#Hello theme link styling

[infoanalysishub]

How to Remove Underline from Links in WordPress Themes

Learn how to remove underlines from link or hyperlinks in WordPress using custom CSS, Elementor, child themes, or plugins. Applies to Hello Theme and more. How to Remove Underline from Links in the Hello Theme and Other Themes in WordPress By default, many WordPress themes apply an underline to hyperlinks. This includes the lightweight Hello Theme by Elementor. Underlining enhances visibility…

[aleksatia]

💗 Rafayel – Five Years Later 

The second in a series of stories exploring MC’s return after five years of silence. Others are coming soon — links will be added as they’re published.

Original ask that sparked this continuation.

Sylus | Caleb | Zayne | Xavier (coming soon)

CW/TW: Trauma & PTSD themes, Implied past abduction, Betrayal / emotional manipulation, Poisoning & near-death experience, Violence (including one execution-style kill), Self-sacrifice, Intense emotional conflict, References to grief, guilt, and long-term separation, Complex relationship dynamics, Themes of forgiveness and healing While inspired by the original characters and lore of the game, this is a personal interpretation. Some aspects of character behavior, relationships, or world-building may differ from canon — especially given the five-year time gap and the impact of traumatic events. Consider it an alternate emotional timeline, shaped by growth, grief, and what-ifs.

(He taught himself silence. Learned to paint with absence, to breathe through longing. But when your shadow crossed his path again — living, breaking, real — the stillness inside him remembered how to shatter.)

The thing about disappearing is — if you do it right — no one comes looking.

Not because they don’t care. But because you made it easier to pretend you were never real in the first place.

You left the sea behind. The salt. The songs. The man with sunlight in his laugh and grief in his hands. You traded it all for concrete, steel, smoke. Somewhere between New Madrid and the Eleventh Sector, you stopped being a person and became a profile: Level 3, Tactical Division, Close Range Neutralization. Specializing in high-value body retention.

A shadow with a badge.  A ghost on retainer.

It suited you.

You didn’t drink anymore. You didn’t play games. You didn’t say his name.

“Client arrival is in twenty minutes,” crackles the comm in your ear. "Full week assignment. High confidentiality. Zero contact protocol unless engaged."

You glance at your reflection in the elevator’s gold trim.

Eyes colder. Shoulders straighter. Gun holstered under a matte jacket that still smells faintly of last week’s adrenaline. You're not the girl who once cried into coral bedsheets. You're her replacement.

The hotel smells like money. That antiseptic richness meant to distract from the emptiness.

You position yourself in the lobby near the marble fountain — half concealed, half obvious. Just enough to look like part of the architecture. Just enough to see everything.

The concierge nods. The manager paces. The staff adjust flowers no one will notice.

Then: the cars. Black, sleek, ghost-silent.

Doors open.

Two assistants spill out first. Press, probably. One on a tablet, one on comms. Then a manager — with a face oddly familiar, like a half-forgotten memory trying to surface. Then—

Your heart forgets how to be a muscle.

He steps out like the city belongs to him. Like time bent itself around his absence.

Still tall. Still too elegant for the world he’s forced to live in. Purple waves of hair tied back. Sunglasses sliding down a nose built for poetry. He’s wearing that long beige coat he used to throw over your shoulders when nights got too cold, and his cologne hits you like déjà vu dipped in seawater and regret.

Your mouth is dry. Your hands are ice.

He doesn’t look at you.

Not yet.

You do what you were trained to do: you check for threats. Scan exits. Ignore your pulse.

He walks through the lobby as if unaware. As if untouched. But when he passes, just before the elevator closes — he turns his head.

And smiles.

Like sin. Like summer. Like he knew it would be you.

Then—

“Hello again, Ms. Bodyguard.”

***

The suite was silent. Too silent for something this expensive.

No music. No hum of ventilation. Just the hush of carpet under your boots, and the faint, distant rhythm of city breath outside the window.

You stood near the corner, hands behind your back, spine too straight. Default position. Default you.

He was across the room, jacket already off, sleeves rolled. Moving like someone who was used to being observed. Not by the public — by ghosts.

The wine had already been poured. He handed you a glass like it was part of the ritual. You didn’t take it.

He arched an eyebrow.

“I’m working,” you said.

He didn’t insist. Just smiled, faintly.

Of course.

He used to fill every room — all noise and color and heat. But now, somehow, he'd grown quiet. Not in absence — in weight. Like a masterpiece in a gallery. Like the only rose in a field of thorns. You could look away, but you’d still feel him. Like a crosshair you couldn’t shake.

The window beside you looked out over the city — not that you were looking. Your eyes were trained on his reflection in the glass. Even blurred by distance and light, you could tell: he hadn’t broken. But he’d bent.

Harder than most things could survive.

His voice came low, like something remembered instead of spoken.

“You weren’t always stone.”

You didn’t answer.

He crossed the room without hurry. You didn’t move.

His eyes found yours — not searching, just… waiting. Like the question wasn’t whether you’d speak. It was whether you still could.

“And yet here you are,” he murmured, “standing in my suite like you were carved to fit the corner.”

You felt the words land somewhere deep in the ribs. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

He took a slow sip from his glass. The color of the wine caught in the light — the same shade he used to mix on his palette when painting you in shadow.

“I saw the new series,” you said, voice even.

He glanced at you over the rim.

“Did you?”

“Less gold. More... grief.”

A pause. Then a smile — dry, almost kind.

“I ran out of yellow.”

That made your throat tighten. You looked away before it showed.

He studied you. Not your face — your posture. Your silences. You weren’t hiding emotion. You were holding it.

Like a soldier holding a wound closed with one hand.

“And you,” he said, softly. “Still chasing bullets?”

“I don’t chase. I shield.”

“Of course you do.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. But enough that you could feel him again. That impossible warmth, wrapped in restraint.

He looked at you like an old painting. The kind you see once, remember forever, and never find again.

“You followed me,” he said, almost offhand. “Even after you left.”

You didn’t deny it.

“I had to know you were… functioning.”

He laughed — quiet, empty.

“Functioning,” he repeated. “Right.”

You searched his face for anger. You didn’t find it. Only something slower. Older.

Like ash.

“How have you been?” you asked.

It was a mistake. The question hung in the air like smoke from a match — small, stupid, but dangerous.

He stared at you for a long moment.

Then the glass in his hand cracked. A clean, bright sound. Like winter splitting.

The wine didn’t spill. He didn’t move.

“You left,” he said.

Not bitter. Not accusing.

Just: you left.

“And now you want to ask if I’ve been well?”

You shifted. Just enough to register discomfort. Nothing more.

He looked at the flame creeping along his knuckles — Evol, awake and restless. He closed his fist, and the fire vanished like breath from a mirror.

“What did I do?” he asked, quieter now. “What sin did I commit to earn a silent goodbye?”

You drew breath through your nose. Measured.

 “I was tired.”

“Of what?”

You looked at him.

“Of being a story you told instead of a person you knew.”

That did it.

Not an explosion. Not a slam. Just a shift. Like something in his chest cracked, and he had no hands free to hold it in place.

He turned. Slowly. Set the broken glass down. No sound. No shatter.

Then he walked to the adjoining door, pressed it open.

“You’ll stay here,” he said.

A simple guest room. Clean, unpersonalized. Quiet.

He didn’t look at you when he added:

“You’re my shadow for the week. No leaving. No exceptions.”

“And if I object?”

He paused at the threshold. Then turned. Finally met your eyes again.

“You won’t,” he said.

Not a command. Just a prophecy.

***

The days blurred.

They stretched long — drawn out by tension and silence — and yet they flew past with the quiet cruelty of something you couldn’t stop. You caught yourself counting minutes. Not until the assignment ended — but until he left again.

You told yourself it was duty. But no. You knew. The closer it got, the more it scared you.

You’d thought you’d buried the past. That five years had been enough to cauterize what you felt. Enough to flatten grief into dull, predictable weight. You’d taught yourself not to cry. Not to ache. Not to wake up reaching for a voice that wasn’t there.

But now—

Now the thought of losing him again bled through you like poison Slow. Sharp. Relentless.

For the first time, you truly wondered — had you made the worst mistake of your life?

You’d always known leaving was cowardice. A reaction. A wound reacting to pressure. You’d told yourself it was necessary — that you couldn’t survive another secret, another lie, another impossible moment in his orbit.

But now, as you stood in his shadow again, you returned to the one truth you kept avoiding. It wasn’t just the secrets. It wasn’t just his careful, curated nonchalance. It wasn’t even the things he didn’t say.

It was that moment — the one you could never forget.

The Nest. The kidnapping. The deal he’d made behind your back.

The betrayal.

The man who once made you feel like a myth had handed you over like a pawn. And you’d left. Because you couldn’t find a version of yourself that could love him and survive it.

But now…

Now you knew. The price you both paid for your fear had been too high.

***

He treated you like a shadow. Professional. Polite. Silent.

He didn’t try to speak. Didn’t joke. Didn’t prod. Whatever playful gleam had once lived in him now belonged to the stage.

You watched him wear charm like a costume — perfectly tailored, easily removed.

The real man?

He wore quieter things now. No more garish brands. No flash. Just silk-lined precision. Weight without noise. Like he’d stopped needing to be seen in order to feel powerful.

And yet — you felt it. The way his gaze burned across rooms. The way silence wrapped around you both like a loaded pause.

Something was coming. You didn’t know what.

Only that it would not be small.

***

Then came the reception.

A charity event. Wealth, power, and politics pretending to like each other in the same room. He handed you your role the night before — not as a request.

You weren’t the bodyguard tonight. You were his date.

No one must suspect otherwise. His reputation demanded it.

And so here you were:

Draped in sea-glass velvet, cut to glide and cling. Your hair swept into soft, impossible waves. Sapphires at your ears, your throat. Everything felt too heavy. Too expensive. Even your heels were a weapon you didn’t know how to use. You hated how they made you move — slow, deliberate. Exposed.

The car slid to a stop. He stepped out first — a vision in black and steel. Then he turned, offered you a hand.

You took it. His skin was cold.

But the touch — the touch burned. Like nothing had ever healed.

Cameras. Screams. Flashing lights.

Your instincts screamed — scan the crowd. Find the threat. Always the threat. But his fingers tightened around yours. Hard.

He leaned in, breath against your ear — warm, familiar, furious.

“Smile, for fuck’s sake.”

You did.

Not for the cameras. Not for the cause.

But because you knew — the storm wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

***

You played the part well.

Neutral. Polished. Cold enough to earn whispers you never heard, but felt just behind your back. 

No one dared speak them aloud, of course. They looked at you and said the compliments to him.

“She’s stunning.”

“Such a refined presence.”

“As if she was made to be on your arm.”

As if your face belonged to him. As if your silence was his design.

In some twisted way, maybe it was.

You didn’t remember how you got here. One minute you were cataloguing exits with your eyes, tracking the crowd with practiced ease —

 The next —

You were dancing.

His hand on your waist, the other guiding yours. Everything too close, too warm, too practiced.

The chandelier above cast a slow rain of light. The room turned gently, spinning around its own silence.

His touch wasn’t tender. It was intentional.

“Your expression,” he murmured, “is slowly assassinating my reputation.”

You didn’t look at him. “Your reputation as what, exactly?”

He paused. Just a second.Then:

“A man of appetites.”

You tilted your head slightly. “How poetic.”

“I thought so,” he said. “Though the press prefers playboy.”

A beat.

“So you’ve read it,” you said.

“I have someone who clips the good parts.”

“Must be a short list.”

He smiled — not kindly. “Normally, I’m seen with far more… expressive company.”

“Then why break tradition?”

His fingers flexed slightly at your waist.

“I suppose I wanted something quieter.” A beat. “Something that might bite back.”

Your gaze flicked to him. Just once. A sharpened glance.

“And how does this help your image?”

“It doesn’t.” He leaned in, voice a thread. “But it’s not always about image, is it?”

You could feel it — the heat building between syllables.  Not passion. Not yet.

Just tension. Waiting.

You moved together like two creatures pretending not to hunt each other. Each step precise. Each breath withheld.

“You used to enjoy this sort of thing,” he said, voice soft now, too close. “Crowds. Light. Being seen.”

“I used to believe in things,” you replied.

He said nothing. But his hand curled tighter against your spine.

For a second, you let the silence say everything.

Then—

You noticed it.

The way his eyes had started slipping away from you. Again and again — to a single shape on the edge of the room. A man. Grey suit. Clean line. Controlled posture.

You knew that look.

The dance ended, but you weren’t let go. He took your arm, like a gentleman.

But you knew better.

***

The garden was colder than it had any right to be. The kind of cold that wasn’t about temperature — it was about distance. About the way stone walls and sculpted hedges swallowed sound and left only the weight of footsteps behind.

You followed him without a word. Because you already knew.

You’d seen his eyes stray to the man in the grey suit half a dozen times during the reception. Not nervous glances — calculated ones. Not curiosity — confirmation.

And now here you were, walking straight into the web.

The man waited by the marble fountain, one hand resting casually in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something expensive and unnecessary. His smile was pleasant. His suit was quiet money. His name was carved into memory from the briefings you used to skim with more detachment.

Elias Varrick. Publicly: philanthropist, investor, art collector, father of four. Privately: suspected ties to high-level biotech experimentation, classified marine acquisitions, and several quiet disappearances.

 All rumors, of course. Nothing on paper. Nothing proven.

Still — you knew. Your gut always knew.

But you didn’t know what Rafayel knew. Not yet.

They greeted each other like old acquaintances. A handshake that looked effortless. Painless.

“I thought it best to deliver the piece myself,” Rafayel said. His voice had its old rhythm — slow, warm, dipped in charm.

You watched him as he spoke. Not the words — the tone.

Polite. Polished. Performing.

“That kind of personal art,” he added, “deserves a personal hand.”

Varrick smiled wider. “Very kind of you. My family will love it. We’re planning to hang it in the main lounge — the one where we gather in the evenings. My wife, the children, my mother. It’s where we live.”

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t freeze. Not outwardly. But something inside you did.

That phrase. The way he said it — we live here.

You didn’t hear a lie. That was the problem. You heard sincerity.

You saw the portrait — Rafayel’s portrait — hanging above a mantel. You saw children playing on a rug beneath it. An old woman sipping tea in a chair nearby. You saw innocence. Unaware. Wrapped around a weapon.

And suddenly, all the scattered images connected. The rumors. The names. The “environmental” fund. The experimental projects tied to Lemurians. The disappearances.

He wasn’t here for charity.

Rafayel was hunting. And you were holding his arm like a lover while he did it.

It wasn’t the lie that made you pull away. It was the memory of all the ones that came before.

You stepped back. A breath lodged in your throat.

“I need a moment,” you murmured.

He turned. “Wait—”

You didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t.”

You turned away.

You needed air. Space. Time. You needed to stop hearing the echo of his voice in your chest, the one that said it’s different now, even when you knew it wasn’t.

But he followed. Of course he followed.

“Let me explain—”

“No,” you snapped, more sharply than intended. “No more explaining. That’s always the beginning of the lie.”

He reached for your arm. You stopped him with a look.

“I want to know one thing,” you said. Your voice was low, barely steady. “That painting… it’s a weapon, isn’t it?”

He hesitated. Just a breath. But it was enough.

“Not here,” he said softly. “Please.”

“There are children in that house, Rafayel. Children. How can you guarantee there won’t be innocent blood?”

His jaw tensed. The silence between you vibrated with unsaid things. Then:

“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll explain everything. But not in public.”

“Answer me.”

“I said not here,” he whispered. Not angry. Not cold. Just—desperate. Controlled. And that — more than anything — told you what you needed to know.

And that’s when it happened. The movement was too fast.

You heard it before you saw it — a hiss of compressed air.

Then the glint of metal. Then the needle, already buried in the side of Rafayel’s neck.

Everything shattered.

Rafayel stumbled, hand flying to the injection point. His eyes widened — not with pain. With realization.

Varrick stepped back with chilling calm, adjusting his cuff.

“I knew it was you,” he said simply. “The moment I saw your face, lemurian. I knew you were the one behind Raymond’s death.”

You didn’t wait for orders. Didn’t need permission.

You drew and fired — one shot. Silent. Precise. Varrick collapsed with a grunt of pain, clutching his leg.

You were on him in three strides. Knee in his chest. Barrel to his throat.

“What was in it?” you growled.

His breath rattled, half from the pain, half from the thrill of it all. He was enjoying this — the game, the brink.

“I’m not—”

You slammed the muzzle harder against his neck.

“Tell me. Or I swear, I’ll have your lungs painting that lovely family room of yours by morning.”

He laughed, blood in his teeth.

“Requiem Coral,” he gasped. “Gen-modified. Synthetic compound. It bonds to Lemurian blood — slow neural degeneration. Burns out the body one nerve at a time. Quite poetic, really.”

