#welp have fun children

[artemx746]

Do people not realise that a person doesn't suddenly gain full maturity and knowledge of everything when they turn 18?

[kindred-spirit-93]

right so, summer term is in less than a week and in the words of another tumblr post, this is for the wiggles; i need to get this out of my system before i implode. enjoy :)

greetings yall. this is essentially a list of my current ocs that live their own lives in their respective universes in the back of my mind. ill start out with a list and expand elsewhere later to avoid overwhelmingness

i will update this with links to individual oc fact files and posts in the future inshallah

･ﾟ*.･ﾟ✧ .･ﾟ*･ﾟ

✧ le fandoms and their respective established characters as of writing:

harry potter: anisa (tbc)

percy jackson: Hilal

the apothecary diaries: Maymuna

demon slayer: Siham

my hero academia: yamama (tbc)

✧ fandoms ive dabbled in that dont have established characters (yet):

spy x family

bungo stray dogs

hunter x hunter

the anne shirley serires

detective conan

inuyasha

the addams family

more that ive temporarily forgotten lol

✧ fandoms that dont get ocs for various reasons :

hamilton and other musicals

real life people (i find it weird)

childhood favourites like movies, shows, etc. (like tmnt, coraline, disney princesses, spacetoon classics like romeos blue skies...)

please kindly note that the way my hyperfixations work in terms of fandoms is that when i come across said fandom, i obsessively read every wiki page in existence and watch compilations and scour the interwebs for memes and sometimes fics, and proceed to avoid (for reasons unbeknownst to me) actually consuming the media itself (original books or its adapted versions). i believe its because i dont have the capacity to be emotionally attached to new characters and suffer, but whos to say :P

also note that these characters are in many ways inspired from my own experiences and i occasionally draw from people and places im familiar with, so in instances where things 'wouldnt work' for whatever reason, (firstly im aware, hence their existence) remember that these are works of fiction, and that with the right writing (mostly) anything works. and creative liberties mwahahaha >:)

this is one of the reasons this blog exists; for me to dump the contents of my mind to make way for other (hopefully more useful) stuff, so if u stumble on here feel free to partake (as per the guidelines stated in the pinned post), otherwise move on. this before anything else is for me and my amusement, i wont be catering to anyones interests.

this post and its contents is sponsored and made possible by maladaptive daydreaming and my other less than healthy coping mechanisms :)

me @ this post

[afklancelot]

admittedly it's pretty late for me to say this, but honestly it was kinda dumb that the One s5 episode (173) where tma explored how the children were doing in the Fear Apocalypse was "oh the Eye prefers more adult, complex fears so we sent all children into the Dark Fear Domain to be chased by shadow monsters". I feel like it's a wasted opportunity to boil every child on Earth only ever fearing the Dark and what lurks within it. Cuz what about the other Powers?

What about the kid who fears their violent parental figure and their equally violent outbursts? What about the kid who hated being locked in their closet- not of the dark, mind you, but rather the enclosed space itself, the claustrophobia? What about the kid being dismissed, or blamed for things going missing or being moved, because of their "imaginary" friend? What about the kid being left alone young at home, without a babysitter, forced to fend for themselves?? What about the kid who's scared of a playground slide, whether it be because of the sheer height of the slide or because it's a hot summer day, and the metal will burn their skin? What about the kid who fears the sensation of ants or spiders crawling on them, biting them, infecting them? What about the kid who finds out about mortality, and desperately prays their parents don't suddenly keel over and die? What about the kid who reads about the dinosaurs going extinct and ends up fearing the same thing happening to humanity? What about the kid being bullied, relentlessly chased by a bigger, older kid? What about a kid who decides to go vegetarian because of how squeamish meat is? What about the kid who cries every time they see those uncanny animatronics? What about the kid who's paranoid, afraid their guardians found out they did a Bad thing?

"What do you think happened to the children?" Alright, but what about the others? What about the children who AREN'T afraid of the Dark?

[xetlynn]

season 2 claggor x fem reader maybe they get caught making out?? thank you for keeping the tag alive 

of courseee and thank you!!!<3

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Preheat

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: in which you and claggor get caught in a lil steamy moment.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Powder and Ekko wave goodbye, leaving our home to go out on a well-needed date. Claggor, Mylo and you tell them to have fun and enjoy themselves. You bring your legs up on the couch, playing around with your necklace. “Welp, this is boring. I’m leaving.” Mylo stands up, grabbing his jacket. He doesn’t even say anything when walking out the door.

 

Claggor and you turn to one another before chuckling. “We have the house to ourselves it seems.” He smiles. The corners of your lips doing the same movement. “What should we do?” You ask, holding onto your knees. The two of you had recently started dating after being friends since you two were children. You were raised by a close friend of Vander’s and Benzo’s. You had grown close with the others, especially Powder, being best friends. Claggor was her older brother and it felt weird to go after him but then he pursued you. It was kept a secret from the others and still is. You didn’t know how to tell Powder you were dating Claggor at all. Not knowing how to bring it up. 

“Want to cook?” He proposes and you purse your lips, shrugging your shoulders as if to say “why not.” He stands up from his chair, going over to you to help you up. 

You lead the way to the kitchen. “Pizza?” You tilt your head, opening the fridge. “Sounds good.” He hums, getting the cutting board out along with the flour and oil. You grab the cold ingredients. 

“I hope it turns out better than when Mylo did it.” You comment, throwing the stuff on the counter. Claggor laughs, “I don’t think we’d have the skill to catch the pizza on fire and only burn the inside.” He shakes his head, remembering when Mylo woke everyone screaming that there was a fire. “Fun times.” You whisper. 

You leave the room momentarily to put on some music before joining back. “Alright, let’s start.” You roll your sleeves all the way up to wash your hands before actually touching anything. Claggor had already done that when you left the kitchen. 

The two of you start off together before you get distracted by the song that came on. Dancing around the room, pretending to smack your boyfriend’s butt. He didn’t mind taking care of the pizza, this usually happens when you cook. In the middle of it you’d get bored or distracted by something small. Forgetting about the ingredients on the counter. 

“Alright, did you preheat the oven?” He asks suddenly, already knowing the answer though. You forgot to do it. Your arms drop to your sides with a frightened expression. He bursts out laughing. “It’s okay, babe. I figured you wouldn’t have.” He kisses your forehead and you frown. “Rude.” You cross your arms and look away. “But true.” You mutter. He gets the oven started and you both watch it heat up, leaning on the opposite counter. 

“Sorry.” You say sadly, upset that you can’t have the pizza sooner. “It’s okay, I promise.” He snorts, pulling you into his chest, hugging you. “I’m so hungry.” You whine, tugging on the chest of his shirt. 

“Same, but it’s only going to take a couple minutes.” He says, but right as he says that the oven dings meaning that it’s done heating up. He lets me go and you  open the oven door for him as he grabs the pizza and sets it in. Shutting the oven. 

“Set the timer.” He points over to the tiny little timer next to the oven on your side. You set it to twenty-five minutes, clapping your hands after placing it down. Since you two had some time you decided to go back to the couch and cuddle for a little bit. You were snug between the cushion and partly on top of him. Legs tangled together. He pets your head as you stare at the coffee table. Only thinking about how good his fingers feel on your scalp. 

He stops after a couple minutes, staring down at you. “You’re very pretty, y’know.” He compliments, you lift your head to look at him. “Really? Say more.” You tease making him snicker. “I could compliment you all day.” His hands travel down to your waist, rubbing up and down. “I’d love to hear just a few.” You cross your arms on his chest to rest your chin on them. 

“You’re very smart even though you get easily distracted.” He begins and you pout. “Not off to a good start.” His body shakes under you with laughter. “Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes. 

“You are incredibly kind, I don’t understand why. Kind to people who don’t deserve it. Also just beautiful. Your inside matches the physicality and not a lot of people can say the same.” He tells you. “So nice on the eyes. More than nice. I love admiring you.” His hands start to get lower and lower on your back/ hips. “An amazing kisser.” He raspily says when his face gets closer to yours. 

“You think so?” You hum, eyes flickering between his lips back to his eyes. “I know so.” He pecks your lips. You slowly move your legs so that you are straddling him now. You butt right above his crotch. 

“Let’s make sure I’m truly right though.” He sits himself up a little more and kisses you. 

You moan into the kiss, lips cushioning one anothers. You press further onto him, gripping his shirt for dear life. “Mm, you drive me crazy.” He musters taking a small breather before getting right back to making out. His tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You open your mouth allowing it. 

He takes it and battles with your own tongue. Going back and forth not even noticing the fact that the front door opened. 

You move his hand from your back down to your ass before bringing your own hand to the back of his neck. Not wanting to let him go. He grips your clothed flesh. You pull a little bit on his hairs on the back of his head on accident, getting a low groan in response, vibrating your lips. His free hand is holding you tightly by your waist. Making sure you were right against his torso. 

You do it for another time to take another breather, but really it was because you wanted to do something more. “Wow!” A voice laughs from the corner of the living room, startling you both. You jump off of Claggor. “In the family room!?” Ekko grips onto his stomach with laughter as Powder was trying to bite her own giggles. Claggor and your faces flushing tremendously. “I- sorry.” You put your head down, not believing that neither of you heard the door open or close. 

“We already knew about you two, don’t worry.” Powder puts her purse on the hook. “You guys made pizza?” Ekko excitedly asks, heading to the kitchen. 

“It’s not… done yet.” You say, not understanding why they’re home from their date not even an hour into it. “Oh can’t wait to eat it then.” He chuckles from the kitchen. Powder smacks her brothers back, plopping down on the couch. “Have fun there, didn’t ya.” She teases him. He rolls his eyes. 

“[Name], you okay? You look mortified?” She asks me and you turn to her, blinking slowly. “You knew?” 

