#this was started all the way back in march

[roguishcat]

Fangs and Cheeks

Summary: Astarion is an ass man.

Excerpt:

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: Dry humping, PinV sex, orgasm denial, Reader being a bit of a brat, brat taming (if you squint), Reader having a danger kink, Reader denying that she has a danger kink, oral (female receiving), soft dom Astarion, smut and fluff, Astarion is loved, smug Astarion

A/N: Please tell me if you notice typos and mistakes. ❤️ Constructive criticism is appreciated. Comments are always loved! ❤️

(dividers by @saradika)

Once you and Astarion were in what you would call a ‘proper relationship’, you quickly discovered that he was a very tactile person. Astarion hated being touched out of the blue, grimacing and stiffening if anyone got too near for his liking. Yet, he was rather partial to keeping his hands on you. He was especially fond of your derrière, making sure that it received plenty of attention from him.

In hindsight, it's been this way ever since you first slept together. An occasional brush here and there. His hand on the small of your back moving further south than was necessary. The little squeeze that could be nothing but your imagination. Just you being hopeful and wanting your feelings to be reciprocated. Because you were under no illusion that your romp was nothing but that.

Astarion was gorgeous, ethereal, and intoxicating. All sharp lines and velvety words. Words which time and time again affected you in a way that you'd not thought possible until you met him.

And you? As much as you wanted there to be more to your trysts, you were painfully aware of the fact that you were conveniently there at a time when he felt like blowing off some steam. 

Yet, as you fought your way through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, shared victories and supported each other through the horrors that awaited around every corner, you felt a change. Like something between you shifted just enough for Astarion to start looking at you in a way that had your heart fluttering like a caged bird.

His touches became softer. He lingered. Held you closer, spent more time with you than necessary. Instead of drinking from you when you were asleep, Astarion would find an excuse to be in your tent whilst you were still awake, as if wanting to hear you ask again and again if he was in the mood for a nibble.

Astarion started sharing more of himself with you, telling you of what he had been through over the past two centuries. And you realised that perhaps to Astarion you being there for him, standing up for him, seeing him as a person, was novel and very welcome.

When Astarion confessed, nervously telling you of his deception, his guilty conscience not allowing him to take advantage of your affection for him any longer, you assured him that being with him was enough.

More than enough.

With you agreeing to abstain until he felt ready to resume the sexual part of your relationship, Astarion seemed to come to enjoy just being with you, exploring intimacy that other forms of touch brought.

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you with a huff, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals. Her words would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

Gale would suggest that for the sake of the others he would be more than happy to teach you to cast Silence.

You were not really sure why everyone assumed that you and Astarion were doing more than share each other’s space. It never went past kissing. And perhaps a little under the shirt action. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.

So, it really was not that much of a surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and muffled grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, soft curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as a just little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance was becoming worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, even you moving got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

As you blinked your watery, bleary eyes, you realised that Astarion stopped, the fingers gripping your hips no longer there. You gulped, not really sure what to do now that it was abundantly clear to the both of you that you were very awake and very aware of what was happening moments ago.

“Do you want to tal-”

“I’d rather not,” he interjected quickly, and you felt him moving away from you.

Panicking, you grabbed onto his sleeve, making him still.

“Are you really so adamant on prolonging this unbearable moment?” Astarion asked tersely, making you wince. Yet your fingers did not lose their vice-like grip on the fabric.

“Or do you want to tell me all about what you think of my disgusting, despicable behaviour?”

“I- I don’t think it was disgusting,” you cleared your throat, a blush blooming on your skin. “Not even a little.”

“I was kind of… into it,” you admitted with some reluctance. Because what kind of person did that make you? A very sexually frustrated one, that’s for sure and certain.

“Oh?” you heard the lilt in his voice as he lowered himself back onto the bedroll, settling beside you but not quite close enough for him to touch your back. Realising that you were still holding onto his sleeve, you let go, his arm moving out of your line of sight as soon as your fingers were no longer holding on.

“Why?”

The question caught you off-guard. You didn’t really want to tell him the truth. How embarrassing to admit that you would jump through hoops for his attention, even after him telling you explicitly that you were ‘well and truly taken’.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“No. But I would prefer it if you did, my sweet.”

The endearment made you relax a little. Picking up on it, Astarion drew your body closer, one hand settling back on your hip. You shivered as you felt that he was hard still.

Reigning in your raging libido, you reminded yourself that you were not to jump his bones and were to remain a perfectly well-functioning adult about this. You’d tell Astarion what you felt without giving yourself away so much that he’d feel pressured into anything.

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t have to make it sound that hot,” you laughed and put your hand on top of his cool fingers, running your fingers along his knuckles in soothing, comforting strokes.

“What I mean, it felt good to be desired, wanted by you.”

Your awkward confession and gentle touch got him to relax a little, you could feel it when he put his chin on your shoulder. You could also feel something else that you would very much wanted to press into. On top of. Around. You were not picky.

But you stayed very still. And that was pure, sweet torture.

“Make no mistake, I want you constantly.” Astarion’s cool breath tickled your skin and set it ablaze. “If it were up to me, there would be far less adventuring and helping out those pesky refugees, and far more time spent feverishly enjoying each other.”

He sighed and kissed your exposed shoulder. You grasped onto whatever restraint you had and pressed your lips together.

“But it seems that it is not up to me,” he went on. “So, when my trance was interrupted by you moaning my name in your sleep, I felt a stir. And I just- just went for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I doubt that I was thinking at all. Not with you making those delicious sounds and you being so close. I apologise.”

“Astarion. I love you. And I did tell you on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to try anything. Consider this as us trying something new.”

“What happens now?” Astarion murmured.

“What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t get a reply. Licking your lips, you decided that perhaps a gentle suggestion would not hurt. Astarion knew that he could say no. That you would never hold it against him.

“If you like, we can pick up where you left off.”

“Meaning?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘no’. There was a distinct huskiness to his voice that made you feel that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to tell him exactly what you thought.

“I think that you should finish what you started.”

“Tsk, naughty. Who knew that you would be into something like that?”

“Who knew that you were so into my ass?”

He snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘not yet’.

“Dearest, have you seen how leather lovingly cradles it? Nothing is left to the imagination. I can scarcely tear my eyes away long enough to fight whatever horror is sent after us!”

He was moving again and you bit your lip to stifle your moan, wondering if you could angle your body to get friction where you most needed it.

Astarion noticed. Of course he did.

With a breathy chuckle, you felt his fingers move fabric aside, sliding into your underwear.

“Allow me,” he grunted into your ear.

“Such a gentleman,” you sighed, spreading yourself a little wider to give him more to work with.

“Of course! How callous would it be to leave a lady… wanting,” he punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips. “Although, one cannot help but wonder, what were you dreaming about that had you moaning my name, hm?”

“What was I doing to you, dearest?” Astarion asked and moved his clothed erection against the swell of your ass, his fingers circling your clit with light, unhurried movements. You bit your lip harder, not wanting to alert the whole camp to what was going on. Astarion adored the blush that overwhelmed your skin.

“Oh? Don't feel like talking right now? How about I guess. Let me see… was I gentle? Did I whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I took you slowly?” Astarion teased, lifting himself a little off the bedroll so he could see your face better.

Hm. No change in your heartbeat, no spike in arousal. Clearly, that wasn’t it.

“No,” you confirmed his suspicions, “you were not.”

“Naughty,” he clicked his tongue and gave a pleased chuckle. "How absolutely delightful.”

Astarion’s thrusts took on a different rhythm to match the increasing speed of his fingers working you.

“So, I was rough, wasn’t I?” He pressed a fang against the hot skin of your neck, biting down on sensitive flesh without breaking skin.

“Yes,” you squirmed and pushed back, making his eyes slam shut. You shivered as a strained groan tore itself from his lips.

"Fuck," he hissed, releasing your neck to put his lips on a pulse point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must have slipped," you said grinding yourself against the bulge beneath the leather. Because you were past the point of reasoning and definitely way past having any restraint. Astarion spoke of not wanting to be treated like he was made of porcelain. Perhaps pushing back just a little would be exactly the right way to show that you weren’t walking on eggshells around him.

Astarion’s ruby eyes narrowed dangerously, yet a smile curled his lips.

"Do you really think you can play me so easily?"

"Oh, no. I would never!" Your gasp was so theatrical it made him bark a delighted laugh.

"Ha! Trying to outplay me, dearest? Well, it is not going to be that simple.” Astarion purred and tilted your head, so you'd look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was as arrogant as it was tantalisingly attractive.  “I am always the one in charge when it comes to playtime, you'd do well to remember that, my sweet."

He nipped your shoulder blade, humming in satisfaction at the shiver this elicited.

"If I recall correctly, you were in the middle of telling me your dream."

Ah, yes. You did remember that he wanted you to talk. Talk whilst he was overwhelming you with sensations, his nearness, his scent, just his everything. Sure. You could probably manage to string some words together.

“You were rough.”

“We’ve already established that.”

 And perhaps to another, more merciful being, that would be enough to let you off the hook. Astarion was hardly known for being merciful.

His fingers slowed down, making you thrust your hips forward. Astarion clicked his tongue and nipped the exposed skin of your shoulder, “Go on, dearest.” 

“It was after a battle, you were still in your armour.”

“I’m glad that I am such a consummate lover I needn’t even strip.”

“Sex dreams don’t have to make sense, alright?”

“No, dear,” he chuckled. “I’m so very sorry, do continue.”

“There isn’t that much more to it. I woke up before we actually… well. But um-”

Oh, you might just as well go for it. Astarion knew full well that he was intoxicatingly handsome. What he didn’t know was when exactly you found him most attractive.

"I- I enjoy seeing you fight."

“Would that be a dander kink, per chance? Do you want me to take you in the middle of a battlefield? Or should I feel worried over your throwing looks at others, hm?”

"No, it’s you. Every move so precise and purposeful. Your muscles straining, metal singing against metal. You are beautiful, and sensual, and confident, and powerful."

“Go on,” he whispered with a quietness that was at odds with the possessive way he griped you. You felt Astarion grind against you. Slowly, indulgently. The hand not working you moving from your hip to your ass to give it a tight squeeze that would definitely leave a mark.

"I see you and I marvel at your tenacity, the stubborn set of your jaw as you refuse to give in. Your curls tainted red, your eyes set on your target as you strike with cruel precision."

“My, my, who knew you were harbouring such fantasies. Such deviousness under that sweet façade. Only you could care for such a monstrosity.”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “You are not a monster.”

You licked your lips as you thought of how to make him understand.

“You are many things. My friend, my confidant, my lover, my protector. I’ve never had that before you. I trust you. And that-,” you whimpered, eyelashes fluttering, a tear rolling down a heated cheek.

“Yes?”

“And that makes me want you even more,” you admitted as you saw stars, Astarion’s fingers not breaking their rhythm, sending a wave after wave of pleasure rippling though your body. Finally, his hand stilled.

You panted, turning your head enough to the side to rest your cheek against his cool one. Closing your eyes, you let your body sag against his.

“I take it you enjoy dangerous things, darling?” Astarion whispered into your hair.

“Most pretty things are,” you forced out between breaths. “And you are the prettiest, handsomest rogue I’ve ever seen.”

"Love?" Astarion shifted and moved, and you felt his fangs graze the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Yes."

Please.