You stared at him. Then you fired again.

Between the eyes.

No poetry. Just silence.

***

You found Rafayel still upright. Barely. His pupils were uneven. Sweat glistened on his temple. His balance was shot.

You got under his arm, bore half his weight.

“No hospital,” he muttered.

“I’m not a moron,” you snapped. “We’re going home.”

You drove with one hand clenched around the wheel, the other wrapped tightly around his — clammy now, fingers twitching less and less.

The city blurred past like water through glass, useless. Silent.

He was slumped in the seat beside you, head tilted back, jaw clenched.

“Is this your version of a confession?” he muttered, voice paper-thin. “Waiting ‘til I’m half-dead to finally hold my hand?”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He smiled — barely. “So harsh. Romance really is dead.”

You tightened your grip on his hand. His skin was cold.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t talk like you’re not about to die.”

“I mean, statistically—”

“I said shut up.”

Your voice cracked on the last word. 

The rest of the ride was agony. You didn’t feel the road. You didn’t feel the turns. You felt him — fading beside you. His breath going shallow. His body heavy.

And all you could do was drive faster.

***

Your home wasn’t built for tenderness. It wasn’t a place to recover. It was a place to survive.

The door slammed behind you, and you half-dragged, half-carried him to the medical bench. He tried to help. He couldn’t.

He collapsed like a broken marionette, breathing hard, sweat cold on his brow.

You moved by instinct.

Antitoxin. Anti-inflammatories. Burn stabilizer. Anything. Everything.

Tubes. IV. Scanners.

Your hands didn’t shake — until you realized that nothing was working. His vitals dipped. Once. Again.

No improvement. And you weren’t a doctor. You weren’t a biotech. You were a weapon.

You could take a man apart in thirty seconds, but this — this—

You couldn’t fix this.

You hovered over him, swallowing panic, shoving down the scream forming in your throat.

He opened his eyes — only halfway. Saw the mess you were making. He lifted one trembling hand, and caught your wrist.

“Stop,” he whispered. “You’ll do more harm than good.”

You shook your head violently. “No. No, I can— I just need time—”

“There is no time.”

His voice was barely there.

“I don’t— I don’t know how to stop it,” you said, broken. “I don’t know how to fight it—how to save you—”

“Then listen.”

His eyes found yours.

“If this is it…” His breath caught. “If I’m not waking up from this—”

“Raf, no—”

“Then I want the truth.”

He looked at you like a man watching his own shadow disappear. Like someone who knew there was no second chance this time.

“No secrets. No lies. Nothing between us.”

You froze. And something inside you cracked.

The words came out on a sob.

“I know.”

He blinked slowly. “Know what?”

“I know you sold me out. N109 Zone. Five years ago.”

The air stopped moving. His lips parted, but no sound came.

You looked down, ashamed and shaking.

“I found the records. I connected the drops, the timing. You handed me over.”

There was a long pause. Then, suddenly — he laughed. A ragged, broken sound that became a cough.

“Oh, you—God.”

His smile was pained. Too pained.

“You wanted to reach Onichynus, remember?”

 You looked up.

“There’s no easy road there. No clean path.”

 He coughed again, winced, and gripped your hand tighter.

“I was watching. If things had gone wrong, I would’ve stepped in. I wouldn’t have let them break you.”

Your lips trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t trust myself not to stop you. I didn’t want you to look at me like you are right now.”

He coughed again — something wet in the sound now.

“I never betrayed you.”

His hand drifted to your chest, barely touching.

“You were always my heart.” He smiled faintly. “And when you left… you took it with you.”

You crumpled. Your hands went to his face, cold and pale, and your voice shattered into pieces.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I thought— I thought you used me. Manipulated me. Like everyone else.”

His eyes stayed on yours.

“I would’ve died for you.”

“I know. I know now.”

Tears streamed down your face.

“I took your heart, Raf, but mine—” You pressed a hand to his chest. “Mine never left you. I… still love you.”

Your voice broke like a body under fire.

 “God, I never stopped loving you.”

You leaned down, kissed his lips — dry, cold, still his. Your tears landed on his skin.

“Please,” you whispered. “Fight. Just… fight. Tell me what to do. Anything. Because if you die— if you leave me now— I swear—”

“I’m already leaving,” he said.

A beat. A breath.

“I don’t think anything can stop it.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“But there’s something you can do.”

You stilled.

“Take me to the sea,” he whispered.

His eyes were almost closed.

“If I die… I want the ocean to take my last breath.”

***

You helped him into the water, one arm steady around his waist, the other gripping his wrist as if holding on could somehow hold him here.

The sea was cold, even for nightfall. Each wave climbed higher, tasting skin and memory as it came. Rafayel leaned into you, too light, too quiet. His steps were uncertain, but not from fear. He wasn’t afraid. He was done.

By the time the water reached his chest, he stopped.

His breath caught. Not sharply — softly, like a curtain falling.

For a moment, under the pale gleam of moonlight, he closed his eyes. His features relaxed. And it struck you — how little color remained in his face. How glass-like his skin looked. Almost translucent. Almost not there.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words never found shape.

Because he let go.

He stepped back. And before you could stop him, before you could tighten your grip — he slipped beneath the surface and vanished.

No sound. No splash. Just absence.

“Rafayel.”

Your voice wavered, swallowed instantly by the dark. Then louder—

“RAFAYEL!”

But there was only the sea.

You surged forward, boots stumbling, breath catching in your throat as you threw yourself into the waves.

Cold bit into your spine. Your jacket dragged you down. Salt stung your eyes. None of it mattered.

You dove.

Once, five years ago, it had been the same. Different ocean. Same cold. Same fear.

You remembered that too well — sinking below the surface on a job gone wrong, your lungs seizing, your vision narrowing. And just before the dark closed in, it had been him who pulled you out. His arms, his breath, his voice.

Breathe, cutie. Come on. Breathe.

And now—

Now it was your turn to find him.

You kicked downward, deeper, into the black.

You couldn’t see. The moonlight didn’t reach this far. But you didn’t need to see. You needed to find.

The water grew colder the further you went. Each stroke slower, weaker. The pressure in your chest building, blooming like fire. Your hands swept forward, wide, desperate — fingers searching for fabric, for skin, for anything.

You found nothing.

The panic came slowly. Not like a scream, but like a slow tightening, a noose drawn carefully across your ribs. Your lungs began to burn. Your mind whispered it was too far. Too late. But your body refused to listen.

You kept going.

Until your arms stopped obeying. Until your legs stopped kicking.

Until your last exhale slipped from between your lips, and with it, the only word that still meant anything.

“Rafayel,” you mouthed.

And sank.

Everything stilled.

Time, sensation, thought.

And just as the darkness began to take you—

Something changed.

A pulse. Not from the sea. From inside.

Evol. Dormant until now — roared awake. But not with power. With purpose.

It didn’t surge to protect you. It didn’t scream in defense. It answered something quieter. Deeper.

A wish.

You weren’t trying to save yourself. You weren’t trying to rise.

You were trying to give him your heart back. To pour your strength into his veins. To reignite the spark inside him — even if it meant extinguishing your own.

Let me give it back. Let him live. Let me take the weight.

That was the prayer beneath your ribs, and Evol obeyed.

It moved through you like liquid fire, searing down to your bones, pulling from every corner of your being. It hurt. God, it hurt — not like dying, but like unraveling. You were emptying yourself willingly. Not out of fear. Out of love.

And then — resonance.

Not just from you. From him.  Like something in the darkness roared back.

No. Not her. Not this way.

You felt it — a pull in the opposite direction. Not rejection. Not resistance. Reciprocity.

His Evol flared back — instinctive, involuntary, desperate. Refusing the gift. Refusing the cost.

He wouldn’t let you die for him.  And you — you couldn’t let him die for you.

And so you were pulled. Not rising. Not flying.

Drawn back. Both of you. Together.

Because even now, even here — at the edge of everything — neither of you could bear to leave the other behind.

***

You came back coughing.

The world hit in pieces — salt on your lips, sand beneath your palms, the weight of your own chest struggling to rise.

And then—

Arms.

Not the ocean’s. His.

He was holding you. Soaked. Shaking. Alive.

His heartbeat thudded beneath your ear, ragged but real. His breath skimmed your temple. His fingers gripped your shoulders like he wasn’t sure whether to anchor you — or himself.

You opened your eyes. The sky swam above you, vast and starless.

And Rafayel’s face was there. Pale with exhaustion, hair clinging wet to his skin, eyes too bright in the dark.

You reached up, touched his cheek with trembling fingers. He leaned into it.

No words passed between you. There was nothing to explain.

“This,” you whispered, voice torn to ribbons, “is exactly where I want to be when I die.”

His mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile breaking through.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, “next time we die.”

Your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Raf…”

He hushed you with his thumb against your cheek, his gaze steady and quiet.

“It’s over.”

You shook your head. “But how—”

He didn’t answer right away.

Only looked at you, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, you saw it— light. Faint, buried, but alive in him.

“Cutie,” he said softly, “how could I keep dying when you needed me this much?”

The sound you made was broken, wild — grief and love tangled into one. You folded into him, arms tight around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

“Then you’ll have to live,” you whispered, choked, “for a long, long time. Because I need you. Every day. Every second. Every stupid heartbeat.”

He laughed — quiet and hoarse, and it felt like sunlight after rain.

“Another eternity, then. Sounds like a curse. Or a blessing. Maybe both.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. Moonlight caught the water on his skin, and you felt like crying again.

“I was such a fool,” you said. “You shouldn’t have brought me back. I ruined everything. I wasted so much—”

“I’m not arguing,” he cut in gently. “But I figured… maybe you’d want to fix your behavior.”

A huff escaped you. Wet, shaky. Almost a smile.

“Will you let me try?” you asked. “Will you—can you forgive me?”

He didn’t even blink.

“Sweetheart,” he said, cupping your face in both hands, “this was never about forgiveness. Not really. Not about second chances or fresh starts.”

His thumbs brushed away the tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“We’re us. Flawed. Messy. Brilliant and brutal in equal measure. We hurt each other. And we heal each other.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I forgave you a long time ago. I was only angry because I didn’t understand. I thought maybe—if I’d been softer. Or warmer. Or better—maybe you would’ve stayed.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping free.

“I never left you,” you said. “Not really.”

“I know.”

He leaned forward. And kissed you.

Once — soft and slow, like breathing. Then again — deeper, like memory.

And when you kissed him back, there was no anger left. No questions. Just the weight of five years falling away between your mouths.

You broke away just long enough to murmur, “We almost died.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth.

“We’re always almost dying.”

You laughed, breathless.

“This is a terrible time—”

“There’s no better one,” he said. “You never know which kiss is the last. Which night is the edge.”

He pulled you to him again.

And beneath the moon, on wet sand and shaking limbs, you gave yourselves back — completely. No hesitation. No conditions.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. But it was real.

You loved him like you remembered how. And he held you like he never forgot.

And this time, it didn’t feel like the end.

It felt like the beginning.

***

You woke to the sound of brush against canvas.

Soft, rhythmic. A whisper of motion. It tugged at something in your memory, something half-forgotten.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t even open your eyes.

There was warmth on your skin — sun, blankets, and something else. You inhaled. Salt. Linens. Paint.

And him.

When you finally blinked into the light, it took a moment to understand where you were.

The room was high-ceilinged, the windows cracked open to the hush of waves. The bed was too big, sheets still tangled, your body aching pleasantly in ways that reminded you — yes, it was real.

Last night was real.

And then—

“Don’t move.”

His voice. Low. Focused. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

You turned your head slightly, and there he was.

Rafayel. Sitting on a low stool near the foot of the bed, bare feet braced against the floor, shirt half-unbuttoned, canvas before him. A brush in one hand, a palette balanced on his thigh.

You blinked at him. “What… are you doing?”

“I said don’t move.” He didn’t look up. “You’ll ruin the pose.”

“I wasn’t posing,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I was sleeping. Possibly drooling.”

He finally glanced at you. A glint in his eyes — amusement.

 “You were beautiful. Are. I wanted to keep this one.”

“Raf,” you said, stretching with a grimace, “I probably look like a tangled sea urchin. There’s still sand in places sand should never be. I need a shower.”

“If you let me finish, we’ll shower together.”

Your brows lifted. “Tempting bribe.”

“I know.” He smirked. “Also—note to self: never again sex on sand.”

“The ocean was too cold,” you teased.

“Not in my arms.”

That stopped you for a breath.

You smiled. A small, stunned thing.

And somewhere in the middle of smiling and remembering and wanting to kiss him again, you noticed something on the canvas. You squinted.

“Wait... is that yellow?”

He flinched. The brush stuttered.

And then—he groaned, deep and dramatic. “Dammit. Now I have to start over.”

You sat up on your elbows, eyes wide. “Was that my fault?”

He stood slowly, brush still in hand. “You moved. You talked. You ruined my masterwork.”

You grinned. “Your nude beach goddess masterwork?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “It was going to hang in the Met.”

“Well, in that case—” you started.

But before you could escape, he lunged — grabbed your ankle, yanked you toward the edge of the bed with a playfully feral grin.

You shrieked.

“Raf!”

“You destroyed art!”

“I was the art!”

You kicked. He caught your other foot.

Laughter spilled from your throat — loud, full, aching in your ribs. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this.

He climbed over you, breathless with mock outrage, and you tangled together in the blankets, in limbs, in joy.

You were still gasping when you murmured, “I’m sorry I can��t erase the past. Those five years... they’re etched into us. But I swear, I’ll spend every day trying to heal what I broke.”

His expression softened — all teasing gone.

“Cutie,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone, “you still don’t see it, do you?”

You stilled.

“Last night,” he said, “you were ready to give everything. Your Evol, your life, your soul — for me. Even when you thought I wouldn’t survive.”

He leaned his forehead against yours.

“In that moment, I think even the gods cried.”

You closed your eyes.

“My wounds healed the second you chose to stay,” he whispered. “There’s barely even a scar left.”

Then his voice dropped lower.

“Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Never disappear again. Not without giving me the chance to fight for you. Not in this lifetime. Not in any other.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You looked him in the eyes — and felt the weight of every mistake, every mile, every ache that had brought you back here.

And then you said, quietly:

“Even if all the oceans rise, even if this world burns and time eats itself whole — I’ll find you. In every life. I’ll find you, and I’ll stay.”

His lips parted. He didn’t speak.

He just kissed you.

And this time, it wasn’t for survival.

It was for everything else.

[magic-shop-stories]

hello! i just found your blog, i loooooove the way u write yoongi! could i request yoongi x f!reader boyfriend headcanons? just this, ty in advance!

💌 Reply:

Thank you SO MUCH for this request! 💜 Writing Yoongi is always a joy. Hope this hit all the right notes for you! Let me know which part made you giggle, scream, or melt. And as always, thanks for trusting me with your delulu dreams. I think Yoongi would 100% judge us, but he’d secretly love it.

BOYFRIEND HEADCANONS

↳YOONGI (SUGA) × FEM!READER

~ CONTENT WARNING FOR SECOND PART OF THE POST ~ MATURE THEMES | (extra warning in the post)

Possessive behavior

Suggestive themes

Mild NSFW references��(kissing, intimacy)

Jealousy Proceed mindfully!

DAILY RHYTHM

Mornings

Night Owl Realness

he’s never awake before 10 AM unless forced by schedules

you’ll find him passed out face-down in bed

one arm slung over your waist (possessive octopus)

his alarm?

a grumbled “Five more minutes…” muffled into the pillow

followed by hissed “새끼…” (“Damn it…”) when reality hits

Quiet Rising

if he wakes first (rare), he’ll slip out of bed like a ghost

careful not to jostle his bad shoulder

returns 20 minutes later with (decaf) iced americano 

your favorite placed silently on your nightstand

Breakfast (Sort Of)

he doesn’t "cook"

he assembles

haphazard charcuterie board of convenience store finds

triangle kimbap, yogurt...

sliced apples arranged in a half-hearted star

leaves a note: “Eat. Don’t die.”

Post-Wakeup Rituals

Lap Cat Energy

you find him in his studio

hoodie hood up (glasses askew)

he’ll grunt “Come here” without looking up

patting his thigh

you sit sideways on his lap

legs draped over the chair arm

his right hand stays on his mouse

his left absently plays with your hair

fingertips brushing your scalp in a rhythm matching his beat

Tugging

if you try to leave too soon, he hooks a finger in your waistband or sleeve

“Where you going? I didn’t say you could move.” 

voice rough but eyes soft

Shoulder Check

notice him rolling his left shoulder? = a wince he’d deny

“Yoongi, your...”  “I’m fine...” 

slip a heating pad onto his chair

he doesn’t thank you

his next track samples the crinkle of the pad and your sigh

Coffee & Conversations

Decaf Devotee

sips his americano with a grimace

“Caffeine’s for rookies.”

call him out: 

“You’re just paranoid about shaking during recording.”  he side-eyes you: “…Maybe.”

when you rant about work, he listens while staring at his screen

you think he’s ignoring you?

he mutters:  “Tell your boss to eat shit. Nicely. Or don’t. I’ll write a diss track.” 

his advice is always a threat wrapped in a shrug

Midday Moments

Nap Trap

doze off on the couch?

he drapes his favourite blanket over you

wakes you by poking your cheek

“Hey. You’re drooling on my merch.”

just wants attention

Catlike Coexistence

he works; you read

no talking for hours

just the hum of his work and your pages turning

occasionally, he’ll toss a grape at your head

“You alive over there?”

