy laughs and pulls her in for a kiss, saying that he now knows why he is attracted to her, she was his, all this time. Reader, crying as now finally reunited with him, returns his kiss."

Warnings: Chapter 1044/Episode 1071 Spoilers!!!!

Word Count: 1180

     Nika gave his beloved a smile, though his eyes were brimming with tears. He really didn’t want to separate, much less like this.

     “I love you Nika and I know we’ll find each other again. One as untamable and restless as you? I have no doubt you’ll look for me. Just be careful. The humans are more fragile than we are.” the goddess said, giving her white haired lover a kiss.

     “I love you too G/n, I promise I’ll find you. You’re the only one who I would be willing to be chained by and the one I trust most not to do so. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Besides, we’ll be making them strong, then they won’t be as fragile.” Nika gave her his usual sunny smile, followed by his little ‘shishishi’ laugh that always made her smile. She gave him one last kiss, before touching her forehead to his as they disappeared, heading to the earth below.

     He’d always felt close to you, from the moment he saw you, he felt something for you. Granted, he didn’t know what he felt for you, only that it was something. Almost immediately, he’d asked you to join his crew. No reason given, just ‘join my crew!’. The others hadn’t been sure what to make of it. Most of them had joined for a reason, but you weren’t a navigator, a sniper, a first mate, a cook, or a musician. You weren’t an archaeologist, a shipwright, or a doctor. You were a devil fruit user on an island they stopped by. Okay, sure, you wanted to go out to sea, you said you were searching for… something. You’d told them it was a meaning, a purpose to your life, but you still weren’t like the others. Sure, you were strong, and yeah, you could fight, but Luffy hadn’t even known that in the beginning. Just, ‘join my crew’. Of course Luffy loved being around you constantly once you’d joined. Whether it was playing games on the deck, talking about beetles or something one of you found interesting, sitting next to you during meals, or even just laying on the grass together in silence. Where one was, the other could be found. Fights were much the same unless Luffy was fighting a particularly difficult opponent, you were by his side and had each other’s backs. That being said, he always made sure your safety was a priority. Meaning if he thought the fight would be too much for you, he got you out of harm's way.

     Looking up at the top of the skull that made up Onigashima, you couldn’t help the horror that filled you. Luffy… you couldn’t hear him anymore. Couldn’t hear his heart. Tears ran down your cheeks, your beloved was gone. You didn’t even notice the sudden pounding that resonated throughout your body. He couldn’t be gone, yet there was nothing coming from the rooftop. Another pulse ran through your body as your eyes changed color. Even in your pain induced trance, you noticed the strange pulsing that resonated throughout your body. Not that you cared, not until the sound of drums reached your ears. Your hair began to float slightly as it lengthened, turning a silvery white like the moon. The drums seemed to pick up in beat and volume as you smiled. Somehow, he wasn’t dead, ignoring Kaido, you shot up to the roof, your new found powers sending you flying through the air as you smiled, landing beside a rather different Luffy. His hair and clothes were white and though he was still wounded, he smiled at you. Placing a hand on his cheek, you smiled. Your touch was cool but pleasant as his wounds stitched themselves closed, his smile widening. As soon as he was healed enough to move, he was tackling you and pulling you into a kiss.

     “Shishishi, I found you, G/n! Told you I would!” Luffy said with a wide grin, though he wasn’t entirely certain as to what he was saying. Your name was Y/n, not G/n and he’d never promised to find you to the best of his knowledge, but the words left his mouth before he could think about them, not that he would have anyway.

     “I suppose you did. Now if only I could convince you to be careful for once!” you teased, taking his face in your hands. Luffy could only give you his signature little laugh as he smiled at you.

     “I was careful, promise! Besides, you’re here so now I’ll always be okay! You always make me feel better!” he said, pulling you into an embrace. His eyes suddenly widened as he pulled away, remembering what was happening below, “Oh! I forgot about Kaido! Hang on! I need to finish my fight!” he said excitedly, making you laugh.

     “You are absolutely not doing this without me this time!” you said as Luffy reached down to grab Kaido. Though Luffy’s sudden transformation seemed to surprise the others, you found yourself oddly unphased by his new look and abilities as you stayed on the roof with him. You wouldn’t jump in unless he needed it, Nika had never needed your aid before. Your brow furrowed as you shook your head. Luffy, Luffy had never needed your help in a fight before. Where had Nika come from? The ‘fight’ didn’t take long, Luffy easily defeating Kaido before stretching his arms and pulling you close again, giving you that same sunny smile he always gave you.

     The both of you seemed to return to ‘normal’ as you stood atop Onigashima together, though it was clear Luffy was feeling rather drained.

     “Rest, my sunlight. You’d been through a lot tonight. Just as the moon watches over those who slumber away, I’ll watch over you as you sleep.” you said softly, gently lowering him to the ground and lightly forcing his head into your lap. It wasn’t even 5 seconds later that his snores filled the air, letting you watch over and protect him as he rested. Though you’d healed some of his injuries, he would still need a great deal of rest. Picking him up and putting him on your back, you carried him back down to the others, smiling when they gave you odd looks.

     “There’s no way to explain anything without sounding insane, just trust me that Luffy and I are alright and there’s no need for concern. He’ll need a few days of rest though. Awakening a devil fruit like his is… a strain on his body.” you said, as you all headed off of the ‘island’ that now sat not far from the flower capital. Turning your head, you smiled at your sleeping love. You were finally reunited, truly reunited. Though you still didn’t understand why your mind kept calling him Nika or why you felt like you’d just reunited when you’d been fighting your way up to the top together, you could figure it out later, all that mattered right now was that you were together and he was alive.

[midnightmorpher]

💻 DCA AU Idea: Digital Horror 💻

This is my first time posting a DCA AU so I’m sorry if my post sounds more like disconnected rambling ahaha 🥲 But here goes!

The DCA duo in a digital horror setting.

Think KinitoPet but instead of Kinito as the mascot of a long-lost pet game, it’s Sun and Moon as the face of an old creature collection/virtual pet game created by Fazbear Corp on their old 90s company, kid-friendly website.

Think like a mix between Pokémon and Neopets, speaking as someone who played too much Pokemon and played literally zero Neopets 👍🏻

One day many years after the website has been shut down, You hear rumors about a “haunted” pet game made by the Fazbear Corp and decide to check it out, because you didn’t watch enough horror movies to know this is a terrible idea :>

The game (archived and run on a server supported by Fazbear fans, I don’t know much about tech so I dunno if this is even possible but whatever) runs like it should when you first enter it. However, it starts acting up when you input your old username…

I might start writing this as a fic once I’m further along on my current fic, so for now I’ll just be dumping my AU ideas on this blog haha

Here’s a summary and a brief snippet I wrote because the idea wouldn’t leave me alone:

Virtual pet game websites are a dime in a dozen. You might’ve tried out one or two in your childhood, but memories of that are fuzzy at best. It’s only when your classmate brings up a particular website hosted by Fazbear Corporation that you begin to remember playing it briefly during its heydays, and you decide to visit it for nostalgia’s sake.

=0=

“Welcome to Sun and Moon’s Superstar Daycare!” the computerized voice of the sunny jester character trills. He lounges on top of the window asking you to create a new account, kicking his curly-tipped shoes merrily in the air as he eagerly awaits your input. His bouncy avatar, its details showing hours of love and dedication poured into each brush stroke, paints a hilarious contrast against the shoddy art that makes up the background of the game. You don’t really care, though. It’s not like anyone plays these types of games for its art.

Your hands hover over the keyboard. After a moment’s hesitation, you try to enter your old username.

