#whatever. it's just on the long list of things i think could magically fix me

[carp-esh-ove-lem]

aro but still managed to care about someone else too much in a way that isn't mutual

[rook-apologist]

"First Aid"

Pairing: Lace Harding x Warden Rook (He/Him) Word Count: 722 Prelude: Rook is attempting to bandage himself after a recent encounter with a group of Darkspawn, but is having a hard time doing it one-handed. Harding offers to help, but her newfound abilities complicate things. -----------------------------

The sun hung low over the Hossberg Wetlands, casting a muted golden light that reflected off the dark pools of stagnant water scattered across the terrain. The battle was over, the Darkspawn defeated, but the toll it had taken on Rook was evident. He sat on a fallen log, his left arm trembling as he fumbled with a roll of bandages. Blood seeped through the tear in his sleeve, the gash deep and jagged from a Hurlock's blade.

Lace Harding approached quietly, her boots squelching softly in the mud. She knelt down beside him, her green eyes flickering with concern…and something else. A faint, magical blue glow danced at the edges of her irises, a telltale sign of the Titan's magic coursing through her veins.

“Let me help,” she said softly, reaching for the bandages in his hands.

Rook hesitated, glancing at her glowing eyes and the faint shimmer of power that seemed to radiate from her fingertips. “You sure that’s a good idea? I’d rather not add lyrium poisoning to my list of problems today.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll be careful. Just... stop moving around so much. You’re making it worse.”

He smirked faintly but did as she asked and rested his arm on his knee. Harding carefully unrolled the bandage and leaned in, furrowing her brow as she focused on the wound.

Her fingers hovered just above his skin, trembling slightly as she worked to avoid direct contact. Normally precise and steady just as an archer should be, her hands betrayed the tension she felt. Rook winced as she tightened the first loop of the bandage, but he bit back any complaint, knowing that Lace was doing her best.

“You’re glowing again,” he teased lightly, nodding toward her eyes.

Harding shot him a sharp look, though her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “Not helping.”

“Sorry,” he said, though the grin tugging at his lips suggested he wasn’t entirely sincere.

She sighed, securing another layer of the bandage around his arm. “It’s not funny, Rook. I hate this…having to tiptoe around my own magic like it’s some kind of curse. I can’t even touch you without worrying I’ll hurt you.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and Rook’s grin faded. He could see the frustration and longing in her eyes, the way she yearned to reach out to him, to heal him, but was held back by forces beyond her control.

“Lace,” he said gently, his voice low. “Look at me.”

She didn’t at first, her focus locked on the bandage as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Lace,” he repeated, softer this time.

Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I shouldn’t joke about it. I know how hard this is for you. But you’re doing great, okay? You’re helping me more than you think.”

She swallowed hard, frustratingly blinking back tears. “I just... I want to fix this. Fix you. But I can’t even—”

Before she could finish, Rook reached into the pack at his feet and pulled out a clean strip of cloth. Holding it carefully, he lifted it to her cheek, using it as a barrier between his fingers and her skin.

“See?” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “There’s always a way.”

She froze as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek through the cloth. The touch was light, almost fleeting, but it was enough to bring a tear to the corner of her eye.

“We’ll figure this out,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “I promise. Whatever it takes, I’ll help you learn to control it. Remember what I told you back in Rivain. You’re not in this alone, Lace.”

Her lips trembled and she nodded, as a small shaky smile broke through her frustration. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin returning. “But you love it.”

She laughed softly, the sound a balm to the tension that had been building between them. As she finished tying off the bandage, her hands steadied, and the glow in her eyes softened.

The battle might have left them battered. But in that moment, surrounded by the stillness of the wetlands and each other’s presence, they both found a measure of peace ----------------------------- Hope y'all liked this one! I should (hopefully) be receiving my Ao3 invitation tomorrow and already have some more things locked and loaded for when it goes live!

[countrymusiclover]

1 - Two Different Princes

Part 2

A Wolf Among Dragons

Tag list ( just ask to be added ) @tallrock35 @kmc1989 @starkleila @noirrose21-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea @immyowndefender

Author note - if I am getting anything wrong about Daemon or Aemond's characters please let me know how I can fix it for later chapters

At the age of ten and seven I was sent to King's Landing to get used to living my forever life with the King's brother who was to be my husband in the coming days. I wasn’t a fool who was going to believe that love would come from this arrangement. For he was much older than I was and had much more freedom. I thought wrong to my somewhat delight.

“Where are we going, Daemon?” I questioned once he had snuck down to my chambers and awoken me from my sleep.

He insisted that he must show me something that second. He was dressed in an all black cloak with the hood over his easily recognizable Targaryen white hair. “Just wait a minute and you’ll find out. Honestly I never thought you’d be this curious.”

“Simply because I was born a woman I’m told what things I am allowed to know and what I’m not.”

Daemon kept one hand around my forearm leading me out into a large pit like room with many torches lit to provide light in the room. “You’ll not be able to not do something when we’re wed. Just as long as you don't go against your new family. Does that sound like a good arrangement to you, little wolf?”

“Yes, my prince.” He squeezed my arm a little harshly, making me wince but I saw a smirk crossing his face once I had addressed him by his royal title meaning he liked it.

Daemon moved a few steps closer before I saw something coming to us in the light coming off the torch he was carrying in his other hand. “Drakari pykiros, tikummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa , Saelot vaedis, hen nuha eleni, perzyssy vestretis, se gelyn irudaks, anogrose. Perzyo udryssi eztmptos laehossi, harossa letagon, aot vaedan, Hae merot gieruli se haros bartossi, prumysa sovili. ( Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing, from my voice, the fires have spoken and the price has been paid. With blood magic, with words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing as one we gather and with three heads we shall fly as we were destined ).”

“By all the gods and new.” I sharply gasped, hanging my mouth open in shock seeing a large dragon head appear above us.

Daemon gazed down at me then briefly at his dragon. “His name is Caraxes and he’s my dragon.”

Caraxes intensely stared down at me and Daemon but by some miracle I wasn’t afraid around the large creature. Especially when I had Daemon beside me, although if he didn’t want to marry me he could very well kill me right now and no one would know. “So what do you think of him-“

I cut him off mid sentence, crashing my lips up onto his letting whatever excitement I was feeling take complete control over me. He leans his body against my chest deepening the kiss and I couldn’t resist doing the same after I had wrapped my arms around his neck.

Daemon finally was the one to break the very heated kiss between two people who weren’t yet married so if anyone had seen it would be found indecent. “Daemon - forgive me , my prince. I shouldn’t have done that.” Looking into his purple eyes I knew I had messed up and done something I shouldn’t have.

“Oohhh Lehna you and I are going to have so much fun together.” He cupped my face in his hands, crashing his lips down onto mine with the same passion I had moments ago.

“Visenya, get back here!” I called out for my six year old daughter who was running so fast ahead of me I wasn't too sure I'd ever catch up with her.

She stuck her tongue out at me looking over her shoulder before rounding the corner and I heard her bump into someone and objects falling onto the stone floor. “Catch me, momma - ow!”

“Are you hurt - Prince Aemond!” I gasped finding her being helped off the ground by the youngest son of Alicent Hightower who had married King Viserys after the death of his former wife Aemma years after I had spent a majority of my life inside the Red Keep.

The current queen had produced two boys and one girl in that time while I had produced two at one time. Daemon’s son Caraxes, named after his loyal dragon, was always attached to his father’s side if he could help it. “You don’t need to be so startled, my lady. The young girl merely slipped on my sword is all. No harm to either of us.”

“Gods be good then. I must apologize again, my prince. We were simply playing tag and she got further away from me than I originally intended.” I gave him a curtsy knowing my place as the wife of Prince Daemon was no more. Meaning I needed to address the young man correctly before.

Aemond rose up from the floor scooping up my daughter with her white hair and my brown eyes into his arms walking up to me slowly. “She’s a little beauty just like her mother.”

“Thank you, my prince.” I smiled, taking her from his arms where he noticed a blade holder on the side of my hip that was hidden underneath one of the layers of my dress.

“Do you carry a sword, my lady?”

Nodding my head slowly, yes I simply answered his question. “I do. My husband saw no reason why I couldn’t be allowed to be taught most things most men think are beneath them or something they can’t comprehend like we’re dumb.”

“You are rather intriguing, lady Lehna.” Aemond smirked back at me.

I blushed uncontrollably. “Thank you, my prince.”

“Call me Aemond. It shall make the conversation much easier between us.”

Visenya laid her head on the crook of my neck, getting bored of our conversation. “Momma, I’m sleepy.” She rubbed her closed eyes with her tiny hands yawning.

“I should be getting her to bed, my pri - Aemond.”

Aemond tilted his head to the side suggesting an alternative option rather than letting our conversation end here and now. “Perhaps we could keep talking after you put her down for a nap. If your husband doesn’t need you, hmm.”

“I don’t have any other obligations at the moment. Walk with me and we can keep talking.” I gestured my head over my shoulder back in the direction of my shared chambers with Daemon.

Aemond raised up a hand forward before we began our walk back where I had previously come from. “After you, lady Lehna.” I wasn’t sure what was going to come of this yet I had no desire to see him leave while Daemon was down in the streets leading the Citywatch of Gold Cloaks.

[changingplumbob]

Glenn: SILVER!

Glenn woke with a start, yelling the name of his partner instinctively. Silver who had been in the bathroom raced back in to the bedroom where Glenn was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Silver: What's wrong? Are you in pain from the baby?

Glenn: No, I just had a bad dream and wanted to know where you were

Silver: *smiles* Right here Babycakes. But maybe try not to sound like you're dying next time you just want to find me? I might end up turning on my way to find you and giving guests a shock

Glenn: Right, werewolf things

Silver: Do you think you'll be able to sit still long enough for a relaxing bath? I can draw it for you

Glenn agreed and Silver went to go fix it for him. Glenn loved his showers but since the move he'd started having regular baths as well. He enjoyed the luxury and comfort but mainly he wanted to give Silver something to do. Glenn was carrying their child and Silver often confided to him that he felt useless. So whether it was accepting an extra bath or help making dinner, he obliged.

Silver's guilt at not being the one to become pregnant had dissipated. After all they both wanted kids and if one of them could carry them it would be the easiest solution. Silver knew Glenn understood the risks of pregnancy, he felt he had the bravest guy in the world. Of course he had asked Glenn to marry him, after seeking Howard's blessing. The spellcaster however insisted on waiting claiming he would not be immortalised in wedding photos pregnant.

They had moved to the big house in Glimmerbrook a few days after they discovered they were expecting. There were four bedrooms upstairs, and a large yard that Glenn had already begun planting in. It was the biggest option on their list of possible homes but hey, if Glenn had already gotten pregnant once he might be able to get pregnant again. Phoebus still hadn't been able to find out exactly how it happened, claiming it would have to be unknown magic for a while.

It had taken a few weeks for the twins to... source all the parts Miranda needed for her imaging machine. But once it was up and running she had brought it to them and given Glenn what could only be described as a magical ultrasound, complete with zoom and... Silver couldn't remember the word for it but it let them see their growing kid.

Glenn walked in to the kitchen, sad and uncomfortable. Silver stopped what he was doing and went over to give him a massage. Was he being overbearing? Maybe. But Glenn was growing their baby, he deserved anything and everything Silver could do for him.

Silver: You going to tell me what the bad dream was about

Glenn: Who said I- oh I did say that...

Silver: Was it about the kid again

Glenn: Yeah I guess. I just feel terrible about it Beefcake. Like maybe my brain doesn't love them

Silver: You know you love them. Come have some food, it'll cheer you up

Glenn grabbed a bowl of fruit salad and headed towards the table. The bad dreams hadn't started right away but as he'd headed into what they figured must be the second trimester, based on the size of the fetus. It was at that point that imaging could usually tell if you were having a boy or a girl. Their kid... well it wasn't so clear.