He bit down to take long, greedy gulps, both his hands clutching you to his chest. Having been told that he could taste how you felt made you wonder, what secrets was your blood revealing? What sensations he drew into his own body from yours with every gulp?

"Clothes off. Now.” Astarion ripped himself away from you, not wanting to overindulge and leave you weak.

"But why? I thought you wanted-"

"Love, I don't always know what I want. But this is one of those times when I do."

Suddenly, Astarion was gone, making you whine in protest.

“Underwear off,” he commanded whilst fumbling with his clothes, his voice raspy because of the emotions he was struggling to contain.

You were more than ready for this. But you were feeling cheeky. So, with a smirk, you lifted yourself off the bedroll until your lips were an inch from his, your warm breath on his cool skin.

"A lady likes to be asked."

He gritted his teeth but relented. "Please, love."

"Tsk, don't pout, Star. Was it really so hard?"

"No. But this is,” he snatched your hand and put it on his length, giving himself a few strokes with his fingers clenched tightly around yours. “So be good and do as I say. Off."

You felt a shiver dance down your spine as he called you a good girl. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. This time you obeyed almost instantly, fingers shaking as you took off your smallclothes.

As soon as you discarded them, Astarion was behind you again, naked from the waist down. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in his face.

Desire, need, lust.

He stared at you like he was desperate to have you. Perhaps in a way he was. You gulped, feeling giddy and excited, and also very pleased with yourself for choosing to wear a cotton slip to bed.

Angling your arm a little awkwardly, you reached for Astarion and your thumb flicked over the sensitive tip, making you gasp when his hips surged forward.

“Touch me again,” he ordered when your hand began to leave him.

“But I-I want to feel you inside.”

“Soon. Good girls who wait get fucked best, didn’t anyone tell you that?” Astarion taunted, though he knew that he was the one suffering.

His mind was clear, he was present, his eyes on the face of the one who loved him so tenderly and fiercely. He wanted to fuck you into the bedroll right there and then more than anything in his life. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to have a little fun with your first.

“Touch me, I know you want to.”

Perhaps you did, but that was beside the point.

“I need you, Astarion. Please.”

“Soon. Get to it, love.”

No matter how much he willed himself to stay still, Astarion’s hips jumped as your hand went up and down his length, moving to cup his balls and caress them with gentleness that had Astarion cursing himself for not just giving in.

“Astarion,” you whined, not quite recognising your own voice.

“Fine.” One arm wrapped around your waist, he pushed you back down against the bedroll. “Since you ask so nicely, I will indulge you.”

You were going to snap at him, but then whatever what you were going to say turned into whimper when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. You were still sensitive, and a shiver ran through your body at the slightest contact.

He gave a few shallow fucks before finally, finally giving you what you wanted.

Astarion dropped his head onto your shoulder as his hips began to grind and roll. His cock slid deeper, flexed against inner walls. He pulled out, slamming back into you and enjoying every soft hitch in your breath.

“You’re so tight. Fuck,” Astarion groaned out, nestling into your neck as he picked up pace.  “I won’t stop anymore, love. I can’t stop,” he admitted huskily. He no longer had the strength to control himself.

Astarion parted your legs to give himself better access and tore at the cloth still covering your body, the fabric tearing under his rough treatment to expose one of your breasts.

“Astarion!” Your protest turned into a whine.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I will buy ten,” he chuckled darkly and kissed your back.

“I’ll make sure to remind you,” you hissed and moaned, feeling a hand cup your breast and move to roll a nipple between long, dexterous fingers.

You were so, so close. It was maddening how well this man knew exactly where to touch you.

And then his hand was gone and you felt Astarion withdraw abruptly, leaving you concerned and panicking.

Was this too much? Was he- Oh! Oh.

Whatever thought you were about to have next died a swift death as Astarion’s tongue flicked between your folds, your throaty, desperate moan encouraging him to continue.

His tongue thrust forward, and then again, and again and-

“Astarion,” you half-sobbed, face falling forward. You held the pillow against your mouth to try to silence whatever obscene sounds you were about to make.

Legs shaking, fingers gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white, your second orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not stopping until he saw that you were finished.

Rising a little on shaking hands, you took a few steadying breaths.

“What happened to ‘I can’t stop’,” you managed.

“I slipped.”

You gave an inelegant snort and turned weakly to face him, legs and arms trembling. Astarion grinned at you cheekily, finding that he rather enjoyed how much of a mess you were. Hair mussed, clothes torn beyond repair, the red imprint from where you pressed the pillow into your skin, and the way you could barely hold yourself up.

He did all that. And he was not even done with you.

Astarion lay down onto the bedroll, pulling you down beside him, hands snaking round your middle and holding you close.

"I want that, you know," you felt him exhale. "I want to be the man you see," Astarion whispered, face hidden in your hair, as he entered you with utmost gentleness. Pausing briefly he just lay next to you and enjoyed the sound of your still ragged breath, the rapid heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You felt on hand trace patterns on your waist as it moved down, settling on the swell of your hip.

And then Astarion was moving again. Slow, so toe-curlingly slow at first. Then a touch faster, settling into a rhythm.

"You already are. You are strong.”

“Yes.”

He was speeding up, this time ready for his own release.

“You are free."

He moaned and whimpered, hips stuttering, thrust turning desperate.

"I love the man that you are."

He bit down on your shoulder and you winced as fangs peirced skin, rivulets of blood staining what was left of the cloth that barely covered you.

"I love you, Astarion."

He thrust once, twice and then again and- oh. Astarion fucked you through his orgasm and then more still, until he felt himself grow soft, his spend trickling down between your bodies.

He drew in a breath he didn’t need and shuddered as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his body.

"That was amazing," you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Well you have to say that now, after you had your way with me so thoroughly,” he said with an air of a virgin defiled by a rake.

“Are you saying that it was me that seduced you?” You turned your head to see him grin.

The nerve of that man!

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing to me when you wore that,” he pointed a finger what used to be your sleepwear, “to bed.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you huffed.

“Perhaps then I should give you-”

“Will you two fuckers stop fucking already, it’s too early for all this!” Karlach bellowed from her tent.

“Gale?” Shadowheart groaned in dismay, probably wishing she put her tent up further away from Astarion's.

“On it.”

“Did he just cast Silence on us?” Astarion heard your voice in his mind.

“I believe we were a little too loud.” The elf wiggled his eyebrows at you as you felt him make use of the tadpole.

“This is mortifying,” you groaned and tried to hide your face behind your hands.

“Well, if they needed their beauty sleep, should have told the wizard to cast the spell earlier,” Astarion shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, and slapped your ass, delighting in your surprised squeak. “Besides, we can be as loud as we want now.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I do not kid.”

“Astarion! No!”

“Yes.”

He rolled you onto your back and started kissing from your collarbones down to your breasts.

“No,” your voice had a little less conviction, weak hands pushing back silvery curls and tracing the tips of his ears .

“Yes.” Astarion lifted his head for a moment, ruby eyes filled with adoration, only to continue his descent.

“Oh, fine,” you gave a happy sigh, feeling him hum against your skin in approval.

You knew that you should probably feel chastened now that you knew you cost your companions precious hours of sleep, but you felt floaty and content, and far too well-fucked to feel too guilty. You would deal with the inevitable looks and comments later.  And then Astarion did that thing you liked with his tongue and you did not give anyone another thought for quite a while.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@nyx-knox, @vividiana

[tommykinard]

Coloring anon here, yes, I would definitely like to know more about how you color frame by frame and the other techniques you mentioned! It would be much appreciated, thank you!

Hi anon! I'd be happy to go over my preferred methods for colouring!

First resort (ideal):

Painting over shots with little movement (the first method in this tutorial)

Colour manipulation using selective colours (the second method in this tutorial; alternate tutorial -> i also sometimes add a hue/saturation layer on top to manipulate the cyans/blues as well)

Second resort:

Keyframes for shots with consistent movement where it's easy to hide "imperfections" (tutorial 1, tutorial 2)

Last resort:

Frame by frame colouring -> DISCLAIMER: the way I do this method is the easiest way I've gotten it to work for me but that also means that it's very inflexible when it comes to editing any of the colouring afterwards. Once you start colouring in frame animation mode you're basically locked in so you need your gifs to be exactly the way you want them prior to adding your colour

So in this tutorial I'll go over how I do my frame by frame colouring as well as how I create actions to automate the repetitive parts of this process! (Some resources that explain how to create actions are here: 1 2)

To use the select subject feature you will need Photoshop CC 2018 or later

Step 1: Preparing your gif with base colouring

So first you want to do your base colouring for your gif in timeline mode, which I've explained here. I keep my gifs short (ideally 40 frames or less) since this colouring process is tedious!

I make sure that in my hue/saturation layer, I turn the saturation in the yellow, green, cyan, and blue tabs all down to -100 (and for the yellows I usually add around +20 to +60 in lightness)

Here's my gif with the base colouring that I'll be starting with:

Note: turning down the saturation in almost all the colours gives you that nice silver/grey neutral background to paint on top of. It's a lot less noticeable when your painted layers aren't perfect

Step 2: Converting to Frame Animation Mode

I use the save action from this action pack to convert my gif from timeline mode to frame animation mode.

You cannot edit your base colouring from this point onwards!

Step 3: Using Select Subject

If you're recording an action this is the step you would *start recording*

This is what your window should look like:

Making sure your first frame and first layer are selected, go to Select at the top of your window and click Subject

You should then see the marching ants outline around the person in your gif

You then want to create a new solid colour fill layer (which can be found when you click that little circle icon at the bottom of your layers panel), and set the layer blending mode to colour.

The layer mask will automatically be created since you had the marching ants outline.

Since my person is in colour and not the background, I want to invert the layer mask by clicking on it and using command + i (or ctrl + i), and now this is what it looks like:

Note: Select subject isn't always perfect!!!, depending on how cluttered the scene is and how much contrast there is between your person and the background, select subject could either do a really good job like it did here, or screw up a little like it did here:

That's okay though because it still gives us a good base to start from! We can fix any issues by painting with black and white brushes on the layer mask.

Step 3.5: Create clipping mask

Thanks to @wolfchans for telling me about this because it gives us back a little bit of flexibility when colouring frame by frame! Instead of merging down, we can make a clipping mask instead. Right click the solid colour fill layer and select create clipping mask.

If you're recording an action, it's at this point where I would *stop recording*

Step 4: Fixing the layer mask if needed

So now I want his jacket and t-shirt to also be purple, and to show his fingers behind the glass. I make sure the layer mask is selected, and paint with a brush at 60-70% hardness (painting with black erases the colour, painting with white shows the colour). User smaller brush sizes to paint smaller details!

This is what my canvas and layer mask look like now.

Step 5: Repeat

Now I click on my second frame and second layer, and repeat steps 3-4. As you can see, using the clipping mask allows you to still see and edit the colouring of the previous frame, just make sure you click on the right frame and it's corresponding layer when you're doing further editing.

This is where an action is super helpful in cutting down all the repetitive steps and clicks you need to do. So at this point I'd just play the action I created and paint on the layer mask as needed.

Repeat for all your frames and then you're done! After this I convert it back to timeline mode again so that I can add my text and do any other effects such as blending or transitions. Hope this helped!!

[lambilegs]

Congrats on the 1k!! ⭐️⭐️⭐️

My first word choice is Whelve from list #2

Sevika x Reader, open to sfw or nsfw

So I LOVED your Sevika!Roommate headcannons, and if your up to it I was hoping for maybe an alternate ending?