“Of course we knew, you two are not discrete… whatsoever.” She smirks up at you. “And you just let me think you didn’t know!?” You cry out, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment. “Mm I knew you’d tell me when you wanted to or I’d “find out” like this.” She uses finger quotations then does a hand motion to the room. 

“At least we don’t have to hide it anymore, babe.” Claggor stands up, rubbing your back. “Doesn’t stop the shame I am feeling right now.” You turn into his chest, still hiding your face. 

“Bleh, babe.” Powder mocks, playfully gagging. “Oh you can’t be talking, sweetie.” Ekko sits down beside his girlfriend and you turn to see her face turn red. “Shut up.” She looks away. 

[vixstarria]

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.” 

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets. 

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight. 

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.” 

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.” 

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.” 

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.  

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?” 

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.” 

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”  

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.” 

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?” 

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.” 

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle. 

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?” 

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased. 

“I hate dancing,” he said. 

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?” 

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.” 

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned. 

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?” 

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh. 

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before. 

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?” 

“I didn’t let him.” 

He laughed. 

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?” 

You had to think for a moment.  

“Are we counting Volo?” 

“Sure.” 

“Then just Karlach and Withers.” 

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?” 

Astarion was silent for a few moments. 

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”  

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth. 

“Stop laughing,” he said.  

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.  

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.” 

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered. 

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan. 

“That’s not my back, Astarion.” 

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly. 

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?” 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.” 

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.  

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.” 

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.  

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.  

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.” 

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.  

“You can try,” you taunted him. 

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.  

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you. 

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars. 

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.  

“Ast… what..”  

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll. 

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans. 

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.” 

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it. 

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.” 

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.  

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more. 

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred. 

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.  

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.” 

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you. 

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.  

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...” 

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.  

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t- 

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body. 

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.  

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?” 

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip. 

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.  

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again. 

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?” 

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night. 

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.  

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well. 

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...” 

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you. 

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.” 

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.  

“Your what?” you gasped.  

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.  

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.  

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.  

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go. 

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his. 

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.  

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.  

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face. 

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear. 

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder. 

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips. 

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.  

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea. 

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements. 

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder. 

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.  

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips. 

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.  

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear. 

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.  

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.  

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke. 

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.  

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?” 

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk. 

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes. 

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.  

“Is that so?” he said softly.  

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..? 

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.  

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.  

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.  

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with. 

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.” 

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.  

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.  

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying. 

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”   

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled. 

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”  

He chuckled at that. 

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.  

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered. 

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”  

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.  

“Five.”  

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.” 

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-” 

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.  

“Do not finish that thought, darling.” 

You grinned from behind his palm.  

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.  

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”  

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.  

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly. 

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.  

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.  

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.  

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

[hitwiththefandomz]

@forgetful-nerd I DIDNT FORGET THIS! It’s been in to-do for a while and the wip poll gods told me to finally finish it

As much as I’d love to have a wholesome TMNT Crossover where instead of having to face the some worlds-ending horrors they all take a giant turtle-pile nap (because damn all these turtles need one) I know it can never be.

Because realistically, that sort of crossover would end with 2012!Raph trying to smother 2003! Raph with his pillow for snoring like a chainsaw.

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

imagine bucky being drunk

warning: kinda spicy at the end

"He's doing it again."

Sam nudged you in the ribs, tearing your eyes away from Carol; who had been giving you the latest details on her life. The two of you frowned but then Carol smirked, nodding to your boyfriend across the small dive bar she had taken everyone to. Bucky was standing next to Steve and he was pretend punching him in the face. Steve was laughing whilst blocking his friend's air punches.

"I love drunk Barnes," Carol sighed contently and you agreed.

"He's so cute when he's drunk."

"Sure, real cute when the tab is over a grand because it takes a whole brewery to get him tipsy."

Ignoring Sam, you promised Carol you'd return to hear the rest of her story and she smirked, holding up her beer. "We have all night."

Stepping away from the table, you smiled at the bickering going on behind you as to who was going to pay for the tab. Leaving Wilson and Danvers to settle that argument, you walked over to the oldest men in the bar. Bucky's eyes moved to you and he grinned like a little puppy, pushing Steve aside to stumble over to you.

"God, you're so cute," he hollered, pretending to grab a piece of you to eat. He consumed air you and you laughed, grabbing his hand before he could take another bite.

Bucky quickly engulfed you into a hug, squeezing so tight you had to holler for him to release you. "I love a good strangling, but let's keep that for the bedroom, babe."

Steve groaned. "Come on, man."

You smirked, allowing Bucky to pull your back against his chest. He wrapped both arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulders. "Sounds like Stevie boy needs a little fun."

"That's what it sounds like," you echoed Bucky's sentiments and Steve rolled his eyes when you suggested Carol up as a potential booty call. "What? She's fucking hot. Smart. Funny."

"Captain America, Captain Marvel..." Bucky slurred out a burp and the two of you busted into laughter - giggling like children. Steve instantly turned red and that just made the laughter louder until Carol called out to see what was so funny.

"Don't say a word," Steve grumbled under his breath, pulling at his shirt. "...stay here."

Bucky and you watched as Steve made his way to the booth, sliding next to Carol, who smiled at him. Sam looked over to you and Bucky held a hazy finger to his lips - the veteran understood and quickly excused himself from the booth. He didn't bother walking over to Bucky and you, because everyone knew the two of you were ridiculous together, sober or drunk. Most people couldn't stand being in a room with the two of you for more than a few minutes; hands all over each other or worse, jokes and laughter that seemed endless.

Turning to face your boyfriend, you squished his cheeks and he practically beamed. He was totally drunk and you were totally in love. He kissed you on the lips, at first gently but then his grip tightened at your waist and you buckled against his body.

"....so cute I could eat."

"What's stopping you? The bathroom is unisex..."

Bucky practically welp, gathering you up in his arms in a haste. Having a former super solider as a boyfriend had its perks - his stamina was endless, his physique would make a grown man cry, but his strength? That man could lift hundreds of pounds, so no matter your weight - this motherfucker made you feel light as a feather. And boy, you could get him stiff as a board.

"I just know you're thinking nasty shit," he groaned, moving you towards the bathroom.

"I am but pure of heart, James."

Bucky smiled contently, kicking the bathroom open. It was as good as a bar restroom could get. He placed you gently on the sink and made sure the door was locked. Two strides, that's all it took for him to get on his knees and pulling your panties down from under your skirt. His eyes rolled back for a moment as he took in the sight, but then he glanced up at you with a devilish smile as he firmly spread your legs.

"I love you," he whispered right before diving in-between your thighs.

Rendered speechless, all you could do was grip his hair and lean back into the sink mirror; the lowlights flickering as Bucky reminded you how much you loved drunk him. When all his inhibitions disappeared and he got to enjoy the little things in life - which included going to bars with your closest friends, running the highest of tabs, trying to hook up friends, and most importantly, going down on your girlfriend in a dingy bathroom.

[razorblade180]

Winning isn’t everything

Weiss:Kids! Lunch time! It’s tacos!

…….

Weiss:Your dad made it!

…….

Weiss:Well that’s concerning.

Jaune:Pretty sure they’re “studying”

Weiss:Ah. In that case.

She grabbed their plates and put them on a platter big enough to hold it all the hauled it to the living room where her kids sat far apart watching two entirely different screens.

Nick sat in silence on the couch, watching tournament footage of peers. Particularly one girl with wolf ears. The bottom right of the screen showed a queue of all of her matches. His eyes scanned every movement she made and he occasionally made timestamps.

Weiss:Who’s this?

Nick:Vacou’s regional champion. She qualified for nationals. A favored to win in fact.

Weiss:Oooo that’s fun. Anyway, here’s your hard shell chicken tacos. *puts plate down*

Nick:Thanks…

The mother turned around to the slightly more imposing child watching some girl’s concert performance. Summer was in full blown hoodie mode, complete with headphones and hugging her knees as she watched with great interest.

Weiss:….

Summer:I see you staring. It’s my fifth time watching it, you’re not interrupting anything. *holds out hands* Soft shell shrimp?

Weiss:Correct. *hands plate* Is that Vacou’s new sweet heart?

Summer:She’s more like a sour patch. Fitting for the area but I thought they’d have more taste.

Weiss:Be nice. You’re older than her.

Summer:Doesn’t matter. She has talent, and her performance has merit, even if she comes off as arrogant.

Weiss:I hear it’s avoidable in young stars.

Summer:We’ll be at the music festival. Venue size is determined by sales and a performance.

Weiss:Ah, so that’s what this is. Welp, I’ll leave you to it.

She walks towards the doorway, her job almost complete.

Weiss:Remember you two, w-

Nick: “Winning isn’t everything…”

Summer: “Just make sure your losses are actually earned.”

Weiss couldn’t help but smirk before returning to the kitchen to eat with Jaune, who made her plate.

Jaune:How are the twin terrors?

Weiss:I’m not gonna lie, they are definitely my children. Couldn’t be prouder. Slightly concerned.

Jaune:Did they even look away from the screens?

Weiss:Nope. *bites chip* Those poor obstacles.

Jaune:You mean opponents?

Weiss:No.

[thechaoticdruid]

Astarion x Chubby reader/Tav Headcanons because I'm tired of reading about Tav's perfect petite or hourglass body.

Some of the Headcanons get quite sexual so MDNI 18+ People ONLY. There's also some slight gore and mentions of Astarion's trauma.

Chubby Tav is going to be mentioned to be a Wizard with a noble background because that makes the most sense for a chubby adventurer in my mind!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Astarion wasn't really attracted to your body at first.

Not that he found you ugly or anything it's just your physical appearance really wasn't that relevant to his plan.

What mattered to him was how well you carried yourself in a fight and how easy you'd be to string along.

You were a skilled Wizard with a tendency to be mercilessly cruel when you came across the most vile of villains.