“Starbite”

Most likely the “Sorry, this username has already been taken” prompt will pop up since you clearly remember using it as a kid, but there’s no harm in trying. You click on the “Confirm” option.

Nothing happens.

Weird. Is it hanging? You click it again, and again. Nothing happens. Even Sun has frozen still. Yep, it’s definitely hanging. Pity, but it’s not too unexpected considering the game’s age. You decide to fall back on the good ol’ cure: spamming the mouse button. clickclickclickclickclickcli

his eyes flick up to stare at you

The shock shoots through your whole being like a lightning bolt. You gasp sharply, eyes fluttering close for a brief moment before they’re cast on the computer screen again.

“Welcome back, Starbite!” Sun says. He takes center stage in a field of rudimentarily drawn grass, the baby blue sky matching the bright smile stretching from “ear” to “ear”, like nothing had happened. “Go forth and pick a Faz Pet to be your forever companion, and I hope you enjoy your stay at our esteemed daycare!”

The character delivers his scripted lines like he should.

The character has his arms up in celebration like he should.

The character smiles at you like he should.

So what is this cold dread trickling down your spine…?

[tomatojuiced]

welcome! ᯓ⠀ᩙ°. ‼︎

ᯓ an introduction

hello!! i'm torin, i’m 19, and i’m starting my first year of university this fall; i’ll be studying japanese and linguistics, but i also love to read and write, so much of my content will probably be related to those topics or just my life in general!

ᯓ about me

i enjoy all kinds of literature–but mostly fantasy, magical realism, and classics atm!–and i’m very passionate about languages! i also like to make art and poetry, write, worldbuild, play video games, listen to music, and travel (when i can lol). lately, i’ve been working on worldbuilding for a fantasy novel, so i may post about my progress on that, too. oh! and i’m an infp, sag sun, scorpio rising, and cap moon! 

my hope for this blog is to create a safe space for self-expression, productivity, and calm! as a queer and neurodivergent person, all three of those things can be hard to prioritize at times OTL

i’m always open to any asks, chats, or declarations of undying love you may have and i’ll try my best to reply promptly (sometimes i forget social media exists, bear with me teehee 🙏) i’d love to find some mutuals and friends here on tumblr and am excited to join the community!!

-PS- please no meanies on my blog, bigotry and hate will not be tolerated here :p

[bluecheeseinmyoffwhites]

Why Silver, Blaze, & Marine should be on a team together

So this is a post settling a debate I’ve had since I was 7 years old (I am 20 now) as to who would be on Silver’s team. Or rather Silver & Blaze’s team. I’ll be going in detail as to why I believe the trio of Silver, Blaze, and Marine would make for the most logical team formation. Many people online have linked them together, but I’ve decided to go into deeper detail as to why this is the case.

FIRST AND FOREMOST

Silver & Blaze SHOULD & WILL be on a team together. The have been depicted as partners in Silver’s debut in Sonic 06, & the two have been aligned together ever since. They have also been teamed together in an official game in Team Sonic Racing (as team Vector). They represent both time & space. They have a sun and moon theme, with Blaze having flame powers like the sun and Silver being the element of the moon, which leads me to believe that they were created to be partnered with each other.

Another factor that ties Silver & Blaze together is Eggman Nega. The scientist made his debut in Sonic Rush as an inhabitant from Blaze's dimension, but he later reappears in Sonic Rivals and is now from Silver's future. Nega has been rewritten to fit as an antagonist to both Silver & Blaze respectively, linking them together once again. Similarly, in Sonic Rivals, Eggman Nega wants to summon the Ifrit, a fiery monster from another dimension. This boss is derived from Iblis, the volcanic ememy of Silver and Blaze from Sonic 06.

Blaze and Marine would be perfect as teammates. Marine was made to be Blaze’s sidekick similar to Tails with Sonic and Cream with Amy. Marine’s water theme is an obvious play on Blaze’s fire theme.

Now, each of these characters has a kinetic ability (fire, water, psychic) and are from a distant world not from Sonic’s (future/alt. dimension). As Silver & Marine haven not officially met, Blaze will be the link to tie the three together. Which brings me to my next point.

BLAZE IS THE LEADER

Blaze will be the leader. Most people would consider Silver to lead because of his popularity, or Marine to fulfill her captain role, but honestly Blaze makes the most sense. She’s the first of three to be created as a Sonic character, she a literal princess meaning she has actual leadership experience, and as stated before, she is the link between Silver and Marine. She has been shown on separate occasions/canons with these two, and she has always been the level-headed half that could calm down the others’ rather naive personalities. Plus, it is shown in Sonic Colors DS (canon) Blaze meets Silver again, but shortly after mentioning Marine. This proves that Blaze knows both Silver & Marine in the same canon, allowing the possibility of the trio meeting in full.

Blaze will have both her partner & sidekick on her team, Marine will have two mature strong fighters to look up to & given a chance to grow as a character, & Silver…..well he’s been aligned with female characters before anyway. In Sonic 06, the character structure is cued from Sonic Heroes. Sonic’s allies are Tails & Knuckles (from Team Sonic), Shadow’s are Rouge & Omega (from Team Dark), & Silver’s Team, consisting of Amy (who was already on a formed team) & Blaze (who wasn’t). And although Silver isn’t the leader of this team, he could still pose as the face of the group, similar to how Rouge was the leader in the original Sonic Heroes, but the focus was mainly on Shadow (who eventually became the official leader).

TYPE PLACEMENTS

Now for the most important aspect: type placements. Speed, Fly, Power. Who will fill which position? It's easy to say you want three characters together on a team but if they can't meet any of the criteria for any of the roles then it's completely invalid. That being said Silver is most definitely the Fly type member & the only one that can do so. He can levitate with his telekinesis and can carry others. His debut in Sonic 06 has a flight based platforming gameplay similar to Tails and Rouge, and not a Speed based gameplay like Sonic, Shadow or Blaze, who was also playable in Silver’s story. Because of his telekinesis, Silver provides a new spin on the Fly method.

Now onto Blaze. She is an established Speed character in the main games and racing games. Her debut was in Sonic Rush, where she notably matches Sonic's hyper speed. In Sonic 06, her gameplay matches that of Sonic and Shadow who both have Speed type gameplay.

It could also be argued that Blaze could fit into the Power type role. Along with her fire powers, she is athletic and has great physical strength, being one of the strongest characters in the series. Sonic Runners has categorized Blaze as a Power type, and although Sonic Runners butchered a lot of character types, such as including Silver as a Speed type when his gameplay in Sonic 06 was very much not that, Blaze being a Power type actually has merit.

Now Marine is going to be a tough topic, as she is the only one who actually hasn't had a playable appearance in a game yet. This means that not only are her notable abilities limited, but restricted to dialogue and cutscenes. This makes her the hardest to assign a type to. We at least know she can't fly so that's out of the equation. However, because of her limited showcases, her Speed vs Power argument is not the same as Blaze's. To find a suitable placement for her, we need to lay out what we do know about her.

Marine is stated to be hyperactive and reckless, two traits of Speed and Power type characters. She has been shown running alongside Sonic in cutscenes and is often seen zipping around in dialogue scenes. She’s also a builder. You don’t just build ships on the regular without having some merit of physical strength. And she has been shown to have some sort of mystical powers at the end of Sonic Rush Adventure. Both placements work for Marine & Blaze, but for this specific team-up I would rather have Blaze as the muscle instead of Marine, who can fit into the Speed type pretty well (as most Sonic characters).