Nighttime

Pre-Bed Grump

2 AM, he’s still coding beats

drag him to bed!!!

“Yoongi. Now.” 

grumbles but follows

leaning his forehead against your back in the dark

“…Could’ve finished that bridge.”

Sleeping Style

curled on his right side (bad shoulder elevated)

arm slung over your waist

if you shift, he pulls you closer

sleepy “쳇…” (“Tsk…”)

breath warm on your neck

KEY DIALOGUE

when you nag him to hydrate:

“You’re worse than my manager.” 

catch him nodding off mid-edit, glasses crooked

“I’m not cute. Shut up.”

his version of “I miss you.” :

“Come here. Now.” (not a request)

COMMUNICATION

TEXTING STYLE

7 AM: “ㅋ” 

translation: “I’m awake. Suffering. Think of me.”

3 PM: Spotify link to “First Love” by Utada Hikaru

no context

midnight: “Come home.” 

you’ve been in the next room for hours

Notes

scribbles lyrics on receipts

leaves them in your coat pockets

“Your laugh, B-flat minor. Unreleased.”

PET NAMES

calls you “aggressively average” in public

“야” (Ya) / “너” (Neo) = simple, blunt (default)

translates to: “Hey, you.” 

bonus points if he tacks on “-아” 

when annoyed: “야-아!”

“멍청이” (Mongcheongi) = “Dummy.”

delivered with a smirk

when you trip over something: “Classic 멍청이 move.”

privately, it’s “my little disaster"

always in Korean

always when you’re half-asleep

“꼬마” (Kkoma) = “Little one.” 

used when you’re sick or crying

grumbles into your hair

hands awkwardly patting your back

“고양이” (Goyangi) = “Kitten”

reserved for sleepy mornings when you nuzzle into his chest

“고양이… 너무 떨어져.” (Kitten… quit clinging) 

he does not let go

CURSING (HIS LOVE LANGUAGE)

Worried Curses

come home late

he’s pacing

hoodie zipped to his chin

“씨발… 12 missed calls. You trying to kill me?” 

pulls you into a crushing hug

sees you struggling with a suitcase?

"Damn it, just give it" 

carries it up five flights

collapses on the couch

“…Never moving again.”

Flustered Curses

wear that dress

he stares too long

spills his americano

“…씨발.” 

avoiding eye contact (not for long tho)

you know his gaze? like in the weverse live? THAT!

“Change. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

MUTTERINGS (UNFILTERED & UNBOTTLED)

Annoyed Affection

“Why are you so bothersome…" 

when he fixes your phone charger (again)

“Ha… wanna die?"

when you steal his fries

pushes the plate closer to you

Sleep-Soft Confessions

half-asleep, face buried in your neck: 

“…넌 내 거야.” (You’re mine) 

followed by a huff

if you acknowledge it: “I was dreaming. Shut up.”

after nightmares (his or yours), voice gravelly: 

“It’s okay. Let’s lie down."

HIDDEN POETRY (FOR YOUR EARS ONLY)

Lyric Leaks

overhear him mumbling into his voice memos

“Her laughter... G major, sustain pedal down.” 

when confronted, he snaps: “It’s not about you.” (it is)

find a crumpled note in his jacket: 

“Her anger: A minor 7th. Still prettier than my best chords.”

Satoori Slips

stress unlocks his Daegu dialect

he’ll sigh:

"I’m dead tired"

leans his head on your shoulder

"Your hair smells good."

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

Overprotective Tendencies

mention a creepy DM? next day, your Instagram is mysteriously set to private.

“Don’t look at me. Blame Joon’s ‘internet safety’ phase.” (lying)

Passive-Aggressive Love

complain about your slow Wi-Fi?

come home to a $2,000 router installed

“It was on sale.” (It wasn’t)

Services

you’re sick?

he’ll DoorDash three kinds of soup

pretends he “accidentally” ordered too much

“Just pick one. The rest can rot.”

reheats the leftovers for you later

VULNERABLE MOMENTS (CUTS DEEP, HEALS DEEPER)

When You’re Hurt

sees you crying?

says nothing, just pulls you into his lap

chin resting on your head

hours later, he’ll rasp: “Who did it?" 

translation: “Give me a name. I’ll end them.”

after a fight?

he’ll slam a peppero box on the table

“Here. Sugar helps… or whatever.” 

your favorite flavor

drove to three stores

Drunk Truths

tipsy on soju

he’ll trace your jawline

“넌… 내 비트 같아.” (You’re… like my beat.) 

ask what that means?

“Without you, the song’s empty. Happy? Now drink.”

UNEXPECTED SOFTNESS

Shoulder Secrets

his bad shoulder acts up?

he still carries your groceries

“I’m fine. Drop it.” 

later, you find him icing it

muttering “Fuckin’ hero complex…”

Period Protocol

preemptive strike

tracks your cycle like a NASA mission

stocks the fridge with chocolate

heat pads

your weird cravings

“Don’t ask. Just… take what you need.”

Foot Massages

curled in bed, cramping?

he wordlessly pulls your feet into his lap

thumbs digging into your arches

“You’re tense as fuck.” 

you moan?

he smirks “Not the time”

Bad Day Rituals

comes home to find you crying?

silently orders fried chicken

sits on the floor with yo

feeding you bites

lets you wear his favourite hoodie for weeks

“Return it when you’re done being a gremlin.”

buys a duplicate so you never have to

FIERCE LOVE

Defending Your Honor

Karen insults you at the grocery store?

he “accidentally” rams her cart with his

“Oops. Should’ve seen you there… ma’am.”

practiced that line in the mirror

Sacrifices

gives you his expensive headphones during a flight

“Take them. I don’t care.” 

spends the trip white-knuckling the armrest

tortured by a crying baby

COLD FRONT

Silent Treatment Master

when hurt, he retreats into a glacial calm

answers in monosyllables

eyes fixed on his screen

“Fine.” “Whatever.” “Do what you want.” 

you’d prefer yelling?

this icy detachment is worse

Playful Insults Gone Wrong

joked about his “grandpa music taste” during dinner?

he stiffens, chopsticks clattering

“…At least I don’t listen to nursery rhymes.” 

later, you find him scrubbing dishes aggressively

muttering about “disrespect” 

his playlist? Full of your Disney favorites

NEGLECTED NIGHTS

Overwork Blinders

he’s been in the studio for 72 hours?

show up with dinner = he doesn’t look up

“Not hungry.” snap: “You’ll die before you finish that track!” he smirks. “Already dead. Ghosts work faster.” 

Breaking Point

turn off his monitor mid-session?

he slams his fist, voice shaking

“You think this is a game? I’m building a future.”  fire back: “Future’s empty without us!” 

he storms out

returns at 3 AM with tangerines (both your comfort fruit) and a USB drive labeled “Track 13: Sorry.”

GIFTS

(NOT YOUR GRANDMA’S ROMANCE)

Practical Pampering

forget roses.

gifts you custom ergonomic keyboard after noticing wrist pain

“Don’t thank me. Just stop typing like a grandma.” 

keys are programmed to flash “DUMBASS” if you type past midnight

Sentimental Sleuth

finds your childhood Tamagotchi in a thrift store

resurrects it, feeds it for weeks, then hands it over

“It’s on life support. Your problem now.”

Lingerie? Please... (mostly tho)

buys you noise-canceling headphones

“So you’ll shut up about the neighbors.” 

you’ve never mentioned the neighbors aloud (he just knows)

PRETENDS TO HATE SHOPPING

Reluctant Mule

drag him to a flea market

he complains about “dust mites” and “overpriced garbage"

carries your bags without a word

“Hurry up. I’m not your butler.” (he is)

Secret Splurges

catches you eyeing a vintage leather jacket

“Too expensive. Let’s go.” 

returns the next day to buy it

leaves it on your bed with a note: “Don’t ruin it.”

Fashion Critic (Liar)

try on a frilly dress

“You look like a cupcake.” 

later, texts Jin: “Hyung, where do you get those stupid ... she likes?”

HATES WHEN YOU GET DRUNK

(BUT LOVES YOU MORE)

Gruesome Guardian

catches you tipsy at a party (clinging to a giggling band member)

his jaw clenches

" Let’s go.” (“We’re fucked…”)

throws you over his good shoulder like a sack of rice

ignoring your slurred protests

deposits you on the couch

forces water and aspirin into your hands

“Drink. Or I’ll IV it into you.”

Morning-After Mercies:

wakes you with haejangguk (hangover soup), extra kimchi

“Eat. You look like death.” 

when you groan, he smirks

“Next time, stick to soju. At least I can carry that.”

Secret Worry

texts your friends preemptively: 

“Keep her at 2 drinks. Or I’ll end you.”  Jungkook replies: “Hyung, she’s a grown...”  “Try me.”

FAMILY GHOSTS

Dad’s Shadow

mention wanting kids?

he freezes

“I won’t be like him. Ever.” 

later, he researches parenting books

leaves one on your nightstand:

“Raising Kids Without Being a Dick.”

Mom’s Voice

calls her weekly

Satoori thickening

hear him whisper, “Mom, she… eats well."

MARRIAGE

(UNLIKELY PROPOSAL)

Fight

jokingly call him a “commitment-phobe” after he dodges yet another wedding invite

he snaps

“Marriage is a corporate merger. Why the fuck would I want that?”  retaliate: “Then stop acting like my CEO!”

Ring

he buys it six months prior

a minimalist platinum band etched with “Agust D” lyrics in Morse code

hides it in his guitar case, where you “accidentally” find it

“It’s not... ugh. Just take it.”

Proposal

after a brutal argument about his workaholism

he slams a USB drive on the table

a track titled “Forever (feat. You)” with a voice memo: 

“Marry me. Or don’t. I’ll still be here.”

FATHERHOOD = THE GREAT TERROR

Panic

mention wanting kids?

he freezes mid-bite

“…We can’t even keep plants alive.” 

buys a cactus, names it “Baby Jungkook” (it dies)

Test Run

fosters a three-legged cat

calls her “Practice" 

lets her sleep on his studio chair

“If she survives me… maybe.” 

she thrives

he cries when she’s adopted

Revelation

catches you watching a toddler giggle at his concert VLive

mutes the video

“…They’d have your laugh. Maybe that’s… okay.”

ARGUMENTS & FEARS

Fight

you suggest baby names

h scoffs

“We’re not naming a kid ...” snap: “It’s tradition in my family!” 

he storms out

returns with a list of “acceptable” names (all Korean, all unisex)

Fear

find him researching “How Not to Screw Up Your Kid” at 3 AM. 

“You’re not your dad,” you whisper he slams the laptop “…I know. Doesn’t make it easier.”

THE ARRIVAL

Pregnancy

pretends indifference but learns prenatal massage techniques

“I’m just relieving tension. For me.” 

secretly records your belly to sample kicks into a lullaby

Birth Day

stoic until the first cry

then collapses in the hallway

sobbing into Jin’s shoulder

“Hyung, what if I...”  “You’ll be great. Now go hold your kid.”

First Night Home

stays awake

baby on his chest

humming “Sweet Night” off-key

texts the group chat: 

“She has your nose. And my rage. Send help.”

~ CONTENT WARNING ~

MINORS DNI | NSFW | SPICY INTIMACY/PHYSICALITY AHEAD

doesn’t include explicit descriptions of sexual acts

contains: possessive themes, sensual language, suggestive scenarios, jealousy, explicit intimacy/kissing,suggestive content, kink mentions (marking, power dynamics), body worship, (feral Yoongi™)

PHYSICALITY/INTIMACY

Possessive Holding

his hands are always on you in public

thumb hooked in your back pocket

palm splayed possessively over your thigh at dinner

at home, it’s worse:

pins you against counters

forehead resting on your shoulder like a feral cat marking territory

mutters “Mine” into your skin

breath hot

Jealousy

silent but deadly

catches a coworker flirting with you?

says nothing

later, he’s suddenly shirtless in the kitchen

flexing while making ramen

“What? It’s hot in here.” (AC is blasting)

Staring

watches you while you read

eyes tracking the way you bite your lip

“What?” you ask “Nothing,” he lies

clicking his pen like a metronome

SECRETLY LOVES YOUR SEXY OUTFITS (BUT WILL NEVER ADMIT IT)

Possessive Glances

wear a backless dress

he hovers all night

hand resting on the exposed skin like a human shawl

growls at anyone who looks too long

“Eyes up, fucker.”

Backhanded Praise

“That skirt’s impractical.” 

later, finds him staring at your Instagram post in his studio

saves it to a hidden folder labeled “Inspo.”

Late-Night Honesty

after sex, he’ll trace the strap of your lingerie

voice rough

“…Keep this. But don’t wear it outside. Or do. I’ll just kill someone.”

TOUCH

Electric Prelude

his hands speak first

calloused fingertips skimming your jawline

thumb brushing your bottom lip

maps your skin like a composer tracing sheet music

lingering on pulse points (wrist, throat, inner thigh) to memorize your rhythm

Possessive Anchors

palm splayed against your lower back pressing you closer

fingers tangled in your hai tugging just enough to tilt your head

Aftercare Rituals

post-passion, he traces idle patterns on your hip

his touch lingers on scars, birthmarks, stretch marks

“Proof you’re real,” he mutters, as if convincing himself

KISSES

Slow Ignition

starts with closed-mouth presses to your temple, knuckles, the corner of your lips

testing, teasing

when you gasp, he smirks

“Impatient.”

Tongue Technology

deep but controlled,

push-and-pull of heat and restraint

his tongue flicks the roof of your mouth

steals your breath

leaves you dizzy

“Breathe,” he growls, not letting you

Hidden Softness

after fights, his kisses are apologetic

chaste pecks to your eyelids, nose, scars 

“Sorry… sorry…” breathed like a prayer

PACE

Deliberate

prefers slow

almost maddening build-up

takes hours to undress you

mouth exploring every inch before letting you fall apart

“You’ll take what I give you,” he warns

eyes dark

Feral Surges

when jealousy or adrenaline strikes, he’s relentless

pinning you against walls

biting your shoulder

“Mine. Say it.”

POSITIONS

Missionary, Modified

your legs hooked over his bad shoulder

his left hand gripping the headboard for leverage

“Don’t hide,” he orders

watching your face unravel

Cowgirl Command

lets you take control

hands squeezing your hips

“Show me what you need.”

the moment you falter, he flips you

“My turn.”

PREFERENCES

Lighting

pitch dark or candlelit

claims he “hates distractions,” 

catch him staring at your silhouette in the shadows

Soundtrack

your whimpers

his name gasped like a curse

demands “Louder,”, then covers your mouth

“Too loud.”

Kinks

Marking

leaves bruises where only he can see

inner thighs, under collarbones

“So you remember who you belong to.”

Power Play

lets you bind his wrists with his own belt

then breaks free

“Cute. But I’m still in charge.”

ROUNDS

Quality > Quantity

one meticulous, earth-shattering

wear his hoodie the next morning

he’ll corner you in the kitchen

“You’re asking for it.”

Dawn Encores

wakes you with his mouth between your thighs

voice sleep-rough

“Don’t act surprised. You knew I wasn’t done.”

FAVORITE SPOTS

Neck-to-Shoulder Junction

bites here to hear you yelp

soothes it with his tongue

Behind Your Ear

whispers filth in Korean

grinning when you shiver

“You understood that, didn’t you?”

Inner Wrists

kisses your veins like they’re holy

“Every heartbeat’s because of me.”

TRIGGERS

Begging

“Please, Yoongi..." 

cuts you off with a snarl

“Not yet.”

Competence

take charge, riding him ruthlessly

he lets you

until he doesn’t

“Fuck… okay, okay...” 

flips you mid-stride

Vulnerability

tears during aftercare

crushes you to his chest

voice breaking

“I’ve got you. Always.”

BONUS

“I Don’t Do PDA”

except when he does

drags you into empty alleyways to kiss you senseless

“Someone could see...”  “Let them.”

“I’m Not Cute”

posts a selca of you both

your face visible

his obscured by a heart emoji

caption: “#NoFilter" 

ARMY notices his left pinky curled around yours

trends for days

[yuurei20]

Hi Rei! Can you tell me all the canonical facts about the house leader's and Jamile? It can be from all sources: the game, Yana's interviews, etc. I'm very interested in learning more about these characters.