Drusilla had taken some blood samples to study, although it had taken several days for Phoebus to convince Glenn and Silver it was in their best interests. Drusilla threw themselves into the analysis but the problem was... the kids DNA didn't seem to be stable. Half the time their results showed the couple were expecting a girl, and the other half it showed they were expecting a boy. Miranda's imaging was clear on one thing though, there was only one baby growing inside Glenn.

Silver: Babycakes you know whatever they might be, we're going to love them right

Glenn: I do know, I just... will anyone else

Silver: What do you mean

Glenn: When they're here and they grow up they're going to be unique. One of a kind. What if... what if people are afraid of them

Silver: Humans are afraid of occults anyway. Look, they're going to have us. And the most annoying gang of aunt and uncle spellcasters. Plus pibling if you still insist on Drusilla being part of the extended family

Glenn: Of course they are! They stole my hair colour that one time but I've recovered fine

Silver: Your call

Glenn: I guess I just worry about them having kids their own age to talk to and play with

Silver: This is one of the reasons we chose Glimmerbrook right? Large spellcaster population even if they don't live out in the open. I'm sure some other magical kids will turn up

Glenn: I hope so. Okay, enough doom and gloom. Exercise time

Silver didn't like that Glenn still insisted on running but the spellcaster wanted to stay as in shape as possible during the pregnancy. Before they parted ways outside Silver embraced Glenn and kissed him in the rain.

Previous ... Next

[writerfae]

Christmas movie au Advent Calendar 🎄

Day Twenty-Three:🌠ChristmasCard🌠

Christmas special tag list: @bunnymermaidsblog @deadlycupid @dustylovelyrun @ladywithalamp @sleepy-night-child @theguywithnonickname

The rest of the day was nothing but a blur to him, like looking through a frozen window.

He remembered calling his father.

He remembered his father scolding him like he was a little child and demanding for him to come home immediately.

He said he would.

And he remembered Halea, calling him afterwards, worried because of the way his voice sounded when he had talked to his father.

“Oh Talon, I’m so sorry. What are you gonna do now?”

“Leave.”

He didn’t say come home, because it didn’t feel right.

“You heard father, he wants me to come back and will send someone else to do the deal.”

“And you want to just let that happen?”

“No. No, I don’t. But I have no idea how to get Mr. Ashwood to change his mind and build his project somewhere else.”

“And Aiden? You said you’re in love with him. You can’t just give up like that. It will only make you unhappy.”

“Aiden doesn’t want to see me anymore. I’m not gonna mess up his life even more by staying.”

Halea didn’t seem persuaded.

And if Talon was quite honest to himself, neither was he.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to fix this thing with Aiden.

If he didn’t want him back, if he couldn’t have him, Talon at least wanted to help him.

He would’ve bought the farm grounds himself if it wasn’t for Mr. Ashwood, if only it meant Aiden and his family could stay there.

It’s not like he couldn’t afford that, technically, he still had the money Kieran inherited him and that wasn’t a small amount.

But he knew how unrealistically high the guy’s offer was, more than the grounds were worth, if he was quite honest.

He’d have to get him out of the way to even have a chance.

But how?

Maybe he would find a way to do it when he was back home, his father wouldn’t send another one of his workers until at least January.

He at least had to try, that’s what he owed Aiden.

He missed him.

He missed him so much, even though it’s only been a day.

It was nice outside, fresh snow had fallen over night and the view from his window looked like the picture on a Christmas postcard.

But it all had lost its magic to Talon.

Seeing all that snow only suffocated him now and he turned away, facing the room instead.

It was a mess.

His coat still lay on the floor by the door, where Talon had left it. His bed was unmade, his open suitcase lay on top of it, his stuff strewn around the room.

He sighed, starting to collect the clothes that were lying around.

His car would be ready soon (he had to bring it to the mechanic because it stood around unmoved for so long it had not one but two flat tires. Talon found that quite symbolic and fitting to the overall situation of his life) and he had already told Greta that he’d leave earlier than planned, so once he had packed it was time to go.

He didn’t want to leave, really, he didn’t.

His heart was revolting against his mind, against the rational part of Talon, who said that staying had no use.

Whatever it was he had with Aiden was over now, Aiden didn’t want him in his life anymore.

And he didn’t manage to fulfill his initial goal in this town anyway (not that he’d ever wanted to do it ever since he got to know the people here).

So it was only logical to leave.

And Talon was nothing if not logical.

Even if it hurt.

His view fell on something inside of the suitcase.

The green sweater with the red and white nordic pattern was neatly folded and tucked away safely in a corner.

Talon couldn’t tell why he brought uncle Kieran’s sweater here with him in the first place.

He hadn’t worn it in years, had almost forgotten about it over the time.

When he had packed for his trip and noticed the sweater in the very corner of his wardrobe, he had put it in his suitcase without thinking about it much.

And now there it was. Reminding Talon of the comfort it always used to bring him, years ago.

After hesitating for only a moment, he grabbed the sweater and unwrapped the book he had wrapped inside of it, carefully placing it on the bed.

He pulled the shirt he currently wore over his head and put on his uncle’s sweater instead.

With a mixture of shock and awe did he notice that he had grown into it. It always used to be too big on him, the sleeves almost reaching his fingertips, but not anymore.

His mother used to say how similar Talon looked to his uncle. Looking in the mirror now, he could see it, too.

The book he had put to the side slipped from the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thud that made Talon wince.

He bend down to put it away, when he noticed that something had fallen out of it.

Talon picked it up, examining it. It was a postcard.

There was a Christmas motif on it of a Santa carrying a Christmas tree before the background of a snowy forest.

A little corny, but still pretty.

Talon stood abruptly.

Not just because the Santa in this postcard looked awfully familiar (he dismissed this one as imagination) but because he registered what he was holding there.

This was the Christmas postcard he got from his uncle, the one he gifted him on their very last Christmas together. The one he never had the heart to read.

He almost dropped the postcard, so fast did he turn it around.

On the back, written in his uncle's neat handwriting, stood his usual Christmas greeting and under it the message he had left Talon, his last words of advice for him.

Always follow your heart.

Tears gathered in his eyes again. Talon was surprised he still had any left.

He ran a hand over the words of his uncle. They sounded just like him. It made Talon smile.

His eyes locked on the red scarf that lay next to his suitcase, carefully folded together.

He hadn’t been sure if he should keep it or let Greta give it back to Aiden.

So it lay next to his suitcase all day, untouched.

Waiting.

On top of it rested the little reindeer figure Aiden had gifted him, gently bedded on the soft red fabric of the scarf.

Talon couldn’t help but stare at it, a thousand thoughts running through his heads.

Thoughts of Aiden, of their time together.

“You said you’re in love with him. You can’t just give up like that.”

“The frost can only make us shiver if we let it in.”

“Always follow your heart.”

Stay. His heart screamed. Fight.

Stay. Stay. Stay.

He carefully put the postcard down and reached for the reindeer figure instead, gently swiping a finger over the little piece of art.

If he’d leave now, he’d never be able to look at it again.

It reminded him of Aiden in so many ways.

Like that time when they saw an actual reindeer at the…

Talon’s thoughts came to a halt abruptly.

The reindeers. Of course. How didn’t he realize sooner?

“A wild reindeer,” Aiden had told him back then. “A bunch of them live here on our property.”

It may not have been birds, but still… this was worth a try.

Maybe, maybe it could work.

This way he could at least help Aiden’s family.

Clutching the reindeer figure in his one hand, he grabbed for his phone with the other, dialing the number of his best friend.

“Halea, I need you to help me…”

[miriadalia]

Things I wanna see in Cobra Kai S6 part 2

Since I'm on a Cobra Kai streak since they dropped the new photos, I want to make a list of things I wish to see in part 2. And then check if they become true 🙏🏻 (I'm writing this before they drop the trailer)

Feel free to add whatever you want <3

Alright, HAJIME!!

1. Kwon's backstory and character development

I don't want him to be a 2D villain. Every character until now has had at least some internal conflict and reasons behind their behaviour (even bullies like Kyler), so please, PLEASE, give the guy an interesting background. If we have to tolerate Daniel and Johnny love-hate every season, I want my little Kdrama too 😂

Also, if they're going to add even more secondary characters (who, according to the leaks, will be kind of villains too), I need them to focus on Kwon first.

2. Tory defending herself from whatever BS the Miyagi Do's will tell her

Yes, she's not well at all after her mother's death and yes, Cobra Kai isn't the way to heal from her wounds... But if I hear one of them getting angry at her or calling her a traitor when none of them went after her, I'll be kicking 540s in my room................

I would also love to watch her train in Korea with the new team, giving Kim a "TAKE THAT B*TCH, who wouldn't have lasted one minute in your dojang back home??" (In season 5 Kim told that to Tory and Devon) and watch her training her hardest and truly fighting and earning her position as captain, not to appear magically in Barcelona as sensei Kreese's pet ('cause I don't think neither Kwon nor Yoon will like that).

They can even do this as flashbacks before each round of the tournament. But... I'm kind of losing hope on this because of the producers' comments. I write it here just in case :(

3. Johnny being a real father to Robby

I understand his main interest is defeating Cobra Kai, especially now that they know Kreese is back. But Robby will need him more than anyone during this tournament: the poor boy has the pression of being the team captain in a televised international competition, he needs to win the Sekai Taikai because that's the only way he could be offered a better future after being in juvie for so long, his girlfriend (ex?) has been MIA only to appear with their nemesis' team........

I've seen an interview where Xolo said Miguel's going to be Robby's main support during part 2. And while I like that, I still feel that, for once in his life, Johnny should step up and put the son he abandoned for so many years first. That would be his REAL redemption arc, more than being sensei for his own version of Cobra Kai.

4. Demetri and Hawk fixing their problems FAST

I understand them both, but their argument seems like the typical post-high school crisis where you have to separate yourself from your lifelong friends because (surprise!) each one wants and must follow their own path and dreams.

So for me it's alright if they solve this with just one conversation after winning together some round during the Sekai Taikai. I don't need something like one of them DYING or ending up in the hospital (though that's probably what will happen to Demetri seeing the X-men-mutants they've chosen as their rivals........).

In short, for me the character arcs of Hawk and Demetri are already complete and do not need more drama. They can become secondary characters, although I love both actors and I'll miss them so much :')

5. Bring back #MiguelSeason 1!!!!

I don't think there's anyone who doesn't want this to be honest haha. But in my case what I mean is I want the concentration and power he had back then, not him playing dirty or seriously injuring someone.

I want FULL POWER Miguel, the ultimate version of this young fighter we saw growing each season, using every style he's learned and making it his own.

And who knows, I won't be mad if he wins after all, but that only if Robby gets an awesome final character arc.

6. Sam and Tory supporting each other even if enemies on the tatami

These girls have already apologised to each other and now Sam understands Tory's situation and mental state without any judgement, so I want Tory to find selfless support in Sam and to learn how to confide in her.

And I want Sam to fully embrace Mr.Miyagi's teachings of forgiveness, balance and strength.

And what better way to do it than by applying them to your former arch-nemesis?

EXTRA POINTS if they fight together against Zara or any other enemy!

7. Silver NOT coming back in this second part...

At least until the end of the last episode.

We have villains already. We have NEW characters (villains?) already. And as much as I like chaos and drama, I don't think it will be easy to follow a story where everyone is against Miyagi Do lol

They can save him for the finale.

... Plus I just can't stand that dude :'), I prefer Kreese as an antagonist all the way.

8. Sassy arguments, teenage drama and funny scenes

I already read that part 2 is gonna be very action-oriented. But Cobra Kai is much more than amazing stunts and choreographies (which I love, don't get me wrong). I just don't want them to forget the potential of having a hotel and a sports park full of troublesome teenagers, with even more troublesome senseis.