Some asshole was murdering children? You cast a spell that caused him to slowly inflate until he exploded into bloody bits.

Some crazy bitch was torturing and using innocents for blood sacrifices? You took control of her own body and made her stab herself over and over.

And Astarion just ate that up.

Not that he cared for the sad pathetic welps in peril mind you.

But the bloodlust in your eyes as you dealt with those you considered unredeemable villains honestly made him feel a bit hot and bothered.

And the sheer magical prowess you displayed was rather impressive.

Plus you didn't bore him half to death with magical lectures like Gale did so that was nice.

As he began pursuing you, your insecurities became rather evident.

You would often dismiss his flirting or straight up ignore it.

Being told you were sexually unappealing all your life had really gotten to you. To the point where you just couldn't wrap your head around someone as beautiful as Astarion coming onto you.

But determined as ever to have you as his protection Astarion persisted.

Perhaps you'd never had a lover or perhaps you'd had far too many whom left you for someone they found more appealing.

Either way you were convinced Astarion's advances meant nothing.

That either he wanted something from you or he was simply mocking you like so many others had done in the past.

So when he finally is blunt enough to say he wants sex with you it's a big shock.

Your first response is to push back.

You tell him to quit messing with you because it was not funny!

He swears to you that his desire to sleep with you is genuine and begins to go so far as to list everything he finds alluring about you.

The taste of your blood.

The way your eyes sparkle when filled with bloodlust.

How gods damned sexy you looked covered in the blood of your foes.

When it was clear that he hadn't made any comments about your figure, you actually began to think perhaps he wasn't making fun of you.

It took some time to think about it, but eventually you decided to accept his offer the night of the tiefling party.

At first you're very hesitant to remove your clothes in fear of him immediately backing out once he was able to fully take in your plump form.

At that point Astarion strips down first and seductively coaxes you out of your clothes.

If you're AFAB he immediately becomes enamoured with your plump breasts, his first instinct is to start sucking on them like his life depends on it as his hands grope and caress the deliciously thick cushy curves of your hips and ass.

If you're AMAB he's a bit more grabby with your ass than anything else. He also makes flirty remarks on how big you are while teasingly grabbing your cock.

Either way on your first night together you let him take the lead, evil voices in your head telling you that if you were on top you'd crush him like some disgusting monstrous beast.

He doesn't press you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable and focuses mostly on your wants and pleasure.

Leaves a trail of kisses and licks all over your body, worshipping every inch of it.

If you express your insecurities with him, claiming you didn't think he'd want you because you were fat he brushes it off.

"Nonsense darling, there's just more of you to nibble on.~"

And he is sure to nibble on every inch of you.

Especially those thick thighs.

He loves drinking from you there before eating you out or sucking you off.

As he begins to develop actual feelings for you he feels the need to comfort you more about your insecurities.

Of course Astarion doesn't quite understand how to do comfort. Not having any of it himself for the past 200 years.

He tries to fix it with sex. Thinking perhaps if you felt desired these pesky insecurities would just go away.

He'd grab your ass and whisper lustful remarks about your body when no one was watching.

Sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn't.

Eventually however things became much more complicated once Astarion came to the realization he was falling for you.

He found himself unable to 'perform' any longer. The guilt of manipulating you began to eat away at him.

Not to mention it was becoming harder and harder to come up with an excuse for why he didn't always seem fully present during intimacy with you. You were becoming more and more concerned. Which just made the guilt he felt grow.

You were too good for him!

He just knew you'd be crushed! Finally finding one person who actually desired you, only to discover it was all a lie!

You'd hate him for sure he just knew it!

But he couldn't do it any longer. You were kind to him. You actually cared about him.

And Gods damnit he knew what was like when people only care about your looks more than most.

You deserved better.

So he came clean and poured out his heart to you. Fully prepared for your anger and resentment.

But when it happened you just looked tired.

You confessed that deep down you knew it was all a manipulation.

Gods, the idea that someone as attractive as him would want you for your body was just ridiculous to you.

You really just wanted to pretend for a while.

To feel wanted and desired.

So in a way you used him too.

But then you too began to fall for him as well and began to dread when you'd eventually have to stop playing pretend.

After confession however you'd both agreed to start over, take things at a much slower pace.

And for the most part things were great!

Your late night trysts turned into cuddle sessions.

Astarion particularly loved using you as a pillow and snuggling into the warm, soft, cushion of your body.

If you ever felt the demons of insecurity eating away at you Astarion would immediately insist he didn't care what you looked like. He liked you for you.

Because you're you.

He had a little trouble wording it but it was sweet nonetheless.

When you finally reached Baldur's Gate there were a few hiccups in the road.

You were back amongst society and the eyes of the nobility who were a constant thorn in your side growing up.

Your father, the head of your family was intent on marrying you off to strengthen an alliance between another noble family and your own.

But despite his efforts most of the other patriar families were far too stuck up to accept his offer.

Deaming you as too unappealing to marry.

You didn't have any interest in an arranged marriage anyway, much too invested in your magical studies, but the rude comments from some of the other nobles still stung.

"My child is not being married off to a deep rothé!" One of them had actually said.

Now that you were back home the demons of your past began to plague your mind once again.

Astarion was there for you now however and tried to keep your mind off of things by reminding you that you both had a quest or two to finish!

If anyone were to make a rude comment out on the streets or sneer at you behind your back about how Astarion was way out of your league he would be quick to comfort you.

He'd pull you to the side and plant a wet kiss on your mouth right in front of any possible offenders.

And if any of them were to mysteriously disappear amongst the shadows of the night...

All the better.

[wickedsmille]

broken and still breaking

uhhhh, this is a little fic technically titled Angsty McAngst Pants Angst in my notes because Jason goes to his Re-Welcoming/It's A(n Alive) Boy! gala then gets triggered into a PTSD episode of dying which Tim helps him through. It was SUPPOSED to be gen but then they started flirting and bantering so. Welp.

Buyer beware cause I haven't beta'ed this, aforementioned PTSD episode, mild depictions of blood and injuries and what nots.

Alright then *thigh slap*

------

If it weren’t for the overwhelming feeling of being settled in his own skin, Jason would’ve told Bruce to fuck a cactus for offering to make Jason Peter Todd a real boy again. On principle alone he nearly said no. Besides, creating aliases is fun. James Austen, John Red and, to be nothing if not a mature adult with refined tastes, Dick Dickins. So many others, too. He could get the utilities at a new safehouse hooked up under Stephen Wolfe’s name then turn right around and renew Emmerson Bronte’s license at the downtown DMV.  

See? Being legally dead has allowed him room to express himself creatively in a way that has nothing to do with experimental ammunitions and testing the limits of the human body. One might even say it’s a healthy passtime. Sort of. Relatively speaking, okay. He’s not a perfect person, wouldn’t even dream of entertaining the thought. Not when he’s had so much practice turning the inside of someone’s skull into a modern day Picasso. 

But he’s been trying. Is trying. 

So, rather than testing the integrity of Bruce’s dental implants, Jason bit his cheek so hard it bled, swallowed back every bitter, snide remark dancing along his tongue and nodded tightly. He can’t think about the way Bruce deflated after. How his eyes went soft and the weight of the cape and cowl fully slipped off to reveal an infinitely exhausted but relieved Bruce Wayne, Failed Father Extraordinaire. If Jason does, he might ask himself what it was all for anyway and if any of it really ever mattered. Those kinds of thoughts lead to nothing but self-imposed isolation and self-destruction. 

He’s definitely regretting his decision as his gaze scans over the crowded ballroom of the Grand Hotel in downtown Gotham. A sea of opulence swims below the upper landing he has stalled out on. Men and women stand around in circles, chatting one another with plastic smiles etched into their faces. The sound of faked laughter grates, making his jaw clench and his teeth grind together. Wouldn’t it be just his luck that the food tables are all the across the room.

“Ha, ha, ha. Oh my, this little thing?” a woman simpers loudly at the bottom of the stairs. “Why, it was my mother’s.” She fingers the delicate gold chain around her neck. On the end is a diamond large enough it could feed a family of four in the Alley for a couple years.

A man across from her, entrenched in his own conversation partners, tips his head back and holds his belly as he chortles. “Mr. Campbell, you’re in luck! I have a penthouse in uptown and a condo on the westside and they’re alright but, if you’re looking for a sound investment, I suggest getting a cabin or three in the Northwest. Best decision I ever made!” he says blithely like there aren’t families and children sleeping in their cars because every apartment building is leased up and the list for voucher programs are thousands long.

Jesus fuck, he did not miss this.

Being a Wayne again means he gets the horrific honor of taking a half-step into the limelight. At first, Bruce wanted to do a full spread. Interviews and press conferences, staged sightings by the paparazzi and several welcoming events. Jason promptly shut him down by threatening to find every copy of his adoption papers and burning them. He’d rather chew off his own arm and beat Bruce with the appendage than do any of that. The compromise? A single gala as a re-introduction then Jason could fade into the background once more. 

So long as you don’t cause a scene, Bruce had said sardonically, knowingly. Bastard.

With the implied threat to his privacy, Jason has smartly decided to be on his best behavior. Even though the simple, black suit he’s wearing feels too tight and too hot. Though his hair is stiff from all the product in it. Despite the shiny leather shoes pinching his toes. No matter the way he feels like everyone is staring at him even if they’re not. 

Sure, quite a few of the guests are surreptitiously staring, thinking they’re oh so clever with the way they side-eye him before quickly looking away. They’re subtle, or so they think. It’s not like everyone is facing him, gazes boring into him. He almost thinks that would be better. At least he’d have a good reason to sneer and dip out scot free. Would it really be a scene if he were to loudly trip coming down the stairs? He’ll feign embarrassment at drawing attention to himself if it means he can back out. 