Cause when I was reading I started imagining oh shit what if reader kinda runs into Ran first a little as fwb and Sevila has to deal with the jealousy she starts to feel?? IF you're even interested enough in writing about Ran even a little.

If not the words Incandescence and Sweven caught my eye too lol your call ofc

1K DRABBLES: WHELVE, SWEVEN & INCANDESCENCE

whelve: to bury something deep, to hide  sweven: a dream incandescence: light produced by high temperatures note to anon: AHHH thank you so much love!! and I'm so happy you enjoyed roommate!sevi hehe, it was definitely fun to write. and I'm definitely into writing for ran, I think they're sooo fine 🤭 your idea had me inspired, and I decided to use all three of your words for it hehe. I hope you enjoy it <33 contains: angst with no comfort (pls I'm so sorry), alcohol, sevika pretty much being anguished over you being with someone else, based on roommate!au

sevika watches you from the bar, her teeth clashing together, almost as though she's chewing on something tough, rubber-woven, hard to truly break through. she knows she must look like a slightly deranged, wholly possessive girlfriend right now, but that's exactly how she feels. her mind is whirring with thoughts, and mixed with the hazy tinge of alcohol, she feels like she's clouded with a multitude of emotions that bear no mercy for her, brutally stacking upon one another until she's rubbing her eyes with the onslaught of pain surging through her mind.

because you're there. dancing with fucking ran, of all people. ran, who sevika had always been chill with, and upon whom she had bestowed the privilege of letting into her apartment. ran, who sevika has worked with for nearly a year now. ran, whose face she wants to punch into until she chips at least one tooth. she can feel it running through her veins -- hot, bleeding rage that seizes around every inch of her innards, tightening and squeezing until it's all she knows. she wants so badly to march up to you and rip you away from them, shake you and ask you what the fuck you're doing. because you're hers -- and she's trying. she no longer brings girls over, she tries to be nicer, she waits until you wake up so you two can do the morning crossword together.

but, that doesn't really mean shit, right? not when the fire whipping from the walls of this all-too-expensive club are setting your face aflame, making you glow in all shades of orange and gold. not when you look like a sunbeam brought to life, every sway of your hips and batting of your lashes striking sevika like a personal bolt send her way.

she wants, so badly, for it all to be one horrible fucking dream. sometimes, she stirs awake in the middle of the night, and hears your whimpers as ran takes care of you, and she squeezes her eyes shut, urging herself back to sleep. if she wakes in the morning, and there are no traces of ran in the apartment, she pitifully convinces herself that maybe the noises she heard last night weren't real. but, then again, sevika has never been one for tall tales. because no matter what she offers herself as a way out of this living hell, the underbelly always contains the same reminder: you're not hers. but, maybe you could've been.

it's a reminder that stabs into her gut without relent when she goes to work and sees a hickey on ran's neck. it's one that twists and sends her gut curling into mind-consuming pain when she finds you in the kitchen, wearing ran's t-shirt as you make dinner. it's one that bleeds her out until she's piss drunk and tumbling into her bed, drool leaking from her mouth and eyes stone-heavy, after she sees you kiss them on the dance floor.

that should be her. it could've fucking been her. if she had stopped playing around, if she had put an end to the games earlier, it could've been her arms wrapped around you in the club. it could've been her t-shirts you fidget with the stitches and loose strands of as you half-heartedly watch the television when eating your food.

but, instead, she chose to play around. she chose to keep bringing girls who she pictured to be you when fucking, and keep making comments to poke fun at how much you like her, how much you want her. because that space, the in-between line hovering between roommates who flirt and genuine romance -- that's a comfortable space for her. it's safe, it's far from the simultaneous confines and terrifying exposure that exists tucked away into the pockets of a vulnerable, deeper bond. it's one where she doesn't have to worry about obligations, or how the fuck she'll ever manage to confide in you about all the past memories that still lingers in her chest, burrowing in a hollow she's unconvinced she'll ever be fully rid of.

but, that can't be harder than this. this hell she's been occupying everyday, the flames licking at her and searing through her skin everytime she's faced with the fact that you're no longer hers -- not even by a half, which is what she was satisfied with before. but, how fucking stupid was that? it's not like back then, part of her didn't sting with the fact that you weren't hers in entirety, as something that is whole and not only distributed through brief touches and momentary banter.

but, now you spend so much time with ran that she doesn't even have a quarter of you, not even a piece. and even if you and ran are just fuck buddies, she can see how you light up when they drop by. how the two of you avoid her narrowed gaze as you usher them to your bedroom.

she can see how she's on the outs now. just as you once were.

and that solidifies her resolve, tying it with a red ribbon that's stapled in, unyielding to any force of affection or envy.

she's played with you enough. she'll let you have this.

even if it means she buries herself whole, not an inch of you left with her anymore.

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Forty Three)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Forty Three: Cillian gives his family the news they came to share, with Y/N firmly at his side. [Family dynamics/Anxiety/Fluff]

@lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby @strangeions @watermeezer @borntodiemp3 @cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme

The restaurant that Cillian had booked for dinner on Tuesday evening is more than you'd expected. Low-lit and somewhat romantic inside, it is cosy and welcoming, with the low hum of voices from patrons and the unrushed but attentive staff moving through tables and behind the bar. At the table, the Murphy family greet one another and chat like they've not seen each other in ages, and Cillian is slap bang in the middle of it - he's cheeky and playful with his brother, protective and teasing with his sisters, and all the while he has his right arm around the back of your chair as you sit between him and his mother, and his fingers intermittently dance softly against your shoulder. Despite not driving more than five minutes, you'd taken the travel sickness medication in the hopes that it'd help to negate your nausea throughout dinner - you didn't want the secret out before the announcement was made. Síle and Griff sit opposite you, and pull you into conversation every so often, but you don't feel left out or neglected as you sit back and take in the atmosphere around you. God, Cillian is so at ease and it is a delight to be beside him the whole time.

“So what have you next?” Páidi asks, setting down his fork. He's sitting to Cillian's left but the place is quiet enough that you can hear everything without straining.

Cillian thinks for a second, then answers. “Eh, I've a thing in Galway coming up for UNESCO. Then it's…eh, IFTAs and then I'm away to LA for the Oscars at the start of March.” he reaches his left hand out for his glass on the table before him and sips slowly at his Guinness.

“Fuck,” Páidi laughs, covering his mouth with his hand to hide thenfacr he's taking over a mouthful of food. “Bringing Y/N to America, yeah?”

Cillian nods as he places his glass back down, “That's the plan if work is agreeable, and she's feeling alright.” He smiles. His fingers tap against your arm as he speaks. “You didn't hear back from Amanda yet, no?” He asks.

You shake your head, “Not yet.”

“It'll be warm in LA when you go, so?” Orla asks, sitting towards the end of the table.

Cillian nods his head, “I'd say so.”

Síle laughs, “You'll come back with a tan and your freckles darker than ever.”

Cillian grins, “Looking healthy for once.”

Griff laughs loudly, “Jays, Cill, you do be outta the country more than you're in it.”

Cillian juts his chin and rolls his eyes, “Sure, I know it.” He shakes his head. He turns to look at you and raises his eyebrows. He wants to tell them now. You nod your head slowly, and he draws his arm from behind you as he adjusts himself in the seat. “Here, guys, listen,” he clears his throat nervously. “We didn't just come down for the spin in the car,” he smirks. The table silences. He rests his elbows on the table and his hands fiddle near his face as he takes a breath. You reach for your handbag by your feet, ready to draw out the scan photos. “Eh…” Cillian falters, “We, eh, wanted to come down and, eh, tell you all together. We're…we're expecting a baby.” He drops his arms down, folding them against the edge of the table.

“Ah no way?!” Síle erupts quickly.

At his side, Páidi claps his hand around Cillian's back with a cheerful smile. “Jesus, really? Fecking hell, congrats!”

“Ah, you're not?” Mary exclaims and her eyes are immediately emotional. Sitting at your right side, she wraps her arm around you and pulls you in against her. “Ah, love, that's brilliant! When?” She asks, clearly excited. Beside her, Brendan simply smiles and offers you a wink. Mary releases you as you shift a little.

“July,” you say and with a shaking hand you pull the photos from your bag. You hand one to Mary, then hand another across to Síle and Griff to be passed around the table. Cillian wraps his arm back around the back of your chair, but he quickly moves so that it's around your shoulders. He pulls you towards him and kisses the top of your head. You watch as Mary scans the picture with a soft smile, then gets from her seat. She walks behind your seat and wraps her arms around Cillian's neck from behind and plants a loving kiss against his cheek. Cillian raises his left arm and places his hand on the side of his mother's face.

“I'm so happy for you, love,” she says, giving him another squeeze before she returns to her seat.

“We're youse shocked?” Orla asks, looking between you and Cillian.

“Fairly fucking shocked,” Cillian laughs, “But it's good.”

“Jesus, Cill… I was half expecting an engagement when you called us all together, and I'll admit that someone being sick crossed my mind. This wasn't on the bingo card.” Páidi shakes his head, and nudges his brother.

“Wasn't really on mine either,” Cillian mutters, and while you consider you could take that comment to heart you remind yourself of all the happiness that accompanied this pregnancy so far, and refuse to allow yourself to fall backward.

“And you've been okay?” Síle asks, and reaches over the table to wave her hand for your attention, “Feeling good?”

You wrinkle your nose, “A bit sick, but nothing too extreme. I read horror stories of being in hospital with vomiting, so I think I've gotten off lightly there.”

“Well you can thank Cillian for that - they say it's the man who determines not only the gender, but how well the mother feels throughout.” Síle laughs as both you and Cillian look to one another, sharing the same weirded-out expression. You're not entirely sure you're comfortable discussing Cillian's spermatic contributions with his family beyond anything more than the impending baby, and Cillian seems to be sharing that view!

Griff laughs loudly as he catches your expressions. “Youse look mortified!” He shakes his head. “Sounds good in theory, doesn't it? Telling everyone there's a wee one coming. But sure, eventually, they all think about the fact that it got there how it did! I wonder was it the night we were there and the two of ye were far from quiet.”

Your hands fly up to cover your face and Cillian scoffs a laugh awkwardly. “Oh, Griff!” Síle shakes her head, and beside her Orla laughs loudly.

“Yeah, brother, I'm mortified for you now.” Páidi nudges his elbow against Cillian's side. “Mostly that you thought you could get away with riding while you had visitors!”

“I think we've had enough of that now, thank you all.” Brendan speaks up. “Good Jesus, if nothing else you can rely on these four to bring down the tone!” He shakes his head at his wife. “Listen, it's lovely news. We're very happy for you. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Yeah, absolutely, congratulations.” Orla says soberly, but she's still grinning.

Chat falls to a dull roar as everyone seems to natter amongst themselves. Mary and Brendan fall into conversation, though you can hear them mentioning your names as they talk. You turn your head to Cillian, who is draining his glass with his tongue pressed against the rim, and tilt your head so your temple rests against his shoulder. As he sets the glass down, he reaches his hand out beneath the table and rests it against your thigh. He tilts his head, too, and places his cheek onto your hair. “Y'alright?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, you?” You ask, wondering how he feels now the moment has passed.

You feel his cheek move on your head and you suspect he's smiling. “Yeah, I am. Lighter... It went well.”

“I told you not to worry, didn't I? They're your family, they love you.” You place your hand over his where it rests against your leg and squeeze your fingers around his. “And when Baby arrives, they're going to be even more positive. Mark my words!”