This group stands out among the usual Heroes team format. Marine would be the shortest Speed type, Silver would be the only hedgehog Fly type, and Blaze would be the first female Power type. It's important to note that not all Speed characters are the leaders of their teams, regardless if you put Blaze or Marine in the position.

WHO SHOULDN'T BE ON THE TEAM

Now there's many people who don't want Marine to be on Silver & Blaze's team, so I'll go over the common replacement characters I've seen and see why Marine is arguably the better pick.

Chaos is a popular pick for a power character. He seems to fit in with Silver & Blaze's mystic power theme. Chaos, however, is far too powerful of a god to be on a team with them and I wouldn’t want to separate him & Tikal & vice versa

Mighty is also surprisingly a popular pick. I've seen it explained how Mighty being from the past could juxtapose Silver & Blaze who are from the future, but it just still doesn't seem right. I wouldn’t want to separate him and Ray either, they were planned to be on a team together from the start.

Gamma & Emerl are destroyed for good, and I wouldn't want to just throw in a robot character for a needed Power type. Also, no one from the shows are allowed (Cosmo, Sticks).

Shade is the probably the closest fitting for the group. Her aesthetic and time/space dimensional background match Blaze & Silver's, and she could also fit the Power role very nicely with her combat abilities. If they were to bring Shade back at all, this would be a cool way to do it.

TEAM NAME

Another important aspect of Sonic Heroes teams are their names. These names will be what the characters label themselves under for majority of their appearances. When deicing a team name, it usually must relate to the leader or at least 2 members. Team Sonic is obviously the team of the main character. Team Dark is a reference to the Dark story in Sonic Adventure 2, which features both Shadow & Rouge (Omega acts as a placeholder for Eggman). Dark could also refer to the edgy serious nature of the team.

Team Rose is named after Amy Rose, who wants to lead her own team like Sonic (hence the similar naming method). Finally, Team Chaotix is comprised of characters who debuted in Knuckles Chaotix (which is why Mighty isn’t with them). In the case of Silver, Blaze, & Marine, there are a few choices. Most fanmade teams involving Silver tend to lean towards "Team Future", since Silver & Blaze come from the future. It's actually a pretty good flow to the name, but leaves out Marine since she's not from the future. Team Dimension/Team Sol is another popular pick, as it relates to the Sol Dimension (the home of Blaze & Marine). Silver, despite not being from there, has had experience traveling between dimensions as well. Silver also took part in fighting Solaris & Ifrit, two multidimensional beings.

All in all, these three just look natural together. Many fan works depict these three together and make amazing artwork. The Sonic World fan game has even put them on a team together and they’re awesome in it. If Sonic Heroes 2 were to ever exist I think these guys would make for a fun dynamic, awesome gameplay, and a great story.

[legrandepapillon]

Wyll and Astarion having a friendly sparring match post-game to relive the glory days. Whether it ends soft or steamy is up to you!

Rating: E

i am SO sorry for the amount of time it took me to fill this, life & writer's block were jumping me. however i DID have a lot of fun writing this so thank you for the prompt!

should’ve known i’d pick steamy ofc. also something about the idea of Flaming Fist Blaze Wyll makes me twirl my hair & kick my legs

HC that Wyll is the type of commander to say “Please, Mr. Ravengard was my father, call me Wyll” to the starry-eyed recruits & fan their crush on him while Astaron rolls his eyes

elements of dom/sub (service top/pleasure dom wyll, bratty sub/power bottom astarion), rough sex, & a little blood play to be found here. also this is my first time writing explicit wyllstarion smut start to finish.

There were many sounds to be heard throughout the Flaming Fist stronghold throughout any given day, but the loudest tended to emanate from the training quarters smack in the center of the grounds. Wooden weapons against straw dummies, the bodies of fresh recruits hitting the hard leather during a bit of physical demonstration… and the groans of pain from said demonstrations that often left them battered and bruised. It was a consistent and profuse cacophony of ear-splitting noise in the Fist recruitment hall these days. Young women and men flocked to the ranks of the command, for once eager to ladder climb in the name of glory as opposed to gold; most of them starry-eyed and hopeful at the idea of laying on eyes on the Blaze Wyll Ravengard—Hero of Baldur’s Gate, former Blade of Frontiers, and the future Duke of the city.

During the day, under the scorching sun in the midst of training the city’s future militia, it could become loud enough to deafen. But at night with the moon high in the sky and only torch-light illuminating the abandoned grounds, the only sound was that of two men lost in their own world. A pair of old adventurers, skills still sharp from their well-formed routine of friendly sparring.

In a dirt ring outdoors where most recruits met a rather painful tumble to the hands of their more capable counterparts, Astarion and Wyll circle each other listlessly. One armed with a pair of glinting twin daggers, the other with the steel of his rapier pointed towards the dirt. Though their weapons are real and their blades sharp, neither have the intent to hurt each other.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Blade? I don’t exactly know how to play nice—haven’t you figured that out yet?” mocks Astarion, the barest hint of amusement in his voice while he dons a rather fake growl of threat. Wyll rolls his eyes in response, playing at being offended by the implication.

“I’m not worried about you playing nice, Astarion,” he shrugs. “Fight fair or fight dirty, either way I’ll win.”

The idea that he’d ever fight fair is almost as laughable as the idea that he’d fight bloodlessly had been in the beginning. Perhaps that would change with time, too.

Oh, and all the time it had taken. To learn the self-control necessary not to provide a killing blow. But he was rather amused with how well it honed his reflexes; fixing himself to respond defensively without hurting his counterpart surprisingly made for sharper instincts. He recalls a time long ago, back at a druidic grove filled with refugees from Elturel on the cusp of being thrown to the wolves. In the brief moments of levity where he witnessed the tiefling elders attempting to teach their little ones to play. The children were always too high-strung to remember that they had claws and horns and that they couldn’t simply wrestle without also keeping a bit of mindfulness. At the time, he’d merely looked on with vague disinterest while his group meandered through the grove trying to parse through the budding tensions. But he’d been oddly reminiscent of the children at the beginning of this; eager to pounce and have a romp around in the grass, but fearful of hurting someone. Of hurting Wyll.

Back then, Astarion had been accustomed only to fighting for survival. The concept of it being for fun—to pass time and clear his thoughts—was foreign to him.

Now? He has the presence of mind and prowess of some of those elders. He both knows the luxuries of friendly sparring without his life being at risk, and the thrills of toeing the line anyways.

Because that's what this is about in the end, isn’t it? The thrill? The excitement?

The domesticity of life in the Gate—life as the fiancé to Blaze Wyll Ravengard—though comfortable, was often mundane. This brought excitement. Their game, with more layers than he could ever voice, kept the spark alive.

���You’re overthinking again,” announces Wyll, making a sudden movement to the left to snap him back to the present. Astarion’s hand jerks out to cover his right side intuitively, ensuring he doesn’t provide the opening to his partner while he scans for one of his own.

“And you’re talking to me like one of your recruits, again,” he retorts. He finds his opening quicker than expected, lunging for a jab towards the younger man’s left flank. The flat of his blade meets empty air by only a half-second, Wyll dancing elegantly out of the way. He recovers quickly before he can sacrifice his advantage, pressing the offense with another swipe towards his chest with the other hand. The tip of the dagger barely scratches the edge of Wyll’s shoulder as he moves backwards, dodging before finding his own opening towards Astarion’s stomach. The flat of his rapier smacks his partner against his navel, only slightly catching the thick fabric of his tunic.

“Oh, c’mon, Astarion. You can be quicker than that,” taunts the former warlock with an airy laugh. And though the flickers of hubris might be unattractive to anyone else, his sparring partner can’t help but find it painfully arousing. He grins at him sharply before doing just that, light-feet taking him out of range from his rapier two beats before the next slash.