An elbow bumps into his side, making him jolt. Jason’s head whips around, intending to give whoever has invaded his personal space a thorough tongue lashing until he sees Tim. Calm, cool, collected Tim holding two champagne flutes, one held towards Jason. He’s smiling softly with his head tipped to the side in an unspoken question. The gold and white of his corset vest contrast well with the black of the rest of his suit and make the blue-gray of his eyes pop without washing him out. Tim would look right at home if he were down on the floor swimming with the other sharks. Goddamn him for fitting in so well.

“I’ll back you if you want to leave,” Tim tells him. “Due to your violent bout of diarrhea and uncontrollable gas.”

Snatching the offered glass out of Tim’s hand, Jason drains the entire thing in one go. “I hate you,” he murmurs miserably, only partly meaning it. Then he snags Tim’s own glass and downs that as well. 

A thoughtful frown makes its way onto Tim’s face. “I’d be careful. Getting tipsy won’t actually make this any easier to navigate.”

“Stop talking like you know me.”

Tim shrugs amiably. “I might not know you as well as I’d like to but I know them.” 

He inclines his head towards the dodos guffawing over their latest insider trading power plays and gossiping on whose husband is sleeping with which of the help. Or lamenting on how finicky children can be, not realizing their kids aren’t really the problem because they’re capacity for introspection matches the frigidity of their hearts somewhere below absolute zero. Jason tries very hard to not bite and snarl at Tim since he’s one of the blue bloods. Born and bred for the hoity-toity bullshit with a silver spoon shoved so far down his throat he must’ve been gagging on it. 

Tim isn’t like that and never has been, he reminds himself. In fact, for all the ways Jason had to show Tim how to effectively coupon stack and explain why he microwaves his sponges, Tim is as far removed from the vultures and roaches and leeches they’re surrounded with as he could be given his upbringing. For one, Tim isn’t a total douchebag. Unthinking at times and eccentric, but not outright malicious. He can be surprisingly sweet like when he requests Alfred make one of Jason’s favorite foods when he knows Jason will be coming over for dinner or upgrading Jason’s helmet when his own tech know-how fails him without Jason ever needing to ask. 

The guy is a squishy ball of good intentions wrapped in a deceptively tiny package which has never, not once, held him back from putting dusty, crusty board members and hardened, violent crooks in their place. Once he’d had a chance to actually get to know Tim, Jason found himself feeling grateful. Bruce didn’t concede to just anyone stepping into Jason’s pixie boots. At least he went for the best. 

“If you knew me any better you’d have a key to my apartment and a drawer in my dresser,” Jason drawls, steering the conversation away from the swarm of jewels and silks he wants to pretend doesn’t exist.

“I already have a key to your apartment,” Tim points out. 

Rolling his eyes, Jason stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, but you come over so I can make you buy pizza and kick your ass in Mortal Kombat. Not fucking you into the mattress and making you breakfast in bed after.”

“You never asked, did you?” Tim asks him slyly.

Just about every coherent thought in Jason’s mind fucks off into some deep, dark hole. Leaving him a flustered mess with vague recollections of waking up sticky and wanting. So his witty, top of the line comeback is, “Nope.”

“Eloquent as always,” Tim laughs, patting Jason lightly on the shoulder like he didn’t just break Jason’s brain. “We should get down there before they start chattering about how egregiously anti-social we are.”

All the clamboring what if’s and could be’s get ruthlessly, shamelessly smothered and die a quick and violent end so he can get himself back on task. “I don’t want to,” Jason says petulantly to drive the conversation back to safer, calmer waters.

Now it’s Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. Huffing, he points at Damian to the far left where he’s leaned against a pillar with his arms crossed tightly. “Suck it up. If he can do it, so can you. Now come on.” 

Tim holds out his elbow which Jason bats away with a scowl. He can make his own way down the stairs, thanks. Telling Tim as much, Jason nearly trips over himself when Tim challenges him to put his money where his mouth is. There’s a reason Tim is his favorite because it’s just the thing he needs to unstick his feet and get him moving despite the way his skin prickles the closer they get to the main floor. Although Tim had been joking when he volunteered to escort Jason down, he finds himself wishing he’d taken Tim up on it if only for the grounding comfort of a familiar touch as the smooth soles of his shoes land on the polished floors. 

Graciously, Tim does see him through the crowd to the food tables Jason had been eyeing up. As a kid, they were an oasis. It’s hard for others to talk to you when you’re stuffing your face as fast as you can while chewing as slowly as possible to delay and discourage conversation. Plus, it’s good. A little bland because the chefs have to cater to the tastes of so many, watering down their usual Michelin star flair to a point that probably pains them. But still good in spite of it being pretentious.

Once satisfied Jason can be his own keeper no longer in need of a handler, Tim drifts off. He switches over from the insufferable geek Jason has come to like to the smoothed, glacial veneer of a corporate socialite. The totality of the shift leaves Jason reeling. One thing he’s never understood, no matter how much he puzzled through it and tried to emulate it, is how Bruce and Tim can switch between the two extremes so flawlessly. It’s like trading out coats for them. A flick and a swish then, poof, like magic they’re entirely new people. What that says about their psyches and the inherent fault in their neural wiring is something he shies away from.

Jason tucks in with gusto when an older woman in an inappropriately low cut halter dress and coiffed hair sets her sights on him and starts striding over. With nimble fingers, he loads up the plate his grabs and shoves whatever in his mouth, hoping the age-old trick still works despite being over a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier. 

Score because it totally does. She wrinkles her nose at his puffed out cheeks and actually sniffs haughtily when he chews purposefully with his mouth open. He even smiles, masticated mush on full display, and waves cheekily. The woman redirects her steps to take her closer to where Dick is holding court about twenty yards out. She joins the gaggle of women and men magnetically drawn in by Dick’s natural charm. He doesn't quite fit like Tim and Bruce do but he has his natural personality to make up the difference.

Unlike Jason. Which he has no problem with. He’ll take himself, authentically cynical and caustic and brutally honest, over being a fake fuck any day. 

The bacon wrapped, maple seared figs don’t settle well as more people attempt to approach him. Even for him, there’s only so much he can eat. Rapidly, he’s reaching his limit. The twisting viper pit turning his stomach inside out isn’t helping his appetite either. So far he’s been successful in warding people off but his stomach flips, signaling his need to find a new method to avoid unwanted advances and carelessly hurtful words. 

Setting his plate aside, Jason casts his gaze out across the crowd once more. Being tall does have its advantages. Like being able to pinpoint where exactly the rest of the family is and relatively what they’re up to. Dick is wholly unaccessible with the amount of attention he’s getting. He can keep the center stage, Jason is trying to move behind the curtains. Bruce is similarly front and center with his own gathered horde so that’s a no go even if he thought he could handle it without fisting Bruce’s collar and dunking him into the champagne fountain in the corner. 

Damian is somewhere. It’s a toss up whether Jason just can’t see the shrimp or he’s faded into the shadows to either eerily stare out at the crowd from a corner or making his way towards a Bat bothole to go on an ill-advised patrol. As helpful as it would be to have Cass, she’s no better handling these things than Jason so Stephanie has been guiding her. Her attempts at bumbling but Stephanie is nothing if not determined and relentless. It’s why Jason likes her even though he hates those qualities, a reflection of his own, weaponized against him. Duke, the lucky duck, got to skip.

Then, there’s Tim. He’s making amiable small talk with a couple to Jason’s left. They’re too far for Jason to make out the words but close enough Jason feels comfortable weaving between bodies to reach him. So what if it makes him needy or weak. Everyone has to take a knee from time to time and he doesn’t need anything more than a temporary crutch to get him through the next hour or two before he can leave without causing a fuss. Tim is crutch-shaped. It makes sense. 

Saddling up to Tim’s side, Jason inserts himself into the conversation. The man speaking stutters, words petering out as he looks up, up, up at Jason. Jason flashes what he hopes passes as a polite smile. He’s not sure it works when the guy recoils minutely. The woman, his wife Jason assumes if the three-figure rock on her finger is anything to go by, gives him a flat grimace he assumes is supposed to be a smile.

“Jason, it’s good to see you. Enjoying the party so far?” Tim asks him, voice level and almost serene.

“It’s a blast,” Jason deadpans, bumping his hip into Tim’s as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“It is a fabulous venue,” the woman says. “We were delighted to get the invitation and haven’t been disappointed yet.”

Yet. Goddamn. He forgot just how snippy these people could be. 

“I’ll be sure to pass your praise along to our event planner,” Tim replies so Jason doesn’t immediately make an ass of himself. “By the way, Jason, this is John Anders and Mary Ann Anders. They’re the founders and CEOs of Anders Packaging. Wayne Enterprises is lucky to call them partners.”

“Jason Wayne,” Jason introduces himself. He holds out his hand which John hesitates to take but social norms win out. Jason makes sure to squeeze on the side of too tight and doesn’t stop till John winces. He goes easier on Mary Ann though, maybe he shouldn’t have because she digs her nails into the skin of his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

When Tim’s hip bumps into him, Jason reads it as the warning it is so he backs off. Tim takes back the reins of the conversation to steer them away from Jason himself. The transition back to dull, unassuming chatter is easy when Tim is the one leading. The tension from John drains away as he falls under Tim’s spell. Jason does feel some small amount of respect for Mary Ann as he notes she isn’t as enamored with Tim’s performance as her husband is. She gives Jason a shrewd look as if to say I see you both, I’m watching you and, yeah, he kind of likes her and hates that he does. But she probably hates him right back since she has to like him. Or pretend to.

Jason rises to Mary Ann’s challenge when she narrows her eyes at him. It becomes a game where they both adopt an air of cordial confidence whenever Tim and John are looking. Then they cast it aside for suspicion and mutual distaste when the other two aren’t. It’s kind of fun. If Mary Ann doesn’t think so, sucks to suck. Jason has had an entire lifetime of pissing people off by doing nothing but existing to hone his craft of being a nuisance without lifting a finger.