You feel his body jolt as he chuckles, “Isn't it usually me telling you everything’s gonna be grand? What happened there?!” He jokes. He taps his hand against your thigh, his beloved and gentle ‘that's enough of that now’ signal. “I'm gonna go out for a smoke, I'll be back.” He says as you lift up your head off his shoulder. He stands slowly and takes his coat from the back of his chair. Without a word to anyone else, he wanders away from the table. You watch him as he walks through the restaurant, pulling on his coat on the go, and disappears through the main entrance.

“I thought he was back on the fags,” you turn your head as you hear Brendan tutting. “Didn't I say it Mary? I could smell it off him.”

“Ah, leave him alone. Sure he's a grown man.” Mary shakes her head. “And he doesn't smell of them, not at all.”

“With work, and a bit of…, he just picked it up again.” You defend Cillian gently in his absence. “He's cut down a lot, and he does want to stop again. But he was nervous telling you all today - I think he just needs the stress reliever.”

Mary reaches out and touches your arm, “Don't you be explaining anything, Y/N, love. Take no notice of himself, there. You'd think he'd no vices himself the way he goes on!” She smiles. “And if you say he's going to stop, then I'm sure that he will. Sure that wee baby coming will be all the motivation he needs.” You smile under her loving but nonetheless scrutinising gaze. “We really are delighted for you, you know? We know it hasn't been easy, and it probably isn't easy now with Yvonne getting engaged, but we're so happy to hear your news.” She nods her head with conviction, and you can see her eyes welling up.

“Thank you,” you whisper, finding emotions tightening your own throat. It felt so good to know Cillian really never did have any reason to worry.

You had fallen into bed almost immediately after returning from the meal, as had his parents, and you felt comfortable and relaxed with Cillian's arm wrapped around your hip as you lay, facing one another, but both on the cusp of sleep. Lying beside him in the small double bed, equally happy and a little sad that you'll be going home tomorrow morning, you move your fingers idly against the dusting of hair on his chest. “Your brother and sisters are so funny - and Griff, the big child that he is.” you say, whispered and sleepy. Cillian hums in response, equally as sleepy. “I expected them to tease you, but I think Páidi and bloody Griff wanting to know conception positions is in the beyond.”

Cillian's entire body jumps as he laughs huskily, deep in his throat. “They're gas, but they've no idea when to fuck off.” He mumbles. He sighs through his nose. “Here, will we go for a walk tomorrow before we head home? Drive out near the beach, yeah?” he sniffs and moves his hand resting on your hip up and down against the material of your pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah,” you say with a smile.

“Good,” he hums.

You lie quietly for a moment, closing your tired eyes, but you open then again with a sigh. “You think everyone's reaction was genuine though?” You ask.

“I do,” he grumbles. “Like you said before, when that baby comes they'll love it.” He moves his fingers against you. “Shush now…sleepy time.” He babbles and you can hear the smile pulling his lips and slightly distorting his words. “Now, you keep me awake much longer and I'll need services to put me to sleep. Shhh!”

You shake your head, but it's hard not to smile. “You shush.” You pat your hand against his chest. He shushes you again, but at the same time he pulls your hip towards him gently. Going home is going to be good, but these two days with this ‘version’ of Cillian has been lovely.

[doodle-pops]

Until I Found You

Ecthelion x reader

Request: Ecthelion comfort fic where they discuss all that they went through prior to marrying one another. Reader has a sad family background and had to run away from home at 13 due to abuse (not necessary to get into details if you don’t want to), and yet still made it in life. A lot of mutual reassurance, empathy, and wisdom going forward. Pref cuddling in bed or something but location is up to you <3

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this pretty vague, not going into details or mentioning much about the suffering the reader faced and instead, focused on how Thel handled a resurfacing moment with reader.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, faint reminiscing on reader’s abusive past, mutual comfort and reassurance, some humour

Words: 2.2k

Synopsis: After attending a play which resurfaced old memories of your past, Ecthelion, concerned, sought to provide you with the necessary comfort.

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“You look awfully lost in thoughts.” Came the melodic voice of your beloved husband, standing in the doorway as he removed his gloves, followed by his outer robes. The glimmer of the fire caught in the silver of his attire, flickering fragmented reflections of kaleidoscopic images on the wall.

Swivelling your head around to face him, he was already marching into the room, undressing as he walked—a habit of his—into the walk-in closet. You hadn’t spoken or even returned the faint whisper of a hum his way, eyes fixated on his figure as he whirled around the room like a miniature storm. From the vanity to the closet, then back to the vanity—he was quiet the disarray tonight, far less composed than any other night. Nevertheless, your eyes followed his movements, a ghost smile playing on your lips as he remained focused on removing the stubborn trousers that became a size too small for him, yet he insisted that he would fit perfectly into them. Now, he paid the price, especially after feasting and drinking.

“Are you alright?” he questioned, snapping you out of your trance.

With jerky movements, you inclined your head towards him with a puzzled expression marring your face. “Whatever do you mean?”

He sighed, shuffling out of the last piece of clothing that made him feel compact and walked over to the edge of the bed. Hovering at the edge, his hand reached out, knuckles curling and brushing over your cheek. You leaned into his touch and shutting your eyes at the warmth his hands always provided, you hummed in contentment before opening your eyes to gaze upwards. “How was the dinner?”

He gave a knowing smile and moved to sit at the edge, his hand shifting to hold yours. “It was exactly as anticipated. Egalmoth was the first to become drunk and started stripping, Laurë challenged me to a competition and embarrassingly lost—ended up crying, and Rog was late due to working on some one-of-a-kind piece.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” you jested, squeezing his hand while your thumb idly traced patterns at the back. “I should accompany you next time and see all the antics myself.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid that might traumatise you for the rest of your life. Don’t want that,” he chuckled lightly and looked down at where your hands were entwined, his heart warming at the sight.

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes and threw him an exasperated look. “I doubt that. I’ve faced worse things and still came out on top. If anything, I can endure all the antics that your odd group of friends conjures by the day.”

There was a short pause after your statement, your words nearly falling flat before a sudden, loud laugh escaped him. His head tossed backwards as it grew heartily, a deep rumble from within. “Oh my love, you are full of surprises. But indeed, I’m sure you can put up with them,” he acknowledged, lifting your hand to his lips and imparting a long, sweet kiss to your knuckles, gazing into your eyes lovingly. “But how was your day spent away from me?”

You hummed at the question and his actions, feeling your stomach fluttering and performing cartwheels by the dozens. You fought to control your expression, not wanting to end up like a blushing fool who caves in at the mere contact of their husband kissing their hand—as if you hadn’t had numerous occasions before. Darting your eyes away from him and focusing on the bed, your other hand reached out to idly pluck at the sheets. “It was…well spent,” you began with some hesitation before taking a deep breath and continuing, “went to see a play today—the one I told you about, ‘No Place Like Home?’”

He gave a curt hum and waited for you to continue, always enjoying when you spoke about your day instead of his—the best part about his day. “It was much different from the others we attended. This one…” you paused, trying to find the right words to describe what you felt as you observed the play from start to finish. “This one felt too close to home. I wasn’t expecting it to be so similar to what I experienced…”

Your voice was left to hang in the air, there were no words spoken between you or Ecthelion. Only the faint sound of the firewood crackling in the hearth and your breathing.

The topic of your past was a touchy one, more so for Ecthelion rather than you, having overcome the obstacles and wanting to live your life to the fullest. You made the option to overcome the burdens, facing your memories all for the sake of wanting to never feel weighted by them as you lived in the future. Whereas Ecthelion, well, it was simply a touchy subject that left him torn, even when he had no part to play in your early years. Carrying your burdens as if they were his own. He always seemed to be the one who was more affected by your past than you were.

Realising that he wasn’t planning on responding, you continued in a more upbeat tone to disperse the growing heaviness in the room. “I still enjoyed the play, nonetheless. The songs were well-written and sung—credits to the writers and singers—”

“And the story? Was it also…” His words were left in suspension, waiting for you to pick them up.

“Interesting? Enjoyable?” you inquired, giving his hand a gentle, yet firm squeeze of reassurance. “Well, the story was about a child unable to bear the pressure of high expectations placed upon them, punished brutally in return, and then ran away, finding peace in the comforts of a stranger who offered them a new start. It ended with the child, now an adult, having the happy ending they deserved.”

“And that reminded you of yourself,” he said softly, a statement rather than a question.

You nodded against him. “I hadn’t thought about those days in a long time. But seeing it unfold on the stage tonight, watching it happen to someone else...it brought everything back.”

Ecthelion was quiet for a moment, his grip tightening on your hand. And when he spoke, it was thoughtful. “It is one thing to look back on our own pasts, but another to see them reflected in another’s story. It makes us remember not just the events, but the way we felt—the fear, the pain, the uncertainty.” He exhaled softly. “Did it bring you sorrow?”

You considered that. “Not sorrow. Not exactly. Just...a strange sort of reflection.” You shifted and adjusted the sheet over your lower half. “I thought about how much has changed since then. How I never imagined, back then, that I would one day have this—a home, a life of my own...you.”

“You built this life for yourself,” he murmured with reassurance. “Through hardship and pain, through struggle and determination. You carved your own path, and that strength is something to be proud of.”

“I did come a long way,” you whispered with a small smile. “All thanks to you.”

“And in this play, did they find someone to love them and relieve them of their burdens?” he quietly mumbled, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Hmm—” you tapped your chin with your finger, pretending to appear deep in thought, “—well, their beloved appeared to be quite the crybaby, if I must say. Also, very cute, more cute than handsome—”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” he grumbled, disgruntled at your teasing as you reminisced on how teary he was in the earliest when you both met. You would never let him live it down, constantly reminding him at every opportunity you got. “I was not a crybaby.”

“I did not say that you were. I was speaking about the main love interest.”

“You were implying.”

“Your words, not mine.”

He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, a smile playing at the corners of his lips despite his annoyance. You did have a way of turning the most melancholic conversations into something lighter and enjoyable. That was your charm, your secret weapon that he fell for when he first met you—dispelling all the negativity even when you had yours sitting on your back. To still see light in dark places after everything, it took a lot of courage and hope to get where you are.

Glancing at you once more, his face became serious, lines of concern etched into his forehead, making him appear aged. “Did it trouble you?”

With a dramatic exhale, though you understood his distress, you reached your other hand out to place over his, sandwiching his hand between yours. “Thel. My sweet as honey, Thel,” you cooed and smiled at the way he uncontrollably blushed, “it does not bother me anymore. I have made up my mind to live in the present—I want to live the life I’ve always dreamed of, and I cannot do so if my past is a constant burden at every turn. I have learned to make peace because I have a future to look forward to. A future with you, the one who gave me a chance.”

“The one who fell in love with the apothecary because he was stumbling over his words, asking for herbs for a headache,” he laughed, and you followed suit, joining with your joyous and infectious sounds.

“Indeed,” you confirmed. “The one who, when asked about his headache, began asking me about my day, my name, who I was, as though he was about to hire me for another trade.”

He met your gaze, his expression turning serious. “Because I saw something in you that I could not ignore. And the more I learned, the more I knew I wanted to be part of your life.”

Your heart swelled at his words. "And now you are."

He smiled, relieved. “Now I am. However, I wasn’t a crybaby like the main love interest.”