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! ^^ Certainly!

Starting with Riddle!

"A pretty boy with a deep expression. Seems younger than his real age both visually and mentally.

(He has a) surprisingly innocent smile.

Like Spade, he seems to be easily startled by the unexpected.

When provoked, his face becomes red with anger like the Queen of Hearts. 

Generally has his head slightly tilted back to look down on others (in a pompous way)."

- Toboso Yana, Twisted Wonderland Magical Archives Game Guide

"Riddle's personality was, originally, the opposite of what it finally became.

At first he was a character who had been spoiled growing up, disliked studying, was selfish and always broke promises and rules. But because of his strong magic, he could not be denied…in the end, I was not satisfied with my own scenario and rewrote it, resulting in the current Book 1 story.

(Note: there is a sketch by Yana in the guide book of what Riddle originally looked like. The fanart above (link) ↑ is very similar.)

The development team was surprised to see the 180-degree difference between the setting we had already submitted and Riddle's new personality. But they accepted it and even said it was an improvement, and the character became what he is today.

The fact that he has styled his own uniform for a cuter look is a remnant of how he was in the early stages of the project.

Also, Deuce had long hair, Cater was a beastman, there was a character based on a white rabbit motif, and so on…the Heartslabyul dorm experienced many twists and turns in terms of both design and content.

- Toboso Yana, Twisted Wonderland Magical Archives Game Guide

About Heartslabyul's dorm uniform:

"The uniform’s theme is the card soldiers who serve the Queen of Hearts.

Since it is based on playing cards, the base color is white and there are decorative cords, shoulder and side patches meant to be reminiscent of a soldier-like appearance.

The symbols on the students’ faces are magically applied by the housewarden when they are accepted into the dormitory, who decides what their symbol will be.

After that initial application, the students apply their own symbol themselves via either make-up or magic."

- Toboso Yana, Twisted Wonderland Magical Archives Game Guide

“Skin tone loses color, becoming the color of ash.

(Crown and collar are) clock hand motifs.

Rose vines that move on their own.

Arms are dripping with what connects to the incarnation of the blot.”

- Toboso Yana, Twisted Wonderland Magical Archives Game Guide

There are no particular Riddle references of note in any of the visual books, the Apple Store inteview or the Design Note :>

Also:

・In-game Canonical Facts Here -> Riddle Rosehearts

[jaytipede]

... JJ's introduction! ── ✎ᝰ.

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Hello! My name is JJ! I'm fairly new to using Tumblr so apologies for any weird mistakes LOL. You probably know me from either TikTok or Instagram as the girl with the characters named Cookie and Jasper. If not, welcome! Let me introduce myself!

Once again, my name is Jay or JJ! My pronouns are she/her. If it isn't obvious by now, I am an artist and I love to draw and write stories! It is my number one hobby. The project I am currently working on (and will be for a long while) is titled "How the Cookie Crumbles." I am a very secretive person on the internet, so there is not much I can think of to put in my introduction! If you can't tell, I am a very bright person and I love cuteness... which is ironic, considering my story-telling is the total opposite. Speaking of...

⚠︎ TRIGGER WARNINGS! ⚠ ←

If you're new around here, my story-telling contains incredibly heavy discussions that are not for the faint of heart! The story's theme centers around different forms of grooming, hoping to shed light on various types of abuse, SA, etc. If you are sensitive to these subjects, I don't recommend following! While there is more to it than just that, those are the central themes. My goal is to represent these topics as tastefully as I possibly can, I can assure you that I always have the best intentions! I am incredibly open to criticism when it comes to representing things tastefully (and generally speaking) so feel free to criticize the morality if needed! I will always do my best to listen to others concerns.

BOUNDARIES! ←

On the topic of criticism, please do not criticize my art unless asked! While I never want to do something morally incorrect, my art style, designs, etc. are not as serious. You will know if I want criticism, as I usually speak very literally!

Fanart of any kind is okay, as long as it is in good faith and NO NSFW, please!

Feel free to send me as many asks as you want! I may not be on top of them 24/7 but I will try my best to get to them!

I am okay with DMs, but please remember, strangers: a response does not automatically mean we are friends! Do not behave in a parasocial manner towards me! You may think you know me, but I do not know you! Always keep that in mind!

If you are unsure of a boundary I may or may not have... please ask! I have a very open-mind and will never judge anything harmless!

Please do NOT interact if you are:

Homophobic, transphobic, xenophobic, islamophobic, etc.

Racist, sexist, ableist, discriminatory, etc.

If you invalidate a person's pronouns/gender/identity (yes, even neos/xenos!)

If you're a pedophile, sexualize minors, joke about rape, etc.

If you are "proship" or anything of that nature.

If you support, participate, tolerate, or justify any of the above.

If I deem you any of the above, or if you make me uncomfortable in any way... I will block. No questions asked.

Fandom Wiki! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Some of my followers put together a fandom wiki, which is so sweet! I do not edit anything in here as to not take away the fun for y'all, so not all the information may be accurate. For the most part though, I believe it is. Keep in mind that some information is missing as well! Here is the link! ->

Anyways...

Yeah! That's all I can think of, currently. I hope my story can help you feel a little less alone in the world!

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

[applenilune]

Trepidation | two -Astonishment-

SUMMARY~ Three years ago a Colonel from the Deepspace Fleet was murdered by his wife, now, rumors about a mind controlling chip are circulating on the Fleet’s corridors, making the officers feel scared and unsafe. Colonel Caleb is assigned to find out if they are true. But, why is a murder case from three years ago related to rumors about a chip? What does the former Colonel wife knows about that? Can Caleb get to the bottom of the mystery, without getting too close and attached to her?

Pairing ~ Caleb x Non MC female reader.

Rating ~ M! Explicit!

Tags~ 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove, dark themes, slow burn, eventual smut, trauma, mental illness, slightly gore descriptions, manipulation, murder allegations, conspiracy, stalking (I’ll add more as I think of them)

Word count ~ 1,818

Hello! It took a while but chapter two is here! Trepidation is also being posted on Ao3 here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65423068/chapters/168370972 I’m really grateful for all the people who liked, reblog and left kudos on ao3. I hope you’ll keep enjoying and supporting the story. The chapter is not that long but I expect the next one to be.

The Sky Vault Institution was a facility handled by the Farspace Fleet, it was built many years ago in Skyhaven to held and provide treatment for mentally unstable patients.

It wasn’t originally intended that the fleet controlled the place, but since they had to handle some convicted felons and the fleet basically controlled everything around Skyhaven, just a few years after it started operating they took over the entire facility.

The access to the place was extremely restricted, far away from civilization, near the edges of Skyhaven, surrounded by thick forests and tall gates.

The main building, designed based on an antique Gregorian architecture style made the place look almost dismal.

Y/N hated the place, it reminded her of the humiliation, of the disdain looks that everyone gave her, that she was robbed of any chance to have a normal life ever again, but that was also why she had accepted the fact that she was gonna die there.

That was her punishment, for being a fool, for not explaining her concerns to her husband on a different way that the way she did, she couldn’t get punished for her actions if the place she was secluded in were a nice place. And Sky Vault was not a nice place, especially since it was handled by the fleet.

She tried her best to remain invisible, she didn’t want to make friends, not that the personnel were going to be her friends with her of course, but the other patients who were even more disturbed than what she was told she was were better friend options.

She navigated her new life like a ghost, not talking to anyone, and just observing and obeying whatever orders they gave her.

She just wanted to go through this torment as peacefully as possible, the only thing that she liked about this place was the fact that she was safe, whoever it was that had inserted that chip on her, in Sky Vault, they couldn’t reach her. At least that was over.

Y/n would follow the same routine every day, she would wake up with the sun, go to the showers, eat whatever plain and flavorless breakfast that they gave her and then they would let her and the rest of the patients that had “good behavior” go outside for an hour to the “garden” like she’d like to call it, but it was more like a backyard, there were only a few flowers growing here and there and trees, there were a lot of those since the place was surrounded by a literal forest, she would sit on a bench that was under a big oak tree and she would look at the sky, that was the only part of the day that she could let herself enjoy, just feeling the breeze, she would look at the sky because if she looked down she would see the fence that surrounded the place, and that was a reminder that she would never leave.

That day she was sitting there, listening to the few birds that sang on the trees and the murmuring from the other patients who liked to talk to themselves a lot, when she saw one of the nurses walking towards her.

“Miss, you need to come with me right now, please stand up” he said coldly, she knew he wasn’t asking, they never asked, they commanded. And she didn’t even bother asking why since she knew in advance that they wouldn’t give her an answer.

She stood up from the bench and started following the nurse, who was walking away already, not waiting for her to get up.

He took her to a room on “the basement”, like everyone called it. It was the staff’s floor, she’d never been there before, naturally, patients weren’t allowed in there, so she started worrying, “what now?” She asked herself. He typed a code on the panel at the side of the door, and they walked inside a large aisle, that was dimly lit. There were a lot of doors there but, she didn’t bother looking at the signs next to them.

The nurse opened one of those doors and gestured at her to get inside.

It looked like an interrogation room, like the ones they took her when that horrible night happened, it was almost empty, except for the table, the two chairs (one of which had a restraining electronic system) and the little red lights on every corner that indicated that there were cameras.

She sat on one of the chairs and the nurse activated the restraining mechanism to her wrists. Then he left.

She sat there for a good twenty minutes, just looking at the table in front of her. She felt curious, this interrogation all of a sudden, three years after she was already convicted wasn’t at all normal. Should she be scared?

Finally, the door opened again, she remained looking at the front, the person who entered closed the door and walked towards the other chair, the one without the restraints, finally she looked up, and she froze.

It was a man, but what made her feel uneasy was the fact that he was wearing the same uniform that her husband used to wear. A colonel’s uniform. Her eyes started to itch, like she could cry.

He looked at her for a few seconds, expressionless, but then, like he slipped a mask on his face, he smiled at her.

“Good morning, miss y/n” he said, he had the sweetest voice, manly but also very soothing, she couldn’t move, not even a finger. He pulled the chair and removed his hat off, he put it on the table as he sat down in front of her. “I’m Colonel Caleb Xia, it’s a pleasure meeting you”

Y/N felt like she was going to faint, she didn’t knew this man, and it wasn’t really him that made her feel that way, but seeing him wearing those clothes made pieces of really painful memories flood her mind, like he turned on the light-switch of a room that she didn’t ever wanted to light back on. She looked down on her lap, feeling almost dizzy.

She tried to regain her control as quick as possible, she felt hot, almost short of breath, y/n took a deep breath, she wasn’t going to cry in front of this man, she didn’t even knew why he was here to begin with.

When she looked back up she really took a look at him, who was still watching her with his brows furrowed, with a look of curiosity on his eyes.

His eyes were purple, his hair a deep grey-ish brown that looked almost black with the soft lights of the room, he was handsome, he looked elegant, and she could tell that he was tall even while he was sitting. He had some friendly and approachable features, but she could also feel that he was not entirely like that, otherwise he wouldn’t be a Colonel, people with high ranks at the fleet couldn’t be all rainbows and innocence.

“Are you feeling alright, miss?” He asked, as he softened his gaze “you’re looking a little bit pale, Do you want me to call a medic?”

Y/n just denied with her head, she felt like no sound would come out of her mouth even if she tried.

“Good” he simply said. “Well, I’m sure you are a little bit startled by this situation, since it was really abrupt but I assure you that we’re only having a friendly conversation”

She was determined to not let the Colonel perceive her as weak, so she tried her hardest to regain her composure.

“Why a Colonel of the Deepspace fleet, all of a sudden, want to have a ‘friendly’ conversation with me?” She asked, her voice trembling just a little bit.

“Because, we could help each other, Miss y/n” he said with a toneless voice. “You see, we’re having a situation where people are saying that there’s a controlling chip being developed, and the fleet can’t let this escalate, you may have information that could help me get to the bottom of the issue.”

Was he for real? Was this some kind of joke? She couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“What makes you think that I’d want to help you? I told the fleet about this and they just laughed at my face, and now you’re asking for my help? If there’s one thing that I would never do, is trusting in the Deepspace fleet ever again”

“I’m asking for your help because I could help you too, y/n” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I’m asking for your help because I can offer something in return”

She bit the inside of her cheek, she could feel her body stiffening at his words, even if she was restrained, she clenched her fists.

“Oh yeah?” She said with a tight voice “and what exactly is that thing that you are offering me?”

He laid back on the chair, relaxing a little bit of his rigid posture, then he responded with a low voice

“Freedom, perhaps” and he smiled teasingly.

Y/n felt lightheaded, like the air in the room was suddenly sucked out.

“Freedom from what?” She replied.

“From this place, of course, from the stains of your past, you could just…start over” his voice confident.

“I don’t trust you, or anyone on the fleet, so, what’s the catch? What’s in it for you?”

He pursed his lips “I’m just doing my job y/n, that’s it.”

She didn’t knew if she could trust this man, she didn’t even know if she could trust herself, and… freedom? She could actually receive that? Was she worthy of it? Her mind went blank.

“Look, y/n, I don’t mean to distress you,” he declared with a honeyed tone “I know this can be difficult to process, that it could bring you back to a place in your mind that you don’t want to revisit, but, if the information we have, and the information you have is real, that would mean that you were right, you could help other people that might go through the things you went through, and maybe you could leave Sky Vault”

Caleb stood up from his chair, took his hat and put it back on his head. Y/n could only look up at him, confused, speechless.

“Why don’t you think about it today?” Caleb declared with a gentle smile, he needed her to trust him, otherwise, he knew that she will never open up to him “I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll talk about it. I really hope you decide on helping me. It will be beneficial for both of us”

With those last words he left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

What should she do?

[upsidedownsmore]

Hollowframe 57 + Umbra, my submission for the TennoCon 2024 Community Showcase!

Sorry that it took this long to post! This update is special for many reasons, and I'll go through them all here!

First up, Dante AND Jade!

This is the first time I've added two frames to the project at once, rushing to get both finished in time for Tennocon. In order to do so I had to skip making backgrounds for them, however I still plan on making them as soon as I'm able!

You can find more details about the delay and my change of plans regarding their solo compositions in the thread here

In addition to the two new frames, I also took the liberty to rework and tweak a bunch of the older designs that I felt weren't fitting the goal of the project well enough. It was nice drawing simpler designs again! (old on left, new on right)

Here's a timelapse of the changes made to the poster! Tumblr can only have one video per post, so you can find a twitter reply with videos for Dante and Jade here!

Now to get sappy, cause this poster had two journeys through Tennocon! The first being that it got accepted into the community showcase, so here's pics of that! What an absolute honor omg

The second journey was my own personal print, which got signed by so many amazing and lovely people from DE!! I'm SO glad I got the poster printed for myself from Mercury Blueprinting the day of TennoVIP oh my lorrrrd

I might as well add that you can also find all this in my new ArtStation portfolio! Link to it here:

Aaand if you want to check out the Hollowframe Google Drive folder for free or more, it's now available on my new Ko-fi! Link to it here:

Previous Hollowframe update:

I think that's it! There's no way I would have ever guessed how far this project would go when I started it 3 years ago. Thank you guys so much for the support throughout the years, just absolute insanity and i'm losing my ability to word good i still cant get over iiiiiiiiiiiit

[nerdallwritey]

Awfully Fond of You

Request: i was wondering if you’d be willing to write a little something for act 1, during the tiefling party for an autistic tav who has a crush on astarion but also has body insecurities + SA trauma, maybe instead of the usual scene that goes down they request to bathe with astarion instead? a tav with poor interoception (sense of awareness with one’s body) who loves to help and touch others but doesn’t quite register others touching them or how they feel about it but still craving intimacy with astarion is something i’m obsessed with (*^^*)*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･* i love your writing style and NEVER request so im super nervous!!  - 🪴 (Link to original request here).

Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Rating: 18+ - no smut, but mature themes Word Count: 7.7k CW: Very vague alludes to SA trauma, reader is a sweetie pie, Astarion is an idiot as always - No explicit smut this time; this one's mostly fluff! Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3

a/n: Hello folks! I come bearing my very first request fulfillment! As you can tell from the ask, 🪴 anon wanted something very personal and sweet, and I'm incredibly honored that they chose me to see their vision come to life. I did my best to hit every beat they requested, while also staying true to my writing style, which, of course, means there's plenty of banter to be had. Yes, it is a bit similar to An Evening To Ourselves and Perfect Every Time (I swear I was in the middle of writing that one when I received this request), but I'm pleased with how this new remix of Astarion's Act 1 romance scene turned out! And yes, the title IS based on a lyric from everyone's favorite Sesame Street bath time song, "Rubber Duckie." HIT IT, BOYS! (Thank you, as always, to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) NOTE: This Tav is completely separate from bard!Tav and does not take place in the same universe as Beauty and the Bard. Part 5 of that coming soon! And my request box is open!