Tim looks at him askance, drawing Jason away from his silent feud with Mary Ann and back to the conversation. 

“I thought it would be fun,” John laments ruefully.

“You’re adventurous,” Mary Ann says as she pats his arm. 

“I suppose so,” John replies, giving her a small, genuine smile. “I certainly have a better appreciation for remodelers! Doing the kitchen in our summer house? Never again! I was trying to knock out the cabinets with a hammer for ages until Mary Ann grabbed me a crowbar.”

Jason’s blood runs cold. He abandons the game with Mary Ann in favor of racking his mind for a graceful, or graceless if necessary, way to leave. 

The mention of a crowbar sinks its hooks into his mind, making it run syrupy slow. Too slow to slink away before John keeps going. 

“Now that did the trick! It still took me an hour but, whoo, let me tell you. That is a workout,” John laughs. The arm he has around Mary Ann’s waist unwinds and he takes a step back to give himself some more room. Then he’s miming swinging his arm back and forth. High above his shoulder then down and across, grunting from the effort and smiling from the humor of it all. “You have to throw your shoulder into it. Really get into it. It was fun!”

John laughs again but it’s not John. Not to Jason. It’s too high, too loud. The sound echoes in his head and amplifies with every reverberation. He would cover his ears if he knew it would do any good but it’s all in his head. Now would be a good time to leave, decorum be damned. But his feet feel rooted to the spot and every muscle is coiled so tight he’s shaking with it and immobile. Jason's hands start trembling as John keeps going. On and on and on about his skill with a crowbar. Proud of himself for it. 

In horror, Jason watches as John’s smile keeps curving and twisting into a rictus grin so wide it should be splitting his face but it isn’t. The white straight line of his teeth shift and dull to a pale yellow while all the color of his skin drains away to an unnatural white. The charcoal gray of his suit bursts into color Purple and green and red. So much red. John’s hand isn’t empty anymore either. Now he’s swinging a real crowbar with the end of the metal dented from where he used it to shatter Jason’s femur and tailbone. 

Jason watches as John as the Joker pummels Jason as Robin right there on the ballroom floor. A deep dark red spreads out across the ground. Jason as Robin screams and pleads. Snot and blood and a broken jaw making it difficult to form words but he knows what he said. He was calling out for Bruce. But Bruce never came and the pool of blood has spread far enough he’s standing in it and Jason can’t do this anymore - 

He’s off like a shot. All the restless, animalistic panic inside him zips through his veins. His chest heaves with the effort to suck in as much air as possible but it’s never enough. There’s nothing but the jagged, wet sound of him breathing and the pounding beat of his pulse in his temples. Maybe someone is yelling his name, too, but it’s muffled like someone is holding his head underwater. The elite, esteemed guests gawk at him as he flies by and he doesn’t understand why they aren’t in a tizzy about the dirty warehouse they’re in. 

When he reaches the door, it isn’t locked with a winding length of chain. His hands scramble to clutch the knob of the door but it opens easily under his hands. Over the din of the crowd behind him, Jason can hear the tick, tick, ticking of the bomb. But the door leads to another warehouse so he sprints to the next door, hopping over the puddle of blood on the concrete. The next door opens without issue but it leads into a small, black hole. Yawning and bottomless and hungry.

“Get out!” someone commands from close behind him.

On instinct, he lashes out but whoever it is isn’t having it. Their arm smacks into his wrist, redirecting his punch. Then there’s hands on his chest, shoving him back and into the void. He expects to be falling endlessly but his ass crashes into the ground, arms buckling from the way he catches himself to keep from toppling over completely. He hasn’t even completely settled on the floor before the darkness is chased away by a bright cascade of light from above. Shadows lurk in the corners, wriggling and writhing like a mass of worms and maggots. 

“Jason, Jason,” someone says urgently. They try again gently, “Jay.”

“I need you to breathe with me,” they say, tone brooking no argument. It’s all a serious, low tone Jason can hear clearly over the he ha, ha, HA in his head. “You need to follow me. Fuck. Okay, okay. Can I touch you?”

He wants to understand who it is crouching next to him but the black spots dancing across his vision, the blurry edges of it, keep him from piecing it together. A hand encircles his wrist and he tries to twist away from it. They’re strong though. Stronger than he thought they’d be. His hand is planted firmly on a plane of smooth, warm fabric. The fingers around his wrist pop lose and disappear completely so he moves his head up until the pads of his fingers brush against skin. 

Then he latches on and squeezes with his teeth bared and all the higher thinking of a cornered wolf spurring him on. 

“J-Jay,” they choke out. “Alright then. Feel that?” 

They draw in a comically large breath around the pressure Jason is putting on their windpipe. The pulse beneath his fingers is thumping hard and quick but controlled. Up and down their throat presses against his hand. Unconsciously, he finds himself mimicking the movement. His focus narrows down to the rhythmic movement of their throat and the stuttering attempts his chest is making to imitate it. 

“Jay,” they say faintly. 

Jason becomes aware of two things immediately. He’s in a spacious store room. It smells like a hodgepodge of herbs and spices co-mingling into something overpoweringly herbaceous. The smell is enough to tickle his nose. Several overhead lights are shining down on the packed shelves of nonperishables and Jason and Tim. Because Tim is there with him, on his knees in front of Jason with his pants rucked up and jacket rumpled. With Jason’s hand around his throat and the pale skin of his face a worrying shade of red.

Like he’s been burned, Jason’s arm snaps back. The dimples from Jason’s fingers fade, leaving red indents sure to turn a nasty purple later. Tim gasps loudly and pitches forward onto his hands. He coughs and sputters, rubs at the tender skin of his throat. Checking for any cartilage damage, Jason realizes.

He did that.

The thought has Jason leaning to the side and emptying the contents of his stomach. It’s disgusting. Everything he ate earlier comes up for an encore but its decidedly less appetizing this time around. The bitter taste on his tongue makes him gag even after he’s done. All he can smell is bile as shame wells up, threatening to muscle everything else out because he was choking Tim. Fuck the food. They can get more food. If he seriously hurt Tim, they can’t get a new Tim. 

“Why didn’t you stop me,” Jason rasps, clearing his throat and spitting it out onto the rest of the mess. Not like it's salvageable anyway. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

Tim looks up at him sharply. He pushes himself back onto his haunches. Defiance draws his shoulders up and back. Out of them all, Tim has never let him get away with shit. The kid spat in his face even after Jason beat him to a pulp. Never once has Tim backed down from Jason’s misdirected anger or shown fear the times they’ve needed to play fight for the villains intent on pitting them against one another. Dick lets his guilt bleed through too much and lets him be lenient with Jason. In contrast, Bruce is as immovable as Tim but where Tim is kind and even sweet at times, Bruce is a complete and utter asshole.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Tim snarks. 

Jason really hates how little Tim values himself sometimes. Especially given Jason’s own high regard of Tim. 

“Never do that again,” Jason orders, whole body quaking with the aftershocks of his episode. PTSD, one doctor had told him. A normal side-effect of The Life, Jason had privately corrected him.  

“LIke to see you try and stop me,” Tim says, cheeky and sharp with a half cocked grin to match. 

This fucking guy.

“Can I hug you now?” Tim asks with a hint of hostility hiding in his tone. 

Jason can appreciate Tim’s innate ability to understand him and all the ways Jason would outright reject him if he were nicer about it. The contrast to Dick’s antsy need to use touch as a comfort is stark and wonderful. Grumbling, Jason nods his head at the nasty puddle of ick next to him. 

Tim rolls his eyes so hard Jason’s surprised they don’t pop right out of his skull. “Oh, yeah, like I don’t deal with worse on a nightly basis.”

“Touche,” Jason mutters. 

He scoots closer to Tim and away from the gross. His palms stay flat on the ground but Tim shuffles to fit himself against Jason, molding them together as he winds his arms around Jason’s neck. One hand buries itself in Jason’s hair. The nails scratching at his scalp break apart the gel in his hair. It kind of hurts but it keeps him present and helps chase away the jittery feeling in his limbs. The other hand splays across the broad expanse of his shoulders. This close, he has no choice but to follow the rise and fall of Tim’s chest so the quickened pace of his breathing slows to normal. 

Jason’s gut says to push Tim away and maybe even kick him in the jaw for daring to touch him. The impulse dies a quick death as warmth spreads out from his center. It’s soft and sweet and gentle. He presses his face hard into the curve of Tim’s neck and breaths in Tim’s overpriced cologne. Although he’s bigger than Tim, he feels protected like nothing can touch him in this bubble of fragility they’ve created. Finally, finally his mind goes blessedly silent and he settles back into his own skin, not the phantom corpse of a boy who lost more than he ever gained and was cut down before he ever really had a chance. 

Shifting, Jason moves so he can wrap his arms around Tim’s torso and cling tightly to the back of his suit jacket. The ribs of the corset vest flex under his hold. Aside from a quiet grunt, Tim doesn’t say anything. To be a shit, Jason makes them flex again. A warning rumble reverberates from Tim’s chest straight down into Jason’s bones, shaking out the cobwebs of memory and making him puff out a breath through his nose in a parody of a laugh. 

“How do you breathe in this thing?” Jason mumbles into the damp skin of Tim’s neck.

“Force of will and spite,” Tim tells him succinctly. 

“Anything for fashion.”

“More like anything to make Mr. Williams as horrendously uncomfortable as possible after he let slip a couple choice words to me at the last gala.”

“Your commitment to pettiness is unrivaled.”

“Have you met yourself?” Tim accuses him incredulously. 

“I don’t have a commitment to pettiness. I am pettiness.”

The sound of Tim’s easy laughter washes over Jason. He can’t help but to join in even if his own is weak and half hearted at best. Things feel less heavy than they did, less inevitable and better. So much better. Tim still hasn’t let him go and he has no intentions of releasing Tim either. 