Without missing a beat, you countered. “I beg to differ. Remember when I told you about—” Your words were cut off by a hand clamping over your mouth to silence the rest of that embarrassing story that would forever haunt him. No one needed to know the horror he would take with him to the grave.

Eyes crinkling at the corners, you gave a muffled, amused laugh as you watched him grow redder by the second at the mentioned memory. You were not one to let him forget such a precious memory. If you could frame it in a picture and hang it on the wall, you would.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help it,” you giggled and reached out to remove his hand from over your mouth. “You were so precious.”

“Hmm, of course, I was,” he muttered half-heartedly, not forgetting to roll his eyes. Redirecting the conversation back to the original topic, he spoke up. “But…I just want to ensure that you’re alright and the play didn’t resurface anything. You always say that you’re alright and then something suddenly happens, and you relapse for a bit. I just want to make sure that you’re not saying this for my cause.”

The air fell silent. You inhaled sharply, looking down at your hands sandwiching his, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. Then, you glanced up at him, meeting his awaiting eyes. The intensity behind his steel-grey eyes made your heart skip a beat and your stomach flip. It wasn’t the gaze that left you feeling anxious or guilty, it was one that was warm and inviting—holding no malice or disappointment—just pure safety.

“I can never convince you enough, can I?” You gave an airy, laugh, then took a deep breath and leaned forward, bridging the gap between you until there was nought but an inch of space between your faces. His eyes softened at the closeness. “You’re so good to me. Giving me a chance to experience the love of another person and letting me live my life to the fullest,” you whispered genuinely. “I appreciate that, my love.”

A beat passed, and then he spoke up with a smile. “That answers my concern, then?”

“Thoroughly. Though, I have nothing to hide from you. You are the one soul I will bear myself to without hesitation,” you admitted without hesitation.

“You should have nothing to fear from your past,” Ecthelion murmured after a while. “It shaped you, yes, but it does not define you. You have built something beautiful, something no cruelty could ever take from you.”

Then gingerly, he leaned in to press his lips against your cheek. The kiss was short, simple and sweet. Nothing different from the man who sat before you, cradling your face with his other hand as though you were glass. Pulling away first, Ecthelion tilted his head to meet your forehead and planted a longer kiss on your warm skin, humming against you in contentment. “Why don’t I finish freshening up and then return to you more decently, and we can assess the rest of your comfort?”

“Only if you promise to cuddle me,” you replied.

“I would be a madman to deny,” he laughed, and forced himself away from your warmth, rising to his feet and marching towards the closet to disrobe the remaining clothes he wore.

You, on the other hand, sat there, staring at his retreating figure, feeling all the more content now that you got your thoughts off your chest. You truly could not have been any more grateful for meeting someone like him all those years ago. You wished it could have been under better circumstances; however, you didn’t regret meeting and falling in love with him.

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[sufferu]

None of you are going to guess where this is going.

April Fools Sneak Peek

____

Nearly two months ago now, Subaru had somehow wandered into another world.

—In the present moment, Subaru picked up the mug of beer. It looked like something out of an anime: that nice amber color with foam across the top. It was bitter to the taste, but he didn’t really care right now.

His dad had finally had enough of his sulking around one day near the end of March, and the dreaded confrontation had ensued — only for it to be nothing like Subaru had expected. Stern words had been aimed his way, perhaps, but they had been kind words, too, overflowing with love and care and a desire to help him back to his feet. And instead of kicking him out, Kenichi had dragged Subaru into his workplace as a new intern, fully intending to whip him into shape.

“I’ve been a real shitty father, letting you coop yourself up in your shell like that for so long!” he had declared. “But starting today, I’m going to be beating some sense into you, one paper cut at a time!”

Looking back now, Subaru wanted to kick himself for expecting anything else.

—In the present moment, Subaru took another swig of his first ever alcoholic beverage.

Subaru had gotten better and better. He ate more, left the house on runs with his father, worked harder and harder as he pulled himself to his feet. With his mom’s encouragement, he even experimented with his hair, growing it out just a little bit as he tentatively stepped out of his father’s shadow — in his own sort of way. March turned to April, and Subaru turned eighteen as a working adult, and life kept getting better bit by bit.

And then on his way home from the grocery store, Subaru had stumbled into another world.

“I need to get home,” he had pleaded with Roswaal, that first day in the manor. “You said you owe me a debt, right? Please help me get back home…!”

He had regretted those words later, when that blue-haired maid showed him just how little this lot trusted him — and how little he should trust THEM, in turn. That was why, in this loop, nobody knew that Natsuki Subaru was from beyond the Great Waterfall.

(He had still saved her, of course. Rem had hurt him terribly, but — she could still be a friend, right?)

—Subaru downed the rest of the beer. It burned as it flooded his throat, and he came out the other side coughing and hacking. He slammed the mug down on the counter. “How much for a second?” he demanded.

Everything since then had gone pretty all right, all things considered. He had slyly asked for a job instead of help getting home, and that had allowed him to collect some savings while not having to worry about food or shelter. Beatrice had been teaching him how to read in the library during his off-hours, so that he might have a better chance at recognizing a lead for an opportunity on finding a way home if one presented itself. He didn’t trust Rem or Ram anymore, but they had both been nice enough to him since the Wolgarm incident. He had thrown himself into his work, too, and even outside of the more technical benefits it had given him something to do, to keep him from driving himself insane. —And even in those failed loops, Emilia herself had been nothing but kind to him.

And then the Royal Selection Ceremony had come about, and Subaru had royally fucked everything up.

(“Did your parents really raise you to behave in such an uncouth manner?” that purple-haired knight had scolded, and something inside of Subaru had just SNAPPED.)

—Subaru felt a little dizzy as he clenched the handle of his second drink. This was his first time, after all. …But that didn’t stop him from taking another sip.

Emilia had been so angry at him. “Why would you do something like that?!” she had demanded. “Challenging Julius like that — what made you think that was a good idea?!”

It was a reasonable complaint. As one of her retainers, Subaru’s outburst had brought Emilia nothing but embarrassment. Subaru had tried to apologize, but she had left him in Lady Crusch’s care.

“I’ll— be back,” she had said. “But I need…” Subaru remembered watching her swallow. “…I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” she had added softly. Confusingly. “You know that, right?”

Subaru hadn’t really understood what she was trying to say, but he had figured that she needed some time away from him, which was fair enough. He’d probably need some time away from himself, too.

He had been fine after that. Really, he had. —But the fight with Ferris and Crusch earlier had just been a little bit too much.

—Alcohol tasted horrible. But he didn’t really want to go back right now, and so Subaru continued to drink.

It had started off simple enough. Ferris had just finished healing his gate, just like Emilia had so generously requested he do, and then Crusch had summoned them both for a — discussion, of some sort. Subaru didn’t know or care what her reasoning for wanting to talk to him was. But at some point the healer had made some comment about Emilia going out of her way like this, and Subaru had admitted that her reasoning was beyond his understanding, even if he was grateful. For some reason that had touched a nerve, and things had escalated.

And then he—

“Juli was right,” Ferris had said casually. Snidely. “Nyer parents clearly made sooo many mistakes, for nya to be acting like this. Man, I’d hate to be…”

He had stopped talking then, catching sight of the look on Subaru’s face. He had turned to face the healer quickly enough that he would have gotten whiplash if he weren’t suddenly so hyper-alert.

It had been quiet for a long moment, and then he had stood up.

“Subaru, wait—” Crusch had called out.

He hadn’t known where he was going, really. He didn’t want her to stop him. For some reason, he had paused by the door anyway, turning around to stare back at her for just a moment.

“Subaru, what are you…” Crusch had pursed her lips together, trying to figure something out. “What is it that you’re after, here?” she had finally asked. “What do you want?”

“…I want…” Subaru hadn’t known how to answer that. Not to himself, and certainly not to these suspicious characters. “…I want to go get wasted,” he had finally muttered, and then he had walked away. “So just — fuck off, and leave me alone.”

—And now he was here, in a crowded and dingy bar all on his lonesome, indulging in his first ever alcoholic beverage.

Your father was going to take you out for beer to celebrate your first successful month at work, a voice inside him said crossly. What are you doing, celebrating early without him when you’ve done nothing of value at all?

Subaru drowned out that voice with another swig of beer. It burned on the way down.

[hansmic]

“𝖘𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊”

possessive bf! leeknow x fem! reader

summary: when wants to takes what’s his.

genre: romance, angst I guess?

warnings: very suggestive.

word count: 961

a/n: thank you anon for requesting I hope you liked this!

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Lee Know had never been one to show his emotions publicly. He always kept a cool and composed demeanor, regardless of the situation. However, there was one thing that could rattle him: You. From the moment he met you, he knew that he wanted you all to himself. He couldn't stand the idea of anyone else coming close to you, and it drove him crazy with jealousy. He would watch you like a hawk every time you interacted with someone else, ready to pounce at the slightest hint of attraction.

One day, you were out with friends, and Lee Know happened to be there too. He watched from across the room as you laughed and joked with people, and suddenly, a guy started paying a lot of attention to you. Lee Know clenched his fists as he watched the guy casually touch your arm, making you laugh. He felt a pang of jealousy in his chest, and he had to resist the urge to march over there and claim you as his own.

He continued to watch you, his eyes never leaving you. Every time the guy made you laugh, Lee Know's irritation grew. He wanted to be the one to make you laugh, to make you smile. He wanted to be the only one to touch you, to hold you close. He couldn't stand the idea of anyone else having even a fraction of the connection he had with you.

As the guy continued to flirt with you, Lee Know's jealousy only grew stronger. It was getting hard for him to keep his emotions in check, and he was starting to feel a possessive anger welling up inside him. He watched as the guy leaned in closer to you, his hand on your shoulder, and something inside Lee Know snapped.

Without thinking, he strode over to where you and the guy were standing, his eyes fixed on you. The guy noticed his approach and looked up, a hint of unease in his eyes. Lee Know stopped right next to you, his hand reaching out to grip you tightly by the arm, pulling you closer to him.

"Excuse me," Lee Know said, his voice cool and steady, his eyes fixed on the guy. "I think you're getting a little too close to her." He kept his grip on your arm as he spoke, making it clear that he wasn't going to let you go. The guy backed up, his eyes flickering from you to Lee Know, sensing the tension in the air. "Relax, man. I was just being friendly," he said, raising his hands in defense.

Lee Know's grip on your arm tightened even more, and his expression darkened. "She doesn't need your kind of 'friendliness.' She belongs to me." He pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours as if to make a claim.

You were surprised by Lee Know's sudden possessive nature, but a small part of you was secretly enjoying the way he was claiming you as his own. The guy muttered an apology and quickly fled, leaving the two of you alone. Lee Know finally loosened his grip on you, but he didn't let go. In fact, he stepped even closer, his hand sliding down to your waist.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. "I don't want anyone else touching you, looking at you, or even thinking about you. You're mine." He pulled you against him, his body flush against yours, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"I... I don't know what got into you," you said, a mixture of surprise and excitement rushing through your body as he held you close. "You've never acted like this before."

Lee Know let out a small huff, his grip on you tightening. "I've always felt like this. I just couldn't show it before. But seeing you with that guy... it made me crazy." His gaze was intense as he looked at you, his eyes filled with desire.

"I couldn't stand the thought of him touching you, talking to you... It was like he was trying to take what's mine." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want you all to myself," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I want to be the only one who touches you, the only one you look at, the only one you think about. You're mine, and I'm not sharing." He ran his hands over your body, his touch both possessive and tender at the same time.