Without further ado, 🪴 anon, I hope you like it!

The air in camp was abuzz with laughter and cheer. Booze flowed into goblets and down throats, and smiles graced the faces of nearly every guest currently in attendance of the last minute celebration thrown together by you and your companions.

With the goblins and their leaders defeated in what turned out to be a rather difficult encounter, Halsin and Zevlor had insisted on celebrating with you and your party at your campsite before the tieflings made their way to Baldur’s Gate within the next few days. 

Alfira supplied the evening with a somewhat constant stream of joyful songs, only stopping every so often to enjoy a drink with Lakrissa, while other tieflings danced and mingled with each other, relief and excitement making their shoulders relax as they reached for more goblets of wine. 

You were in the process of making your rounds through the party; you’d shared a drink with Shadowheart, some jokes with Gale and Karlach, a quiet moment with Wyll, and a confusing conversation with Lae’zel about limbs being torn from a neogi? You weren’t entirely sure what those even were, but you had to assume they were a fearsome creature if Lae’zel was bringing it up. 

That only left Astarion.

To be honest, you’d been avoiding him all night. Try as he might to catch your eye whenever you passed by, whether it be with a pointed clearing of his throat or a blatant call of your name, you would zero in on something else, and focus all your attention on that. Even if it meant sitting through an extended conversation with Volo. 

But now, there was nowhere left to go. Unless you opted to avoid him completely. And that would only lead to questions from your companions that you wouldn’t know how to answer.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. No. In fact, it was the exact opposite. You liked him a lot. And you weren’t sure what to do about it. 

Astarion was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and you were… you. You’d been you, your whole life, and knew for a fact that the pair of you were an odd couple. Where he was crass, you were kind. Where he was violent, you opted to talk things through. 

And yet, you couldn’t help but enjoy spending time with him. His bloodlust was fascinating to watch, and you loved sparring both physically and verbally with him. More than once, you’d both saved the other’s ass in a sticky situation during battle. More than once, you’d allowed him to drink from you to ease his sanguine hunger. 

You were pretty sure that at the very least, he considered you a friend, though you weren’t sure he’d ever directly admit that to you. Unlike Gale and Wyll, who often reminded you how much they appreciated your friendship, Astarion was much tougher to read. Yet despite his somewhat malicious name calling and disapproval towards your actions, you couldn’t help but feel that he had a soft spot for you. Even when you were telling him he couldn’t kill a man in cold blood, it seemed like he legitimately enjoyed your company. The thought made you smile softly.

Taking in a deep breath and straightening your posture, you finally willed yourself to approach the vampire.

His eyes lit up in that way they often did when he was preparing to tease you.

“There you are, darling,” he said, dramatically. “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“Worried I’d leave you, huh?” you teased with a smirk. 

Astarion tsked. “Perish the thought. But I recognize someone avoiding me when I see it.”

“Ah,” you clasped your hands in front of yourself, looking down at the ground, “you noticed that.”

“When I usually have to pry you away from me, yes, I noticed.” He took a swig of the wine he was holding.

You nodded and bobbed back and forth on your toes. “Best for last, I guess?” you shrugged your shoulders and smiled at him, hoping he’d drop the subject.

He hummed lamely. 

“So,” you perked up, “are you enjoying the party? I see you’ve been indulging in the spirits.”

“Watching me, were you?” Astarion smirked and you held up your hands, caught.

“Guilty.”

“You know,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I never pictured myself as a hero.”

You reached out to squeeze his arm. “Don’t say that.”

His eyes met yours, and he gently pulled his arm out of your grasp. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” He closed his eyes and took another swig of his wine. When he brought the bottle away and opened his eyes, he met you with a scowl. “I hate it. This is awful.”

You laughed. “Really? Saving lives is awful?” 

Astarion rolled his eyes. “We killed some goblins to save some tieflings. The tally of lives didn’t change much.”

“You’re awful,” you shook your head affectionately. 

He looked smug before puffing his chest. “And what do I get for all my hard work?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

“Nothing but a pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” 

You pursed your lips and reached for the bottle, brushing your fingers against his own. 

“Let me try,” you said, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a sip. Your tongue was flooded with the bitter taste of fermented grapes and something else you couldn’t place. Your face scrunched at the flavor and Astarion snorted.

“See what I mean? Awful.”

You handed the bottle back to him, smacking your tongue to get rid of the aftertaste. He took the opportunity to continue speaking.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?”

You let out an amused scoff. “Knowing you, it probably is.”

Astarion lifted a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Oh, don’t be so sour. I like a good time as much as anyone.”

“‘Sour,’” you repeated, pointing at his wine bottle. “Good one.”

He smirked. “You know, we could always make our own entertainment, darling.”

“Oh, really?” You lifted an eyebrow. “And what does that entail?”

“We could get a little closer, so to speak.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing to Astarion. You took a considerable step backwards and crossed your arms. 

“Sorry, I was really close to you just now, wasn’t I?” You rubbed up and down your bicep awkwardly.

Astarion blinked before his face settled into a seductive smirk. He reached his free hand out to rest on your hip. “On the contrary, my dear. I rather like it when you’re close.”

“Oh, good,” you sighed in relief. You brought your hand down to where Astarion’s rested on your hip. “Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He chuckled, squeezing your hip slightly. “So what do you say?”

“To us getting closer? I don’t mind!” To emphasize your point, you took a step forward and rested your other hand on his shoulder.

Astarion furrowed his brow. Then he chuckled again, gently removing both of your hands from his body. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep, we’ll find each other.”

“Okay, now I’m really interested in what kind of entertainment you have planned.” You smirked at him, sensing a shift in his tone, but unsure of what it meant. “Don’t tell me you’re a master of shadow puppets or something.”

He smiled skeptically. “Very funny,” he said slowly. “But I trust you’ll meet me?”

You giggled. “Yes, I’ll see you later, Astarion.” 

“Indeed you will, my love. Indeed you will.” Rather than bid you a proper goodbye, Astarion brought the wine bottle to his lips once more and turned away from you. 

You spun on your heel and made your way back to the party. 

This was fine. Good, even! Spending time one-on-one with Astarion was probably exactly what you needed if you wanted to navigate this silly crush you’d developed. Sure, he’d just called you “my love,” and that was a new one, but it wasn’t that much different from the other pet names he threw at you and your companions. You didn’t need this foolish infatuation distracting you on your journey or, gods forbid, diverting your attention during battle. No, this would be the perfect time to remind yourself and your fluttering heart that Astarion was, first and foremost, your friend, and a person. It didn’t need to be anything more than that. 

Your feet carried you not too far from Astarion’s tent and landed you at Karlach’s tent, the tiefling in question currently lying on her back, looking up at the stars.

“Hey, Hot Stuff,” you said, standing over her. 

“Soldier!” she grinned, her eyes a bit fuzzy from the wine. 

“This seat taken?” You kicked your foot over some dirt to her left. 

“All yours,” she said, sitting up to join you. 

You settled down next to her and watched the party still taking place at the center of camp. It sounded like Gale and Lae’zel were having some sort of heated argument over which main courses were best to prepare for battle, while Halsin awkwardly weaved between them to gather a plate of food for himself.

“Saw you chatting up Fangs just now,” Karlach playfully air-elbowed you, careful not to accidentally touch and scorch you. “Did he have anything good to say?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you shrugged. “He was an ass to me, I was an ass to him, the usual.”

Karlach nodded. “Sounds about right.”

You both sat in pleasant silence for a moment before you laughed a little. “It’s funny, he actually asked me to spend time with him tonight, after the party.”

Karlach furrowed her brow. “After the party? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, “he said we could ‘make our own entertainment.’” You made air quotes when you repeated his words. “I figure he wants to read together or something. It was just weird how he phrased it.”

She sat up a little straighter, her expression growing more serious. “Hang on, what were his words, exactly?”

You leaned back a little, confused by her sudden interest in your mundane conversation with the vampire. “Um… I don’t know. He said he didn’t like being a hero, I told him not to say that, he said he wanted more than a pat on the head and bad wine, I tried the wine and it was bad, he said he wanted a little fun, ‘is that so much to ask?’ and I said ‘knowing you, it probably is,’ and then he said we could make our own entertainment. Or something like that.”

“Huh.” Karlach thought for a moment. “I think he means to bone you, Soldier.”

You sputtered out a laugh. “What?! No he doesn’t!”

“He sooooo does!” Karlach barked out a laugh. “And good for you! I know I’d ride him to the Feywild and back if I had the chance.”

“He does not,” you said again, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince Karlach. 

But you faltered. 

“Does he?”

“Soldier,” Karlach lowered her head at you, giving you an incredulous look, “he was absolutely asking you to get nasty with him.” 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes!” she threw her hands up in the air. “We all see the way you look at each other! You practically undress one another with your eyes every time you see each other!”

“No we don’t!” you argued, but shrank back when Karlach raised an eyebrow at you. 

“You do. You know you do.” 

“Am I that obvious?” you asked, lifting your hands to your cheeks as you felt them heating up. 

Karlach started counting on her fingers. “He’s always the first one you check on after a battle, you’re always walking next to him when we’re traveling, AND you let him drink your blood. Weirdly often. Which is gross.”

“I like helping him,” you countered weakly. “And I always check on you guys, too!”

“Of course you do, Soldier, but we can all see how you two treat each other differently.”

You peered over at Astarion’s tent. He lounged comfortably amongst his pillows, a book propped open in his lap and his bottle of wine was not too far off. 

How could he be so casual and relaxed about all of this? The thought of talking to him later tonight made your stomach drop.

“What if I turn him down?” you asked softly, leaning forward to hug your knees.

Karlach’s expression softened. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She reached out a hand, but retracted it. “If I could, I’d rub your back like my mum used to do when I was a kid.”

You smiled over at her. “Thanks.”

She nodded. “If you don’t want to sleep with the leech, that’s your choice. Don’t let him talk you into it if it’s not what you want.”

“I’m not entirely sure what I want,” you admitted, looking up at the familiar stars above.

Karlach sighed. “Well, you don’t have to decide anything tonight.” She nodded her head towards his tent. “In fact, I could go beat the shit out of him, if you’d like.”

You laughed. “Not necessary. But I appreciate the offer.”

“I’ll do it.”

“I know you will,” you smiled and settled your cheek on top of your knee. “I do really like him,” you confessed.

Karlach thought for a moment. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s the problem?” She cocked her head curiously.

You sighed. “Sex isn’t really something… I have a great relationship with.”

“Ah,” Karlach nodded. “Same,” she joked, flaring her flames a little for good measure.

You snickered quietly. “I won’t get into it, but… yeah. No thanks. For now, at least.”

“Say no more,” she held up her hand and turned to observe Astarion at his tent. “You could always just see what he has to say? Maybe he just wants to show you he’s a master at shadow puppets or something.”

“That’s what I said!” you laughed, and Karlach joined in.

When you’d both settled, she spoke again. “But seriously, Soldier. Astarion may be a freaky vampiric bastard, but I don’t think he’d hurt you.”

“I don’t think he would either.”

“He knows we’d kill him.”

“I’m sure you’d all take turns sending him to the hells.”

“You bet your sweet ass we would,” she brought her fist to her hand as if preparing to punch this hypothetical Astarion. 

After another quiet moment, she spoke again. “You don’t have to go with him tonight. Or, I could come with you, if you want. As backup.”

“Thanks,” you said, “but I think I need to have this conversation with him alone.”

“Of course.”

You looked back over at Astarion’s tent. He was now standing and stretching his arms over his head. When he caught you watching him, he smirked and threw a wink in your direction. You quickly snapped your head forward, back towards the center of the party. Groaning, you brought your hands up to cover your face.

“What am I gonna do?”

~~~~~

Staring into the trees ahead of you, you remained frozen in place. 

The party had died down and dispersed about an hour ago, giving you and your companions plenty of time to perform a quick cleanup and head to bed. And just as Astarion had said, once a peaceful quiet had enveloped the camp, he’d come to your tent and wordlessly motioned for you to follow him. 

Now you were wringing your hands, trying to convince yourself to follow after him into the forest.

Karlach was right: you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to do. And Astarion was a reasonable guy. 

To a degree.

Okay, no he wasn’t. 

He was always prepared to kill someone who wronged him in an instant. But surely he’d be reasonable in this department. Your gut told you that that was true. And if it wasn’t, you’d sicc Karlach and the others on him. 

You knew it wouldn’t come to that, though. You felt strongly that he was the type who wouldn’t react rashly to a rejection. 

Before you’d even made up your mind to do so, you found yourself walking into the trees, following the general direction you’d seen Astarion head off towards. The least you could do was hear him out. And who knew, maybe this would be a funny anecdote in your friendship later on down the line. Only time would tell.

It took a few minutes of mindless wandering before you reached a clearing. You kept going, prepared to keep walking until you eventually found Astarion, when you spotted him emerging from behind a tree in your peripheral. 

You screeched to a halt and turned to face him, growing stiff with nerves when you realized he was shirtless. 

“There you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the tree behind him. “I’ve been waiting.” 

He approached you slowly. 

Seductively. 

You stood completely still.

He continued, “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.”

You swallowed thickly.

He moved even closer. “Waiting to have you.”

“About that,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “what exactly do you mean?”

Astarion’s sensual expression morphed into one of confusion. Then he laughed a little. “Isn’t it obvious? Tonight is about pleasure.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” you muttered.

While you were pretty sure he heard you, Astarion pressed on anyway. 

“Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”

“Astarion,” you said quickly, surging forward to grab his hands in yours, “please.”

He looked surprised, but quickly recovered with an alluring smirk. “Please what, darling?”

“We don’t have to.”

Astarion narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Don’t have to what?”

You groaned and leaned your head forward to rest on his bare shoulder. After a second you lifted your face back up to look at him. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

This time, Astarion looked stunned. “Then… what are you doing here?” 

You shrugged. “I thought we could talk.”

Astarion pulled away from you and took a step back. “‘Talk?’ I thought we had an understanding?”

“See, that’s the thing,” you said, “I did not understand.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and tilted his head in disbelief.

“I’m serious,” you said, stepping closer to him again. “I thought you wanted to spend time together.”

“Oh, but I do,” his lips quirked up mischievously. “I mean to spend the entire night with you, my dear.”

“And while that sounds great, I think you and I are having different thoughts about how to spend that time.” You held his gaze, willing him to hear you.

He humphed. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“Not right now, no.”

He sputtered his lips together and threw his arms up. “And what does that mean?”

“It means… It means I don’t want to have sex right now. At all.” You watched his face scrunch in incredulity. “It has nothing to do with you!” you clarified, grabbing one of his hands again. “Believe me, this is all me.”

Astarion looked you up and down, scanning your body language. You still held his hand and leaned into him ever so slightly. 

“What’s this then?” he asked, placing his free hand over the hand holding his.

You pulled away from him completely. “Sorry,” you said, “I end up touching the people I like. I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

He narrowed his eyes, putting the pieces together in his head. 

“You like me.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Yes.”

“So… what? You want to be friends or something?” He made a sour expression.

You laughed softly. “I’d like to think we’re already friends, actually.”

“And why would you think that?” Astarion asked, but you saw in his eyes that he was teasing.

You smiled lightly. “Maybe because you won’t stop following me around Faerûn?”

“Well, it’s not like I-”

“Or maybe because you’ve had a taste of my blood and now you can’t get enough?”

“Okay, that’s-”

“Or maybe because Karlach said you treat me differently than you treat everyone else.”

“She did not!” Astarion sounded genuinely scandalized and you laughed.

“Face it, pretty boy, you like me, too.”

Astarion groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is not at all going how I planned.”

You pursed your lips and wrapped your arms around yourself again. “Sorry.”

He glanced back at you and saw you staring at the ground. He sighed. 

“No, I’m sorry, darling.”

You met his eyes. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his touch. 

“I assumed you wanted the same thing as me, and I was wrong.”

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” he said, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek, “I misread your touches as advances rather than…” He searched for the proper words. “One of your quirks.”

You exhaled, amused. “You didn’t entirely misread me.”

“Pardon?”

“I do like you. A lot. And if things were different, maybe I would sleep with you, but…”

Astarion pulled away from you and held up a hand. “No explanation needed, darling.” He smirked. “But it's good to know how you feel.”

You felt your cheeks go red. “Yeah,” you said, suddenly shy.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “You’re so adorable when you’re thinking of what to say.”

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “I have another idea,” you said.

He nodded for you to continue and crossed his arms.

“Um… if it’s alright with you, I…” You paused, not exactly sure how he’d react. 

“What is it, darling?”

“I’d like to… bathe you.”

Astarion uncrossed his arms and looked rather dumbfounded.

“What?”

Your words came out clumsily and a little too fast: “Or not! I don’t know, I just like you so much, and I’d like to be closer to you but I don’t want to have sex with you so I thought maybe we could get closer another way, or maybe-”

“Okay,” Astarion interrupted.

“Huh?”

He moved closer to you and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Okay,” he repeated softly. “Let’s bathe together.”

“Oh,” you said, disbelief painting your features. 

Astarion laughed. “Did you assume I’d say no?”

You shrugged as a smile grew on your face. “I don’t know what I expected,” you reached for his hand, “but I’m really glad you said yes.”