With the silence comes the realization of what happened and how it must have looked to everyone else. Jason curls into himself, arms tightening around Tim. In an uncharacteristically small voice, he gives life to his uncertainty and shame. “Everyone saw, didn’t they?” he asks. 

Tim shrugs as much as he can in the vice of Jason’s arms. “You were more subtle than you think you were. Nothing a quick cover of explosive diarrhea won’t fix,” Tim tells him lightly. The callback and absurdity of the idea forces a bark of laughter from Jason. More subdued and serious, Tim adds, “Besides, it doesn’t matter. To hell with them. What matters is that you’re okay and everything else we can fix.”

“Trying to say I can’t be fixed?”

Making an irritated noise, Tim bops his head into Jason’s in chastisement. “I’m saying you don’t need to be fixed. You are who you are and we wouldn’t have it any other way. If it means you need more support, we’re happy to give it but you don’t need to be fixed, Jason.”

“Cool it on the soliloquy, Timberly,” Jason teases so he doesn’t start tearing up. “Ain’t nobody wants to hear your bleeding heart.”

“Charming as always,” Tim sighs, resigned, but he still hasn’t let Jason go.

So Jason smothers the poisonous voice in the back of his head whispering about Tim backing away to leave him cold and bereft, mocking him then relaxes entirely in the safe space Tim carved out for Jason between his arms.

[yanderes-galore]

How do you think platonic yanderes working together between Obi and Satine with one of Satine hand maids reader  (since boi can’t marry her or have kids so their low key adopt reader without them knowing ) please sorry if this doesn’t make sense 

Welp... You're adopted now... Have fun with your new parents. Sorry if characterization seems off, I watched lore and read it the best I can! This is a generalized view.

Yandere! Platonic! Obi-Wan + Satine Kryze with Servant! Darling

(FT. "Uncle"! Anakin Skywalker)

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, "Adoption", Anakin just sort of accepts the role as uncle, Dubious companionship.

You've been around Satine for what feels like forever.

You were appointed as her personal servant years after her first encounter with Obi-Wan.

Despite this, she's still quite in love with the Jedi... Even if such beliefs prevent the two from properly being together.

Your job was often to attend to Satine's needs and help her with political work.

In fact... you're quite acquainted with political work due to her status as Duchess.

Satine is a pacifist who wants the best for her people.

She has the ability to fight, yet she prefers to negotiate when she can.

Satine has always viewed you as the child she could never have for years.

When you first became her handmaid/personal servant... you were merely 15.

Now, it's been 4-5 years since then.

She views you protectively, like a parent ever since you were assigned the role.

Satine likes to ask for your opinion and is quite defensive about you.

Many close to her comment on her attachment to you.

Like a mother to a child.

Such characteristics only become more prominent when Obi-Wan is dispatched to deal with the Death Watch issue.

Due to Satine wanting pacifism for Mandalore, she has been met with opposition.

The planet is typically one known for a violent culture.

Pacifism was bound to create issues.

Which is why Obi-Wan was sent to try and not only protect the Duchess, but clear up the issue.

The two are not very open about their feelings with one another.

But even people like you and Anakin can tell.

Obi-Wan has never met you until this point, until he sees you following Satine around with a worried and stressed expression.

When the Jedi asks the Duchess about this, she explains that you are her personal servant.

Due to how well they know one another... I bet even Obi-Wan can sense the maternal feelings Satine holds towards you.

It... oddly makes him happy despite everything, really.

To talk about this generally... I like the idea of Jedi pairings being very subtle and essentially "adopting" someone they view as a surrogate child.

This could go for any platonic Jedi with their partner....

Yet I like this version of it quite a bit.

Obi-Wan and Satine know they can't actually have children.

They can't even show that they love one another except for some affectionate language.

So... you, Satine's personal servant, is the best the two can get.

The two would be such protective "parents".

You may not even entirely view them as parents, but the two certainly feel that way.

Satine knew you the longest, yet the longer Obi-Wan sticks around Mandalore for Satine, he gets it.

Satine talks about your youth like a mother, and Obi-Wan can't help but feel endearment.

Satine really does care for you, Obi-Wan begins to just for that reason at first.

Yet even as the Jedi gets to know you and sees how Satine coddles you, Obi-Wan can't help but imagine what a family with Satine could've been.

... Actually... Does he have to imagine now?

You may not be related to either of them, but at this point they're going to become your found family.

Even if you aren't entirely aware of it.

The idea of them secretly conditioning you to think of them as your parents is... unnerving yet also amusing.

It's small things, like extra care, protection, support....

Yet they keep it subtle enough for your own mind to fill in the blanks.

The two would be ecstatic if you accidentally called them 'mom' or 'dad'.

Just means what they're doing is working.

You may just be a servant politically...

To them you are so much more.

The first time you start showing signs of falling for their subtle manipulation, I can see Satine tightly hugging you.

Obi-Wan can't be as affectionate, but he is definitely fond.

Although in private with just Satine, I can see him hugging you.

The two are obsessed with the idea of becoming parents in your eyes.

It's a way to show their love.

The situation you're all in is stressful, yet you're constantly with at least one of them and coddled all the same.

Most of the time you aren't even serving anymore.

The two treat you like you're their kid and are insistent on you doing other things than those duties.

Like self-defense....

In public they're even more subtle with their care.

Obi-Wan really shouldn't have any connections like this.

No matter how natural they feel.

Despite this, he can't help but focus on how Satine keeps you so close to her.

You really do have a bond.

Since the two aren't overly violent, they'd just be protective.

Satine is a pacifist and Jedi are mostly meant to be peacemakers.

If anyone's dying... It's because you're threatened.

Many might find this baffling.

You're merely a servant, yet the Duchess and a Jedi are willing to get their hands dirty the moment Death Watch or any other threat points a gun at you.

I feel naturally Anakin may notice and decide to help out, for Obi-Wan's sake.

Obi-Wan and Satine remind him of Padmé.

So imagine if Anakin helped Obi-Wan protect you?

Safe to say, regardless, you are quite protected.

An assassin can't get close without somehow being dispatched.

The attachments the two have with you is endearing... yet may also come off as disturbing.

You appreciate the protection.

Yet it's also overwhelming.

Satine has introduced you to two Jedi that may treat you like a father and uncle.

In fact, when Satine dies and you're left alone, Obi-Wan may break the rules to take you off Mandalore.

You help him remember Satine, and while you can't be a Padawan, I can see Obi-Wan evacuating you to another planet where he can keep an eye on you.

Overall, the idea is cute... if not a bit disturbing and overwhelming for you as the obsession due to all the chaos and manipulation

Although, it does make me wonder about what could happen after Satine's death.

Would Obi-Wan constantly check in with you, even if it's against The Order?

That, and if Anakin views you like a niece, would he be in your life?

Would you get Darth Vader as an uncle?

It's not like he'd kill you... you're no Jedi and by this point, are not a servant anymore.

This one idea opens up so many interesting possibilities...

But those last few ideas are just food for thought.

[ask-campkids-ii]

Welcome To The Meeple Insanity Camp!

Welp… the kids have been begging me to make an account for like 3 hours now so might as well ig :/ -Mephone4

For a small introduction, The Meeple Insanity Camp —or MIcamp for short (it’s pronounced like me-camp)— is an overnight camp for kids grades 3-8 to learn different skills to help them in the wilderness, learn about tech, and socialize and have fun with their peers. Not everyone came though :( -Mepad