Lee Know pressed his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice soft and insistent. "Mine. Say it."

You felt a thrill go through you at his possessive words. "I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Lee Know let out a low growl of satisfaction. "That's right,"

Lee Know pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "Don't ever forget it," he said, his voice low and commanding.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming your body.

As the kiss deepened, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, feeling the possessive and territorial tension in every touch. His hands roamed over your body, exploring and re-laying his claim.

He eventually broke the kiss, panting slightly, but he didn't let you go. He held you even closer, his grip unyielding.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he said, his voice firm. "I can't have anyone trying to take you from me again."

As he held you against him, his possessive nature was impossible to ignore, but there was something else there too - a tenderness and vulnerability that he had never shown before.

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masterlist is here

[the-indigo-symphony]

Btw the fakeclaimers and exclusionists won't tell you this but it can be a very important step of healing to just. Not care all that much when you get new system members. You don't have to be all gung-ho about it – I myself get a little bothered because I stress about getting newcomers profiles before they switch out to who knows where – but also don't, like, beat yourself up for it. Yeah, your system got someone new. Maybe a lot of someones. It's fine. This isn't a moral failure. You haven't started any apocalypses. And on that note, you don't have to avoid that cool thing you think you might be into because you're worried about getting introjects from it, or whatever. Shit happens, systems grow, and we all march on anyway.

I suspect this sort of attitude comes from the idea (whether subconscious or not) that having sysmates is bad, and thus having more sysmates = even worse. This is not true. You are not a bad person or system just because you got some new members. You are not necessarily "unhealthy" or "sick" just for getting someone new, or because you're a large system (and even if it did mean that, "unhealthy" does not mean "immoral" or "should hate themselves"). Sometimes there can be problems involved with gaining new sysmates! This is true! But what isn't true is the underlying sentiment that being "very" plural is bad, or that a system growing in member count is this horrible, awful thing. Throw out your internalized pluralphobia. I repeat: throw out your internalized pluralphobia. It's completely and totally fine to gain new system members, and it's completely and totally fine to be a large system. This attitude does nothing but reinforce the idea that being plural – or at the very least, having perfectly natural and normal plural experiences – are inherently wrong and must be avoided at all costs (and when they can't be, they must be complained about so everyone knows they're bad; that it's bad to be plural and have plural experiences).

Also, on a related note – these kinds of sentiments can very easily cause those new system members to feel like they're the problem. Please, if you're the type to get frustrated or annoyed when you get new members for whatever reason, let them know it's not their fault. Don't make them feel like a chore or a mistake or anything else negative. Don't leave those thoughts to fester. Don't cause a rift in your system just because you wanted to join in with the common system joke of hating to get new sysmates. Again, you don't have to suddenly stop being frustrated with the problems that increasing in member count may cause, but do not take that frustration out on your new members, and do not make them feel like a problem. Give them some room to figure themselves out, and show them support as they learn and grow into themselves. Have a talk with them, if you can. It's not their fault that their entrance into your system interrupted your tempo. You can find a new balance together.

(And, btw, that bit about causing others to feel like they're a problem also goes for the implications of your words towards large systems. It feels very estranging and uncomfortable to see so many folks complaining about getting new headmates and implying that it would be wrong of them to not do everything in their power to make sure they don't get any new introjects when we're a polyfragmented system who grows at the drop of a hat. I'm sure We're not the only large system who feels this way, either. Your jokes aren't made in a vacuum; other systems can see them.)

I am making an executive decision here to welcome each and every one of my new selves. I am annoyed to all hell and back with our amnesia and executive function problems keeping us from getting caught up on member profiles, but that's not the fault of anyone who moves in, and I'm not going to wallow in anguish over how our system operates and its tendency to throw new selves at us at the drop of a hat. I'm not going to beat myselves up when there's no good reason to. That's just doing my DID's work for it.

Gaining new system members isn't a crime. You can be neutral or even positive about it. Please don't make your new system members feel unwelcome, and please don't let internalized pluralphobia snowball into a pattern of self-hate. It's fine to be a system, it's fine to gain new system members, and it's fine to find these things not just "fine", but an enjoyable and positive part of life.

[spacecadet-ticklesinspace]

Handling Sickness

Summary: Nash is used to wrangling the boys when they're sick, but he's learning he doesn't have to anymore.

(Inspired to post this because of @tickletastic ❤️ :) Enjoy ❤️ :))

Sickness was a rarity in the Hawthorne household.

Just like with physical activities, the boys prided themselves on their ability to avoid colds, flus, and bugs alike. All that to say, when they did finally get sick, they went all out.

It all started with Avery coming home with something from school. Then Libby had caught it. Then Nash and Jameson had caught it respectively. Then Xander had gotten it. And then Grayson had been the last to hold out before he then got it.

Nash immediately crashed during a sickness. He'd curl up in bed for days without saying a word to anyone. It just felt like too much energy to form thoughts, much less voice them. When he woke up this morning, he found the youngest Hawthorne latched onto him.

That's how Xander responded to sickness. He'd curl up with the closest brother and it was very difficult to get out of a sick Xander hold.

However, two out of the four brothers didn't prioritize rest as a way to heal.

A huff came from the door. "There he is."

Nash looked up to see Libby marching her way in to the room. With her better and not wanting to get sick again, she'd been sleeping in one of the nearby guest rooms.

"I swear I looked away for one second and he poofed away," she explained.

The eldest Hawthorne brother gently squeezed her arm. Not too hard, not too soft. Just a gentle way of showing her it was okay.

With gloves on her hands, Libby blew him a kiss because germs. "Atleast he didn't try to run away like the other two."

Nash sighed. He'd been afraid of that.

He skillfully slid one of his pillows into Xander's arms before pulling himself up out of bed.

"You should rest." Libby moved her hand to his shoulder. "We can take care of them."

Nash squeezed her hand in that same gentle way as he stood. He knew his little brothers better than her. Getting them to rest wasn't going to be easy.

The eldest carefully padded his way out the door. He knew exactly where Jameson would be.

Fevers made Jameson Hawthorne restless.

He already couldn't sit still, but a fever seemed to take away any rationale he had left. When he was seven, Jameson had caught a nasty cold from one of his classmates. The old man had found him practicing dirt biking with a 103 degree fever.

It took a bit for anyone to even talk him out of the stunts and go home. That was just how Jameson handled sickness.

Nash entered the gym. He found Avery with her arms crossed staring up the rock climbing wall.

When he followed her gaze, their was his little brother halfway up it.

Avery sensed his presence without him saying a word. "I can take care of him."

Jameson jerked his head down. "I'm fine Heiress."

The cough that followed said otherwise.

"Clearly," Avery retorted.

From what Nash could see, Jameson was covered in sweat. He panted quite a bit as he sought to put one hand in front of the other.

Normally he was quicker and not as out of breath on a skill like this. Like the dirt biking, the fever was making his technique sloppy.

Avery sighed. "I'm serious Nash. Go get some rest, please."

"Should listen to her," Jameson called down. "She obviously knows what she's talking about."

In response, the eldest Hawthorne scooped her up in a bear hug.

Impressively, the younger heiress didn't loose her cool. "Nash."

Nash set her down a good foot or two away from the base of the rock wall. His grip then went to her shoulder as he tried to settle himself from a dizzy spell.

Avery squeezed the hand. "You don't have to do this."

The eldest Hawthorne felt his head clear enough to squeeze her shoulder in response. It was the same message he had been trying to give Libby.

Once he had legs back underneath him, Nash stepped back up to the rock wall.

Jameson looked down as another coughing fit broke his concentration. "If I fall, you may not want to stand there."

If I fall. Jameson didn't even know if he had the energy to keep himself up there.

"Serious."

Nash moved to climb up when his younger brother's foot slipped.

Normally, Jameson could right himself immediately from a slip like that. But again, a fever ridden brain made for very sloppy technique.

"I've got it. I've . . ."

Nash tensed.

The younger haphazardly pushed himself off the wall, but there was no way he was landing that dismount without some sort of injury.

Nash jumped back in time to break his fall. Both brothers tumbled to the ground, the wind getting knocked out of them both.

The eldest laid on his back to make the room stop spinning.

Avery squatted beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Nash finally got out.

The eldest Hawthorne brother took a second to pull himself up before turning to his younger brother.

Jamie coughed harshly as he pushed himself partially up. The daredevil of the group looked absolutely exhausted after his stint up the rock wall.

Nash squatted back down where he lifted Jameson into a fireman carry over his shoulders.

The daredevil gripped his older brother's arm. "Put me down."

"Don't listen to him."

Nash turned to Avery.

"I'll get a change of clothes if you bring him to his room," she promised before turning.

"No."

Avery turned back.

"My room," the eldest brother told her.

The young heiress took one step back to him. "Yours?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'll meet you there then."

"Thanks," the eldest Hawthorne squeaked out before heading toward his room with his younger brother.

Jameson wasn't the heaviest thing Nash had lifted, but he wasn't the lightest either, making the way back feel extra long. Especially with his younger brother trying to fight him in his weakened state.

"I don't need a babysitter," Jamie argued.

Nash didn't say a word.

Finally at one point, Jameson sagged, his death grip on the eldest Hawthorne's arm going slack.

The eldest glanced back.

"M'kay," his younger brother assured him.

Again, the cough rattling around in his chest said otherwise.

When Nash finally got back to his room, Libby was still nearby.

She pulled the blankets back. "Finally got him down?"

Nash nodded before setting Jamie down on the mattress.

A true testament to his exhaustion, the younger Hawthorne didn't even fight to get away this time. His face even looked a bit pinched.

The eldest Hawthorne sat down on the edge of the bed. He brushed back the strands of dark hair stuck to Jameson's forehead.

"Stop worrying about me. I'm fine," the younger Hawthorne pointed out before coughing again.

Libby rubbed Nash's shoulders. "Why did you bring him here?"

The eldest Hawthorne brother reached over to shake the pillow in Xander's grip loose.

The youngest rolled over to try to find the pillow only to collide with Jameson. He then latched on tightly, pinning his brother in place.

"So that was your plan," Libby connected.

Nash nodded before pushing himself back up.

"Where are you going now?"

"Gray."

"He's at the trust fund building though. Can't someone else bring him back?"

Nash grabbed his keys. He just knew the stubborn headedness of the Hawthorne blood line wouldn't allow it. "Doubt it."

"Nash, you really should rest."

The eldest smothered a few coughs into his arm.

Libby's hand rubbed up and down his back. "Why don't we send Oren or even Alicia?"

"Won't listen."

"Better than you hurting yourself."

Nash reached over to squeeze her arm.

Even with a fever, the eldest Hawthorne brother made the drive to the building. He also made himself somewhat presentable before getting out. Last thing he needed was bad press leaking out photos of him showing up here in a pair of dirty sweatpants and a sweat soaked shirt.

This was how Grayson handled sickness. The final Hawthorne brother didn't want to let anything stop him from working. In fact, he seemed to throw himself more into work to hide the fact that he was ill. Sadly, it often led to Grayson nearly collapsing when he got home because his weakened body just couldn't keep up. The younger Hawthorne always felt he had something to prove no matter what.

Nash strode into the building before finding his final younger brother sitting at his desk. Grayson looked fine at first glance, but a few signs let the eldest Hawthorne know he was struggling.

A light flush on his cheeks.

The wrinkle behind his left eye.