They're participating in a hard competition abroad, but that doesn't mean they can't have some comedy scenes here and there like the ones they have in the Valley.

Idk, you have a Korean dude with an anime-looking hair and an American dude with a freaking American flag in his mohawk!!!!! Someone has to make at least a comment about that.

9. The characters eating Spanish food or trying to speak Spanish

This one is personal hahaha

I grew up in Spain so I need to watch them tasting a tortilla or trying to buy something and getting scolded by a Spanish "abuela" (grandma).

BONUS POINTS if Johnny Lawrence drinks the typical beer from there (Estrella Galicia). (Know this won't happen as it would be free advertising haha).

10. Amanda and Carmen being the queens they are, finally happy and in peace as every karate freak (including their respective husbands) are booked and busy at the other side of the world

[pursuitseternal]

“Mine for Eternity” ⚜️Chapter 5 of “A Night with the Ascendant”⚜️

Ascended Astarion x OC (Lumina) | E | 3.9K

🎨 by @nyx-knox

Summary: Lumina’s true nature won’t keep her enemy from picking a fight. Fortunately Brides aren’t without their Sires for long…

CW: Jealous female antagonist, Possessive Astarion, flashbacks to the Rite, mentions of Astarion’s past abuse, mentions of OC’s past abuse [there’s smut I swear], body worship, cunnilingus, possessive romantic missionary

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

“What… did you say?”

Lumina’s head spun, her world narrowing down to a single word as she was still in her restraints.

That word… Bride… it sliced into her, cutting through vague notions and guesses to pierce into her heart and soul.

Setting down the cup on the bedside, Morana glared and her tail twitched, irascible and annoyed. “Don’t play games with me. You won’t win. There is no one who has served Lord Astarion longer, no one who knows him better. I was there in the aftermath two centuries ago when the Netherbrain fell. I was his first spawn, at his side through… everything,” she hissed the final word.

Her dark eyes glinted with hatred; what once lingered beneath the surface of her cool exterior seethed over.

And it made Lumina nervous. Bride or not, she didn’t know any of her strengths, aside from also being able to daywalk. But her quick mind rattled down a list of things she should be strong enough to do…. Could she beat Morana in a fight? Perhaps if she were well fed. Maybe she could compel Morana? Unlikely. If only Astarion was here…

She thought of him, the feeling of his skin, the smell of his musk, the glint in his eyes and on his fangs…

A tremor raced down her spine. Something hard and magical.

Whatever it was. It wasn’t enough to save her. Lumina tugged at her bindings, feeling more like prey in this Tiefling’s presence than she ever did with their Master. Even the way her tail twitched was predatory, stalking closer and closer.

“It’s good he’s seeing fit to keep you chained in his bed. I would hate to think what might befall you if you crossed paths with any of the Spawn now… You would probably have a dozen sets of fangs in your flesh, just to catch a taste of the Master from your skin.”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Lumina barked, finally finding purchase to sit up on her heels. “You know that the Master does as he wills.”

The Master… the mere thought of Astarion seemed to tug some tether inside her. Like ripples in the water, it pulsed out from her mind.

And something… someone… pulsed in reply.

“And it seems all he’s doing is you,” Morana sneered, her pointed teeth glinting in the firelight. “It’s not fair to the rest of us.”

Lumina’s stomach churned. “No it’s not, but it’s not my fault, nor is it anything I have the power to fix…”

“A convenient excuse from the one who has gained… everything,” she snapped. Closing in, her tail wagged back and forth, predacious, assessing. “If I could kill you…”

“Mor…” that rich, honeyed voice purred, instantly sending shivers down Lumina’s spine. Astarion entered on silent feet, his brows canted, quizzical and amused as he assessed his oldest Spawn. “Tut, tut, you should know better by now not to be so insolent.” One long, elegant finger wagged in the air between them, and instantly the Tiefling cowed, horned head bowing, tail tucked between her legs.

Sufficiently pleased with her submission, he crossed to the bed, the chain on Lumina’s hands unlocking and falling useless with a mere brush of his touch. Astarion reached behind him, fetching the chalice of blood and offering it to Lumina. His Bride struggled to sit, trying to tuck her legs under her without exposing her naked lower half to both of their gazes.

“If there a reason you strayed up here, Morana?” Astarion’s question sliced through the heavy silence. “Need something… or did you just miss me?” He leveled a wicked glare at his Spawn, her dark blue skin turning to gooseflesh under his gaze.

Lumina’s stomach curled at the malice… even if it was protective. Protective of her. She busied herself from the awkward tension by burying her face in her cup. The second she smelled the liquid inside, her heart skipped an undead beat.

His. Again.

A flicker passed between them before she drank. That same rich rush of power, of his very essence and presence invaded her. From her stomach to her veins, he was inside her, and with that brief flash of fang-toothed smile, she suspected he felt it too.

“My lord,” Morana began to speak, “you should know your other devoted servants are…”

He leveled his gaze at her, waving his hand in dismissal. I have much more pressing matters. The rest of my children know that what I do for this city and my own needs come before any of theirs.”

Her tail twitched dangerously fast. “So you leave us locked away to wander your halls once the sun has set like prisoners?” Her nostrils flared, fists clenching at her side. “Like slaves…”

“Careful,” Astarion bit, instantly rigid at the single word. “You are far from being slaves. Even now, your so-called torment is a far cry from what I endured for centuries,” he snared, spit flying as he spoke forcefully and deep. His hands fisted at his side, long nails digging into his own flesh.

Morana just shook her head. “You’ve changed from those first days when I was your only Spawn. You were magnificent and ruthless and hungry. Your companions cowered at your Ascension. They wouldn’t recognize you now, this limp excuse for the Ascendant with his Bride in his bed and a dungeon of Spawn. Thank the gods they are all dead so they can’t see you become just like Caz—”

Astarion leapt to his feet, hand reaching for the Tiefling’s dark blue horn. “Silence!” he bellowed, yanking her roughly. “You dare speak of him? After all that you know and have seen?”

He was monstrous and feral, every muscle in his neck strained, the sinews of his hands popping against his pale skin and whitening his knuckles as he gripped his Spawn by the horn. Fangs glinted, eyes glowed scarlet, and down their bond, Lumina felt every bit of rage and bloodlust that coursed in his veins. Closing her eyes, Lumina pushed deeper, images flashing from his memory to hers.

She could see it all from two-hundred years ago…

Glowing scars on his back as fear gripped his heart, frozen by infernal magic by his old Master…. Faces in the distances of beloved friends fighting to free him until… She watched it all unfold. Some decrepit man lay at his feet, glowing red eyes glazed with fear and disbelief, black hair scraggled as his blood pooled over Astarion’s hands, a strange dagger clutched tightly. A matching set of ruins in his old Master’s back, and suddenly all she felt was the memory of her love’s victory, the thrill and relief and freedom that came as scarlet light bathed his world and infernal power burst through his body.

In a blink, the memory passed, but it was enough to push her own emotions back in reply.

She countered that blinding bloodlust with something she wondered if he would even recognize…

Pity.

Compassion.

Love.

His hand instantly eased, sending Morana flailing backwards, almost landing on her tail. “My lord,” she growled, her pointed teeth snapping as she collected herself.

“Leave me,” he hissed, turning his back on her abruptly. Head hanging, he even avoided Lumina’s look of concern.

But Morana only glared harder, tilting her head and aiming her dark glinting gaze right at where Lumina still perched on the bed.

“I said… leave!” he snarled, rounding once more, drawn to his full height and eyes blazing. Invisible tendrils of his influence crept up her spine. Her back stiffened visibly as he compelled her. “Leave, Morana. And tell the others they may venture into the city tonight, a special treat so long as they behave themselves.” I raised his finger, wagging it as he stared her down. “But not you. For your insolence, for dredging up memories that you have no right to, you will remain here in the palace.”

The Tiefling bowed her head slightly, her dark blue skin shining with sweat as she suppressed her anger. One last deadly glare at Lumina and she disappeared.

The moment the door shut, Astarion’s shoulders bowed under some great, invisible weight. His hands ran through those long, unruly curls, tugging them back from his gaunt face in desperation. Hands clasped together, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Not yet. Not when he knew so much of who he once was had flooded from his mind into hers.

It was a strange mix of embarrassment, of vulnerability… and, if he was honest, relief. It helped not having to tell that tale again, not again after so much time, after all of his companions now mouldered in the ground. Gone to their gods.

He could feel her sharp gaze on his back, could sense her concern and curiosity wafting in waves from her heart down their bond. A bond she was now aware about, he realized. “So you know what you are?” His voice was heavy, amused and burdened in equal measure.

“Your Bride,” she whispered. “Morana told me,” Lumina dared to reply, creeping closer beside him. Her black tunic now pulled down over the little pert curve of her ass.

“Morana opens her mouth far too much, thinking that information and ambition carry greater value than… than feelings, than intimacy.” Astarion turned, wrinkles lining the corners of his eyes as he winced. It was a look that bespoke guilt, that signified he felt responsible for her ambitious desires.

Lumina scoffs, “Clearly she knows much about you from before…. You and your companions…”

He bristled, muscles straining in his neck as he craned forward. “What did you see?” His question was pointed, his tone tense.

Lumina closed her eyes, summoning the images and emotions from that fateful day. The day of his Ascension. “You felt so… free. So vindicated and avenged… I could taste blood in the air…”

“What did you see?” he repeated.

“Everything. Your companions, I saw them all as they fought to free you from your Master’s power. I know them from the pages of history, the Blade of Frontiers, the Wizard of Waterdeep, the Daughter of Darkness. They all cared… so much.”

A wave of grief down their bond stole her breath as he cradled her cheek and brought her closer. The contact made her eyes flash open. “What else?” he whispered more in her mind than outloud.

A shaky breath, she leaned into his palm. “I heard it all, the words of the Rite, the screams of the Spawn, the scent of your old Master’s blood…”

Images of that haunting face— of glowing eyes and cruel smiles and long black hair shook her to her core. The barest flicker of hatred filled her mind, and she could almost feel the blade of a knife carving the intricate lines and whorls in her own back as the memory barreled through her.

“Stop,” she sobbed, not even realizing the depth of suffering she had shouldered. Her red eyes looked into his, brimming with tears. “I… I can’t believe you suffered so much. No wonder you wanted to hear him scream and send his soul to eternal torment. He was… horrible to you. Wicked.”

Astarion smirked, trying to hide all that unsettled him behind that desirous mask. “Am I not a little bit of a wicked master to you, my Bride?”

Lumina shook her head. “Morana couldn’t be more wrong… you weren’t evil and blind for ambition. You were… afraid. You were denied blood and power for so long. You stared down total annihilation under the Absolute. One sacrifice, and you called down revenge on your Master, received power to destroy the army of your enemy and satisfy your hunger forever.” She met his intense gaze. “I would have done the same. I wish I still could…”

Eyes flickered down to her lips, then lower to the v cut of his shirt still on her body, resting finally where its hem stopped just at the top of her thighs. “That is why I made you mine, my Bride. You and I are not so different after all. Being with you makes… makes me feel that same belonging I once shared before all… this.” He gestured to the walls around him. “After my Ascension, no one understood. I was a monster in everyone’s eyes, power hungry and wicked. So a monster I became. That was the man Morana thought I was. Only a few of my old… companions still looked at me with the understanding of who I was and what I had endured.”

His thoughts wandered to places he had long thought buried, the rush of memories stopping his now beating heart.

The cool touch of a hand pulled him back to reality, her fingers stroked his cheek. And for the first time, she breathed his first name. No titles, no fawning. Just her light voice whispering, “Astarion.”