~~~~~

The walk back to camp was pleasantly silent, save for the crickets singing their nightly aria. Astarion kept pace with you, the back of your hands brushing every so often, each time sending a tiny shock wave through your body. 

This was happening. You were going to have a private, intimate moment with Astarion. Even if it hadn’t been what he originally intended, you were happy to think of a compromise that still allowed you to get close to him in a way that you knew the others in camp hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t. It made you feel special.

Happy.

And nervous. 

Nervous as all hells, to be honest. You felt your heart speeding up with every step you took, bringing you closer to camp.

“Something wrong, darling?” Astarion asked, giving you a sideways glance.

You jumped a little when his voice broke the silence. “Huh?”

“Your heart, love. It’s pounding.” He waggled his eyebrows teasingly. “Nervous?”

“Oh, that.” You held a hand to your chest and focused on slowing your breathing. When you turned to look at him, you asked, “Is that weird?”

“Seeing as how this was your suggestion, maybe a little.” He smiled and nudged his shoulder into yours.

You groaned. “If this is too weird, let’s just not.”

Astarion halted and grabbed your wrist to stop you. He spun you to look into his eyes. “Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, darling, cut it out.”

“Oh, okay great. Done.”

“Really?”

“No, not really!” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He sighed. “Never is that easy, is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you shook your head anyway. 

“Well, whatever’s making you nervous, I’ll strive to steer clear of it.”

He looked at you expectantly, as if he wanted some sort of explanation. You avoided his eyes and moved to continue walking towards camp. He followed close behind.

“It’s just that…” you paused, trying to collect your thoughts. “I haven’t been… naked in front of someone. For a while.”

Astarion bit his lip, mirth in his eyes.

“Don’t laugh!” you exclaimed, mortified.

“No, no, darling!” His tone was gleeful. “Apologies. It’s just that that’s what’s making you nervous? I’ll have you know that you’re one of the more beautiful creatures who I’ve attempted to bed. You have nothing to fear. I’ve seen all manner of bodies and I can assure you, yours will be nothing short of exquisite. In fact, your shyness is rather endearing.” He smiled at you, looking like he might still be withholding a laugh.

You flattened your lips into a line. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You began walking ahead of him but stopped when you heard him call your name.

“I may be a rake and a thief, but I’m no liar.”

You blinked at him. “Yes you are! You lie all the time!”

“Okay, yes, sure, but I don’t lie about things that matter! Things like this!” He motioned up and down, indicating your body.

Just as he did so, the two of you emerged from the trees and into camp. You held a finger to your lips and indicated for him to be quiet. He nodded and padded after you as you crept quietly towards the shore of the lake that lapped quietly next to your sleeping campsite. You bent to pick up towels, along with the bucket that held soap and other washing supplies that you and your companions shared in an effort to stay clean on the road. You held them up and motioned for Astarion to follow you again, away from where Withers stoically kept watch, and more towards where you’d spoken with Wyll earlier in the evening. When you turned to face Astarion, his eyes were full of questions.

“Are you sure you still want to do this?” you asked.

He perked up and grinned. “My love, there is nothing I’d like more.”

You searched his eyes one more time to make sure he was serious. When you were satisfied with what you saw, you motioned for him to step into the lake. 

“Ladies first,” you teased, looking anywhere but at Astarion.

He, in turn, looked down his nose at you. “I know what this is,” he said, pointing a lazy finger at you.

“What’s what?”

“You’re stalling, darling.”

“I am not!”

Astarion crossed his arms and tilted his head towards you, unimpressed.

Your posture fell into a slouch. “Okay fine, maybe I am stalling.”

“Really?” Astarion said dramatically before dropping his arms to his sides again. He approached you, close enough to where you could feel his cool breath on your face. 

He placed both of his hands on your hips. You looked down to watch as his fingers drummed a calming rhythm into your sides. He whistled quietly, gaining your attention. 

“Let’s start here,” he suggested, now fingering the hem of your shirt. He refused to let you look away. 

You nodded.

“Good,” he purred as you raised your arms and helped him take off your shirt. 

The cool air of the evening immediately sent goosebumps down your arms, and you unconsciously crossed them over your chest for warmth.

Astarion tsked. “Come now,” he protested and placed two gentle hands on your wrists, guiding them to your sides. “Lovely,” he praised once he was able to look at you. 

You made an uncomfortable sound before placing your hands on your waistband. 

“These probably need to come off next, right?”

“Typically that’s how one bathes themself, yes.”

“Right,” you agreed, watching as Astarion mirrored you and reached for his own waistband. You looked down at your legs as you removed your pants, leaving you in only your underwear. 

“Goodness, love,” Astarion said quietly and you looked at him shyly. He himself was now only in his underwear. “You have nothing to be shy about. You’re magnificent.”

“Would you shush and get into the water please?” you half teased, half begged. Anything  to end this weird tension you were feeling. 

“Alright,” he laughed softly before reaching for the waistband of his underwear. He looked at you for approval. When you nodded, he removed them in one fluid motion as if he’d done this a million times. Maybe he had.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but stare at the space between his legs.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Eyes up here.”

“Sorry,” you said, immediately flicking your eyes up to his face. “I didn’t- It’s just-”

Astarion chuckled. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Your turn,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

You bit your lip and slowly reached for your underwear. When you pulled them off, Astarion watched you without a hint of judgment in his eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and shifted nervously on your feet. 

He held out a hand to you and you stared at it before looking up at his face. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going in this frigid water alone, are you mad?”

You laughed and took his hand. He instantly pulled your body to his, holding you so that you were chest to chest. He gave you a seductive smirk before leaning in. You leaned away, avoiding his advances. You shook your head ever so slightly before stepping into the gentle water. Astarion remained standing on the shore before following after you. 

Braving the cold of the water, you sunk down until you were sitting in neck deep water. You let the bucket you’d brought with you float next to you as Astarion crept through the water, clearly freezing. 

“Why did I let you convince me to bathe at night? There’s no sun out to warm this wretched lake.”

You ducked your mouth below the surface to blow some bubbles in his direction. “You should know by now that dunking your whole body helps you warm up faster.”

He gave you a dirty look before slowly sinking down in front of you, yelping and contorting his face the entire time. You couldn’t help but squawk out a laugh. 

When he was fully seated, he pulled you towards him, making you sit in his lap. He gave you a sensual look that had you frowning and pulling back. He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“When I said I wanted to bathe you, that’s all I meant.”

“Ah.” His tone was confused. Then he shook his head. “Right, sorry. This is - well… you know.” He smiled, looking like he was admitting defeat and that he wasn’t pleased about it. “I have no idea what to do with you.”

You swam behind him, pulling the bucket of soap towards you and laying your hands on both of his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything.”

He spun to face you. “Nothing?”

You nodded and he huffed out a laugh. “No sex, no fooling around…I’m sorry, darling. It’s just - having to slow down, it’s… I’m just not used to it.” 

“That’s okay,” you rested your hands on his shoulders again. “We’re in no rush.”

He hummed. “Can you… I don’t know. Help? Show me what to do?”

Laughing, you took his hand. “I’ll try.”

You led your weightless bodies into shallower water and had Astarion sit facing away from you, towards the shore. Reaching for the bucket again, you pulled out a bar of soap and a sponge. 

“Relax,” you cooed, seeing how tensely he held his shoulders close to his ears. 

He let loose a breath and you watched as he relaxed his muscles. Your eyes traveled lower, suddenly catching a glimpse of a complicated and gruesome scar on his back. Your eyes widened, taking in how the water and moonlight reflected off of it. Calmly, you dipped the sponge in the water and added soap before gently rubbing his right shoulder. Astarion melted further, allowing his neck to tilt forward, which, in turn, gave you a better view of his scarred flesh.

“Um… Is it okay for me to wash your back?” you hesitated in bringing the sponge across his shoulder and over his back to his other shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t - oh. I suppose you’re talking about the poem.” He barely looked over his shoulder at you.

“I’ve never seen a poem like this,” you said quietly, a hint of anger in your voice.

He chuckled darkly in response. “It’s a gift from my old master, Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. Do you like it, darling?” He shimmied his shoulders, mockingly preening over the evidence of his own torment.

“Not at all,” you said evenly, continuing to wash his shoulders. 

“Ouch, love, you’d hurt his feelings if he heard that.” Not a hint of joy reached his eyes.

“I don’t much care about the feelings of this old master of yours.”

“Oh, be still, my undead heart,” he held a hand to his chest sarcastically. Then he sighed. “You’re allowed to wash it. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” His voice was quiet when he said, “Thank you for asking.”

Wordlessly, you moved the sponge from the back of his neck to his shoulder blades. 

“I’m not going to break,” he laughed softly, “you don’t have to be so gentle.”

You increased the pressure you were applying to his skin before adding more soap to the sponge. “Move up a little,” you instructed, tapping him to move closer to the shore. “Lean forward.”

Now you had a better angle to wash away the grime of the road from his back, and an even better view of the scar. You clicked your tongue and set to work. 

Perhaps uncomfortable by your silence, Astarion began to speak again. “He, Cazador, composed and carved that poem over the course of a night.” There was a venom to his words. Maybe a deep regret, or a weighing sadness. “He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Your hand paused over a particularly brutal ridge. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against the raised tissue. “You’re brave for enduring that.”

“What are you doing?” Astarion straightened, making you push your cheek further into his skin. 

You pulled back immediately. “Sorry, I wanted to hug you. I should have asked. I just… wanted you to know that I care.”

Astarion looked over his shoulder at you blankly. “You ‘care?’”

You nodded. “Turn back around, let me keep washing you.”

He gave you a slight nod before facing forward again and leaning over. 

After another silent moment of gliding the sponge across his back, you asked, “Any idea what it means? Or is it just some pattern?”

Astarion let out an unamused laugh. “Hells if I know. Not sure how much you know about vampires, darling, but typically, we can’t see our reflections.” He spoke as if talking to a child. 

You splashed his back with a small wave from your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re lashing out at me when I was just asking a question.”

“I-” He paused. Then he fell silent.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped but… I’m not your enemy,” you said gently. “We don’t have to keep talking about this. We don’t have to talk at all.”

Astarion groaned. “Silence is dreadful, darling.”

“Is that why you never stop talking?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

“Good one,” he said flatly, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “I only talk because you lot never have anything interesting to say.”

You scoffed with a smile. “I have plenty of interesting things to say!”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like-” you thought for a moment. “Like the other day! When I was talking with you about your embroidery!” By now you’d moved on to washing over Astarion’s arms. You spun him to face you so you could wash and massage his hands. 

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Unfortunately, darling, that’s not an entirely interesting topic, seeing as how I was in the middle of mending a shirt and you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.”

“I did not!” you denied, massaging between his fingers. Unconsciously, his fingers curled around yours before retracting and flexing. 

“Deny all you want, you still didn’t say anything interesting.”

“Hmm,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “If I’m so uninteresting, why did you want to spend the evening with me of all people?” You were massaging his other hand. 

“You-” He paused again.

“I?”

“You’re… I’m still trying to figure you out.” His voice grew softer when you pulled yourself closer to wash across his chest. You sensed the shift and looked up at his face to make sure he was okay with your actions. When he nodded minutely, you continued. 

“If you’re trying to figure me out… one might say that you’re interested in me.”

He groaned. “Say whatever you want to help you sleep better tonight, darling.”

“Uh huh,” you said pleasantly to yourself, feeling like you’d won. You looked away to add more soap to the sponge and when you looked back, you realized how close you were to his face. His pupils were blown wider than usual and you could see yourself reflected in his eyes against the moonlight. His breath tickled your face. 

He watched you with an intensity that had you hesitating. Why was he so-?

“Look up,” you said, looking up yourself to demonstrate what you wanted. “Please.”

He held your gaze for as long as he could before looking up at the sky. 

You carefully brushed the sponge along his throat, pausing briefly when you got to the twin wounds on his throat from the night he was turned. You circled them gently with the sponge before rinsing the suds with water cupped in your hand. A shiver ran through Astarion’s body.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said looking back down at you once you’d finished rinsing the suds away. “But I’d very much like to kiss you.”

You blinked a few times before resting your forehead against his. When you pulled back, you asked, “Is it okay for me to wash your hair?”

Astarion looked at you for a moment, his eyes flicking to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. “I suppose so,” he said.

“I don’t have to. Your legs are still-”

“I can handle my own lower half, thank you.” He winked at you.

You smiled and handed him the sponge before bringing yourself to rest behind him again. You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water.

“You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket for Astarion to see.

“I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.”

“A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.”

“I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

Instead of dumping the entire bucket on his head like you threatened, you poured a gentle stream along the back of his skull before moving forward to evenly wet the rest of his hair. 

“Bloody hells, that is cold,” he pushed some flattened curls out of his face.

“For being a fearsome vampire, you sure are a wimp,” you teased. 

“I could rip your throat out.”

“And I might be able to drown you.” You placed firm hands on both his shoulders and pushed gently, as if you wanted to test your theory. 

“Terrifying,” he smirked, running the sponge along his legs underwater.

“You should see what I did to those goblins who were holding Halsin hostage.”

Astarion laughed. “I know, darling, I was there. Who knew you could be so hellbent on vengeance?”

You laughed softly, coating your hands in soap before running them through his curls. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Like?” he prompted.

“Astarion!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “You want to know more about me?”

“Well if I knew you’d make a fuss, I wouldn’t have said anything.” Despite his tone, his eyes were closed in pleasure as you continued to massage his scalp. 

You chuckled quietly, trying to think of something to share with him. 

“I’ve lived in Baldur’s Gate my whole life,” you started.

“A shame we never crossed paths.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’d spare me a passing glance.”

Astarion opened his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You shrugged. “I read a lot, growing up, and liked being indoors. But I also liked the outdoors. I helped my dad tend our garden, and helped my mom cook dinner–”

“How quaint.”

“We’d visit my aunt in the Upper City every Midwinter, and I wanted to be a teacher when I grew up.” 

“Pity, you have such a promising career as a spa keeper.”

You examined Astarion’s head to make sure you hadn’t missed a spot. When you were pleased with your own work, you continued: “This is the first big adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“First brain worm?” Astarion opened one eye and pointed to his temple.

You laughed and nodded. 

He smiled. “Mine, too.”

You filled the bucket with more water and held a hand over his forehead to keep soapy water from splashing into his eyes when you poured the fresh water over his foamy locks. 

Astarion sighed as the soap began to wash away. You filled the bucket again to repeat the process. 

“Did you ever foresee yourself bathing a beautiful vampire, when you were a child?”

You pursed your lips. “I mean, I had my hopes.” You smiled as he let out a laugh. 

“Tonight definitely didn’t go how I expected,” he admitted.

“You didn’t foresee yourself getting bathed by your incredibly interesting leader?”

He let out an amused breath from his nose. “No I did not.”

You finished rinsing out the last of the soap from his hair, but continued raking your fingers through it. “Are you disappointed?” Your voice was small.

He turned to face you, making your hands disconnect from his curls. “Not at all,” he said, sounding genuine. “Pleasantly surprised, actually.” He thought for a moment. “And cleaner than I’ve been in weeks. Probably.”

You laughed. “Happy to have provided my services.”

He smiled at you, his eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “This was nice.” He lifted his hand to swipe through his hair. “Let’s hope you didn’t ruin my hair.”

“With soap and water?”

“You might have done it wrong,” he teased.

“How? It’s soap and water!”

“Not so loud,” he chuckled, nodding his head towards camp. You could vaguely hear Gale snoring in the distance. 

“I’m leaving,” you joked, moving to get up, but Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into the water.

“Am I not to return the favor?”

You looked back at him and half smiled, patting his cheek. “I’m not convinced you’d do a thorough enough job.” With that, you pushed away from him and got up, gathering the bathing materials and walking back to shore where towels awaited. 

Astarion sputtered behind you. “How dare you! I could give you a massage, the likes of which you’ve never experienced before!”

“You know, sometimes, Astarion, people do things for other people, and don’t want anything in return.” You threw the towel over your head to start drying your hair before wrapping it around your body. 

Astarion did the same before bending to pick up your discarded clothes. “I- Well… You-” He sighed heavily. “You’re a tricky one, aren’t you?”