The fact that it took him three seconds longer than normal for him to register Nash was standing in the doorway.

"You're supposed to be at home."

Nash shook his head before stepping in. "You."

Not a question. A statement.

"I'm fine."

The eldest Hawthorne didn't break eye contact.

Grayson glanced back over to his computer screen. "I'm fine."

There was only two ways this could go. Grayson gave in first or Nash carried him out the same way he'd carried Jameson.

"You can go."

Nash glanced back up. The tone he said it in gave the impression of the second statement being true.

"I have some work to finish anyway," Grayson continued.

The eldest Hawthorne didn't move.

Grayson coughed into his elbow before continuing. "Nash, go home."

"Really little brother?"

The briefest hint of a twitch appeared on Grayson's eyelid. "I could call someone to drive you."

"Drove myself."

"Then you can drive yourself back again."

Nash didn't pick up speed nor did he slow down. He just walked toward the desk.

Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nash."

The eldest Hawthorne stepped around the side of the desk. His younger brother looked worse up close.

Obviously this sickness had been going on a lot longer than this morning. The exhaustion behind his eyes almost bled out into the rest of his body.

Nash squeezed his younger brother's arm.

"I'm fine."

The eldest Hawthorne stayed put.

Grayson pushed up a moment later. "I'm fine."

A second after, the younger Hawthorne pitched forward into his older brother's arms.

Nash carefully lowered him into the office chair.

Gray's face had gone incredibly pale. He was very close to fully collapsing if the older Hawthorne didn't act quickly.

Nash gave the smallest jerk of his head toward the doorway. His little brother either walked out or he carried him out.

Grayson sighed before standing. He quickly shut everything down then the two walked out of the building and to Nash's car with the eldest sending a quick text to Libby to let her know they were on their way home.

By the time both he and Gray were in the car, the eldest Hawthorne sank forward over the steering wheel. His own sickness was catching up with him just as much as Grayson's was catching up with him.

He rested his cheek on his hands as he turned to look at the heir.

Grayson glanced up at him, his eyes glassy.

That was all Nash needed to push himself up and drive away home.

Gray managed to stay conscious all the way home.

But as soon as they pulled into the garage, his eyes rolled back into his head. The younger of the two then slumped against the window where his eyes fully closed.

Nash huffed as he leaned back against the driver's seat. The last time it had gotten this bad, Grayson had been thirteen with tonsillitis. He'd managed to make it halfway through the school day before Jameson had called him sarcasticly saying his brother was dead and that Nash needed to come collect his body. It was the closest the eldest Hawthorne brother had heard the daredevil get to a panic.

And the closest Nash had ever gotten to a panic himself.

The eldest Hawthorne yanked the keys out of the ignition before moving toward the passenger side door. He then lifted Gray's unconscious form over his shoulders.

He debated taking his younger brother to his room for a change of clothes, but the thought of walking all the way to his brother's room then back to his own made him feel even more exhausted.

So the eldest Hawthorne just headed straight to his own room.

Avery was sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Jameson, stroking her fingers through his hair. The younger Hawthorne was dressed in different clothes and he was asleep with Xander passed out on his chest.

"There you are."

Nash stepped aside to let Libby into the room. Her arms were loaded down with about a million different things.

"Avery came back with some clothes for Gray cause I figured you wouldn't want to let him out of your sight either so let me set this stuff down and we'll get you both changed," she rattled off.

"Got it," Nash assured her as he made his way to the nearby bathroom.

"You sure? It won't take me but a minute."

"Got it," Nash told her again.

Avery stepped in long enough to place two sets of clean pajamas on the counter. "Call me if you need any help."

The eldest Hawthorne eased Grayson down on to the floor. "Thanks."

"We're here too Nash."

The eldest leaned heavily against the counter as he pulled himself back up.

One small hand firmly squeezed his arm. "You don't have to do everything yourself."

Nash squeezed her close in a weak side hug.

Avery immediately returned it with a tight one of her own. "Get changed and get in bed. After Libby pumps you full of medicine, you four can sleep this sucker away."

A weak chuckle left Nash's mouth before it got broken off by a coughing fit.

Avery stepped back. "I'll make tea."

When the eldest Hawthorne looked up, the younger heiress was shutting the bathroom door.

After getting himself fully standing again, Nash changed Grayson into his pair of the pajamas before changing himself into his own. He really wanted a shower, but he also did not have the energy to go through that right now.

So he carefully lifted his little brother before carrying him to bed. He'd deal with the messy clothes and shoes another day.

Libby already had the blanket pulled back on the other side of Xander.

Nash carefully slid Grayson under the blanket before sinking heavily to the floor. His own exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

"Nash!" Two hands pulled him up. "No no no, you are not sleeping on the floor."

Wouldn't be the first time.

The eldest Hawthorne let himself be yanked up and manhandled into bed. Libby was a lot stronger than she looked.

She then placed a kiss on his forehead. "Now, let's get you two medicated and then you can knock out for the rest of the day."

Another tired chuckle left Nash's mouth.

Sure enough, Libby got the medicine into Nash then the two worked together to get it into Grayson.

The younger Hawthorne's head came to rest on the eldest's chest. Nash didn't move him.

He carefully brushed a few slick strands of hair out of his face instead.

Libby fussed over the blanket. "Call me if you need anything, but you should follow in your brothers' footsteps."

Nash sluggishly turned to look at the other three. A slumber party in his room like they were all kids again. That brought back a lot more memories.

"Goodnight love." Libby's hand disappeared. "I'll check in on all of you in a bit."

Nash's eyes finally closed. "Thanks Libs."

"Anytime."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I'll merge my two major ships here. Eddie and Steve as musical actors and dancers who slowly fall for each other during their tour of the Cats musical.

Steve plays Rum Tum Tugger, the Curious Cat. His hair is simply majestic. He has a presence that has all the ladies swooning. He's a bit of a bitch, but people love him for it. He is used to being admired and adored.

Eddie plays Magical Mr. Mistoffelees, or Quaxo in his normal persona. He's quiet as Quaxo and is one of the very few cats who is unimpressed by Tugger/Steve. He calls him a bore and generally dislikes how loud and obnoxious he is. But as Magical Mr. Mistoffelees, he is skilled, confident, and incredibly magnetic.

Steve and Eddie's production of Cats leans into the mutual admiration/attraction angle of these two characters. Steve gets told the basics of his character first.

For their first meeting, Steve marches to Eddie, in all his attractiveness, fluffy hair, adorable moles and bitchy smirk. He shakes Eddie's hand with a strong grip, and announces: "Hi, I'm playing Tugger, and I was told I'm basically head over heels for you. So prepare to be loved!"

Eddie, who has just gotten off the plane from London, hasn't slept in about two days, and is at the point of exhaustion where he's slowly starting to hear and see ghosts, just blinks at him. To his tired brain, Steve looks like a shiny god, too beautiful to be real, but Eddie didn't get this far by being shy. He activates the bullshit confidence mode.

He shakes Steve's hand, winks at him and pretends to swoon a bit. "Oooh, I'll be looking forward to that! I'm not sure if I can love you back based on the script yet, but in person? I'd be flattered."

Then he spills his coffee over himself, because he's still Eddie, and he's massively sleep-deprived. And this beautiful man, bless his heart, helps him dry his t-shirt, checks him for burns, and even offers him a replacement T-shirt because Eddie's suitcase got lost somewhere on the way.

When Eddie thanks him and apologizes, Steve winks at him again. "Don't worry. I'll still love you, even when you smell like Starbucks."

Eddie really hopes the script says Mistoffelees loves Tugger back, because if not, he's going to have a horrible time acting like he doesn't.

They practice a lot, often separately. As Quaxo, Eddie just has to announce that Tugger is a terrible bore, and the hurt side eye that Steve gave him tugged at his heartstrings. He finds it hilarious how all the queens just dance around Steve/Tugger, trying to get his attention, and he's enjoying it a lot, but then there's always a small glance towards Quaxo. Just to make sure he's watching.

And then they get to the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees song, and Steve ramps it up even more. Eddie hates the wife guy trope, but damn, they should all be learning from Steve, because Steve's Tugger is Mistoffelees's announcer, agent, ad company and biggest cheerleader all in one. Eddie can focus on all those jumps and turns, while Steve cheers and points at him and well, loves him, just as promised.

They spend a lot of time together between the shows and become good friends. They help each other with stretching, Steve keeps bringing Eddie water to keep him hydrated, and they learn a lot about each other. Eddie tells Steve about his uncle, waiting for him in Manchester, about his asshole of a dad. Steve joins in about being nearly disowned for choosing musical theatre instead of finance, and now that he's successful, he's being paraded by his father like a circus act.

They both love Star Wars. They bond over that.

When the tour is over and Eddie already has a ticket back to London, he can't help but feel crushed. After their last performance, when they wash off the makeup and Eddie is nursing his cup of tea, he manages to smile at Steve. He's still picking out the long wig hairs from his own.

"That was something," Eddie says, and he manages to keep his tone light. "Gotta say, I'm going to miss all that adoration and love, Steve."

Steve is still frowning, dropping the remaining yellow hairs on a napkin, but this catches his attention. One of the hairs is stuck in his eyebrows, but Eddie doesn't have the heart to tell him. "What do you mean, you're going to miss it?" he asks. "You have my number. I'm stalking you on Instagram already. It's not stopping or anything."

Eddie squeezes his cup even tighter. "Um. So...that wasn't a Tugger thing?"

"At first." Steve shrugs and sneezes when another yellow hair tickles his nose. "But I liked you from the start. After those months with you on the road? I didn't even need to act. Even if you're cast to play the tiniest mouse in a school rendition of Cinderella, I'm going to cheer for you, Eddie."

And Eddie's dumb heart gives that treacherous squeeze. He drops his cup and moves to hold his hands - he didn't say it was love!, his brain shouts, but he's too emotional to stop himself. "I wish I could just pack you into my suitcase and take you with me to London," he whispers, finally getting that hair out of Steve's eyebrow. He wants to touch him so much.

Steve squeezes his hands, and oh, his smile. Eddie shouldn't have doubted it was love. Because there's no mistaking that. "Actually, it's just going to be two weeks," he says sheepishly. "I...um. I asked to be transferred to another company. In the UK. I've been looking for a good fit, somewhere to go to put some more distance between me and my parents. See the world. And England sounds cool, I mean, I can speak the language, right? And your uncle also sounds cool, if you ever want us two to meet. Uh."

Eddie just stares at him. He will kiss him in less than a minute, but before that, he needs to remember all of it, Steve's barely visible blush, the fear in his eyes, but also hope. "Steven Harrington," he says slowly. "Are you saying-"

"It's too much, isn't it?" Steve interrupts him. "I knew for weeks, but it wasn't confirmed or anything, and then I didn't want to impose and I get it, it's kinda crazy, but I thought - maybe I can be selfish for once. Do something crazy because it feels right. And I know I'm rushing things and I'm too much, and this maybe feels a bit stalker-y, which I only realize now, but-"

Eddie kisses him then, silences those thoughts. When they part, he strokes Steve's cheek and tells him, "not too much, nope. Never enough."

"Wrong musical," says Steve, but he looks really kissable, so Eddie does that again.

(also when Steve meets Wayne for the first time, he's worried, but Wayne just pulls him into a hug and grumbles "Finally! Eddie wouldn't shut up about you for MONTHS.")