Eh, it doesn’t matter! We’re gonna have plenty of fun without them! >:D -Mephone4s

~~~~~

Heya guys! I’m the creator of this au @answithvanzz! Here with more stuff about the blog and au

TW for:

swearing, character death (totally not spoilers), bug imagery, hallucinations (warnings will be added to every post that needs ‘em, these are not all of the warnings)

SUUUUPER short explanation:

My Campkids revolves around the s1-2 contestants as children in the summer between grades 3-8 to grades 4-9 going to summer camp, keep in mind that some of the kids will be ooc, I’m not the best at writing characters (plus they will be different in the au and are based around my hcs)

Where’s the s3 cast?

they do exist in the au, but none of the iii joiners attend MIcamp, and the ones that play a bigger role in the au are just staff

Ships?

prolly not with the kids, even if there were ships between the kids, it would only be between the middle schoolers (like maybe payjay, since they’re both 8th graders in the au)

however Lifering x Tk is canon in the au

Rules for asks:

Nothin’ much, just don’t be weird please ^^

also please don’t expect your questions to be answered immediately, I can only answer when I’m online, and can only make the little arts when I have my ipad

Up for asks: (it’s a long list)

Staff:

Mephone4

Mephone4s

Mepad

Tea Kettle

Lifering

Floory

Campers:

Apple (gr 4-5)

Balloon (gr 4-5)

Baseball (gr 5-6)

Knife (gr 6-7)

Lightbulb (gr 7-8)

Marshmallow (gr 4-5)

Nickel (gr 5-6)

Paintbrush (gr 8-9)

Cheesy (gr 5-6)

Cherries (gr 3-4)

Fan (gr 7-8)

Microphone (gr 6-7)

Soap (gr 5-6)

Suitcase (gr 4-5)

Test Tube (gr 8-9)

Tissues (gr 3-4)

Trophy (gr 6-7)

Yin-Yang (gr 3-4)

Bomb (gr 8-9)

OJ (gr 8-9)

Paper (gr 8-9)

Pepper (gr 7-8)

Pickle (gr 6-7)

Salt (gr 7-8)

Taco (gr 6-7)

[purelyfiction]

A Shot In the Darkest Dark

Benedict Bridgerton x (F) Reader

Summary: An agreement of terms that are not favorable for your future leads to conversations, moments of stiff air and inconsistency, walls and held hope.

Word Count: 2,393 Words

Author’s Note: welp I bet none of y’all saw this coming now did you, i guess you could call this a prologue to irreperable? thanks to the little bird in my inbox for this!! - arranged marriage, tension and fluff, all the fun things

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

You’d just wish they’d cease the deliberations already. The walls of your family home seem to rattle and shake as the booming voice of your father comes from down the hall. Not even an hour prior a letterman had come to the door with a very detailed and lengthy compromise scrawled into the ink. 

It wasn’t unknown to your mother or yourself that your father had been making questionable investments as of late. So much so that he’d begun to fault on payments he’d owed. The moment that he’d understood what the letter was detailing, he ushered you from the room, needing to discuss with your mother what he’d read. 

However, you were not one to be left out of major implications, especially one where you’re not to be in the presence of the employed deliberators. That usually never bode well for you. An ear pressed to the rather light doors allowed you to catch the quick whispers of your name, a debt and a wedding. 

Then your mother had launched onto a defense for your position, which was incredibly brave of her. They were still locked into their counter points to one another when dinner was called. Your mother, flush in the face, can barely look your father in the eye. Meanwhile, he is too busy shoveling the meal on his plate into his mouth to invite a conversation between the three of you. That doesn’t stop you from inciting one. 

“Am I to just be left out of the running? Is there secrecy amongst us?” You knew the response already, it was your attempt at jolting your father into confession.

“Your father is shipping you off to London.” Your mama, always the curt one. Silverware clatters to the table and you meet the eyes of the only man in your life in hopes for an explanation. He fumbles on his words for a few moments before he can finally manage to get out the events that were unfolding. 

“Your mother- I- we have been discussing the manner of our finances. As you know, we are facing a testing set of circumstances and… my partner was kind enough to offer a solution that does not involve a trade of currency.” This partner, however, was the son of his former partner. Your father had been evading this debt for years before the son had come across the missing funds. A conversation last week had revealed the hand that the Amberley house had been facing. The solution? A union of the second eldest son and Lord Amberley’s only child, his daughter - you.

Before you knew it, you were being shipped off to a home in London in order to prepare for a wedding that you had mere days to come to terms with. Stood in a shop with a French woman who wouldn’t dare say more than four words to you with your mother and soon-to-be mother in law in the room, you’re questioning exactly what you’re being greeted with. 

At the very least, your new husband’s mother was a rare gemstone to be found. The woman had greeted you at the shop, by name, with a host of gifts for you and your mother (which was less than anticipated, considering you were approaching with very little to offer on your end) and then began to launch into tales of her family. A very large family, in fact, with children she was immensely proud of, fiercely dedicated to and overly enamored with. It did not come to be ungenuine though, not in the manner of people attempting to piece together some falsity in hopes to cushion their luck. No, no, Violet beamed as she spoke of her eldest daughter, now a duchess, her first grandchild - how she would be certain that her next one would have a great father on their side. Seeing that their father would be your husband. 

Kind, charming, educated and brilliant, she said. Devoted to studying his passion for artistry and poetry, well versed in the society standards while also being an entertaining chap. There wasn’t a poor thing mentioned in terms of this gentleman. Even when the older women had slid out for a breath of air, the modiste mentioned how incredibly stunning the family was, including your groom. 

Over dinner that night, you’d meet your fiance. Not a soul that had spoken of him had been exaggerating. Benedict Bridgerton was exactly as he’d been acclaimed to be. He graciously made his introductions to you and soon after made you chuckle with the comment he’d made under his breath. As you waited for the dinner hour to approach, he guided you around his family’s home. 

“This home is so very far removed from what it once was. See, Daphne, Francesca and Elosie all used to share their quarters with one another when they were younger, as there were only three designated spaces in the home and well, my parents were rather the love birds, it would seem.” You could not fault yourself for the way you grinned at his stories. They continued as you approached his own quarters, littered with canvas and paint jars, the smell of turpentine overwhelmingly hitting your nostrils. 

“I’d assume that you’d like children of your own? Your mother spoke very highly of your characteristics that would aide you in fatherhood.” His chin tucks over his shoulder in your direction, facing out the three panels of glass in the middle of his room. 

“I do not believe that is… solely my decision to make, Ms. Amberley.” Feet stay planted despite their wish to step back in sheer surprise. 

“Implying that you might forgo raising your own children? You speak so highly of your nephew, not to mention your siblings-” 

“That is the furthest thing from what I am implying.” He cuts you off a moment, a swift apology leaving him for doing so. “What I am implying is such that- it is a discussion I wish to involve my wife in.” The manner in which he speaks it is solemn. Benedict’s feet come to a chair, where he settles for a moment, looking anywhere but the direction in which you stand. 

“You wished to marry for love, did you not?” Your question catches him by surprise, leaving his eyes training forward to engage with yours. 

“Well, I certainly did not anticipate my marriage to be a settlement for my father’s books. Not ever did I prepare for such a thing.” Slowly, you draw near, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Nor did I.” The pale color of his irises come up in your direction, moving in time with his hand which takes yours. 

“I am sorry that I have stripped you of the opportunity, Ms.” Your brows furrow as you shake your head. 

“No, do not fret with such things Mr. Bridgerton. The choices have been made, there is no value in dwelling on matters we cannot manage by our own volitions.” The way his facial expression softened at your reassurance let you know that Benedict would always be compassionate toward you. If not as your husband, as your friend. 

In three days time, the fanfare of the ceremony and following celebrations arrived just as you had in the glimmering showcase that was the carriage that the Bridgertons owned. The chapel was adorned in the most wonderful arrangements of flowers and foliage you’d ever seen. Coming from a countryside village there were countless items you’d never seen prior to today. The vivid colored flowers in your field of view being one of them, the intricate weaving pattern of your gown another, the ornate and sizeable stones on your neck being the final thing. 

Benedict had insisted that you borrow the jewels from his mother’s collection. If you were not to have the spouse you desired, he was determined to make the rest of the day match the expectations you had conjured in your mind. He had been sincere in the conversations regarding your nuptials, even more so on making you as comfortable as possible. 

The ceremony was rather quaint. It consisted of both your families, the extended and the near, a few family friends on your groom’s side. Your father did not work efficiently enough to keep very many friends. It would seem your luck would change as your last name did. 

Benedict had taken it upon himself to write his own vows, something he mentioned he had hoped to do one day in brief conversations leading up to the event. 

“My darling. I fear as though we embark on one of the most uncertain paths that the Lord provides for us in this life. For that is what He does, after all. He surrounds us with the light of the sun, the life of the botanicals that grow below us, the coursing of the rivers at our side, the family that resides behind us. He provides us with the fruits of His plans he intends for us. He provided me with the gracious woman that is you. As rushed and incredibly daunting as this may be for the two of us,” Benedict’s hand slid into yours, beginning to play with the gemstone soldered to the metal looping around your ring finger, “I pray that it is enduring. That it is kind. That it is joyous, prosperous and pleasant. That the days that result from our union be filled with contentment and merriment, from now and until our souls come to join Him.” 

They were beautiful. So meticulously crafted, and well intended as the two of you began the vow of spending the remainder of your lives with one another. 

Frequently they chase through your mind these days, walking around the home that Violet had insisted you take upon yourselves. The walls of books, the windows of light that brought you breathtaking familiarity of the countryside you’d grown to love - the dedicated quarters that Benedict had aided you in decorating to your every whim. 

The brunette had done every service to aid in your comfort with the marriage enacted. Beautiful gowns from the latest fashions, halls and gardens to lose your time into, countless hobby pools to pick from in waning afternoons, there was no shortage of effort from your husband. 

Your conversations were always well mannered, filled with little details of your past lives, stories of friends and siblings, rumors and fairytales from youth. Routines were built between the two of you, including that every three nights, Benedict would sit with you and read the words of the material you’d chosen to you. 

Tonight was one of those nights. Benedict lounges out on the chaise, jacket long gone, supple adorned vest and matching kerchief around his neck loosened from the days works. His words are joined with the chirp of evening sounds from a cracked window to aid in the circulation of the house. Your hands stay busy with a needlepoint project. The characters he speaks of are discussing the name of the child that’s been born. You implore your thoughts forward. 

“Ben?” His head shifts to look from the parchment and toward you at the use of his name. It was a name that his mother never used, nor his siblings rarely. Perhaps it was just you that had coined this shortened version of the Christian name he’d been given. “Do you suppose we should discuss children?” Blue eyes return to the page in front of him. Given the timeline since your wedding, it was not an unjustified question. You were aware that should the next time you return to London, his mother would be rushing up to you like a hunting dog, ready to drag the kill in from the woods to show off to the ton. 

“Do you wish to discuss it?” His eyes barely glaze over you before he slides a ribbon into the split of the book, covers coming together, the book leaving a hefty sigh on the table next to him upon contact. 

“I worry that it will be questioned the next time we are seen. We have not entirely been honest with one another over the subject.” There were plenty of things that hadn’t been honest in terms of your marriage the last few months. How Benedict and yourself had their own sleeping arrangements. That you saw each other maybe once or twice a day at mealtimes, save for the nights where it was explicitly discussed you’d be joining the other in leisure times. 