“I’m not trying to be,” you shrugged.

“And yet,” he sidled up next to you, offering you his arm, “you are.” 

You took his arm in one hand and the bucket of washing supplies in the other and followed him as he led you back into camp. You placed the materials back where you found them and brought your newly freed hand up to wrap around Astarion’s arm. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

When you arrived at your tent, he handed you your clothes. 

“I suppose this is where we end our evening,” he said quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I suppose so,” you agreed, your eyes shining as you looked at him.

“What?” he asked.

“Thank you for letting me do that,” you said, still holding his arm. “I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“I did,” he said. “Very much, actually.” When he saw the excited look on your face, he amended, “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not weird,” you said, weirdly.

“Uh huh,” Astarion said, pulling his arm out of your grip, not unkindly.

“We can do it again,” you bobbed on your feet, “if you want.”

“I… could be persuaded,” he nodded.

“Good,” you said. Then you surged forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Goodnight Astarion.” You turned and ducked down into your tent.

“Pleasant dreams, darling,” he said softly. 

You didn’t see how his hand lingered on his cheek where your lips had made contact, didn’t see the small smile that crept onto his face or the mask beginning to slip. 

Instead, you had pleasant dreams filled with laughs and curls and a flash of fangs accompanied by a smile of delight. 

[petalruesimblr]

Bridal Bliss Boutique

Sim File Share

An ultimate destination for all things beauty, bridal and bliss. This boutique offers everything a modern bride could dream of - from stunning gowns and beauty services to a cozy café, the perfect spot for celebrating your bridal journey. Bridal Bliss Boutique is the ultimate blend of elegance, style and relaxation whether you’re preparing for your big day or simply indulging in a little self-care!

Price: 155,117 Lot Size: 20x30 Lot Type: Salon Store Content: Click here CC Used: Click here File Type: Package Min. Required Game Version: 1.42 Packs Needed: The Sims 3, Ambitions (tree, lot type), Pets (buydebug object), Late Night (elevator, floor), World Adventures (food register)

Hello and welcome back to my blog!

My fourth gift for the Petalruesimblr Advent Calendar is: Bridal Boutique! It’s perfect for those who want to roleplay finding the perfect dress, relaxing at the salon and catching up with friends at the café before the big day.

The previous advent gift was created specifically for this lot and if anyone missed that post, you can click here to check it out.

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

This lot uses a lot of custom content for décor, as it’s intended for players who prefer not to use mods in their game and is mainly for roleplay purposes.

However, for those who don’t mind using mods, I recommend the Shop for Clothes and Shop for Clothing Display Pedestal mods both by Ani or the Boutique mod by phoebejaysims to enhance the bridal boutique experience on the first floor.

If you have the Into the Future expansion pack, you can use the Clothing Pedestal instead and replace the displays around the store or add them in as you like.

The second floor is home to the salon, which features a lot of custom décor. The Hairdresser mod by phoebejaysims is a great addition here and you can swap the chairs for their modded hairdresser's chairs and add a portfolio from them as well.

The third floor is a café, where I placed a food register from the World Adventures expansion pack, along with a chest-like chillbox for those who want to use Ani’s Sell From Inventory mod.

You can also replace the café display or add the Quick Croissants Coffee Bar from the University expansion pack or the Have Coffee With Me mod, for those who don’t have the expansion pack.

I decided not to add a tattoo shop, as it didn’t quite fit the theme I was aiming for with this lot. However, I’ve included an empty space in the basement with a 'for rent' sign so you can add a tattoo shop or create anything you like in this space.

This lot is a bit CC-heavy, as I have used more cc compared to game objects and these are not included on the download file. I’ve compiled a list for those interested in downloading them separately (please click the links above or go to WCIF Navigation page). The Ambitions expansion pack is required for the Salon lot to work in your game but I’m not sure about the others so please take note of the expansion packs with build items listed in the Details section above.

This lot has been play-tested and let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

[finniestoncrane]

hello again friendos!! shockingly close to my third year with this blog and i'm hitting my next big milestone!! 💚💚💚 this time, i've leaned into my love of all things cowboys and outlaws!! ✨acab forever✨ but let's suspend disbelief!! please, step into ⭐sheriff finnie's⭐ office and tell me all about that bad, bad bean so we can fix up a ⛓️‍💥wanted poster⛓️‍💥 for you!! 🤠

EVENT IS NOW CLOSED

so here's the rules, pardner:

there's going to be 20 possible options for the main posts (i'll only be doing one post per character, so be QUICK because it is first come first serve with the character and the theme!!)

i'll keep the list below the read more updated so you can see what's still available: ONCE SOMETHING HAS BEEN PICKED IT IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE (i'll update when i can, but remember i'm sleepy and on gmt time)

you can opt to turn yourself in (for a character pairing) OR

pick ONE from EACH OF THE THREE lists below

please send me an ask with your choices!! (you can also specify the version of the character from the ones i write if the option is there and let me know reader details too)

i'll then create your bounty and pair it with a cute little wanted poster

ok, enough ramblin'!! let's get out there and clean up this here town!! YEE-HAW!!💚 and all of my love and heart to everyone who tolerates me and encourages me and makes this life worth living 💚💚💚

🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie3k (to follow or to block)

Ok, take a seat there. Now, are you here to turn yourself in, or tattle on someone else?

"I'm actually a sneaky little outlaw, and I'm turning myself in. I will now describe my crimes to you in the hopes that you can find my accomplice." - Please tell me a little bit about yourself and I'll pair you up with a character!! Let me know if this is going to be a bonnie and clyde style love affair or just two criminals getting up to mischief!!

OR

"I'm here to tattle!! Please, Sheriff Finnie, they're so bad... I want them behind bars!!" - Please pick ONE EACH from the THREE lists below!!

Which Bad, Bad Bastard™️are you hoping we can catch?

arkham!riddler(dc)

any other riddler (dc)

farrell!penguin(dc)

scarecrow (dc)

gotham!zsasz (dc)

arkham!two face (dc)

captain boomerang (dc)

arkham!bane (dc)

king shark (dc)

doctor phosphorus (dc)

cooper howard (fallout)

john hancock (fo4)

nick valentine (fo4)

sniper/mick mundy (tf2)

scout/jeremy willis (tf2)

cecil stedman (invincible)

arthur morgan (rdr2)

micah bell (rdr2)

egon spengler (ghostbusters)

nick (l4d2)

And what kind of criminal acts have they been up to?

deadbeat parent (breeding kink)

big bad misconduct (noncon)

disturbing the peace (somnophilia)

attempted murder (choking)

cattle rustling (pet play)

defamation of character (degradation/humiliation)

bribery and back alley dealings (praise kink)

illicit public conduct (dry humping)

stalking and harrassment (voyeurism)

greivous bodily harm (marking kink)

pickpocketing (fingering)

mishandling of goods (breast play)

moonshining (cockwarming)

running an illegal betting game (edging)

evading arrest (oral sex)

home invasion (daddy/mommy kink)

stage coach robbery (stolen kiss)

prison break (face sitting)

selling snake oil (mistaken for a couple)

indecent business proposals (confessing "i love you")

I see... Well, let's bring the bastard in!! Now as for the matter of the... condition... What would you like us to advertise?

Wanted: Dead or Alive (surprise me)

Wanted: Dead (ficlet)

Wanted: Alive (headcanons)

Not Wanted At All (moodboard)

[acesw]

Deep Analysis — 2.6 Poster

Hello everyone! As you can tell this is a post meant for the CN Spoiler audience. While the tags will be seen, same rules apply: If you're in any way sticking to global patches, I'd suggest not looking into this thread until way later. For any CN enjoyers, have fun!

*Placeholder for spoilers

I've also begun using both tumblr and twitter interchangeably so that I can manage the distribution of both GLB and CN Lore posts. The thread version of this post is here.

Deep Ch. 9 Poster Analysis: Folie et Déraison

Welcome! As of today (18/02/25), Bluepoch has released the poster for 2.6, and there are a lot of cryptic implications in this poster than I expected.

The formatting and amount of images here will be limited due to me being limited to my phone to write at the moment, but I will link specific parts of my twitter thread to be able to show the other images missed. Let's not dwell on my antics for longer and let's get started.

1. Title and Artwork

A. Title

"Folie et Déraison: Historie de la Folie" is a 1961 book written by Michel Foucault. The book describes how madness has evolved over the course of history from the middle ages to the 18th Century.

B. The Main Cast

Recoleta (Ficciones)

Aleph

Vertin

Sonetto

The Idealist

The Physician

Dores

C. The Poster's Main Elements

The entire poster represents 3 main figures: the panopticon/prison, a skull-like head showing the layers of the mind, and 3 inner humanoid shapes that show the depth of the panopticon.

D. Art Style

While I can't distinguish the exact form (ironic coming from an art student), this art style definitely uses Doodle/Scribble as a part of the drawing while also integrating the use of word art to reinforce the shape and message.

The way the lines are drawn are in a manner that makes it: hasty, jagged, sharp, and rough. It's meant to give that feeling of uneasiness, and express the desperation and mania founded in a decline in one's psychological health.

E. The Red Path

The red line represents paths and depth, with the addition of showing a hexagon-like shape in the middle and ladders across each layer. It also crosses over the key phrases, coincidentally symbolizing the shackles of the outermost figure.

F. Key Figures

The key phrase in this poster is "Our Mind Is a Prison," repeated all over the poster and being one of the leading mediums of the head shape. In the image below, it specially reads as "Our Mind Is a Prison," cycling into "A Prison of our Mind."

G. The Figures

As said earlier, there are three figures within the panopticon/head. The outermost figure encompasses the two others, the middle figure is shown to be in a sitting/dejected position, and the innermost figure is in a fetal position, protecting the hexagon shape.

H. The Description

"A place of exile for prisoners,

Countless fervent poems and ideals!

Countless illusions entwined into a labyrinth?

Countless versions of "you" drifting within...

Infinite possibilities lie hidden here,

And we have come for them."

-Merui's translation

2. Implied Symbolisms

A. Mental Spiral — With the ongoing themes of madness and illusions, and the key phrase, it's fitting that the poster shows a mental spiral and an interpretation of the "prison of your own mind" metaphor.

B. Labyrinth and Identity — Adding to the mental spiral symbolism, the panopticon is shown as a labyrinth. It can represent how difficult it is to navigate one's understanding of themselves and others. It adds to the complexity of interpersonal relationships and personal identity.

C. Death and Burial — My friend pointed out that the yellow scribbles that show the outermost layer of the prison can be interpreted as a grave. The head also shows a deliberately-placed hole that looks like an eye socket.

D. Pregnancy (and motherhood) — The outermost figure is shown to be encompassing the other two figures, while the innermost is in a fetal position. Here, it can imply pregnancy and likely the chapter's ties to Vertin and Urd (Dores), and their likely connection to each other. Additionally, someone pointed out that the figure in the fetal position looks like Vertin's body position in the profile screen!

3. The Main Cast

Recoleta and Aleph - Recoleta (Ficciones) and Aleph are both the main featured characters for this chapter, being described to be players of a "cruel game" (via Merui's translation of the broadcast description). Here in these posts, you'll find an analysis for both characters + the implications of the name "Recoleta."

It's likely that the two of them are either prisoners of the panopticon, or those who join Vertin and Sonetto in venturing deep in the labyrinth. They will definitely have some interesting stories to share.

Vertin and Sonetto - Speaking of which, Vertin and Sonetto are in the chapter together as a duo again; it's the first time since 1.2! This might be a chance for their individual characters and their relationship to be explored once again.

Many things between them are still left unsaid, and I would really want to see how this chapter will affect their relationship and understandings of each other. We might get a further glimpse of their origins too, who knows!

Dores - While we don't know who The Idealist and The Physician are, we definitely know who Dores is. What she went through to come back in this chapter, we don't know yet, but it can be assumed that she's imprisoned in this panopticon, and we will have a glimpse of her as a person.

4. Story Links and Initial Expectations

A.

Folie et Déraison is the 9th Chapter of the Main Series and a direct continuation from 2.4 (Last Evenings on Earth), taking place after Igor's betrayal and Dores' kidnapping in Ch. 8, and the artificial "Storm" experiment in 2.4.

Taking place in Ushuaia, Argentina, it can be assumed that the story will be set in the now-former Ushuaia Prison, which is a prison based on the design of a radial panopticon. This chapter will also be set in 1991 via the timeline, making it a few months after Ch. 8.

I'm assuming that the prison here is being used as a temporary Manus base, where Dores is being kept during the time that she had remained hostage by Igor and the Manus Vindictae by extension. The fact that Vertin and Sonetto are going by themselves is already scary enough, but I'm sure they'll be able to push through.

B.

The chapter will once more go into psychological themes, exploring the mind of oneself and "madness" as a concept. In that case, the main story—alongside Ficciones and Aleph's characters—will definitely deal with heavy and disturbing themes as well.

With the cast, we will definitely explore Dores/Urd as a character. With the line "countless versions of 'you' drifting within," we might see the story solidify her identity as Urd; which may bring a confirmation about her previous identities and her relationship with Vertin.

We'll also see two paths that will finally cross each other after too long. Besides that, there will definitely be a lot of reveals and new questions will be made, which is what I'm really hoping for.

5. Last Notes

This chapter definitely makes me excited. This poster is insanely done well and I really appreciate how cryptic it looks while it sets the message outright. The words are likely handwritten, so I applaud the art direction for that.

Aside from the anxiety over the PV and character design, I really have high hopes for this story and how it will push the plot forward. Thanks for reading and lets have fun theorizing for the rest of the week!

[demaparbat-hp]

Hi Dema!! Your art is fantastic and even the lineart is awesome! Solid and confident in where it's thick and where thin. I really like how your style has characters look more realistic and they have specific consistent features. Your blog has a pleasant atmosphere, and you're skilled in weaving AUs! There's a lot of details and structure, and I'd like to ask if any of them have a full story arc? Could you do a list of all of the AUs? Is there a motif that you especially like that repeats in any of the AUs? And whenever you add comments to my stuff in the tags I literally smile, it makes me want to keep at my plan to create everything I have in mind. So I'd like to spread this joy! I hope you have a nice day! (from late-draft ^^)

Hello, Late-Draft! I wasn't expecting this ask at all but I'm so glad to have received it!

First of all—I'll try to hold myself back from giggling like a schoolgirl. I'm having a sempai noticed me moment over here and that's just embarrassing. So give me a second to compose myself, if that's alright?

Okay, I'm back.

Now, on to business.

Character design, especially when it comes to facial features and how they're unique to each person, has always been a passion of mine. I always try to have a solid design for each character. I choose which features feel like the character in question, which face feels natural to draw, and go along with it. I love drawing Katara as much as I love drawing Zuko. Meanwhile, I seem to be on a never-ending battle against Sokka's features. Woes of an artist, I suppose.

Character design is actually one of the reasons I love your work so much, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm currently experimenting a bit with a different style... Hopefully it won't be long before the artwork is done and I can share it over here. I'm so excited for everyone to see it!

Now it's time for the reason we're all here.

I have said it before and shall say it once more: AUs are my lifeblood.

I love them so much! Building them, daydreaming the scenes, thinking of the characters and how they differ from their canon versions. The arcs and the themes and the worldbuilding. Building AUs is my passion, and I have so many of them!

There are a lot of motifs and themes that tend to repeat themselves in several of my AUs, I believe.

You'll notice that most of my stories are Zuko-centric, with a heavy emphasis on grief and humanity. There's the question of what makes us human and how to move forward when the whole world seems to push you back. I put a lot of stock in metaphors and symbolism within the narrative itself. I'm especially interested in the nuance of war and how it affects people emotionally, physically, and psychologically

I also tend to reutilize some elements of the lore and/or worldbuilding! Such as the Painted Lady's backstory, or the existence of War Children within the ATLA universe.

Now, the list!

I think I'll start with my current project, if that's okay :)

For the Spirits (New Gods AU)

Zuko was a child when he met Agni. Then, the spirits started coming to him. Eyes hidden in the hallways, voices pleading for help, for recognition, for remembrance.

Zuko could see Agni. He could see the broken remains of a Great Spirit and the empty smiles of amnesiac ghosts.

And they could see him in return.

I've been working on this AU for a long time, but only now did I get the chance to start writing the fic (linked up there!). I'm extremely excited about FTS and where the story will lead us in the future, but I'll try not to spoil too much.

It's a Zuko-centric story, with a heavy emphasis on Spirits and humanity. I'd like to add a warning for depression/mental health issues.

To Hesitate (Lee & Kya AU)

As she watches Lee and Kya avoid each other's eyes from across the room, the phrase comes back to her, swift and silent:

"To hesitate is to lose."

.

As Song treats the victim of an unfortunate interaction with a rare poisonous flower, her day takes an unexpected turn when it becomes apparent that the old man's nephew and her assistant have history.