Not for centuries had he felt so vulnerable. But then again, not for centuries had he been this close to someone… someone he could call special.

Someone he could call his Bride.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lumina shifted closer. “What does that mean for me, now that I am a Bride?”

“Not just any Bride, my sweet,” he turns, the full intensity of his gaze boring into her. “My Bride, the Bride of the Vampire Ascendant.” He inhales her scent, a little hint of rosewater yet on her skin beneath the lingering musk of sex. “There is none like you, and there never will be again.”

Lumina grinned shyly to herself, glancing out the window into the night sky. “So, the strength, the heightened senses, the day walking… how else have you corrupted me?” she taunts him, a glowing light in her eyes.

“Corrupt? Tch, hardly darling.” His fingers press under her chin, drawing her closer and closer until she was lost in the crimson of his gaze and the warm wash of his breath. “You are beautiful, and you will be beautiful forever. You will be swifter, stronger, even more of force to be reckoned with,” his voice dripped with pride, tantalizingly sweet like spun sugar. “My heart beats in your breast, my blood flows in your very veins. I have remade you in my image and likeness.” That tender touch drew her lips to his, her skin warmed with the flush of his power and life from the blood she had drunk. “You were made to kneel in worship at my feet. Make no mistake,” he rasped, voice thickened with lust and something darker, “you are made to be my servant, and I…” He trailed off, angling back to lock her in his gaze, “I am now made to be yours.”

The mattress rose as he slid from it, his lean, corded body nestling between her thighs. He knelt for her, the Vampire Ascendant groveling at his Bride’s feet. Warm and reverent, his touch guided her to the edge of the bed, one hand pulling the black silk of his own stolen shirt from her lithe, pale torso. Hungry, possessive, his eyes locked on her pert breasts, the perfect height for him. A lick on his lips, and he leaned in, a thumb teasing one nipple to pebble-like hardness while his mouth sucked and swirled the other. “Mine,” he growled, the pink flesh of her nipple gently pinched between his teeth. “Mine for eternity,” another rumbling claim tickled her flesh before he sank his fangs deep into that sensitive mound.

A cry tore through her throat, lanced with pain at first, a sharpness that quickly melted as he suckled from her. His tongue worked the blood from the bite marks, his mouth devouring her nipple until it couldn’t harden more. Mewling, she clutched into the shoulder-length tendrils of his hair. Gathering them in her hands, she dared to do something, an impudent grin on her face…

…she yanked him off her by the hair. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips, a wild light in his eyes as he knelt between her thighs. “What do you wish for me to do, my lady?” he purred, supplication coloring each syllable.

Lumina’s gut dropped to her knees, his ruinous body pressed against her thighs and her cunt, his skilled, dexterous fingers teased the skin of her back in ways that stopped her undead heart. He was… hers—her Sire, and she was his Bride. “M-Master…” she stuttered, only to have the word stifled on the tip of her tongue by his lips.

“Right now, you are my Mistress, my Bride, and I am here to please,” the words are grounded out, thick with lust. The depth of his need for her smacks into her chest, a wave of pure desire down their bond. With the next breath, those lips and tongue dive for her cunt as he spreads her out. Wet slurps, husky growls, she can almost hear the sounds of his pleasure inside her chest. It’s all she can do to hold on to the long strands of his silver curls lest they be caught in the onslaught of his pleasure.

Pitiful and indulgent whines poured out of her throat. Her nails dig into his scalp, woven through his long thick curls. Scoring their touch up her thighs, his fingers dragged their heat higher until he gripped into her ass firmly, pulling her flush against his face as he ate. The bed beneath was soaked, spit and arousal dampening it. Ruining it. But Lumina only laughed, reveling in the mess he was making of her. Sweat gathered on her brow, her mouth watering and eyes tearing as her orgasm coiled in her belly.

“M…M… Mas…”

He pulled away, cum stuck in strands on his face as he bared his teeth. “Say it,” he ground out. “Say my name, not my title, Little Light.”

Her breasts heaved as she looked down at him, heart pounding against her ribs. “Astarion,” she breathed, his name a beautiful incantation on her lips.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, crawling to cover her on the bed with predatory grace, each movement of his arms, his legs, calculated to push her down and spread her open. “Say it again,” his voice scoring like gravel in his throat. “Say my name once more…”

Lumina bit her bottom lip, entranced as she watched one hand free his beautiful cock from the band of his trousers. She could feel the dark delight twisting his lips as he gave his length a few teasing, lazy pumps. Gripping her leg, he lifted it up, resting it on his shoulder, his cock gliding in effortlessly. Soaked for him, she sighed his name as he lowered his body, his mouth brushing hers with teasing kisses, coaxing the sounds and words from her mouth he so desired.

His name peeled out from her lips over and over again, the syllables of his name each filled with longing and devotion… with love. He would devour every sound she made, lips and tongue and fangs dancing with every movement of her mouth. He swallowed every sigh, consumed each moan. Gods, did he feel… alive. Bound to another soul in ways he had not felt for centuries.

Every undulation of his hips drew her closer, every rock of her body in his arms united them heart and soul until there would be no delineation. No separation.

Only her absorbed into his very being, and him lost in the depths of her love.

“Come for me, my Bride,” he gave a husky, low growl against her lips, her breath ragged as she struggled for air. “Tell me, show me how satisfied I make you feel…” One more thrust to bottom out inside her, and she screamed, her spine curling into his chest, her fangs sinking into her own lips with the force of her climax.

He wanted to fight the pull of his own orgasm, wanted to keep himself on the edge until he made her unravel over and over again, but she was too warm. Too tight.

Too all consuming as her walls fluttered and squeezed his cock.

A groan tore from his throat as he slammed into her, haphazardly and forceful. A swallowed snarl, and he spilled into her, shuddering as his cock twitched pump after pump of his cum until he was spent. Hungry, aching, he captured her bleeding lips, licking and suckling her essence as it welled from her wounds. “Perfect,” he crooned as he sucked, “you deserve every good thing I can grant you, my love. We’ll have a party, a ball, a grand affair to show the realms the woman at my side.” He pulled back, pinning that adoring and intense stare on her flushing face. Cheeks flushed from his blood in her belly, skin glistened with sweat and blood drops, all the marks of his possession. “The world will stir to behold your beauty.”

Lumina bit her swollen lip, eyes lowered in coyness. “My lord, I’m just an urchin… a servant and slave, I don’t need…”

Warm fingers clutched around her chin, his strength pinching her flesh as the force of his emotions flooded into her heart.

“Nonsense,” he purred, outwardly controlled as inwardly he bristled in annoyance at her lack of self worth. “You know my past now, you should know origins do not define greatness.” His gaze roamed over the gentle curves of her face and her bright, attentive eyes. “You are my Consort, my Queen, my Bride. All will hail you as such.”

One little blonde brow arched wryly. “Even Morana?” A tone of twisted delight, of victory, echoed in her words.

“Of course,” Astarion preened, thumb tracing the blush on her cheek. “So long as she is my Spawn, she will obey me. She can do you no harm, no matter what pretentious, ambitious drivel she spouts.”

Lumina fell into an uneasy silence as he pulled out from her, resting his head on the pillow of her breast. His voice became a drone in the background of her thoughts, his need to share every idea that crossed his mind about the details of her ball would not abate. He just wouldn’t stop discussing every little thought of his; for a man who proclaimed himself as a poor planner, he certainly held many varied opinions on food and decor and music and dress.

It was just din as her mind spun, meaningless words she nodded along to as her own thoughts consumed her. Thoughts she kept deep in her heart, in the shadows of her own past. She guarded them from him, those past visions of her own suffering and torture as a slave. Despite the warm, comforting weight of his body nestled on hers, the ghosts of lashings and burns, of cruel hands and lascivious patrons seemed to crawl over her flesh.

As Astarion nodded off into a peaceful trance in her arms, Lumina kept vigil, mulling over his past and hers.

She turned it over in her mind again and again… until she knew one more thing would need to be done for her to finally feel worthy of his love and the incomparable value he put on her worthless existence.

Same as him, she would find freedom, she would have blood…

Revenge, she could do.

A/N: Who hates Morana? And who thinks alumina is about to get into heaps of trouble?

Also, what kind of wife/bride would she be if she didn’t pretend to listen to her husband as he went on and on about something 😅

[abubblingcandle]

For the Whumptober ask game, how about

7/11

(Does the UK have 7/11s? The joke might not work as well for you if you don’t lololol)

Thank you darlin!! We don't have 7/11s but I have been in them in different countries so I know what they are 💕💕💕

This is from my Whumptober ask game (send me a number between 1-31 and I'll give you some info and a snippet from that fic) which I am still accepting numbers for!

Day 7 - Magic with a Cost - Star Player in a Twisted Game

In my head I am referring to this as Jamie Tartt Gets Christmas Carol-ed 😂 During the Zava period Jamie wishes that he never came back to Richmond one night when he's struggling with no one caring about the team and being alienated as he won't join the Zava Personality Cult. He wakes up in his house but it's owned by someone else and no one can see him. Imaginary Simon guides him through the impact he has had on other people and what his life would be like if he hadn't made that decision

“Hey Jam Tartt.” Jamie pulled his head up from his knees and blinked sluggishly as he came back into his body. As the mist clears, the light navy blue suede sambas come into focus at the bottom of long, chinos clad legs. Jamie knew those shoes. He had bought them, and then the first time he had come home and seen them there was already a little stain on the toe cap that had never been cleaned. “You seem a little shook up there duck?” Jamie followed the legs up and let out a choked whine of relief at Simon’s soft smile looking down at him. The piercing electric light of the Nelson Road corridor cast an abrasive halo around his head, he was an angel sent to save Jamie from whatever hellscape he had got himself trapped in. This wasn’t real and Simon was here to fix it for him.

Day 11 - "Leave no trace behind, like you didn't even exist" - Counting Up My Karma Ch1

This one is ... well it's a a lot for poor Jamie. About six months ago I was lamenting that I had 49 ideas on my WIP list and so threw out the net to the whump crew for another idea to make it a round 50 ... and not going to lie, we cooked. The initial idea came from @jamiesfootball and it is based around Jamie arriving to Richmond after Ted and when the team has started to buy into the Lasso Way. Which leaves Jamie in a horrible position of being "needed" but not being the star and he's getting contrasting instructions from all sides. There's no winning. Plus he was Rebecca's attempt at unwitting sabotage and so gets gaslit into thinking he is cursed as she tries to get him to flip and ruin the team spirit. I saw this prompt and just had to dust it off for this!

“You must be Jamie Tartt!” Jamie is startled out of his grinning stare at Roy’s departing not as quickly as he used to be able to back by a chipper exclamation behind him. “Fucking yeah, good to be recognised by a fan,” Jamie replies with a scoff before turning and finding himself face to face with the one player he hoped he wouldn’t be seeing today. “Oh I am a fan,” Dani Rojas beams, shuffling his crutches into one hand to over his right hand out for Jamie to take. “Hey, good to hear yeah mate. Sorry bout the knee,” Jamie stumbles over his words. He still remembers it. Ferran had brushed Jamie off when he pointed out that wouldn’t it be super awkward to loan out a replacement for an injured player from the team that injured him but he had been laughed out of the office and told to go pack his shit. Stevie wasn’t the cleanest player on the best of days but to his credit he got the ball and there was nothing in the sliding contact with Rojas. If Jamie was feeling particularly Sky Blue he would point out that Dani could have easily avoided the contact but that didn’t seem like the right thing to say when the lad’s warm hand was pressed in his. The sound when his knee hit the turf, you didn’t need a pitchside microphone to pick that up. “Oh there is no worries Jamie Tartt. It was an accident and it wasn’t even you that committed the tackle. I would be a fool to blame you for the wills of the universe,” Dani shrugged. Jamie nodded tentatively, managing to free his hand from Dani’s with more force than he thought would be required.

[momolady]

Things Not Yet Written

Here is the list of things I want to write that may inspire commission ideas or even inspire you to write something in general!

First off, I re-read Himley the Mad Hatter recently, and I have been filled with this deep, horrible desire to go back and make it better. The bones are there in the story, but it is jumbled, wordy, and I know I could do such a character justice. I want to rewrite it so bad. This may be the top of my list of projects I want to do.

It was brought to my attention the story of Bray was never fully closed. I would like to both rewrite his first chapter and continue it.

The Minotaur clan in the Ruby Empire was once a huge idea for me, but it had to fall to the wayside. Claudio was the only one I got to talk about from that neck of the Ruby Empire wood, and I would like to go back and visit it.

Most of the Ruby Empire needs to be retconned and rewritten, but no one could afford o fix that mess, so moving on.

I need to finish the Levi rewrite now that I'm on it.

I also wouldn't mind revisiting my first monster story, the Strawberry monster. 

This one was an ask on Tumblr: "A homeless girl arrives at Hearthway Hollow with only but her  guitar and optimism to make money, not knowing about the traditions or  even knowing about the werewolves." 

A former magical girl who supposedly died but has been turned into a cyborg, whose power over music is now a powerful mind control power. That's all I've got, just a character.

Anothe tumble ask: "a goblin thinks he is getting catfished, after an online friend finally sent the first picture of herself." The idea of this sounds so fun, could be any monster. Coudl give me the chance to build a monster dating app.

I've been rewatching Star Trek TNG and Data has been giving me thoughts. So maybe something along the lines of the android and a companion.

A former royal concubine runs away, rather than spend her life serving others. Near death, she's rescued by a man (orc, minotaur, whatever) and his dog. But he lives high in the mountains and supplies are low as is. She agrees to use her skills to keep him company through the long, dark winter until spring thaws the mountain and she can cross the Cobra Strait. 

A short, spitfire thief breaks into the house of a supposedly single woman who is a shut in. The house appears in disrepair and the woman has surprisingly nice things, even if things are cluttered and stacked around. But the thief is caught by the woman, who is quite taller than him. She kidnaps him and keeps him in prisoner in her home where she reveals herself to be a vampire disillusioned with immortality and has been sustaining herself off critters who get into her house. The short thief is just the latest.

Speaking of height difference couples! A short statured fire demon finds himself smitten with one of the ice giant women.

A monster wins a date with the camgirl he admires.

A red riding hood retelling. I'm shocked I've not done that before.

An attempt to clone a powerful, ancient creature results in a monster that seeks revenge on the people who have been keeping them captve and used for experiments. To exact revenge, the monster kidnaps the head scientist's daughter, intending to turn her against her family and humans in general.

I reread Thilo last night and I want to rewrite it. If only for the fact the reader character seemed a bit...predatory. 

finish Misinformed! I think i need a couple of chapters to finish the story as it is before i do a rough draft rewrite.

An older woman reconnects with the orc she fell in love with. When Obresh was rescued by the Orcs her family decided to move rather than be ruled by the orcs, separating her from the orc she had fallen in love with. Decades later, she returns to Obresh and finds her former love. The two reconnect and finish what they started.

A halfling monster Hunter gets more than he bargained for when he comes into contact with two powerful and warring vampires.

[curiositymemes]

MISTER MAGIC SENTENCE STARTERS : PART TWO.

taken from the 2023 novel by kiersten white. trigger warnings for unreality, trauma, religion, and cults. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.

“what do we say about crying?”

“you had a lot of nightmares.”

“at least i don’t snore?”

“i wouldn’t mess with her / him / them.”

“that was really kind. thank you.”

“it’s just what i was supposed to do all along.”

“why do you have it?”

“don’t you remember— no, i guess you don’t.”

“please take this as kindly as possible, but what the hell does that mean?”

“i forgot what a dork you can be.”

“only you could make me do this. you’re as pushy as ever.”

“is this what prom was like?”

“i hate missing free food.”

“we just have to wait a little longer. you’ll see.”

“we could go be beautiful somewhere else, instead.”

“or your ass is mine.”

“what is she / is he / are they doing here? i can’t deal with her / him / them, not right now. not ever.” 

“you know how important tonight is to me.” 

“i’ve worked a long time for this.”

“take me with you. i can’t do this alone.”

“wasn’t it the best?”

“i’ve lived here my whole life.”

“angels were everywhere, if you knew how to recognize them. if you knew how to make a deal.”

“suffer the children, you know.”

“not everything needs a reboot.”

“go home and cry joylessly into your still-in-the-box transformers.” 

“someone’s got to compensate for my terrible influence in his life / her life / your life / their lives.”

“lol delaware isn’t a real place.”

“what is all this talk of killing and death?”

“you’re here now, and you’re going to fix it. you’re going to make it right. you owe us that much, don’t you?”

“i don’t like to think about what happened; the pieces don’t make sense.”

“guess i was wrong about not needing to sneak in our own booze. luckily, i’m always prepared.”

“please don’t tease me.” / “i would never.” 

“everyone will stare.” / “they’re all staring anyway.”

“you! you broke everything!”

“what was that?”

“we won’t let them / him / her do this to you.”

“whatever else she is / he is / they are, name’s a loyal friend.”

“you need this. don’t let them know you have it.”

“you deserve— you all deserve to know.”

“can we get out of here?”

“come on. we’re going to make a bonfire.”

“i woke up in the middle of the night and it was glowing.”

“how do you know how to do this?”

“i can build a fire, administer basic first aid, and bullshit my way into making older people think i’m trustworthy.”

“he / she / they / you didn’t protect me from that.” 

“i’ve never not been a mom / dad / parent.”

“that’s the only time i ever got to be a kid.”

“don’t be a little shit.”

“you never forget the lesson that they would rather destroy you than let you inconvenience them.”

“it’s hard, and you’re doing it anyway.”

“fucktrumpet! shitgibbon! cockwomble!”

“be serious for once!”

“i need to know what happened to her / him / them / you / us.”

“anyone who was looking for you, anyone who took the trouble to find you: they’re not your friend.”

“you have to get out of there. now.”

“you can’t get better until you’ve hit rock bottom. you know that.”

“what if forgetting is a gift?” 

“i wish i could forget it.” 

“we missed you, name.”

“you didn’t give up, even when it got hard and a little scary. sometimes things are a little hard and scary. that’s when we need each other the most.”

“i am losing my mind.”

“i missed you the most.”

“i want it back.”

“i can’t force you to do it. but i need you to do this for me. for us.” 

“weird vibe in here, you guys.”

“please, come with me. nothing here is good for you.”

“i know that sounds sad but it wasn’t.”

“don’t look at me like i’m the one who’s being a bitch.” 

“what the hell? how is that possible?”

“tell me whether i saw what i think i saw.”

“how long have you been down here?”

“we don’t say that.” / “why not? they’re just words.”

“so really, all words are magic. something from nothing.”

“you were always good at words, weren’t you? good at making the others do what you wanted.”

“i’m tired of talking.”

“nothing is more powerful than imagination.”

“we all chose what to remember. or what to forget.”

“maybe it’s a deepfake.”

“fuck me. fuck me, fuck me. fuck all of us.”

“i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry. i didn’t know.”

“i’ll see what they want.”

“name. fuckface. fuckface junior.”

“dunno what i did, dunno how to fix it, don’t really care.” 

“i’m going with you. we do this together.”

“you all realize this is insane, right? this is how we die.”

“at least i’ll go out doing what i love: being an absolute fuckwit making the worst possible choice.” / “no. being an absolute fuckwit making the worst possible choice in the best possible company.”

“is that how it was always supposed to feel?”

“i’m ready to break things.”

“i never would have left you.”

“i won’t let anything happen to you.”

“give me my fucking friends back.”

“tell me how to get you out of here. tell me how to fix it.”

“i believe in you. you protected us all back then, when we didn’t even know you were doing it. let us help you now.”

“we have to buy her / him / them / you time.”

“we should do what we do best.”

“it’s all still here.”

“let’s summon a demon!”

“this is so trippy! and stupid. i think it’s mold.”

“it’s not better in here, name. i know it feels like it could be, but it’s not. it never was.”

“you haven’t forgotten who you were, but you’re even better at it.”

“name is fucking with people who don’t have his / her / their best interests at heart.”

“that’s gotta be driving them insane to watch.”

“i’m nothing without it. i’ve never been anything without it.”

“you’ve always been enough by yourself. no one has ever been as loyal and smart and funny and fierce and deeply, deeply annoying as you.”

“i want to be a person. whole. happy with just myself. but how do we do that?” / “therapy.”

“in today’s session, i’d like to revisit the period of your childhood that was controlled by a minor deity in a pocket universe.”

“you’re all so stupid.”

“i love you, and i’m so proud of you.”

“you came back for us after all, name. i always knew you would.” / “really?” / “no. but i love being wrong. i’m really good at it.”

“he’s / she’s / they’re gone. you’ve always been good enough. you can do this alone.”

“i would have loved you so well.”

“you stayed.” / “i stayed.”

“go on. i believe in you.”

“you know what that’s like, if you let yourself remember.” 

“it’s not perfect, but it doesn’t need to be.”

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 1

imagine you are celebrating your big promotion at the pigeon crushing factory (in this world you make a living crushing pigeons into a cube, this isnt important) and decide to treat yourself to a delicious hibachi feast at the local grill. as you sit down, your chef introduces himself to you; to your surprise, the chef is reknown mangaka hirohiko araki!

"wow, amazing!" you think to yourself, "i can't wait to see what delicious treats he has waiting for me, especially after that scrumptious part 4 i had last time". araki smiles knowingly, seeing the recognition of his talent in the gleam of your wide eyes. with a dramatic flourish, begins his work. a wild and frenzied solo performance begins. ingredients are chopped and flung with dazzling accuracy, speed, and showmanship until you are presented with the fruits of his labor: a new dish, just for you.

there's one problem. he forgot to turn on the grill. or maybe he never meant to. his confidence leaves you unsure of what to do when he starts flinging raw onions into your mouth and encouraging you to chew. like the tragic chef from the clickhole video, he has served you a plate of raw chicken and vegetables and is now looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to dig in.

its not all bad. you can eat some of the veggies as long as they don't touch the chicken, but the majority of it is inedible. you didnt even get to see him do the cool onion thing. you push the plate back unfinished and hoping for an explanation for what the fuck just happened but when you look up, you realize araki has already left. his big chef hat and coat are lying on the floor where he shed them on his new journey to start a raw foods store having discovered his passion for organic veggies. next time you crush so many pigeons you get another promotion, you try the new store and its delicious. can't fault him, i guess!

this is the experience of watching jojo part 5.

---

and LOOK. i'm not lacking in perspective here. its presumptuous to say "i can do better" or "i could fix this" when it comes to anyone's work, let alone the work of someone singular like hirohiko araki. no one's brain operates the way his does, as evidenced by the paltry and weak attempts by the spin-off artists who struggle to recapture that same magic; they all lack whatever je ne se quoi araki has tapped into that's off limits to every other human on planet earth.

straight up, my approach to storytelling is too conventional to be a good replacement for araki's (who seems to be just completely unhinged both on and off the page) so my suggestions to "fix" part 5 are going to be broad strokes and not finely tuned fanfictions. there are just...things i would have like to see happen. and the list is long enough that i think it necessitates that this essay be done in parts. but everything you need to fix it is right there within the existing text. much like the bad meal, the manga (presumably, i only watched the anime. no! stop booing me!) has all the ingredients, the passion, and the skills to create a satisfying end result, its genuinely just missing the ability to bring it all together in a satisfying way. and it is so, so frustrating to watch unfold from the comfort of your couch.

however, for people not in the jojo know-know (who are just reading this bc it started with a pigeon crushing metaphor and you wanted to see where it was going), i do have to explain the historical lens we have to consider with part 5: it wound up being the first evolutionary step of araki's change in art style and story-telling conventions. the fashion aesthetics are wilder, the stakes are bigger, and the stands (WAY) more esoteric. with hindsight, we can look back and understand that it turned out to be weird because he was experimenting in real time (as artists who work serially have to due to the nature of the job) with what he was interested in and what he wanted to explore. so there's nothing WRONG with part 5 in the cosmic sense. and it wasn't without entertainment. and most of the characters were great!

it just that this whole thing causes me enough mental anguish to think about day in and day out to the point of writing what will turn out to be an embarrassing amount of words about my objectively least favorite part of a body of work i've come to adore. its fine. whatever.

come with me...join me whether you know jojo or not, as i try to stay sane tonight and many other nights. watch with concern and glee i rant incoherently about things that will make me seem like an absolute raving lunatic to anyone who is only barely familiar with the franchise and loosely understands it, as i only did, as a series about people who do pokemon but with ghosts who punch people.

first up, i need to do some comic work, and then we can talk about AHHH

OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF HERE! GET THAT BEAST AWAY

AHHH

[littlemsterious]

Fix-it fic where instead of offering Crowley a position, Beelzebub assumes Crowley and AZ are fully together and tells him about them and Gabriel. the rest ofthe season doesnt happen and they springboard crowley and Az getting together

“In my car? really?” why did ze have to fill his car with flies, it was such a mess!

“Ello traitor,”

“oh! lord Beelzebub!” could this not have happened a minute earlier? outside?!

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you here,” said Lord Beelzebub, lord of the flies all over his car!

“you came to me!” Crowley said, and, in a moment, the flies surrounded him and suddenly he was in hell. 

“oh, I thought we had a” he spit a fly out, “generalised understanding.”

“We don’t.” Ze turned to look at him “You’re still a traitor. I could put a price on your head any time I wanted to.”

Crowley looked right back. “Is that a new face?”

“What, this old thing?” A chuckle “I’ve had it for ages.”

“Such a pity that Hell never appreciated your talents.”

“It is?” Ze were trying to butter him up for something. “Yeah, it is.” Might as well see what it is ze want.

“There’s news from Upstairs. Gabriel has gone missing.”

Yeah he was all too aware of that. “Ok, and?”

“You know Earth better than anyone.”

“You think I’d help hide the guy I hate?”

“Heaven is loosing it. They’ve started threatening Extreme Sanctions.”

“Those don’t actually exist. We used to make that up to scare the cherubs.”

“No, they do!” Ze looked at him intently. “They erase your name from the book of life. You won’t just die, you’ll have never existed.” Ze lean back. “But, if you did find Gabriel, Hell would reward you.”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly a fan of the guy, but I’m also not a fan of coming back here.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “I promise, I’d rather have nothing to do with him or any of this.”

Zir face darkened, and Ze got quiet. Ze turned around, got up, walked to the door, and locked it, before returning to the seat next to Crowley.

“Crowley? Listen. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t think you’d get it. and you can't tell anyone about this, you understand?” Something was up. Lord Beelzebub never used people’s names, not properly.

“What on Earth are you talking about?“

“Just, shut up okay?” Ze paused and he could feel himself getting more nervous. “I’m not looking for Gabriel for Hell. I’m- I’m worried about him.”

“What do you mean you’re worried about him? Gabriel? The archangel of heaven?” What kind of elaborate joke was this meant to be?

Beelzebub tilted zir head and pursed zir lips, “We’ve” ze nodded, once, “we’ve been seeing each other.”

The two stared at each other for a second.

“Romantically.”

Crowley felt his jaw loosen and his eyes widen.

“You? Have been dating? The Archangel Gabriel?”

Beelzebub rolled zir eyes “You make it sound so human.”

“I don't believe you.”

“What.”

“I don't believe you.” He leaned forward. “You could just be saying that.”

“And why would I do that?” Ze shifted zir weight and leaned to the side. 

“I don't know?! To trick me because you think I’m working to help Gabriel?!” It even sounded crazy to say out loud, despite, technically, being true.

I was gonna come up with some sort of magical proof for this but I started feeling unwell and just wanted to post this. So just pretend Beelzebub said something here that made sense. Sorry. I might get around to adding something here later.

Crowley sat for a minute, pondering. Beelzebub looked at him.

“There’s a coffee shop, cross the street from the bookshop. Meet me there in an hour.”

Beelzebub looked up at him, wide-eyed, then lifted zir chin. “An hour.”

And Crowley was back in his car.

The walk back to the bookstore was, in short, short, and not long enough to figure out how to explain this to Aziraphale.

Eh, whatever. He threw open the door, “I’m back”

“I can see that.” He didn’t even look up from his desk.

“Listen, angel, we don’t have a lot of time, I figured out what’s going on. it’s—“

“Are you going to help?” 

Crowley sighed, “Yes yes, sure. I’m helping. Listen, Angel—“

Finally, Aziraphale stood up and turned towards Crowley. “I think I need an apology first.”

“We literally have less than an hour for me to explain what’s happened. I will apologise all you like, later. But right now, we do not have time.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “What could possibly be so urgent that we have less than an hour?” 

“Gabriel, I figured out, well at least part of it." Crowley folded his glasses, and set them on the table. "I don't have the full story, but I have enough of it.”

“Well?” 

“He’s seeing someone.”

“Gabriel?!”

Crowley nods.

“Seeing someone?”

He nods again.

“How could you possibly know?”

“Because that someone,” Crowley walks up closer to Aziraphale, “came to me looking for him.”

“Meaning it’s someone you know?”

“Oh, someone I know all too well.” he rolled his eyes.

“Is it someone I know?”

“I’d say so, yeah.”

“Well who, stop stalling,” he said huffily. 

“You’re not gonna believe me, Angel.”

“Crowley.”

“Lord Beelzebub” 

Aziraphale stares at him. “You’re right I don't believe you.” He slaps his arm. “What kind of silly game are you playing?”

“Oh it’s no game, Ze proved it.”

“Proved it? how?”

[Insert Proof Here]

“Well I suppose that might change some things.”

“Oh you suppose?”

“Well I’m just trying to understand!” Aziraphale said in a huff. “Gabriel and Beelzebub? I can’t image what they might share, or see in each other!”

“Definitely a rather odd pair.”

“Most.” Aziraphale paused. “But what were you in such a rush about.”

“I told Beelzebub I’d meet them in the coffee shop cross the road in-“ he looked to the clock. “Less than thirty minutes now.”

“Why so soon?”

“We don’t know how long until Heaven comes knocking on your door looking for him.”

They sat for several minutes with that thought.

-

“Hey, if you two aren’t busy,” Gabriel stopped dusting and came over, “where does the dust go?”

Aziraphale tuned out Crowley’s answers to Gabriel’s various dust questions and wondered to himself. After some time, he spoke up.

“You stay in here with him. I’ll go to the coffee shop.”

“Well, ze’re not gonna listen to you.”

“Yes well, you weren’t here. I was.” he grabs his coat. "I have the full story. Besides, I have every right to make sure ze're telling the truth before letting zem into the shop. Ze will enjoy dealing with me much less."

“Fine.” 

He shut the door and walked quickly across the busy street.

Lord Beelzebub looks up to see Aziraphale walk in. Alone. 

“Where’s Crowley?”

“Oh, he’s busy. I understand we need to have a talk?”

Ze lean back in the chair. "Maybe. What’s he told you?”

“Back again Mr. Fell?” Nina interrupts. 

"Oh yes, very busy day today." 

"Right, what can I get for you and your friend?"

"A hot chocolate for me, Nina."

She turns to look at Beelzebub.

"Coffee. Whatever dark roast you've got."

"Sounds good." And she left.

"I didn't know you ate."

"Yeah, and?" Ze looked at him. "Mr. Fell? Really?"

"Have to be called something."

Ze rolled their eyes as Nina brought their cups. They both took a long sip.

“So?”

Aziraphale sighed. “This morning, I heard a commotion outside, and when I opened the door, it was Gabriel, with nothing but a box.”

“I mean, he’s normally carrying nothing. what kinda box, how big wazzit?”

“You misunderstand me. He wasn’t wearing anything, just holding the box. I suppose about this big?” He gestured with his hands.

Beelzebub's eyes grew. “What’s he doing that for? And why’d he come here?”

“I don't know. And apparently, neither does he. That’s the thing, he doesnt remember anything.”

“Nothing?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Not at all.”

Beelzebub chewed zir lip.

“What in heaven coulda happened for him to get like that?”

“I don't know. He said something about bringing the box in order to prevent something terrible happening to him. But it was empty when I checked it.”

Beelzebub’s face sold AZ more than any proof could have. Ze looked so worried, Aziraphale almost felt awkward still sitting there. 

“I wanta see the box.” Ze looked him in the eye. “and then I wanna see him.”

Aziraphale took one last sip of his hot chocolate before the pair headed out the door.

They got to the front step of the bookshop and Aziraphale held open the door.

“You can-“ He looked at zir face as ze raised an eyebrow. “You may come in.” He said, tensely.

“Thanks.” Ze took a few steps in and look around. “Now where’s this box”

“Hi! I’m Jim." Gabriel walked over from behind a shelf. "Do you enjoy chairs? I think I’m starting to really like them.”

Beelzebub’s eyes lit up when ze saw Gabriel in a way that made Aziraphale’s heart flutter. 

“Hey there.” Ze walked up to Gabriel, more gently than he’d ever seen zem.

Gabriel squinted. “Do we know each other?”

"Sorta." 

“Cool! But the chair thing.”

“I do like a good chair. How are you feeling?”

“Um. Weird. But it's been getting better since I figured out the whole chair thing.” He sits down in the closest chair.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.

Ze lean down, hold his head between zir hands, and kiss him gently on the forehead.

“Um, okay,” Jim says with a grin. “What was that?”

“Don't worry,” Beelzebub says softly, "we’ll figure this out.”

“Okay! Figure what out?” 

Beelzebub smiles before turning to Aziraphale and Crowley. “Where’s the box?”

“Oh, right of course,” Aziraphale says, turning quickly to grab it off his desk. “I’m afraid it was empty when he arrived.”

“Hmm.”

Lord Beelzebub opens the box. Ze inspects the inside for several minutes, running zir fingers along the inside as if to feel for a tear or inconsistency. Finding nothing, ze sighed and leans over it, looking closer at the inside. 

Another minute passes before Beelzebub sits down and closes zir eyes for just a moment. Aziraphale, feeling rather awkward, breaks the silence. “So, when did the two of you, well, I mean—“

“Start meeting up?” 

“Yes, exactly”

Beelzebub chuckles. “Bout right after Armageddon failed to happen. We met up to figure out what to do about, well, Armageddon. So really we ‘ave you two to thank. not just for that, but y’know. I guess seeing the two of you together made it all feel a bit less crazy. a bit more possible.”

Crowley stood up a bit straighter, his shoulder’s at his ears, and his eyes wide.

Aziraphale sputtered. “The two of us?”

Beelzebub didn't seem to notice either of them. “Yeah.” Ze chuckled and looked up. “So what about you? When’d you two get together?”

Crowley bit his tongue.

“I- mhm- I'm afraid you have us wrong. We are not together, in that sense.” Aziraphale says, looking to the opposite end of the bookshop from Crowley.

Beelzebub looks at Aziraphale, turns to look at Crowley, and then back at Aziraphale. “Are you having me on?”

“No, I am not having you on.” He says, the phrase unfamiliar in his mouth.

Beelzebub turns zir head back to Crowley, “Is he having you on?”

“Uh, no, he is not,” Crowley says, stiffly.

Zir eyes flit back and forth between the pair.

“How long have you two been working together, again?”

Aziraphale, still not looking, tilts his head and says, “I believe The Arrangement we have to work together goes about six hundred years?”

“No. No. Gabriel said you two were seen together way before that.”

“Formally, working together. We’d bump into each other on occasion before that.” Crowley says, tone relaxed but back still very stiff.

“And how long has that been going on?” Zir eyebrows were furrowed.

"All of time?”

Ze stare at him. “The two of you,” ze point from one to the other. “have been meeting for six thousand years?” 

“Off and on yes.”

“Huh.” Ze seem to consider this as ze lean back in the chair.

A minute or so pass before ze stand up again, and call out. “Jim?”

Gabriel peeks around the bookshelf. “Yeah! That’s me.”

“You brought the box here?”

“Uhhhhh,” he looks into the distance. “I think so”

“Do you remember where you got it from?” Ze lean on zir elbows over the box “Or how long you carried it for?”

“Uhhhh, noooo?” He shakes his head “Yeah, no I don't think so.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Crowley says rolling his head back.

“Will you calm down?” Aziraphale says. 

Crowley throws himself into a chair, almost entirely sideways in it, with his head lolling back. “Yeah, yeah patience whatever.” He pauses and turns his head, “What’s that on the bottom there?”

“Where?” 

“The box, it’s hanging just off the edge of the table.” He reaches out and points “It looks like a mark or something”

Beelzebub straightens up, looks down, before spinning the box between zir hands. Sure enough, black scrawl handwriting stretches across the bottom.

“I am in the fly.” Aziraphale reads over Beelzebub's shoulder “What fly?”

Beelzebub looks up and makes eye contact with Crowley before glancing around the room.

“Well?” Crowley asks “Is there a fly?”

“Just one,” Zir looking at one spot, rather intently, now. “and it’s familiar.” Ze hold out zir hand. “Come here”

A fly buzzes over to zem and lands on zir hand.

“There you are.” 

Aziraphale tilts his head and looks at the fly. Crowley sits up straight in the chair.

“Jim?” Ze say again.

Gabriel, who had started to wander the bookshop again, calls back. “Yes! That’s still my name!”

“Could you come over here?” Ze say, softly.

“Oh! uh, yes!” Gabriel comes careening back around the shelves. “Hello.”

Beelzebub, ever so gently, walks over next to him, fly still in hand. 

“This is yours”

Gabriel reaches out, finger barely touching Beelzebub’s. the fly crawls over to his hand, and he holds it up to look at it. “Open it.” 

Gabriel holds it up, closer to his eye and it flies in.

He jolts, arms out, and stares off into space. Barely a moment passes before the glaze falls from his eyes, replaced by recognition.

“Aziraphale!” he says, making eye contact and surprisingly chipper. He turns to his left, and, still just as cheerful, says “Crowley!” He turns the other way, and Aziraphale can see his shoulders relax when he sees zem. 

“Hey,” he says, in a much softer voice. 

Beelzebub smiles, a soft warm smile. “hey.”

“I was coming to you.”

“It seems you got about halfway. I just had to come the other half.”

"Well I'm glad you're here."

“If you two are done yet," Crowley says, "I’m not a big fan of ceasing to exist when heaven realises you’re here.”

“What?” Gabriel and Aziraphale say in unison.

Beelzebub rolls zir eyes. “Heaven’s in a tizzy looking for you. Started threatening extreme sanctions to anyone hiding information.”

“Those don't really exist… do they?”

“Oh they do, it’s just not something done very often. A bit extreme, y’know, ceasing to exist.”

“So the Supreme Archangel going missing would qualify for that?” 

“Well, technically, I’m not supreme archangel anymore.”

All three of the them seemed shocked at that.

"Whatever do you mean?" 

"I'm with him, how?"

“Yeah, we were discussing the redo for Armageddon and I voted against it, so I got fired.” He shrugged.

“Wouldn't that mean you just go to hell like the rest of us? Be with zem?”

“No! Actually. I thought that too. They apparently decided it would be better to erase my memory and demote me. Which is not my idea of a good time.” He smirked.

“Oh dear.” Aziraphale spoke, quietly. He felt faint. Was that really how heaven was looking these days?

“Yeah, damn.” Beelzebub turned to look at Gabriel. “That’s much worse than I’d’ve expected from up top.”

“Yeah, I wasn't expecting it myself.” Gabriel shrugged. “Anyway, you are so right. We should get out of here.” He snapped his fingers and his blanket robe was replaced with light grey shacks and a pressed button-up shirt.

“if Heaven drops by,” Gabriel says, snapping at them both, “tell them I stopped by for a cup of hot chocolate, before heading out.” He laughs, “Technically, it’s not even a lie!” 

Beelzebub grabs his hand and pulls him toward the door. “and you two” Ze turn back, still walking, “figure yourselves out. talk, properly, for once in your lives.”

“Hm?” Gabriel looks at zem.

“They’re not together. You said they’d been together for ages, and they’re not. They’re dancing around it.”

Gabriel looked at them and scoffed, “Yeah, you two should talk.” 

They stepped outside, and Crowley, who had followed them to the door, shut and locked it behind them. The two didn't even notice as they disappeared into the busy street.

"Can you believe, the two of them, together, it seems almost ridiculous. And Heaven knows what on earth they were talking about--"

"Angel."

"--I mean making those kinds of assumptions--"

"Angel."

"--Talking as if they know us better than we know ourselves. We've always been distant from our respective offices--"

"Angel!"

"-they don't know us at all! It's an entirely ridiculous notion altogether, I suppose it's a good thing this worked itself out so quickly-"

"ANGEL!"

"-I think it's rather a good thing we won't be hearing from them for some time, seeing as--"

"AZIRAPHALE!"

The angel freezes, quieting himself. He looks up and makes eye contact with Crowley.

"We've known each other for a long time. And I think we both know that's not true."

Crowley took several steps forward until he was just in front of Aziraphale, their eyes never leaving each others.

"You and I have been together for a long time." He bites his tongue and looks off. "We've always relied on each other. We're a team, a group. And we've spent our existance pretending that we aren't." Another pause. "And I would like to spend-" He groans. "I would like to spend the rest of it, with you. Properly."

"Properly?"

Crowley leans into Aziraphale's space. "Properly."

Aziraphale leans the rest of the way, taking his face between his hands and looks him deep in the eyes.

“You know that’s rather sweet of you, Crowley.”

Crowley opened his mouth to respond but Aziraphale’s lips were on his before he got the chance.

[lanternburning19]

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys Song Analysis

Oh, here we go again/ the voices in his head/ called the rain to end/ our days of wild

The line "oh, here we go again" emphasis a repeating event. A big motif in TTPD is identifying self-destructive patterns. The "again" means this has happened again, and will probably keep happening.

And a self-destructive pattern is identified in the Boy in this song. The voices in his head - whatever they may be - are telling him to bring devastation to the relationship.

The last two lines "called the rain to end/ our days of wild" invokes imagery of children playing outside in a neighborhood cul-de-sac and then the skies grow dark and it begins raining so much that they all have to abandon the game and run back inside to their respective houses. But instead of this rain being an unpredictable force of nature, it is being manipulated by a human! One of the children playing outside! He gets rained on too as he spoils the game for others. This also links to some lines in the previous song on the track list "But you're in self-sabotage mode/ throwing spikes down on the road".

The sickest army doll/ purchased at the mall/ rivulets descend my plastic smile

So when I first listened to this song, I pictured Taylor herself as a Barbie doll, and I thought the army doll was the Boy in which this song is about. But now I think Taylor IS the army doll. And that makes sense because even though Taylor looks like a Barbie doll, she's been through a lot. And this wouldn't be the first time Taylor has placed herself in a military metaphor (The Great War, Battle, You're Losing Me).

"The sickest army doll" has a double-meaning. "Sick" can be slang for "cool". So she's describing herself as appealing. Like, why wouldn't the Boy want her? She's the most awesome doll here! But it could also literally mean sick. Taylor does describe herself as ill throughout TTPD ("I was a functioning alcoholic" "Weary bones, caught the chill") . Typically, when an army troop is sick - that makes me think of shell shock or PTSD. So, Taylor is both describing herself as a catch and also someone who's been through it. She's the best thing at this party, and she's sick with loss.

I love the metaphor of Taylor just being purchased off the shelf to show off. This is another re-occuring metaphor in TTPD. ("You hung me on your walls...in public showed me off") Taylor does not want to be another cool shiny new toy to show off and then be discarded. She is dehumanized when this happens - viewed as nothing more than a plastic doll to be manipulated for as long as she holds the attention of the Boy.

"Rivulets" are teardrops. The doll is crying even though she has a plastic smile fixed to her face. This parallels the song I Can Do It With A Broken Heart (I cry a lot but I am so productive). She can't let the world know how she really feels.

But you should've seen him when he first got me

This is an excuse said to justify the relationship. "It was special and magical and he was nice when we first started!" (yeah, girl cuz he just wanted to get in your pants 🙄). Now that he had her for a bit, he has lost interest and is ready to move on to the next toy. But Taylor is still holding on to how it was in the beginning.

My boy/ only breaks his favorite toys

Even the title of the song is an excuse for the shitty treatment she receives. This line reminds me of how little boys will often get away with causing harm to little girls with a wave of a hand and a "Oh well, boys will be boys!" Taylor is going to find any reason she can to justify the Boy's actions, even if she gets hurt by him, too.

I'm queen/ of sandcastles he destroys

I absolutely love the drawn out pause between "I'm queen" and "of sandcastles". It makes you think for a minute - oh, he's a boy but she's the QUEEN. She has power and is treated with respect...only to reveal a second later that she does not in fact have any power or dignity over this Boy. One second he makes her feel on top of the world, above everyone else, a perfect Queen no one can touch. And then the next minute, he kicks her down just because he wants to. These are both acts of dehumanization.

'Cause it fit too right/ puzzle pieces in the dead of night/ should've known it was a matter of time

Taylor kept going over the relationship in her head, trying to put the pieces together. And he still destroyed all of her work. It looked too good to be true, and that's because it was. And Taylor blames herself instead of the Boy.

My boy/ only breaks his favorite toys

Again, the line is repeated. The same excuse is made for his disgusting treatment of her. The self-destructive cycle continues.

There was a littany of reasons why we could've played for keeps this time/ I know I'm just/ repeating myself/ put me/ back on my shelf/ but first pull the string and I'll tell you that he runs because he loves me

"Playing for keeps" is something that children do when playing games like marbles or Pokemon cards. If you win the game, you get to keep your opponent's object. In this context, Taylor means she wants this relationship to be a permanent, long-lasting and committed one. But even an adult relationship is reduced down in childish terms - showing that he never took it seriously to begin with.

There is a moment of clarity here, Taylor realizing that she keeps making excuses for his childish behaviors. Dolls often come with a a few pre-recorded phrases they say over and over again. Taylor is now a discarded doll, but she keeps saying the same things. He's done with her, but she can't let go.

'Cause I knew too much/ there was danger in the heat of my touch/ he saw forever so he smashed it up

And here it is revealed WHY Taylor won't let go of the shitty relationship - she doesn't think she deserves any better. She's dangerous. He's self-destructive and so is she.

Once I fix me/ he's gonna miss me

This is yet another pattern. Once she moves on, he will come back into her life.

Just say when/I'd play again/ he was my best friend/ down at the sandlot/ I felt more when we played pretend/ than with all the Kens

It's like they are too kids playing pretend. The whole relationship is fake. It will never, ever work out in the long run.

"Down at the sandlot" makes me think of the movie The Sandlot, which is so nostalgic for me and definitely calls back to childhood, keeping the metaphor running throughout the song.

'Cause he took me out of my box/ stole my tortured heart/ left all these broken parts/ told me I'm better off/ but I'm not

I don't think this was Taylor's intention, but the line "took me out of my box" makes me think back to the Look performance on the Eras Tour. All of the Taylors are trapped in doll-like boxes and break out at the end. This line parallels other songs on the album that talk about feeling trapped (Fortnight, Fresh Out The Slammer, Cassandra). I think it also swirls into the motif of humanization. Taylor does not want to be viewed as a pretty Collector's item on a shelf. She wants freedom. The Boy gave it her...for a while. Only for her to end up trapped in another self-harm cycle. And in the end, it wasn't worth it at all.

[omgkalyppso]

12, 22 and 25 for the end of year asks 🎉

Thank you for the ask!

12.Talk about a new friend you made this year

Two long-time mutuals were new friends this year! I made fanart of @razrogue's oc in february (asked permission first) and that kicked off some conversations, and I invited @boghermit to a digital dnd game that was supposed to be a "one shot" that I thought would run 3 sessions in april but we're on like session 10+.

Idk that I have any completely new friends. Have some mutuals I've been talking with more lately, and perhaps next year we'll be no-filter enough to be friends, lmao.

22.Favorite place you visited this year?

I went to my late grandparents' mother's cottage twice this summer. It's a little over two hours up the river. I made a goo/gle d/oc of some photos from one of the visits that mutuals could ask to see if you like. I shared it with some of you already.

25.Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

Several. And more, counting the dnd npc's I made up in role as DM. I'll restrict myself to three per media.

In world of warcraft I created and max-levelled more than my usual amount of pc's / oc's during the mists of pandaria remix event. Two of my favorites were a couple of nightborne elves, a rogue named Draughr (I decided this is his code name), and a warlock named Akumyssra. They're divorced with three kids. They were together all during the time Suramar was bubbled and sequestered from the rest of the world, and resentful of one another. I hadn't decided between them which was the parent who nearly sold a child to servitude because of the mana sickness / addiction / arcwine situation, but it was what was irreparable in the circumstances. Their children don't know and it is this unknowing which would allow them to fix things between them in the future Maybe. I also enjoyed crack shipping Draughr and Mudmug, which would further splinter his relationship with Akumyssra either because he was the one who fucked up fatherhood and is now having at least casual relationships or because she is the one who fucked up motherhood and not only are the children technically in the custody of an elf whose name they might not know for years, but he is also having such a good / easy time of it while she can't do anything but suffer for the sake of her magic.

I also started thinking of a daughter for my oc Borgakh and Lor'themar Theron. I was caught up in the tragedy of their romance for ages - and enjoying it - until they gave him a canon wife in Thalyssra. So now, instead, their relationship suffered after the battle for lordaeron, started getting better during battle for azeroth, Borgakh discovered she was pregnant just barely before going through with the ritual to go to Shadowlands, and I hate that they get married around the same time as Lor'themar's canon marriage, I wish it could happen at another time, but it's fine, whatever, and now they have this two year old daughter around the start of the war within.

I spliced some orc, elf and dracthyr sprites together to come up with a what-if concept to help me picture her as a babe and child.

I hadn't settled on a name. Here's the short list: Rok'aria (aria pronounced like the musical movement), Anravenna, Kel'diel, Kel'ariah (ariah pronounced like Karliah), Marzul, Arzula.

.

I came up with my dungeon meshi oc this year. Aelfwin.

Their backstory is up in the air because I don't know how dungeons work or how I'll feel about the story once I've finished the anime / once I crack and read the manga.

At this time, my two floating story ideas for them are: 1) post-canon in a large monstrous form, Alfie tunnels into the eponymous dungeon, from a different dungeon. 2) au where Alfie joins the party around the same time as Senshi.

.

In bg3 I have a few fun oc's that made their fic debuts this year!

Blbxrl - a Fimbrul Devil loyal to Mephistopheles in Raphael's service

Yakrayat - a Rakshasa Demon imprisoned in Avernus, presumably by Haruman in service to the Archdevil Zariel

^ Both featured in A Hopeless Dove.

Upton O'Goode has been conceptualized since at least 2023, but they finally had a little cameo in Upon The Hill.

[catflowerqueen]

Well it looks like the threat of Eclipse is finally dealt with, so long as he didn’t stash more backups somewhere. I feel bad that Solar Flare had to die as well, but, in a way, he did get what he wanted in the end. I also really like that Moon protected Nice Eclipse as well, and stopped him from attempting to be self-sacrificial. There has been too much of that going around on the show lately! Hopefully Sun survived using the star power and also that Moon comes back to fulfill his end of the deal with Nice Eclipse to try and help him fix his Sun and Moon. …After he takes a bit of a break first. They all need it, and no one has really gotten a chance to rest or properly mourn everything that went down after the magic explosion, and I’m sure that is a major contributor to why things have been so tense lately. Of course, that might have to take a bit of a back seat depending on how Lunar takes the update on what went down while they gone, especially the fact that, while Moon does consider them family and already cares for them a great deal, he doesn’t actually personally remember them at all.

Speaking of Lunar, I kind of both hope for and dread the possibility of them meeting Ruin, for a multitude of reasons. But based on some of the stuff we saw on the Monty and Foxy channel today, it seems like Ruin’s situation might be one more easily resolved? Or at least resolved in a way that gives them a slightly happier ending. Because it seems like at least part of them doesn’t want to be doing the things they are doing. And Foxy, at least, is aware of it. Though it is unclear how many bad feelings he would hold toward them in the aftermath. He’s honestly pretty chill over all, and I was laughing today both at Ruin’s antics (especially when they kept jumping off the ship) and how Foxy was just rolling with everything. I do hope they can fix him up again, though. And also that he gets along with Lunar.

Also that whatever Eclipse seemed so panicked about regarding Lunar doesn’t end up happening. And, like, there are some possibilities for Lunar coming back possibly leading to trouble—though inadvertently on Lunar’s part, I’m sure, and possibly just with their presence being some sort of catalyst for someone to start paying more attention. First and foremost is the fact that Lunar probably still has their magic, and so might cause some sort of chaos if they start experimenting with that unsupervised. Another possibility is that the Creator does something, since he seems to pay them both more and less attention that the others. Like. Lunar was able to scare him off that one time (unless he was just pretending), and does seem to be an unexpected variable for his group… and we do know that Eclipse was at least not lying about there being monitors for the star power, since that is definitely something that the Creator has been keeping an eye on. So it wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to make a move if Lunar does indeed become more involved with the Daycare attendants again.

Oh, and another thing they all need to consider is the fact that a lot of peoples’ memories of the Daycare Attendants are still mixed up, and that might become a problem if any of the ones still under the star’s influence realize that Moon killed him. I really hope they address that soon. Especially since most of them also don’t know Lunar even existed in the first place or that Moon lost his memories. Which kind of does provide some angst potential, especially with the short list that Moon gave Eclipse for who he could consider his allies, but I’m pretty sure that the nature of the show means it isn’t going to be addressed too deeply, if at all.

Though that invitation for Nice Eclipse to come visit does open some interesting possibilities in that he actually does act and have the personality that the usual Eclipse tried to make everyone think he had.

Anyway. The next arcs should prove exciting. I’m looking forward to them.

…And still hoping that Sun and Moon, and possibly Earth, play one of the Kindergarten games, or at least Pineapple on Pizza.

[bunnys-lil-hideout]

🎫 That dude from Little Nightmares. Also here is a free pass to get FREAKY wink wink

THINNY. omggggg thinny he's so hehehehe.

god i remember watching my friend play the second game right after it released. it was such a wonderful experience seeing a new light be put onto the world, and Thinny was definitely a very nice welcome into it.

of course when he first appeared in the game he was meant to seem like the antagonist, and i gave into that impression.... while also thinking he was kinda. uhm hehe *kicks my feet* y'all know me from my f/o list i clearly have a thing for weirdly tall skinny uncanny men but at least i admit to it.

hes SO inhumanly tall and slender. BIG long arms to wrap around you and bring you close, he can just put his skinny weird limbs around you like a snake. he's probably extremely cold which i will gladly warm him up with my body heat. he's got some dirt all over him which is to be expected in that dingy city. not a problem though i'll take a nice warm cloth with soap and clean him up he deserves to feel fresh and clean <3

i'll help him fix up any holes in his suit and hat. i'll watch as he slides and crawls out of the TVs and be entertained by it every single time like it's the first time i'm seeing a magic trick as a kid. i'll let him take me on a tour around the city, show me all the places that are beautiful despite the horrors around it all, and look at every building and light from the top of the Tower. it would be a lovely dream.

and i could give him so many gifts. i would give him a new suit or a toy he never got to play with, or even bring him food he never got to eat. a nice big cooked fish, a fat burger, a giant slice of cake. i'll watch him happily enjoy the food he never got to experience after what happened to him because he deserves it.

and also i don't care that i'm barely up to his thighs i will do my best to keep him safe around the city even if it kills me. i'll keep that doctor and teacher far away from him as much as i can and i won't let anything try to hurt him. if he does get hurt i'll take care of his wounds and injuries and i'll rest with him while he heals and get him whatever he needs.

and god god god GOD............. kinda spoilers for LN2 for anyone who wants to play it/watch it, that fucking ending...... hurt my heart so bad :[ my poor baby, he didn't deserve to be stuck in that position, to be seen in that light when all he wanted was to have someone with him. i wish i could've been there for him. that i could've walked into that room and just stayed in there to give him company, show him he's not alone.

my poor thinny deserved better <3

ok now the freaky stuff under the cut

i am not immune to how long limbs would wrap around me and keep me in place on someone's lap because Thinny could fully do that. he could grab me from 2 feet away and just yank me from wherever i'm standing and bring me right up against his chest and i would just lose my breath on the spot. his long fingers. sorry his long fingers trailing over my body. sorry his long fingers reaching down to my thighs because he likes how big and thick i am. sorry his long fingers reaching towards my crotch while i'm just relaxing to his gentle touch on his lap and i jolt when i feel the tip of his finger touch me through the fabric on my pants because he's already made me so sensitive with how he's treating me. sorry sorry sorry i need that man palm me so bad.

also of COURSE i'm gonna praise him and make sure he knows that he's loved. i'll caress his face in the softest way and tell him how important and special he is and that i'd never want him to be hurt like that again. i'll give him soft kisses on his cheeks and neck as my hands take off his suit jacket and feel around his stomach under his white shirt. i'll whisper in his ear how handsome and sweet he is and how i'm so lucky to get to be with him meanwhile my hands have unbuckled his belt and reached into his boxers and started stroking him. i'll tell him i'll do whatever he wants me to do to make him feel loved and seen al while i peck kisses from his face all the way down to his hard on and look up at him with such a tender gaze.

also if he ever wants to try and use his powers in the bedroom i'm absolutely agreeing to that cause can you fucking imagine. he's physically in a different part of the city and i'm in a living room watching TV, his arm suddenly reaches out of the screen and gropes my chest and stomach and i'm so startled by it but also IMMEDIATELY turning into putty while his hand slides under my stomach and touches my crotch and slips into my panties and starts to tease the lips and folds until i'm soaked almost instantly and he fingers me like crazy while both the TV and my brain just become static. hello can any one fucking hear me.

also his dick his fuckin dick. i imagine he's gotta be like 8 to 9 feet tall so even if his dick is "average size" for his height it would still be fucking MASSIVE for me even when flaccid cause like what is that, like 10 inches flaccid and 12 inches hard? to him that's normal but to me PLEASE try and plug the whole thing in and hit the back as much as you can please i am begging you so so so bad i need my walls BEATEN.

i like big men a heeheheheh FUCK