Benedict has grown quiet, which is a very odd state for the husband you have come to know the last weeks. This time, you set your own busywork aside, keeping your eyes toward him as he rests in contemplation. 

“I wish to have children of my own. Though, I know the process is… taxing on a woman,” the pillow under his head shifts to look your direction, eyes finally coming to meet with one another for a rare occurrence. They do not avert in quick fashion either. The admittance of a family was something you dwelled on with semi-frequent behaviors. After all, one can only do so much knitting of babe-wear before picturing the scene for themselves. You dwell in the wonder of it all as you keep each other held without touching either one of you. 

Would they look like their father? Behave like him? With the amused twinkle in their eye when a jest is made, a twist of words, stories with outlandish accents and impossible daydreams… would it be so horrible? To wake in the night with a small babe as they cry out for their mother, held in the warmth of her breast, comforted by her scent. You ached for such a life, one you were cheated of the moment the emerald slid to your hand. A very heavy hand that seems to burden you daily. 

“My wife.” Benedict’s voice comes to the room, echoing off of bound paper and golden embellishment on the walls. You tilt your head with a soft grin.

“I am sure we will come to an agreement some day, husband.” There is no need to linger on the unfortunate uncertainties between the two of you. The dark would linger where it rests, those that lived in its shadows subject to whatever hid among it. 

Even the ugliest and most ferocious truths.

[speckle-meow-meow]

Reader was taken kidnapped by Wally and taken to his world. But what Wally didn't expect is that all the other characters would start to remember memories with the reader as a child and discover the truth of their colorful world.

( Now it's up to you to decide what will happen! Will they help the reader get back to the real world or will they become so attached to the reader that it would help Wally keep them there with them FOREVER. )

Aww fuck anon you gave MEE control over an ending.... WELP LET'S SEE HOW THIS GOES BABY!!

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏'~

'Welcome home' was your favorite cartoon growing up, it was so bright and colorful something most children love.

One of your favorite things about the show was the characters talking to you.

One in particular was Wally darling. The resident artist.

He taught you to draw and paint.

Eventually years rolled by and the show shut down, but Wally and his friends remained. Their franchise and lives were left to surf the web, being uncovered and then forgotten by so many people.

But Wally's friends didn't mind because everytime someone would close their tabs, they would immediately forget who or what they were talking about and immediately go do something else.

But Wally. Wally would always remember. He remembered every child. Every adult. And every pet that he and his neighbors have seen.

And one special neighbor that he would never forget was 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

As the minutes passed with you scrolling through social media you discovered a website that was trying to somehow restore 'Welcome home'

You went to the website and saw the many people (puppets) that you grew up with.

You remember your mother recording some -if not all- the episodes of 'Welcome home's that aired. So you went to your attic and dig them up

You watched them all

And eventually Wally noticed you and remembered you...

His little neighbor all grown up

His bestest friend

He had to bring you into his world he couldn't lose you

Not again.

So that's what he did...

Now moving on to some of the characters povs of the situation:

Wally: obviously since Wally brought you here he'd never want to let you go, he wouldn't change his mind especially with homes influence

Frank: when you arrived in welcome home Frank was the first out of all puppets to gain memories of you, at first he'd be extatic to know that his little student was back. But he soon realized that it wasn't right to keep you here so he'd help you to leave.

Barnaby: Barnaby is the third to remember you because of how much fun you, Wally, and him had. Barnaby would try to help you escape but only a little bit since Wally keeps very close tabs on him.

Howdy: now our darling little Catapillar is another who would help you leave, he knows his morals and would risk it all to help his favorite employee.

Julie: now Julie is smart but dense at the same time, shes very excited to have another neighbor that she wouldn't even notice that you don't belong here. She's just glad to have her hair buddy back, so she probably wouldnt be a big help, but maybe just maybe if you were able to convince her (maybe with Franks help) you could get her on your side!

Poppy: poppy the worrywart of the crew she definitely remembers you, she would remember when you'd be covered in flour helping her bake. Due to how much of a worrywart she is she'd definitely keep you in their world so you don't get hurt so probably not the best person to go for help, but she is the nicest so if you arnt able to leave you can go to her and she'd comfort you.

Sally: Sally like Julie is very excited to have you back, she's not dense she knows your not from here but she's so excited to have someone else help her in the plays and what not, but like Julie you can probably talk her into helping you escape

And last but certainly not least Eddie: he's very Forgetful and also some what delusional. He wouldn't let you go, he wants to keep you there! He remembered you after a couple of days and remembers how much fun you both had!

Wally keeps all of his friends under a close watch some more than others, and home helps as well... Home probably influences Wally to do the things he does.

The best move is to gain wallys trust to go outside. The sad thing is, is that when you leave he always has an eye and ear out for you at all times. You'd probably have to talk to the others using notes, Wally can't see through others eyes nor can he see inside their houses so that's the best chance you'd have at escaping

𝐒𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫... 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐦𝐦𝐦?

𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐲

𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐲

𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐞

𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

𝐎𝐫

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲?

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠~ 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐦~...

{Thank you anon for requesting this! It was a joy to write. Sorry if it doesn't have everything or quite the ending you were expecting or just no ending at all I kinda went wild with this one! But as always hearts and reblogs are always welcomed along with questions, requests, and comments!!}

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Someone uses the spell that turns them into an animal for a day. What are they and how do they react?

Undertale Sans - He's a blobfish. Welp. That happened. He can't really do anything about it. He's just... there. Strangely, though, he thinks it's not that bad. He's even a little sad when he has to go back to his normal form. It was an experience.

Undertale Papyrus - He's a goose. He's even more loud now, and scaring everyone around. To help Undyne realize he's Papyrus, he actually picks up a knife, to show her he's civilized. Undyne takes that as a threat and now Papyrus is running for his life, screaming, terrified she's going to roast him or something.

Underswap Sans - He's a sloth. He's so frustrated about this. He wants to do things, he really wants to! But everything is just... SLOW. SO SLOW. He wants to scream, run, and jump everywhere but just moving an arm is killing him. He's not going to survive. Please someone save him!

Underswap Papyrus - He's a Tenessee Fainting Goat. You know, these goats who faint at any source of stress? Welp. That doesn't change too much from usual. Except now Blue is having the fun of his life scaring the hell out of him just to watch him fall over, paralyzed. That's actually not funny :( He doesn't like it.

Underfell Sans - He's a very pissed-off hippopotamus. He can't think clearly anymore, all he knows is that he's angry and that he feels like he has to charge anything moving too close. He sent a lot of people to the hospital that day, including his brother and Undyne, then the King and the Queen they called in despair for help to control him. Red is the strongest monster ever created like that. But, as soon as he's returning to normal, he's in big trouble.

Underfell Papyrus - He's a shoebill. He has an angry face, he can makes gun noises with his mouth and he can stare right through your soul for hours. Everyone hates that. At least, it's fitting. Edge feels so powerful. He made three kids cry already and he intends to make many more run in fear before the end of the day.

Horrortale Sans - He's a big round panda. He doesn't know what to do with his body and won't stop knocking on everything in the house, despite Willow begging him to go outside. He just wants to curl up somewhere and sleep but he's just so big that nothing is comfortable. After some time, desperate, he goes outside and grabs a terrified cow to make a pillow.

Horrortale Papyrus - At this point, he thinks the universe hates him. He's a giraffe. Somehow, he's even taller than a normal giraffe. Obviously, since he can't hide because of his size, he got captured and pushed into a zoo, where an old giraffe matriarch didn't stop to parade to breed with him. He prefers to not talk about all of this anymore. Worst day of his life, he even got fined in the morning for entering the giraffe enclosure without any authorization, despite him screaming he was the giraffe all along. Hard day.

Swapfell Sans - He's a peacock. He was fine with it until Rus harassed him to fan his tail again and again and start making random people pay to enter HIS house to see him parade and take pictures. He's not against easy money, but he knows he won't see the color of that money and that's basically abusing his situation. So, after two hours, Nox decides he has enough and starts attacking the children, making them run in fear and terror. Once they're all gone, he attacks his brother lol. Rus has to hide in a tree to escape him. Nox waits for him silently on the floor, staring into his soul.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's an elephant seal... His nose is way too big and he can't do anything except rolling on himself and be loud to complain about the situation. He's too big to fit into the house, but he transformed there. He's literally stuck in the bathtub as Nox threw him there with blue magic to get him out of the way. He's splashing water pathetically, waiting for this nightmare to end.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He's a llama. He's mad. And he won't stop spitting at anyone really. Unfortunately, Coffee saw you can ride lamas on Minecraft and now they're wandering in the city because Wine can't say no to his brother, and certainly not like that. A police officer asks Coffee to put him on a muzzle because he's too dangerous and bite three people in the park who tried to touch him lol. Wine can't believe Coffee agreed. He feels so humiliated.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He's a fly.... Wine is so scare he might die he locks him in a jar for the day. Poor Coffee is flying in circles all day long, bored. It's not like he can even say he's bored so... Eventually, he falls asleep and spends the rest of the day. The only problem is that his foot stays stuck inside the jar when he grows up again and he has to go to the hospital to take it off lol.

[17ghostsinatrenchcoat]

Into post

Hello yall

My name is Alivia, you can call me ghost, ghostsy, Aron, mark, Chris, you can actually call me whatever name you like

Im 14 so im a minor

Any pronouns, we will mostly use she/they

Panromantic

Somewhere on the aroace spectrum

Gender apathetic

(Dni: hate systems, hate furries and therians, pedos, zoophile)

I have undiagnosed autism, ADHD, OCD, BPD, DID, so I’m sorry if I can be a little much at times

I am a system, my headmates are: Mod (me, main one, usually fronting), Ghost (fronts online, loves RP), Teeth (that son of a bitch I hate him SO MUCH, yells a lot, tries to fight and kill anything that bugs him, usually fighting with goyal), Goyal (I love her so much, loves to sing along and dance to songs, try’s to front when music is on, very precious, fights with teeth so he doesn’t murder anyone), tick (not entirely sure who they are or where they came from, gives me weird inspiration for art with strange meanings, they don’t talk, when they front they do very detailed art with weird meanings)

It’s rare well sign off but If I sign off with them it will be:

Mod-normal (this basically)

Ghost- also normal or blue

Teeth- 🦷

Goyal- goyal

Tick- ticker

James- James

Im a animator, writer, and artist

Y’all can talk to me about random stuff, I won’t mind

I am totally fine with swearing

I’ll post my art once in a while

I am very weird get used to it

Fandoms I’m in: gravity falls, amphibia, the owl house, Steven universe, TADC

Oh and I LOVE to role play, lots of fun

My moots: @river-billcipherfan , @libbworl , @chaos-triangle, @buggz-owlz

Welp that’s all bai yall

Here are some story’s I wrote⬇️