A vivid history.

The Lee & Kya AU is a vibe, a feeling. It's probably one of my oldest AUs out there as well as one of my dearest.

A classical Lee and Kya From The Tea Shop AU, full with wholesome fandom tropes such as: fake (but not really) dating, fake identities, Ba Sing Se shenanigans, vigilante stuff, White Lotus missions, Iroh is a great Uncle, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck, and, of course, the fluffiest fluff you'll ever see.

Other than that, Lee & Kya is probably one of the less plot-focused AUs I have. However, that doesn't mean that there aren't scenes I can't wait to write or a canon divergence or two where Zuko is concerned.

(I have another fic posted but I'll leave that one to the end. You asked for a full story arc and, oh boy, does Soundless deliver.)

Kintsugi AU

Closer to being canon-adjacent than canon-divergent, Kintsugi is yet another Zuko-centric AU (and are we not noticing a pattern over here?).

I'd love to explain it in depth, but I believe the caption of the artwork linked above does a better job at explaining than I ever will.

Kintsugi is the art of decorating your scars with pieces of Agni.

In the Fire Nation, the amount of golden marks are a sign of status. Only the Royal Family can afford to seal every single wound with Kintsugi. Such is the weight of this tradition that, among the ones with Agni's blood, it is the highest mark of dishonor to have a natural scar, for it proves you aren't worthy of the privilege.

After the Agni Kai, Ozai forbid Zuko's scar to be sealed with Kintsugi. The boy wasn't worth his title, his traditions or his pride. Zuko would be broken, but he wouldn't be beautiful. Not anymore.

(And sometimes it's easier to pretend he never was)

Kyoshi Warriors AU

One of my absolute favorites!

In this AU, Ursa took Zuko and Azula with her when she was banished, so they could start anew. With help from Iroh and the White Lotus, she managed to relocate her freshly burned eight-year-old child and her crying daughter to Kyoshi Island.

Years later, when Avatar Aang and his companions first arrive at Kyoshi Island, they're met by the Kyoshi Warriors and their leader, Noriko of pale skin and warm brown eyes.

The Gaang leave Kyoshi Island many weeks later with a new companion. And if Jian Li, with his war paint and his scar and his dual dao, gives the island that he has called home for so long one final, longing glance as they fly away on Appa, they pretend not to notice.

Hunters AU

We're starting to dwelve deep into dangerous waters!

This is a Katara Joins Zuko In His Quest To Find The Avatar AU, with a twist!

This AU was born as a writing experiment. What if we take Katara's character, and change one of her core characteristics? Katara, who looked up to the Avatar as a saviour figure, now blames him for leaving and allowing the Fire Nation to wage war on the world.

Then comes Zuko, a banished Prince with a crew full of traitors and his own agenda. Zuko wishes for nothing more than to dethrone his father and end the war. He is a White Lotus member, an honorable, driven young man, and he has a plan.

The catch? He needs to take the Avatar to his father if he wishes to regain his title and be able to rightfully take the throne. Oh, and he will deliver the Avatar to the Fire Lord—but nobody said it had to be in chains.

Halfblood AU

I watched Blue Eye Samurai a few months ago and it destroyed me. The idea of a half-blooded child dead set on getting revenge for their very existence stuck with me, and this AU was born.

Kanna made a life for herself in the Earth Kingdom after leaving the North. Katara was raised by her grandmother in a small village, being taught to hide her bending if she wanted to live peacefully in a place she was only half of. Her mother had died in childbirth. Her father, a nameless warrior from the Southern Water Tribe who had loved Kya and left her behind, didn't know of Katara's existence.

Katara took over Kanna's clinic after she passed away. Always taking care of others. Always suppressing her need to bend. Always wishing for more.

One day, he arrived. A half-child, just like her. But while she was of Water, he was a son of Agni. He was searching for the man who brought him to this world. The man who scarred him. The man whose face he couldn't recall, whose name he did not know. The man whose specter had chased his mother to her grave. The man who would die at his hand.

The answers were hidden in a small teashop deep within Ba Sing Se. Lee offered her a way out, and Katara took it.

Soundless (Uiscefhuaraithe)

Katara of the Southern Water Tribe has hands scarred by fire and great talent, though no teacher.

Zuko is a mute War Child, a herbalist and healer, and the Blue Spirit. He bears the mark of fire, and the scar of the blade that took away his voice.

The first time they met, the Blue Spirit had just saved her, tough not before her hands got burned. The second time they met, his name was Lee, and he was healing her.

They live in war and they will fight, if not for the world, then for themselves.

You asked for a full storyline, and I shall deliver!

Soundless is probably the only AU I have fully planned. Three-books, Azula redemption arc, role-reversals and all.

This AU has everything. From travelling through the Earth Kingdom together, to odd character team-ups that somehow manage to work, and a major goal/conflict to resolve.

Zuko and Katara must find their way to Omashu in an Earth Kingdom ravaged by war as they also grow to understand each other, themselves, and the world around them. They meet with new and old alliances, keep their ears open for rumors of the Avatar (They say he is an airbender, Lee. Do you truly belive that?), and do their best to always be two steps ahead of their pasts.

Meanwhile, both the Northern and Southern Water Tribes are searching for the runaway heiress, Aang must find his way alone on this new, hostile world, and Azula must face the revelation that, despite what her father has stated for the last two years (liar, he lied at her! Her! He lied he liedliedliedlied), her brother might just be alive.

I'm sorry for making this such a long answer! I just get very excited about these subjects and don't know when to stop. If you made it all the way down here: thank you again.

I hope you have a good day ❤️

[rachaelthemes]

Ocular — Version 3

Preview // User Guide // More Info & Install

your favorite sidebar theme just got an upgrade, babeyyy

I went to update Ocular to make it NPF post-compliant and then my hand slipped and I redesigned the whole thing lmao. here's a brief update about Ocular 3; if you're looking for a full list of changes between versions 2 and 3, click the "Read More" below)

Ocular comes with the following features:

Colors: easily change the color scheme of your sidebar and posts using any colors you want

Post sizes: 400px, 500px, 540px, 600px, 700px

Sidebar: can be on the left, right, or above the posts. pick from a list of sidebar sizes, header image heights, and avatar shapes

Fonts: 20 different fonts, sizes 13px to 18px

Background: solid, gradient, full-size image or repeating image

Links: choose either regular navigation or drop-down navigation. unlimited custom links (visit the help desk FAQ for a tutorial) and ability to rename home, ask, submit, and archive links

Endless scroll, custom ask box text, Tumblr's full-width controls and search bar, optional header, avatar, and favicon images

if you already have Ocular installed, version 3 should be coming at you as soon as the update passes the theme garden. if you installed this theme with GitHub, you'll have to re-install manually.

now let's get to the fun stuff. what's new in version 3?

wow, do I have some updates for you!

1. goodbye color schemes, hello post background and text colors

you can now directly control the color of the posts rather than relying on color schemes to do it. want your posts to be a very specific shade of navy? all yours, buddy. go wild (make sure it's readable tho)

2. hello, color schemes! wait I thought we got rid of that guy

a lot of the color schemes I made became redundant now that the new post background/text color options exist. if you were married to the old color schemes, all of them can be recreated using those options. so the new color scheme options are as follows:

"My colors" — uses the colors you picked for post background/text

"Light preset" and "dark preset" — sets the posts to white with black text, or off-black with white text

"Translucent" — uses the colors you choose for post background/text, but makes the post backgrounds semi-transparent. there are NINE different translucent color schemes, ranging from 90% (only slightly see-through) to 10% (VERY see through)

3. navigation dropdown option

you can either use the sidebar links like they were before, or you can turn them into a cute little dropdown (helpful if you have lots of links or links with long titles!) you can enable this using the "use dropdown navigation" setting. you can also customize the label for the dropdown using the "dropdown menu label" setting. for instance, the dropdown on my blog currently says "oooh you wanna click me"

4. RIP google fonts I always hated your load times

decided to stop using Google Fonts and instead I'm providing the font files directly in the code. this will help speed up load times drastically when using custom fonts, plus I don't have to use Google. win-win! there's quite a bit of coverage overlap with the old fonts, but some of them that were too similar to each other got the ax. I also added all of the system fonts as options (hit classics like Arial, Georgia, and Comic Sans MS are now available TO YOU!)

5. more layout, sizing, and spacing options

the sidebar used to be either on the center-left, center-right, or above the posts; now it can go in the top-left or top-right! you can now control the border radius on the posts and sidebar. the header height, sidebar width, and post spacing all have additional options.

6. some options have been renamed for additional clarity

"background color 1" -> "background color"

"background color 2" -> "gradient background color"

"background" -> "background style"

"font override" -> "use body font everywhere"

"title" -> "sidebar title"

"description" -> "sidebar description"

"ask box text" -> "custom HTML above ask box"

7. removed some options

you win some, you lose some. I removed the uppercase sidebar links, theme credit, and inline media spacing options, mostly for redundancy reasons or because they produced unclear results.

8. as previously stated, now NPF-compliant

Ocular was ALMOST compliant with Tumblr's new post format, but had a few tweaks that needed to be ironed out. they're now ironed.

9: now user-friendly right out of the box

I updated the default color and content options, so new users installing this theme will have a much easier time using and customizing it immediately. no more ugly ass green background!

10. and finally, new JS

I had to rewrite some of the javascript for this theme, which turned into me rewriting ALL of the javascript. doing so meant that I could eliminate dependencies on third-party JS libraries and run the whole thing on plain JS. that should improve load times!!

bonus: custom CSS can do some nifty stuff now

want to change the size of your avatar? you can do that now! just do this to your Advanced > Add custom CSS section

super helpful if you're using the Avatar shape: Uncropped setting and you need your image to be a specific size (like a pixelated GIF)

for more info, check out the Ocular user guide. thanks for reading my updates!! hope you all have a fantastic start to your 2024 ❤️

[nkjemisin]

Hello! I’ve been seeing a lot about your work on social media lately and would love to read your books. What series do you recommend I start with?

Thanks ☺️

That depends on your taste/interest. I don't really write the same kind of thing from series to series, because I get bored easily and often want to try new subgenres/styles/etc. So I'll just briefly list my series and you can pick the one that appeals the most.

There's the Inheritance Trilogy, (link goes to the first book) my first published novels. A secondary world that has enslaved its own gods deals with the repercussions of that, from the POVs of three mortals. There's an overarching plot arc for all three books -- and there are some side-stories for this trilogy, too -- but each has a different narrator and takes place at different times. First person past tense, if you care about that sort of thing. (I don't, but some people seem weirdly attached to/repulsed by particular persons/tenses, so I'm including that info here.)

Then there's the Dreamblood Duology, which were actually written before the Inheritance books but I couldn't get them published at first because publishing in the 2000s was hella racist, basically. (I know, it hasn't changed much... but that little bit of change was enough for me to break in.) These books are as close to traditional fantasy as I'm probably ever going to get, except that they take place in faux ancient Egypt instead of faux medieval Europe. The story follows priests of the dream goddess as they're forced to deal with a conspiracy that threatens to inflict horrors on their society. Third person past tense for both books.

Next up is the Broken Earth trilogy. That's my experimental one, with first, second, and third-person POVs, present tense, a completely non-Earth world, and some heavy themes. All three books form a single story spanning, oh, forty thousand years or so, but mostly they're centered on one incredibly angry middle-aged mother who is on a roaring rampage of revenge/revolution. Features earthbenders, anti-magic groomers, magic statue people, and the apocalypse (again). Lots of "dark" themes and horror moments (harm to children, systemic bigotry, people-eating bugs, more).

My most recent books are the Great Cities duology. Urban fantasy set in modern-day New York, third person multiple POV ensemble cast. Turns out cities come to life once they hit a certain point, and then they claim a human avatar to represent and protect them. New York turns out to have six. It's also got some very unwanted tourists in the form of Lovecraftian entities that are trying to destroy it, along with reality as we know it. I meant for these to be lighthearted and silly and I think they kind of are, but there are still some notable political elements in them. (I mean, it's set in modern-day New York, and I started them the year Trump got elected, so...) It's lighthearted for me, anyway.

So, pick your poison!

[glowettee]

✧ the foundation for your coquette tumblr presence: the ultimate guide by mindy (1/15)✧

hello darlings~ mindyyy here

i see so many amazing little blogs on tumblr, so many that inspire me and motivate me to post more here on tumblr, so i decided to make a little series helping you to create the most ethereal corner of tumblr you've ever dreamed of for yourself. i'm going to guide you through every delicate step of establishing your presence, ensuring your blog becomes a soft haven that attracts kindred spirits!!!

important note:

all the tips, advice and steps i give you in this series are the exactly what i use for my blog, this is what helped grow my blog to 1.1k followers, while befriending some of the most amazing people i've met, tumblr is an important place for me, and i've been using it for years, i've helped multiple other people grow their own tumblr blog, and i've use these exact steps. this series is superrr important to me and very well-thought out and planned, please don't steal my content ideas, or plagiarize my content or series ideas, they are super time-consuming to create and i put all my hard work into it. this series is to help you all create and build a sustainable coquette blog. keep in mind these tips i give in the series can be used for any type of tumblr blog, it doesn't just have to be coquette, however everything i say in this series is more tailored to creating a coquette blog, so just make sure to know if you aren't creating a coquette blog, that's totally fine and you can still use these effective tips! <3

let me begin with the essential elements that will form the foundation of your digital sanctuary:

choosing your perfect username

your username is like a whispered introduction, so choose carefully. consider these elements:

incorporate soft, romantic words (pearl, rose, moth, sage)

avoid numbers unless they're meaningful dates

keep it easily typeable and memorable

check availability across platforms

consider future branding possibilities

make it very short to keep it neat

pro tip: before settling on a name, write it in different fonts and styles to ensure it maintains its beauty in various forms.

example:

crafting your blog description

your description should feel like an embrace to whoever reads it. (this is both for the pinned post of your profile/blog and the description of your blog) include:

a brief, poetic introduction

your main content themes

posting schedule if you have one

any specific content warnings

languages you speak

your timezone for mutuals

special interests using soft bullets (✧)

developing your signature aesthetic

this is where the magic truly happens. your aesthetic should flow through every element:

color palette selection:

choose 3 primary colors and 2 accent colors

maintain consistent hex codes

save your palette for easy reference

consider seasonal variations

test colors against white and black backgrounds

visual elements to consider:

custom cursor designs

carefully selected fonts (maximum of 2-3)

consistent border styles

signature dividers and bullets

background patterns or textures

sidebar images and icons

essential technical setup

while maintaining our dreamy aesthetic, we mustn't forget the practical:

enable infinite scroll

set up custom links

organize your tags systematically

create navigation buttons

establish post width preferences

configure ask box settings

set up queue parameters

your blog is another part of you. every element should work in harmony to create an atmosphere that feels both intentional and effortlessly beautiful.

before you go:

✧ save your color codes in a pretty document ✧ create a moodboard for visual reference ✧ test your layout on different devices ✧ prepare a tag system ✧ gather inspiration images

with love, mindy xo

if you don't already know, i have my own newsletter here: GlowetteeMindy

[vampemoqueen]

IT'S NEW EVENT TIME 💖

Hello everyone!

The season of love coming and I'm proud to announce the WoD Valentine's Exchange! Submit up to TWO characters to receive a gift and create one for someone else in return! We welcome all mediums and styles. 

Fill out an entry on the form with your OCs, provide as many details as you can, and include visual references.

**GUIDELINES FOR REFS:**

- Please include at least 4 reference images as separate links or copy and paste into a Google Doc. Pinterest and other image sites also work.

- Reference images can contain art or photo references, such as face claims, outfits, art style inspiration, favorite things, etc.

- A link to a word doc with up to 500 words of details for one or both characters is also required. Write about their brief history, relationship dynamics, and other details your gifter should know.

**FRIENDLY REMINDERS:**

- All World of Darkness splats from any edition are welcome!

- Singles, platonic pairs, and friendships, are valid!

- You can opt out of the Romantic theme for a theme-less gift.

- Non-OC, canon, and other people's OCs (with permission) are accepted!

- Writing, crafting, and other forms of media are encouraged!

- AI generated work is not permitted.

Sign Ups close on January 28th when I will send out the gift requests to everyone. Submitted pieces will begin being delivered on February 14th, Valentine's Day, with the last possible deadline being February 28th. You are free to post your piece on socials starting the 14th.

You will be contacted at least two times during the event: once to confirm your participation, twice to check in and receive your final submission. Additional updates will be posted in the Discord art server: linkie here though participation is not mandatory. Crucial updates will always be posted here or sent to emails.

For questions or concerns, email me at vampy269@gmail.com, message me here, or on Discord at vampy8020. Thank you for your interest! The tag for this event is #wodvalentines

Here's the link to the form: