#why yes it is

[dear-ao3]

the real worst part of being someone who “used to live in nyc” and wanting to go back is seeing every famous person you follow one by one go into the city and post photos of themselves literally exactly on your commute to work walk. it sparks rage that i didn’t know i was capable of feeling.

[isawjamfirst]

i had an epiphany

[scribe-of-hael]

YOU CAN'T KEEP ME IN HERE LIKE THIS!!!

Ya'll thought I was playing , I meant it

Starscream in a cat blanket burrito

[knowlesian]

modern media criticism and the strange inability to say ‘this piece of media accomplished what it set out to do, but i did not want or like that so it wasn’t for me’ instead of ‘it was bad’ is gonna drive me off the proverbial cliff one day

[fromperdition4]

Here's Porsche's adorable plop to bless the dash

[aheathen-conceivably]

I see no historical inaccuracies, your honor, not a single one. Only the cutest father daughter bonding time I have ever seen and a hot-headed little bean who is trying her hardest 🥹

[kudzuoath]

Wretched Things

Nothing lives in the shadow cursed lands. Even the trees are undead. This is a problem when you need to drink blood to survive.  Thankfully, Caspian is a giving sort.

–

Try as he might, Astarion’s focus kept sliding away from his book. The wretched burning in his throat, the sandpaper feel of his tongue, the emptiness of his stomach. All served to sever what little attention he had. 

He grit his teeth and stared holes into the page of diagrams. One of several books regarding undead that they’d recovered since finding Moonrise. Caspian seemed to be collecting the things for him. 

The gesture flayed him. 

“Horrid, pink thing,” he grumbled under his breath. “Wretchedly pastel tiefling.”

Maybe he’d be flattered if she didn’t also help just about everyone they came across. Oh she never made any promises – but nevertheless they always ended up in a bloody hag’s lair, or fetching a bard from a cage. 

Actually… 

Astarion’s gaze drifted over to Volo, who was scribbling away, not a care in the world. Surely no one would mind if he indulged in a little snack...

If nothing else with Volo as a victim, he could talk the rest of the party around when they found his corpse. 

Though it wouldn’t be that hard to hide the body. All he had to do was toss it into the lake. With the shadow curse no one would even question it. They all knew the little idiot had the self preservation of a gnat. 

His mouth was watering over Volo. Terrible. 

“Astarion?”

His gaze slid over to the wretchedly pastel tiefling herself. She’d apparently found somewhere to bathe – probably at the inn – because her hair was pale lavender again, rather than the sort of muddy brownish black it had turned from all the blood. 

Not, mind you, living blood. Of course not. The black, congealed jelly-like substance of the dead held by the shadow curse. 

“Well don’t you look a treat this evening,” he said. “Unfortunately I’m rather busy at the moment –”

She ignored his attempt to brush her off. 

“There aren’t any animals here.”

“Really?” he said, looking around in feigned shock. “I hardly noticed. Perhaps next you might tell me what color the sky is?”

Again she ignored his goading. Though those black and indigo eyes narrowed. A laser focus. “And the only people we’ve fought in days are dead already.”

“Your skills of observation are truly something to behold,” he said, fighting not to bristle. What, was she going to start making threats? He was still going to eat Volo. 

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Why?” he asked, lowering his voice into a pur that usually made her blush. “Thinking of inviting me to dine with you?” 

Caspian put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. He was too aware of the bared expanse of her throat. The way her pulse jumped. 

“Yes.”

For a split second he was confused. Why? What did she get out of it? Then he realized he didn’t care. He would take what she gave him. And then take still more. 

“You have such a generous soul,” he said, slipping closer so he could coil a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. This time she blushed. Far more appealing than Volo, really. He still remembered the hot, honeyed taste of her blood sliding down his throat all those nights ago. Did all tieflings burn like that? “I’ll see you tonight, my sweet.”

Even redder, Caspian shook her head. 

“It’s been at least a week, hasn’t it? Just – drink, Astarion.”

“How kind of you to notice…”

He was hardly going to turn her down. The thirst strangled him. He’d been much, much worse off over the centuries. But after so many weeks of being truly sated, starvation sawed at him like a stranger rather than the old friend it was. 

“--  for not thinking of it sooner,” she said. Had she still been talking?

Astarion slid his hand into her hair and tilted her head. Caspian allowed it, still practically glowing from the amount of blood in her face.

Cute. You would think she’d fluster less after the times they’d slept together. 

“Sit, dear,” he said. “I would hate for you to fall.”

Caspian did so. And the moment she was settled he leaned in close, and bit her. 

Her gasp was drowned out by the sudden rush of relief that poured into him. Blood touched his tongue, slid down his throat, and it was like waking. Hot, spiced, honeyed – and none of those things. Her blood – like the last time – burned all the way down. But pleasantly. Like expensive alcohol. 

Astarion tightened his grip in her hair, and drank deeply. Drowning that starving feeling. Luxuriating in the sensation of satiation. The creeping numbness in his fingers faded. The weakened woozy feeling in the center of his chest shriveled. 

“Astarion…”

More. He needed more. 

“If you don’t… stop… you’re going to have… a very awkward conversation… with Shadowheart.”

Caspian’s hand, on the back of his head. Fingers twining through his hair. 

Her heart beat stuttered. 

With a gasp of his own he forced himself to let go, to draw back. Though not too far this time because as soon as he stopped drinking, Caspian half collapsed against him. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running for hours.

There was an ashen quality to her skin, her lips were pale and her eyes heavy lidded. 

“Shit,” he swore. 

“Shouldn’t have… left it so long,” she mumbled, head nodding forward. A long sigh. Then, she started to hum. 

From anyone else he would assume this was related to the blood loss. But Caspian drew magic from music. Sometimes from rhymes. Too still, he held her up as she hummed and coaxed the weave around them. He felt the spell gathering around her – and then felt it take. 

She sat up, looking marginally better. There was some color in her lips, at least. 

“Well,” he said. Awkwardness clawed at him. Though not as hard as it might have. For the first time in days he felt himself. “No need to talk to our resident Sharran.”

Caspian laughed. “I think she’d be more annoyed at me than you. Feel better?”

He did. 

“I’m positively brimming with energy, darling.”

“And you’re in a much better mood,” she pointed out. There was a flash of fang in her smile. Maybe he had been rather… prickly of late. But no one was happy here anyway, so it shouldn’t have been all that noticeable. 

He sniffed. “I miss the sun. This whole cursed place smells like a tomb. And –”

“You were hungry,” she said. Her smile faded, replaced by a knit brow as she looked up at him. He realized he was still supporting most of her weight and – when had he put his arm around her? The warmth and presence of her body was… nice. 

“Did you drink enough?” 

“I nearly drain you and you ask if i’ve drank enough, Cas?” An eyebrow lifted. “I did hope you had better self preservation instincts. Not too much better, of course…”

“I doubt the others are going to invite you to dinner,” she deadpanned. “Our options out here are bloody limited. And I don’t know how much longer it's going to take to get to Ketheric. You need to eat and…” she sighed. “And I don’t think I can give like this every night. I’ll get someone killed out there if I’m too weak to swing a sword or too slow to react with a spell.”

A terrible sticky warmth was building in his chest. It was foreign and insidiously… pleasant.

She was concerned. About him.

His eyes drifted to where one of her hands was gripping the front of his shirt. Caspian would have been so easy to lure to Cazador. The sympathetic always were. And she was nothing if not that. He could have stumbled into her on the streets, playing at a more mortal starvation. 

Help me, he imagined saying. And she would. All the way to Cazador’s teeth. 

Idiot. 

“Should we dine again tomorrow, I won't need as much.” All she had to give, and more. It was his for the taking.

Caspian’s head dropped against his chest and she let out a longer sigh. Relief? Perhaps? 

“Okay. Okay. This is doable.” 

He waited for her hands to drift lower, or her lips to touch his skin. He was resigned to it. It was the most natural sort of payment in the world. And he knew she enjoyed his touch.

But instead Caspian sat up and yawned. “Right. I need to sleep. And probably eat something. In the reverse order.”

“What, no desert?” he whined.

“Ha! If by desert you mean sex, I’d fall asleep before you got your shirt off. I’m afraid I can’t feed both hungers tonight.”

“Pity,” he said, stretching. The way her eyes tracked his movements softened the blow of rejection. “I’m certainly feeling invigorated.”

“Alas,” she deadpanned. There was a spark in her eye and a slight curl to her lips. “You'll just have to invite you hands into bed tonight instead.”

Caspian stood, sketched a theatrical little curtsy, and sauntered off toward the campfire. Almost immediately she fell on the bowl of stew Gale handed her like a ravening wolf. The wizard laughed at her and said something that earned him a smack with her tail. Shadowheart made a dry comment about the puncture wounds on her neck. Caspian fired back, but made no move to hide them. 

And Astation watched her with a faint smile. 

“Wretched thing.”

[honeybuckin]

if   juliet   knew   who   was   at   the   door   then   she   probably   wouldn't   have   opened   it.   she   was   well   aware   of   josh's   relationship   with   his   father   now   and   since   around   halloween,   when   they   got   into   that   argument   about   him,   she   hadn't   asked   for   him   since.   choosing   peace   in   their   relationship   over   her   desire   of   being   liked   by   his   family.   luckily,   hers   loved   him   and   that   seemed   like   enough   reassurance   for   them.   “   uhm,   josh   .   .   .   babe,   ”   she   whispers   while   shaking   him   awake.   “   your   dad's   in   our   kitchen.   ”   not   having   a   better   way   to   tell   him.

[nomaptomyowntreasure]

I love the look Patrick shoots at Pete right before the lean.

[kindaasrikal]

When you can’t draw a character so you have to look up that one person obsessed with them and creates multiple fan art’s of them that you adore so you can stare at said fan art before feeling motivated enough to draw said character.

[chillisreal]

Raph drawing has begun, have these hollowknight related things in the meantime

[daytrippergilmour]

My friend shared this and said "Isn't this that one guy"

[softly-sage]

earning a badge from tumblr brought back all of my overachiever thoughts from high school 😭

[azzys-secret-kink-blog]

Kofi is open if anyone would like to commission or leave a tip! Commission prices start at $15 (USD), feel free to DM if you're interested!

[venenorita]

Like this post for Loly in your Inbox.

[emilykaldwen]

Thank you everyone whose liked/reblogged my lil gif set! I'm stupidly proud of it. I feel braver tackling that bullshit coloring.

In the meantime, trying to finish chapter two on the fic (I want to get to at least five chapters, build some momentum before I start posting). @kingsroad is hyped for Larys. IM GONNA ATTEMPT WISH ME LUCK