Both of them are still dexterous and well-trained. Years of fighting for survival on both ends has made their timing top notch, months of sparring for fun have made their reflexes impeccable. Each jab of the rapier is met with a carefully timed parry from a dagger, each riposte from a blade recovered smoothly by dancers’ feet. It’s like this more often than not; a test of endurance over brutality. Wyll is graceful like a dancer, Astarion more comparable to a feline, but they both have the finesse required to take the viciousness out of it.

Like a well-choreographed waltz, they feint and parry and slash with rhythm. From adagio to allegro, the tempo of their moves goes from tenuous and careful to eager and energetic. Stamina will provide the winner of their game, not mightiness.

And… alright. There are other things to be gained from this. Whenever there’s a vampire spawn involved, there could hardly be any expectation there wouldn’t be some sort of ulterior motive. If he gets to see Wyll in action similar to the heady excitement of their glory days, if he gets enough noble eye candy to accompany some of his more lascivious fantasies then… well, as they say, birds and stones.

Astarion always especially admires, in these moments stolen away from polite society, the glimmers of Wyll’s arrogance. Of course, the Blade turned Blaze tried so desperately to remain humble in light of becoming a Hero and being given his own command. I have to set an example, he insisted, weighed down by his own righteousness. We need protectors for this city that desire honor, not glory.

But bad an influence as he was, Astarion can’t help but admire the confidence in each move when he fights. His strikes are unsparing, his parries precise and he knows it. No lack of magic could make him a less admirable fighter, his sword arm had not gotten lazy and his feet had not turned to stones. Wyll was just as graceful now without infernal power pumping through his veins as he was the day they met, jumping down from that rock and spitting charming one-liners—most importantly, he didn’t need to say it for the other man to know.

It didn’t help any how attractive he could be like this, either. The sweat sticking his cotton tunic to his broad chest, toned muscles flexing with effort, crimson eye glistening with his excitement and lips tugged into a cocky smile. The way the moonlight illuminated deep russet toned flesh, making him have an almost ocean blue hue in some places. And his laughter, deep and warm like the fleeting rays of sun… Astarion could fall all over again, time and time again, just from this.

He’s so lost in his admiration he miscalculates a dodge, loses his footing and gives Wyll the ability to press his offense. The danger in his right hand is knocked abruptly into the dirt, leaving him with the one blade to fight with. His left hand is the weaker one, better for attacking rather than defending, and he knows well the consequences of being caught in such a state.

Best to switch tactics, and hope the element of surprise regains the upper hand. Beautiful man or else wise, Astarion has always been a sore loser. 

Tossing his blade he goes in for a tackle, and both men go tumbling to the dirt. He bargains correctly on taking Wyll by surprise; his rapier slips from his fingers as he goes down, a last-ditch effort not to accidentally stab either of them. There’s a grunt from the air being knocked out of him, but he recovers quickly. He hooks an arm beneath Astarion’s to try to maneuver himself on top, which only entices the reaction of Astarion wrapping his legs around his waist to try to throw himself back to advantage.

“Why can’t you ever fight honorably?” complains Wyll as they struggle, during one brief moment where he finds himself pinned face-down in the dirt. He bucks like a wild horse to get his opponent off of him, sending the both of them scrambling.

“Well, I thought you’d given me permission for a little rough play,” Astarion snipes back, before lunging back into the fray. There’s at least laughter at that, despite the struggle between them for advantage.

They grapple in this way for a while, faces inching closer to each other’s and hands groping desperately for leverage. It isn’t until Astarion finds himself on his back, wrists pinned to the dirt and knee in his hip that he finally gives up. It didn’t always end this way; sometimes he won, leaving Wyll with a bruised lip or ego or both. But the despair of defeat was always followed by the thrill of proximity whenever it did—their blood rushing with adrenaline, their faces inches apart, their breathing labored, and their bodies pressed so close it’s a wonder there’s any space to be found between them at all.

“Pinfall. Call it,” Wyll grins, his grip loose but firm on Astarion’s pale wrists. The man jerks his head against the dirt, looking away from that crimson eye swimming in obsidian—trying to maintain an inch of his dignity. Wyll’s other knee presses against his thigh. “Oh, don’t be a dirty fighter and a sore loser. Call it, Astarion.”

He looks back up at him. Tongue darts out to wet his dry lips. He doesn’t acquiesce; he almost never does when he loses. He does surge up to capture Wyll’s lips, kissing him hot and filthy in distraction. The man’s grip goes completely lax almost immediately, hands leaving his wrists so one can plant itself against Astarion’s cheek sweetly. The vampire isn’t looking for sweetness though. He’s miffed by his loss and entranced by his lover, needing something equally as thrilling as their combat to put him thoroughly in his place.

Wyll was the only one that could do that, after all. Put him in his place, make him heel. He’d do it biting and kicking and screaming but for Wyll he’d do it, at least.

Fangs nick at full lips in the kiss, the drops of blood blowing his pupils full with an insatiable hunger of all varieties. His partner isn’t at all perturbed by it either, pressing in with his hips with eager excitement at the sensation. It’s just this for a few breathless minutes, Wyll’s hand against his face and Astarion’s tongue lapping at the teasing drops of blood that leak from his lips. Mouths moving together passionately, seeking something out of this that neither of them could put words to.

It could be this for the rest of the night, if either of them wanted. Their game didn’t always have to end a certain way. Wyll would kiss him, or he would kiss Wyll, and that could be that. But Astarion wants more than this. He wants to be wrangled into his place, the unrepentant vampire spawn and his dogmatic monster hunter.

When Wyll pulls away from the kiss, he mouths at Astarion’s neck and eases his knee from the older man’s hip to hook under his thigh. He arches into the kisses in response, tilting his head so that he could feel the warmth of Wyll’s lips against more of skin, welcoming the man to have more of him. In the light of day Blaze Ravengard would never be caught so unhinged, but here in the moonlit training grounds he could be ravenous and devour his lover with no hesitation.

Cool, ever-chilled hands roam up the spine of the younger man and push him in closer—seeking all that too-hot body warmth Wyll had since he’d been turned infernal. His hips rock upwards and the other warm hand pins them to the ground firmly.

“Ah, ah,” breathes Wyll against his neck, plumes of warm air coming hot against his collarbone. “Be patient.”

“Screw patience.”

“You could always,” his teeth drag playfully over Astarion’s neck, almost directly opposite to the scars on the other side. The full body shudder that rakes through the other man makes him chuckle. “call the pinfall.”

The idea is tantalizing. It was cause and effect, this thing between them. Push and pull, give and take. A behavioral lesson, Wyll had once joked, panting hard and covered in a thin sheen of post-coital sweat. Astarion fought so hard against showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability, all down to the very act of submitting when he was beaten. He’d fought every day for two hundred years, been broken in every way imaginable but his spirit. And there’d been many times where he’d been able to acquiesce to the feeling of being broken under the thumb of Cazador, to admit that there was nothing anyone could ever do to escape him. That he was his spawn, likely for the rest of his miserable unlife, and that would be that. But he still snarked and schemed and stole—stole moments of freedom, moments of peace, moments of contrition and resistance.

He played the part of a mewling, sniveling subservient pet but never truly felt it. He never bowed, not really. Not without the sharp dig of his own claws in his fist. 

Wyll doesn’t expect a year to change that about him, and that’s the beautiful part of it. But Astarion could, sometimes, truly give up his own control. Every so often he could go lax, and lower his eyelids, and admit that Wyll has him. In every way that matters and some of the ways that don’t, too. He could be vulnerable and weak. Every so often, for this man, he’d even want to.

He could call the pinfall, and Wyll could praise him for being such a good boy, and kiss him sweetly. Settle himself between his thighs and truly worship him.

Tonight is not that night, however. They have the rest of Wyll’s life for Astarion to show complacency, but right now he wants to be shown why Wyll deserves it. He pulls back his lips to reveal his sharp canines, pins the other man with a challenging stare and grins like a feral animal. Wyll’s good eye blows wide and Astarion watches the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. The act of defiance is not met violently, except for the way he takes his mouth against his and conquers.

Wyll’s hand, firm and devout, moves from the grip on his hip to tug the loose fabric of his tunic up. Warm heat spreads through Astarion’s belly at the feel of his palm right there on his chilled flesh. And Astarion arches even at that, pathetic as it may be. The muscles in his abdomen seize, anticipatory with how close his lover could be where he wants him. A thumb hovers over his navel, and he wishes that the man would travel straight south and put those magnificent fingers to better use. But Wyll just kisses; desperately, eagerly, domineering and yet ever kind. 

When his mouth pulls away Astarion hisses, but is quickly placated with a kiss to his jawline. Warm soft lips place kisses ever where they can; his cheek, the corner of his mouth, the space where his ears meet his jaw, the slope of his ears and the tips of them too. He’s practically reverent, the heady passion with which he kisses outweighed by the floating sensation each brings with it.

“I love you like this, you know?” Wyll says into his ear, simple and warm. “I love it when you’re difficult.”

“You’re a fool,” Astarion pants in response, because doesn’t that just sound so inane and ridiculous and erotic. His hips jerk forward against the other man again, the tent in his pants catching at Wyll’s thigh. They both groan at the contact. 

“Your fool,” responds Wyll easily, kissing down to his neck. “Your sweet fool, my darling star, and only yours.”

Astarion silences him by slipping a hand in his trousers, palming at his cock through his small clothes. An overt act of defiance, pushing back against every instinct that shouts at him to submit. Wyll’s sucks air in through his teeth sharply and comes to terms that there are battles that he won’t be given but must fight.  A good lesson for a man fresh out of magic and learning survival by his own might.

And then there’s a palm on his throat, pressing his head back into the dirt. Carefully manicured claws dig just in the spot beneath his jawline, not deep enough to hurt but to enforce the idea of who won. Who is stronger, faster, better… who’s in control.

“You can be sweeter than that; gentler,” he whispers, and it carries the weight it needs to. Astarion shivers at the command, and the reminder cows him into submission far earlier than he’d like. He eases his groping, switches to a more polite massage and arcs with a whine beneath his monster hunter. It is frankly terrifying, how easy it is for this man to veer him back towards obedience. “Good boy.”

Another hiss, this time as the vampire scrambles to find his footing again. He arches his hips upwards, bucks like the pinned, cornered, feral animal he’s supposed to be rather than the domesticated one he’s becoming. Refuses to give his lover the satisfaction so easily, and without uttering a syllable manages to demand exactly what he wants. Wyll huffs a bit of laughter, muttering something about him being endearingly insolent. And then their lips are on each other again, the younger man’s hot pink tongue slipping into Astarion's mouth. He moans into the wet kiss, his hand going lax on Wyll’s dick and his other clawing at the man’s back desperately. Pressing him closer, trying to eliminate the little space between their bodies.

Just as sweetly and passionately as he kisses, Wyll touches. His hand is warm and gentle as it roams over Astarion’s abdomen, bunching the fabric of his tunic on his wrist and sliding upwards until he can shirk his arms out of it. They have to pull away to discard the offending clothing, tossing it haphazardly a few feet away in the dirt. In the moment, neither vampire nor his partner can pay credence to the fine Amnian silks it’s made of or how many hours he’d sunk into designing it. It might as well be a soiled handkerchief, the way it crumples on the dirt training grounds. 

Broad hands travel planes of milky white skin, gleaming beneath the moonlight. Index and thumb gently massage a pert pink nipple, causing Astarion to moan again into the kiss. The hand that’s been resting on his throat squeezes lightly, not hard enough to be punishing like earlier but just a gentle reminder of its presence. A reverent thumb swipes along his jawline, the rest of those calloused digits pulling him deeper into the kiss. 

And still Astarion’s hand strokes, touches, feels. Without permission, but that seems to be a battle that Wyll is okay with losing tonight. His hips rock forward into the rhythm of it, letting long lithe experienced digits grope him through the fabric of his small clothes. They remain this way for long minutes, until Astarion gives a needy whine and starts to maneuver around the cotton of Wyll’s underwear.

Wyll comes back to the game then, removing his hand from his throat to grab his wrist and pin it to the ground. He settles up on his haunches between Astarion’s legs, gives him a look of warning.

His voice is velvet smooth when he speaks, a sharp contrast to the vague threat he wraps around the words. “Do you want to get off tonight?” 

“What in the hells kind of stupid question is that—”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Of course—”

“Then stay,” he commands, before reaching for the hem of Astarion’s trousers. There’s a sternness to his voice that actually snaps the vampire out of his insubordinate attitude, makes him give a short nod of his head. Wyll is careful about undressing Astarion; gentle hands pull apart the laces on his breeches, and they’re bordering on veneration when they pull them with his small clothes down to his knees. It’s less than ideal, being bare-ass in the dirt where just anyone could stumble across the two of them.

But there’s a thrill in it, too. Of being so thoroughly subdued by his man—his sweet, foolish, darling man—that he would lay himself bare in every way imaginable. To give Wyll the power to humiliate him willingly is one of their many exercises in trust; to spar with him without it ending in bloodshed, to love him without hurting him, to take the brunt of his moods without ever returning an unkind gesture. To hold the very power of his destruction in the center of his palm, and still handle it like the finest china.

Astarion bites back the whimper of desire that threatens through the guard of his canines at the very thought. Still, Wyll notes his desperation anyway and is gracious enough to hurry through the motions. Though quick, his movements are far from being harsh or unsparing. He lowers himself slowly down the pale elf’s body with sweet kisses, lips brushing at pert pink nipples and sucking at the ticklish spot on his ribcage. When he’s nestled between Astarion’s thighs, face to face with his weeping wet cock, he even presses a loving kiss to his hipbone. The older man shudders at the action, body fully trembling with the desperation to be touched and the difficulty of obedience. The cruel, evil, sadistic monster in him wants to grab a fistful of Wyll’s hair and shove those soft lips over his tip. The submissive, lovable, tamed man that he’s become only flexes the muscles in his thighs and bats his eyelashes pleadingly.

“Wyll…” he sighs, hips bucking but still maintaining the teasing distance his lover has put between himself and where he wants him. 

“I’m going,” Wyll assures, gentleness laced through his tone to ensure Astarion understands that he’s not peeved at the insistence but rather endeared. It makes the very tips of his ears flush. “Voco arvina.”

One callused hand becomes slick with grease, glistening under the sparing moonlight whilst the other angles his lover’s hips upwards. Wyll takes a mouthful of Astarion’s cock like a seasoned veteran, like he’s the one that’s been on his knees for two centuries. And like the blushing virgin, the vampire keens. A moan loud enough to wake the entire barracks leaves his lips, back arching off of the gritty dirt training ground and into the wet heat of his fiancé’s mouth. The hand on his hips tightens in warning and Astarion practically melts into the command. He relaxes his muscles, wills himself to be still. To be good for this man. Oh, the rewards for being good so outweighed the satisfaction of being cruel these days.

He can feel himself losing his will to be combatant by the second. Impudence trickling out of his mind and replaced slowly with the overwhelming desire to give everything over to this beautiful, magnificent man.

Fingers by now well-practiced slide with the grease between the cleft of his ass, parting the cheeks to reach their destination with the dexterity of a man that knows what he’s doing. Wyll had bumbled with this in the very beginning. It was a shame, the only person who he’d ever given pleasure to in this way was himself and when Astarion had seen how he was doing it he almost wept for the poor man’s rear. It’d taken patience to get him to learn how to be gentle, how to touch and stroke and push and caress. But once he’d learned…—

“Gods damn it, Wyll!” Astarion hisses, unsure of whether to thrust up into his mouth or grind down onto the digits pressing into his entrance. His hips stutter and twitch but ultimately remain perfectly still in his lover’s grip. It’s a rather handy trick at teaching him this bit of discipline. The message comes through loud and clear. He’ll take only what Wyll Ravengard deigns to give him; he wouldn’t demand anything more, or anything less. And more importantly, he’d be grateful for it. Happy to be at the mercy of a man that knows better, happy to be mindless and pliant in the hands of a kind man for once. To be taken care of, to be cowed into vulnerability.

The thought sends whatever blood left in his system from dinner right to his cock, which twitches eagerly as Wyll sucks more of him down. Astarion kicks at the dirt beneath him, brings a single hand up to bite his fist. He knows better than to place a hand on the tidy canerows of the man’s freshly braided hair, or to reach for his wrist in a plea for more. It’d only serve to end their fun, disappoint him with how difficult he’s finding it to be good.

Astarion doesn’t want to disappoint Wyll. He wants to be good, he wants to be perfect, he wants to be his.

Because Wyll is not a cruel man. He’s not an unjust one, nor is he a demanding one. If there was any man on Earth he’d come to heel for, it had to be this one. He knows that he’s safe with him, that the trust he puts into his hands wouldn’t be misappropriated. And so he tries his best to be so good, because Wyll is good to him. He’d spent two centuries caving to men that only wanted to take, what kind of unsalvageable monster would he be to disobey the one that wanted to give?

Astarion makes a noise at the back of his throat, somewhere between a whine and a moan as Wyll lifts to lick at the tip of his dick. The pads of his fingers press deeper into him, massaging at his prostate reverently. And he does all this with his good eye fixated on Astarion’s expression, watching for any sign of discomfort or malcontent. It never comes.

Indeed, the vampire is open-mouth panting—his bottom lip pink and puffy from all the kissing. There’s no need for the steady repetitive breaths that come from him, there’s no need for breathing at all. But it feels right to pant like a dog. Wyll’s pretty, perfect pampered pet begging for more of his master's attention. It only becomes more deliberate with every lick or suck or tease from the man himself, the walls of his disobedience crumbling in every second. It doesn’t hurt to think of Wyll has his master, his owner, someone that has caught and tamed him. It doesn’t bother him for even a moment—not when Wyll playfully skims his sharpened canines along the shaft of his dick, not when he leans forward until his nose tickles at Astarion’s pubic bone. And certainly not when he swallows him down, and the vampire sees spots of long in the darkness where he’d squeezed his eyes closed. He falls into it all, nails digging into the dirt beneath him and hips rocking upward. 

He’s seeking his pleasure greedily now, no sight for anything other than that tumble off the edge into his own indolent nirvana. The steadily growing knot of tension in the pit of his stomach is only counterweighed by the thick blanket of subservience lowering over his consciousness. Slowly, one by one, all of his thoughts begin to filter out of his mind. Almost orderly, a procession of every negative emotion single file out of his forefront of awareness into all there’s left is this. Him. Wyll. Sweet Wyll. Giving Wyll. Loving, tender, cherishing Wyll Ravengard. His love for him floating cloudy through every nerve in his flesh, eyes rolling back in his head as he nears the precipice of the abyss, ready to hurdle over completely.

Never let this end, he thinks desperately, as his fiancé’s tongue laps at another bead of precum. Let me stay here, Master, I want to be here for you, always…

That proverbial abyss was rapidly gaining faster than he’d anticipated. But just as he’s ready to let go, to throw himself over with the knowledge that Wyll would be his safety net, a strong clamps down hard at the base of his cock. Astarion cries out a sob and his hips stutter, chasing the sweet release that he’s suddenly denied.

“Master,” Astarion sobs, already hoarse and teetering shamefully on the brink of satisfaction. “Fuck, please, why?!”

There’s a brief pause from Wyll at the moniker, as there always is. He double checks to ensure that Astarion is still present with him. As always, he won’t say or do a thing else beyond what his lover needs. By now, he’s used to being called by the old moniker—though in the beginning, there’d been lengthy and painful tedious discussions about how he never wanted to be to Astarion what Cazador had been. How he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of being categorized by the same title that had subjugated his love.

When Astarion had ensured him that it was less of him becoming his new master, and more of him taking that title away to give it to someone far more deserving, his Blaze had been more on board.

And now, after all that, Wyll only needs brief check in before he’s diving back into the game.

“I’ll give you what you want, my love,” he hums, pressing kisses to pale thighs sheened with sweat. “Just call the pinfall.”

Astarion groans, tosses his head back against the dirt. Again, he is presented with the chance to cut the game short by submitting entirely. To give into Wyll’s sweet demand without protest, be awarded in turn. But it’s early in the night, and though his cock throbs with denial, he finds that he wants more still. There is another spar to be found here, in this and he finds that he isn’t ready to yield. Every thought of simple subservience flees him with the last dregs of his denied orgasm. If he cannot have his way, then Wyll won't have his, either.

He lifts his head. Licks at dry lips, quirks an eyebrow with more insouciance than he feels. He voice only shakes a little bit when he speaks, which he is unnecessarily proud of.

“Surely you have more to you than just your tongue and fingers? You’ll have to work harder than that, I’m afraid.”

“Cheeky little pet,” chuckles the younger man, pressing yet another kiss to his inner thigh. He stares up at him lovingly, fingers still working at the vampire's hole. The pleasure-driven strokes against his prostate ease entirely, fingers seeking to stretch rather than gratify. Astarion fights the grin that threatens his lips, knowing what comes next. His favorite part of the game.

He might be denied his release several times over, but at least he’ll be stuffed with cock while it happens.

As expected, Wyll clambers up onto his knees. He looms this way, presence hovering over the elven vampire in what should be an intimidating way. If it were anyone else, Astarion might feel just that. But this is his darling Wyll, his doting and indulgent master. He wouldn’t even dream of harming him—or not in any way that Astarion wouldn’t love—and the presence above him feels more like protection than a threat. There is only the enveloping warmth of safety, and electrically charged air of desire. 

Astarion is obedient enough to keep his hands by his head, even when he desires nothing more but to reach out and touch. Wyll's armor had rucked up and left a small exposed trail of hair leading down his navel. His trousers had come undone, and they hang low on his hips. In the time between the fall of the Absolute and his position as Blaze, he'd put on more weight—though most of it was hard muscle, brought on by months of non-stop combat training with his command. Astarion wants to sink his teeth into the extra span of deep, umber flesh. He wants to lick and caress and kiss. He might be allowed to later; when they could make love in a real bed, no games just Wyll and Astarion.

But first he wants to be fucked stupid. And to do that, he has to wait. Wait while Wyll tugs his armor and undershirt off of his chest, while he frees his thick erection from his smalls and shoves them down to his thighs, while he one-handed casts another grease spell. Years of spellcasting while wielding his weapon have made him an expert multitasker, and his fingers keep a steady if not unhurried pace while he works. Astarion doesn’t even bother trying to make himself look pretty. He just lays there and reacts how he pleases to the sensation of being stretched open on slender, dexterous fingers. His subdued throaty gasps and sweaty, red-face don’t make him any less attractive to Wyll. In fact, he strokes the grease onto his dick with a hunger in his eye, practically salivating at the display beneath him.

“You look so good for me, Astarion,” Wyll murmurs, voice thick with lust, confirming Astarion’s thoughts. “If only you could behave as prettily as you look.”

“W-Where—hah, mm…—where would be the fun in that?” he responds wickedly. And the man above him beams, not a single word needed to express just how much he agrees.

Wyll slips his fingers out—he’d worked up to three while lubing up, enough to give Astarion the stretch he loved without hurting him—and lowers himself over the vampire carefully. He rests most of his weight on his knees and forearm, despite many months of insistence on his lover's part that he could lay completely on him just fine. With a gentle nudge at Astarion’s thighs with his knees to make space for his body between his legs, he takes only a few moments to get comfortable. And then he’s smiling down at his lover, indulgent as he can be, before dipping low for a sweet kiss. The game pauses here, in this pocket of time right before he presses against his entrance, because he knows in the forthcoming moments he will not be kind. He wants to remind Astarion of how much he adores him, bring him forth out of the cloudy haze of fantasy to the reality of their romance. He will be rough, and bruising, and possibly even cruel with denial. But it is from a place of love and affection, never maliciousness.

And then Astarion feels the nudge of his tip at his entrance, and the smile on Wyll’s lips turns wicked.

“Call the pinfall. Last chance.”

“Go fuck yourself, darling,” Astarion coos back, too much affection in the words to be properly venomous.

“Why would I need to? I have you to use for that,” he pushes in now, sliding home in one swift moment. Astarion mewls, back arching off of the ground and eyes rolling. It’s exactly what he’d been wanting. Stretched so perfectly across his man, swiftly filled to the brim with cock. “Don’t I, pet?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Astarion sighs, not so much an answer to his inquiry but more of an encouragement to his fiancé to keep going. Wyll, however, pulls out to the tip on the next stroke and gives a disapproving look. If looks could kill, he’d drop dead between his lovers legs. Instead, his face smooths out into a cheeky smile.

“Hm. But I think you can take me deeper than that, can’t you?” Hitching both hands under the vampire's knees, he gently pushes his legs up and apart. Astarion folds in half quite easily—two centuries of forced flexibility coming right in hand. “Hold these for me, will you, love?”

“You are a,” Astarion reaches under his legs to hold his knees up, spread just like Wyll requests. He doesn’t argue, though he would be remiss not to complain. Especially when the request tints his cheeks such a bright pink, and Wyll is still giving him that cheeky, knowing look. “magnificent bastard, my dear.”

It's a frankly lewd position to be in—spread wide open like a cheap whore, an illuminated trail of grease leaking over his pale asscheeks. He's exposed entirely now, quite literally the definition of vulnerable, with only his smalls still hanging feebly off of one ankle. It's made even more scandalizing by the locale. Astarion is briefly reminded that any unfortunate recruit or unlucky night guard wandering around could stumble across them on the training grounds. But there's a rush of a thrill to even that, the threat of humiliation doing wondrous things to his already painfully hard erection. They could be caught, and he worries he wouldn't feel an iota of mortification. They could be caught, and all it would mean is someone else sees. See how tenderly he's held—no, owned by this brilliant man. Even when he is acting like a prick, or being disobedient, or refusing to do something so simple as admitting he's been beaten. Even when he's so defiant that he has to be a taught a lesson right in the middle of the range. Even then, he will be looked after by his master, his lover, his fiance, his Wyll.

Wyll smiles down at him knowingly, as if he'd read his throughts, before taking proper hold of his hips and slamming deep into him.

He sets a punishing pace outright, both of them too impatient to waste time. It would be maddening with any average cock, but Wyll is hardly average. Six bumpy ridges line the underside of his shaft—each of them roughly an inch or so apart. They were soft and pliable when he was flaccid, but when filled with arousal became firm. With the delicious curve to Wyll’s cock, each one caught perfectly on his prostate. It made him delirious, cock-drunk, driven mad with euphoria.

Astarion is left to claw uselessly at his own thighs, forbidden for now from reaching up to hold onto his horns but being properly railed to the point of thoughtlessness. Wyll covers him with his body, sinks his teeth into the place where his shoulder becomes his neck, and fucks him in long, inevitable strokes. Each one pounds home harsher than the last, lewd wet sounds of skin on skin and the crude squelching of grease filling the night air around their respective sounds of pleasure.

It’s delightful. His eyes roll back in his head, bottom lip caught on his canine as he chews at the soft flesh desperately. Wyll gives him exactly what he deserves, what he needs. One hand, still slippery with grease, takes a bruising grip to his hips whilst the other strokes him in tandem. A veritable assault of pleasure on every receptor in his body—the repetitive motion against his prostate, the contrasting sweet strokes along his shaft, the moans of satisfaction from the man he loves that betray just how much Wyll gets from this too.

Every so often, Astarion works himself up to the brink of an orgasm. He’ll feel it building up slowly—not the crash off the edge he’s accustomed to but a slow steady increase of tension. A dawning horizon of ecstasy, eclipsing all reasonable thought and leaving him reduced to increasingly labored pants of Wyll’s name. He’ll get right there at the peak, trembling with it, before his fiancé would harshly clamp off his release and kiss him softly in return. 

After the third time, Wyll panting against his neck and tears welling in his eyes from denial, he gives a frustrated sob. Seemingly having enough of his cruel bit of play, the man above him gently takes over the hold of his legs. Heels dig into Wyll’s back like spurs, long lithe legs strap around the other man's waist and cling on desperately. With his hands free, Astarion takes the liberty to express some of his frustration. He brings his hands up to dig into the man’s shoulders. Presses his nails deep into the dark flesh until he can smell pinpricks of blood, feel the tacky liquid slowly pool beneath his fingertips.

Wyll hisses in response and sinks his teeth into the crook of his shoulder in return. “Still haven't had enough, have you? I can do this all night, love.”

He’s sure his partner can’t; he’s only human, after all, and they’d used up a good deal of stamina on the sparring. But he’s not interested in arguing the point; his cock is thick and heavy against his stomach, weeping milky white on his navel. He doesn’t want to wait a second longer.

“You win, darling,” Astarion demands through gritted teeth. “Now, please, I need it. I need you.”

And here, it peaks. The turn of the game where Astarion gives Wyll what he needs out of it. To be needed. To be useful. To be able to give everything his lover desires, and more. If Astarion has spent his whole existence bucking authority, then Wyll has wasted so much of his trying to appeal to it. Or one figure of authority, in particular. An entire lifetime of being denied such simple pleasures such as a ‘Good job, Wyll’ or ‘I’m proud of you’ had done irreparable damage to his beloved Blade.

Astarion can’t fix any of that. But he can work at it like this. Giving Wyll the chance to do something good, and making sure he knew how thoroughly he’d accomplished the task. By whatever means necessary. If it means cowing a bit, giving into his own desires and allowing himself to slip fully into obedience, well then... birds and stones.

It works, of course. Wyll moans, deep and low in his chest. He sounds a little fuck-drunk when he speaks, muttering sweet nothings into pallid flesh as he readjusts his hold. “I have you. Gonna give you what you need, I promise…”

They’re both so close to the edge. Wyll pulls back to stare Astarion in the eyes—sentimental fool that he is, he always had a harder time getting off if he couldn’t see his face. There’s love and adoration there in that crimson iris of his, as there always is and certainly always will be.

Sometimes it’s too much, to be regarded so sweetly, and Astarion would bury his face in the pillows. But right now, he can only stare wide-eyed up at the man he loves, begging, pleading, groveling for whatever he has to give. The vampire spawn, completely and thoroughly tamed by his monster hunter.

Astarion leans up hesitantly, laves his tongue over the bite marks he’d left on his lover early that morning. They’re still bruised but beginning to close over, Wyll deliberately forgoing a healing potion so that everyone could see. He quite liked the world knowing that the malicious little vampire that stalked the shadows of the training grounds was his. That he fed him, he satisfied him, he took care of every one of his needs. Wyll would preen like a peacock when his brothers in arms would rib him about the marks. He never divulged a single detail of their sex life—let all the rumors do the talking. But Astarion knows just how much the intrigue it aroused fluffed his ego.

It’s why he pricks his teeth against the slowly healing punctures and whines, needy even to his own ears. Wyll’s hand moves from his hip to hold the back of his head, cradling him lovingly against his neck to grant permission.

He bites down immediately. His mouth is flooded with the heavy, thick flavor of ecstasy. The heat builds in two places in his stomach now, reaching a boiling point. He is close to the meltdown, release hurtling towards him like an inferno. He embraces it all the same, swallowing his monster hunter's blood greedily in service of his own pleasure. He takes one mouthful and moans as he feels hotness of it rush through him, another and it’s all he needs to finally catch up to his orgasm, spilling messily over Wyll’s hand and his own exposed belly. He only pulls off to moan, eyes rolling and vocal chords overworked as he shouts his man's praises. It’s the closest they’ve ever gotten to coming together because Wyll tumbles after him quickly after—pumping once, twice more before his hips stutter in a broken staccato and he's painting Astarion's insides with a throaty groan.

When they lay in the post-coital haze, Wyll slumped over Astarion and Astarion thrumming both with the man’s blood and mind-blowing orgasm, he can’t help but give a delirious little giggle. High and musical, shot through with all the mischievousness he still has.

Wyll doesn’t have the energy to lift his head up, but he does give a muffled, “What is it?” into the other man's sweat-drenched locks.

“Now your armor is going to have stains in the knees.”

A weary sigh from the man above him. He hadn’t been planning on laundering his armor just yet—usually, he put it off to do it alongside the recruits. Something about morale and camaraderie that Astarion didn’t care about. “I know. You’re a bad influence.”

A remorseless snort. “Oh, darling, aren’t I absolutely incorrigible? You should probably do something about that.”

“Mm. Yeah,” Wyll kisses his neck sweetly, tone noncommittal. “but then where would the fun be in that?”

[thestargyal]

12/23: Mars Moonwalks All Over Me

Hello Starlings,

I’m writing to you from the job I’m sure I’ll lose in a month. 2 months tops. I’ll be surprised if I make it through the entire Mars rx transit. Hoping I do because there are few things a Capricorn sun loves more than a consistent check.

I received a kiss of death on Friday - an incoming PIP once we get back from break in January. Their preliminary micro-management has been little help and a lot more of the same corporate bullshit - unrealistic expectations, nitpicking, disclosing my neurodivergence to other teams without my consent. I’ve been silently critical and anti since onboarding, quiet quitting after their third strike with me (TWO late checks) - so I’m not surprised. I’m also no fool - despite my supervisor’s reassurance that there are people on our team who have come off a PIP stronger than ever - almost nobody survives a PIP. After the news, I pivoted from my task list to a LinkedIn job search.

Yesterday I listened to Chris Brennan’s 2025 horoscope for scorpio ( my rising) and he mentioned that this mars retrograde would be going on for the first couple months of the year. It will move from Leo back into Cancer until February 23rd. For us unlucky winter babies born at the top of the year, we’ll carry this moonwalking mars with us through the rest of our year via our solar returns.

For us Scorpio & Aries risings, Mars is our chart ruler - so mars transits are really nothing to play with. Right ahead of the current mars retrograde in Leo - an Aries rising girlfriend of mine abruptly lost a gig for reasons that amount to little more than bullshit. “we love you but…” The longer I listened to her detail the few working days before she got the boot - the more clear it became that she was punished for shining a little too hard. Leo represents shine. I imagine the retrograding Leo mars was right on top of her 5H Leo moon.

Despite the fearmongering, retrogrades are truly not all that scary. In explaining them to the uninitiated, I often lean emphasizing the RE in retrograde. RE-do, revise, rethink, replenish, review, readjust, recreate, relax, remember, rebrand, request, and so on. Retrogrades are part cosmic do-overs, part command for caution. Part of what makes mercury retrogrades so distressing is that our world runs on communication - during a retrograde it becomes much easier to make a blunder that initiates a terrible game of telephone in your life. A Mars retrograde however, can be even more frustrating. It stops forward movement, strips away whatever it is you got going on in the house it is transiting, and yanks you backward. Your energy levels decrease. you feel fuzzy & unorganized, you try to spring forward but something always blocks your movement. Mars rx is calling you to rest & re-strategize. Its a good time to make new plans.

It’s worst manifestation, to me, is the level of inward aggression you can feel with no explanation or proper outlet. I recall one Mars rx transit where I was just pissed. I grew up depressed af, which mars rx can exacerbate given it makes the right aspects to your natal chart, but this was worse. I wanted to fight anyone and everyone, though I knew I couldn’t without reason. And no matter what, I could not focus on anything but frustration. After days of feeling like shit, I opened my astro app to see that mars was retrograding right on top of my natal mars in aquarius - to the degree. From a placidus perspective, it was in the 3rd house - the house of the conscious mind & communication. Be wary of internalizing and carrying around frustration & disappointment during this time, not having an outlet for the increased stressed does you zero good. But, be mindful of how you externalize - consequences for impulsive, aggressive acts is twofold.

In Chris’ video - he mentioned that the retrograding mars, happening in the 10H for us Scorpio risings, represented a turning point in the story of our career. I can only hope he’s right. This year feels like a string of missed opportunities at a strong pivot. But I guess this could be a second chance.

When I received news of my PIP, transiting mars was in my 9H (placidus), 10H (whole signs) of career opposing (stressful connection) my natal mars (ruling my 6H of routine work), and the rest of my stellium in aquarius. Not supportive for keeping a day job, from a whole signs perspective, this rx mars in my 10H is looking at my natal mars and saying “damn b*tch, this really what you want?” From a placidus one, this mars is transiting my 9H of belief & perspective, telling my natal mars that I might be thinking too small. I know it - I left my other media job this year to find my creative self & succumbed quickly to the fear of financial insecurity - blocking most progress I could have made. Leo is a sign of fearlessness - eschewing the idea of sacrificing authenticity for security, as it knows no true security can come from not living in alignment with what you really want.

Transiting rx Mars was also making a trine (beneficial connection) to my natal moon in Sagittarius (ruling my 9H of belief). In my chart, my moon is in the 1st house of self from a placidus perspective - signaling that the change from this retrograde will benefit my true self. From a whole signs perspective, my sag moon is in the 2H of worth & value - signaling that forthcoming change in career, may not only benefit me financially, but also my confidence in the long run. Once mars moves back into cancer, it’ll be in my 9H of higher learning. I’ve already planned on using my time off to upskill, complete a certification that will help me on my job search. Only time will tell.

But enough about me - how is this mars rx treating you? You can tell me all about it, if you’d like. But I also already know - I’ll be posting some mars rx horoscopes soon.

Love, always

stargyal