[oldkamelle]

Do you ever get stuck in a routine of the past?

[hamofjustice]

nemona feels like an obscure blorbo instead of the main rival character from the latest pokemon game because to get to her really good content from people who really get it, you first have to wade through the ocean of yandere pervert obsessive stalker annoying punchable bimbo amazon goddess interpretations of...

... a neurodivergent and possibly disabled high schooler who's desperately trying to make any friends or get any support from her rich neglectful family - while everyone in her school is jealous of their own imagined version of a privileged asshole version of her they made up - who deeply and platonically loves and supports the one new kid who agreed to take the time to get to know and respect her and her special interest without having to hold back her true self

unlike her, it's not great!

kinda feels like she has the same problem in our world that she does in hers.

[sailforvalinor]

Trying to write James and Lily Potter as parents is so funny for me, because partway through I realize that I’ve started writing them like my parents, and I’ll think “wow, girl, you really need to broaden your horizons, there are other types of parents and parenting styles out there,” but then I’ll think about it some more and realize, no, I’m pretty sure my parents are just James and Lily Potter

[oftheriverseine]

I originally began typing this in the tags as per usual but apparently there’s a tag limit SO

I’m thinking of how this could all work in service of Serena’s character arc, and how it fits with her themes of finding herself, forging a path, and making people smile like they make her smile (giving back in kindness).

Showcases could have some traditional or historical background to them; maybe they were used to tell stories of Pokemon in a theatrical way, once upon a time, or were a sort of art-form for creative expression, which would lend itself to the existence of a more performance-centric structure. It could be like a mix of theatre, competitive dance, pageants, and marching band. Going back to them being outside in Kalosian Woods (which I LOVE) this could also be used to show off adaptability and beauty, two things the Kalos Queen should have (another reason why I think Kalos Queen should’ve been a leadership position :P)

Serena’s arc in the early XY-season-era could be about discovering what she likes to do, but not quite being sure how to fit that into a path for herself. Take the baking contest she enters, or the interest she expressed in fashion and grooming, and even Pokevision! Maybe add an episode of her teaching the rest of the cast to dance, little things like that. And of course, keep her dramatic and kind-yet-sassy personality, one needed as a performer! After meeting Shauna and reflecting, she thinks she knows what she’d like to do, who she wants to be, but it’s not so simple.

I think having Serena practice performing beforehand with a lot of enthusiasm and creativity (albeit with inexperience) could help make her first loss hit harder, and also make her realize that life doesn’t become easygoing after finding a goal — it’s still work all the way, and there’s still people you have to grow against. Showcases have a concept that Serena technically fits into, but in practice it’s a lot more rigid and there’s less room for her to break the mold. So she tries changing her style to fit the norm, and when that doesn’t work, forges her own. Maybe she rotates outfits based on ancient Performances, or on the weather, or really whatever inspires her. Maybe she keeps up Pokevision, gains a couple fans along the way. Maybe she works to combine her Pokémon’s differences into a cohesive routine that highlights their strengths, and how they work together. And it’s unconventional, because the theme for her shows is not based on aesthetics, rather on emotion. And she manages to bring a new life to Showcases, bit by bit, by putting her Pokemon and their joy at the center of her routine.

Serena is happy, so clearly happy on stage, and it’s infectious. What she lacks for in finesse or visual thematic cohesion is made up for in spirit, in energy, and she learns to channel that and refine it so it’s displayed in the best way possible. Maybe Serena and her Pokemon use a rainy day to their advantage to perform a show a la Singing In The Rain. Maybe Serena adapts her experiences on her journey to tell a new story.

I like Pearl’s idea for Serena’s flaws, and I think a healthy mix of both could work, maybe having the daringness as a mini-arc before she really starts to focus on adapting the theme to the Pokemon, with her instead forgoing the theme for a show or two, and the selflessness being an overarching them for not just her Showcases but her as a character. Serena is insanely kind, probably the kindest Pokegirl at her time, so having her flaw be something along the lines of self-sacrificial behavior (emotionally instead of physically, in contrast to Ash) is really in line (and also could make her kind of a hypocrite, if she insists to her friends that they should put themselves first, something that can be repeated to her in crucial moments, like when she decides to tell her mom she’s pursuing showcases). It could be what causes her to lose her first Showcase; in an effort to reassure Fennekin, instead of working to salvage what she had and finishing the show, she comforts it, and blames herself. It could be something that she uses to help people after the Kalos Crisis, but also results in her pushing back her own hurt.

It could be why Contests, where you kind of have to prioritize your Pokémon’s health and visuals in battle, where they could and would get hurt, is Palermo’s next suggestion, besides it ideologically aligning with her style. Either way, I think there’s so much potential here <3

for your Kalosian Woods AU, I have two questions! (1) what’s the direction you’re gonna take Amourshipping/Ash and Serena’s dynamic in? Their friendship along with the romantic subtext felt like it had a lot of potential in XYZ-proper but never really got utilized. And (2) how’re you gonna tackle Showcases? I’ve been meaning to work on a Showcase restructure but I’d love to hear your ideas :D

Hey there!!!!! For the first question, I 100% acknowledge the force of Serena’s crush on Ash in the XY series— even if I did tweak it so that she would fall after meeting him for the first time, watching him train for the Gym and having seen him fall off Prism Tower inspiring her to see him through tinted lens (and how it evolved from the admiration she had for him when they were kids so long ago). While XY anime itself had the weird notion of making everyone down for Ash (a terrifying scene after coming out of the professional haters of BW and literally every series before it) (ngl though I am a believer of the polycule + Bonnie idea lol, it exists in my heart), I can’t deny that side of Amourshipping even if I’m not a shipper myself or even much of a good writer for romantic relationships imo. In my AU I want to show how that love for him grows and eddies throughout the series: from their first meeting to taking up her own dream of showcases to seeing Ash lose himself in his endless hunt for strength— how she puts him on a pedestal because he was the first Trainer she knew, the strongest one she knew, and back then how she didn’t know better, relying on him instead of taking the risks herself and working with other people for a change. You’re absolutely right in the potential their relationship have in XYZ especially; with Serena coming to the tail end of her first Showcase season, ending up in the same place as before but with a totally changed perspective, and Ash fixating more than ever on being the best of the best, distancing himself from everyone else… and of course, all of that feelings and realisations coming to a head in Snowbelle, the Crisis, and the aftermaths. And also having both of them face each other at the end of it all and realising how much changed. I’m not really sure if I’m wording any of this right or if what I’ve said even makes sense heh, especially since I’m not too far ahead in this AU, but their friendship and that romantic subtext is definitely going to play a part in this series, and even if the plot details changes like the weather I’m going to do my best in keeping it as true to its potential as it should be (because a girl can be in love and also grow as a person, in spite and despite and even with it— you’ve just got to find the right angle).

(Also I’m going to have fun with that crush, so it might meet some light-hearted banter and miscommunications and all of that stuff. I mean, hey, these are kids on a journey lol. There are going to be awkward moments for everyone at some point, but they’ll grow past it as with everything else. Also fun memories. :P)

For the second question, wow, I’ve been giving it so much thought lol. I’m nowhere near the Showcases right now (although it is closer than what canon gave us in my AU) and yet it’s all I can do to plan for how it works. I have spitballed a few ideas with friends but for me (so far) I honestly want more of it to be outdoors. Showcases as a whole has this pesky problem of being a one-to-one copy of Contests but ‘declawed’ by having no battles, and it really gets me because if we’re discarding battles then we have to actually redefine Showcases as a whole— because the battle portion is the ultimate showing of precision and control with your Pokémon and their moves, which is what Contests are all about. Especially with AG and DP, we see examples of atypical Appeal rounds with Harley going for a more terrifying show of power, while Kenny (as :/ as a character as he was) goes for showings of strength— even though they are not ‘beautiful’ they still get to pass, because it really is about how your bond can perfectly translate to moves that can command the audience and grab their attention, naturally highlighting the Pokémon. With Showcases though, to me, they are more about creativity— about how a Performer can work with their Pokémon to get past certain obstacles which are based off a certain characteristic the Kalos Queen should have (the Theme round or whatever it was called lol) and then the Freestyle showing off what they uniquely bring to the table, their own brand, what they want to be remembered by (in which I thought that they could bring props to that originally but eh, that’s what my AU is for!). Sheesh, I went through such a big rant and I still feel fired up heh, but ig this is to say that since Showcases are about creativity, the outdoors location would be a great way to show how they deal with everything. On a sunny day, would they use Grass or Fire Types? Would they call out a Rain Dance and form a rainbow? Of course they wouldn’t actually have an open venue if it’s raining or snowing, but in different terrains can you see the characters stand out, I feel like. Also giving all sorts of Pokémon room like Flying or Ground. I have a bunch more ideas of course, about it being connected to PokéVision (still mad about how that concept got dumped) and having small events where people can get to know the up and coming Performers, getting hints for the Theme section so we don’t get the most unbalanced group of people and have a real competition (that always bothered me ngl), as well as other tweaks to that whole system. Showcases can be good in their own light, it’s just the rep of it being baby ‘only girls’ Contest (still thinking about the girls bit ngl) along with the stupid popularity bit of it (not that the concept is bad in and of itself, just that it should have a place and not be the be all end all of passing to the next stage) (it’s only good for the Freestyle, can I say that?) that makes it flop. Also because it came in so late and left so early. And the rivals kind of sucked because they weren’t given any time to grow. And the way Serena wasn’t challenged enough through them. So basically, I’ve got A Lot of thoughts about it and it’s going to be a headache to go through because it desperately needs a redesign to be viable in any way. But that’s the fun bit about an AU, isn’t it heh. Tell me about your ideas, I’d love to hear about them and thank you so so much for the ask!!! :D <33

[yooboobies]

Hello💜 Here is today’s feel good💜 #205

I have a few thoughts about today’s one, I will write them in the tags💜

morganharpernichols

[whoslaurapalmer]

the adult horror conversation with yourself of 'i could have tortillas with dinner tonight. i just had tortillas the other day. that's okay. i can, in fact, have tortillas again! i am putting a different filling in them! but if i have these tortillas, i will have a total of six tortillas left in the freezer. eventually i will have to buy more tortillas. by god, girl, you are allowed to eat the things you have in the freezer, instead of feeling like you have to save them for some potential eventuality so you don't run out of them, and like, what situation are you even imagining where the tortillas would be better to have later instead of for this particular dinner??? if you keep feeling like you have to save them for Something you will just not eat the tortillas!! eventually EVERYTHING runs out and you have to buy more of them!! that is the way the world works!! you are allowed to not have things aggressively stockpiled, except for like, tissues, but that was a purchasing incident on mom's card while she was still here, so you just happen to have, a bizarre amount of tissue boxes. AND WHILE YOUR FINANCES ARE STILL BIG RED QUESTION MARKS, YOU CAN, IN FACT, AFFORD TO GO BUY MORE TORTILLAS IF YOU FUCKING WANT TO!!! YOU GET THE STREET TACO SIZE AND THEY'RE LIKE $2.99!!!!! AND WHEN DID YOU EVEN BUY THESE TORTILLAS, HUH???????? YOU DON'T KNOW, DO YOU???? WHICH MEANS YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH THE TORTILLAS AT AN ACCEPTABLE PACE!! WHATEVER THE HELL THAT SENTENCE MEANS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!'

anyway i'm eating the tortillas. or i mean they're on the counter defrosting while i have some chicken toasting in the toaster oven