#LIKE HEART OF GOLD

[entomolog-t]

GtWAC Day 3 : Poor Summary of a Great Fic

Not one but TWO terrible summaries of the amazing fics from @pocket-ozwynn

If borrower's Game of Throne's was going on in the background of a an overly caffeinated twitch dream girl's stream while she panics over Geralt of Rivia's much smaller but equally handsome distant cousin.

From @pocket-ozwynn's amazing work Offline Valor

With one of the most interesting premises I've read in years, Oz does an incredible job at taking this wild premise and making it a truly hooking read. Despite the comical premise, the fantasy juxtaposed with such a modern environment works so incredibly well- especially with Oz's impeccable writing style. His ability to switch from fantasy to modern to a combination of the two is so interesting and exciting to read.

Oz is extremely talented with tone and Offline Valor exemplifies his skills incredibly well. There is such an incredible vibe that permeates the story, where theres almost a sort of implicit tension that seems to build around these two worlds colliding.

The two leads, Zelly and Rowan, are vastly different, yet their chemistry is so so good.

The golden retriever equivalent of a military dog becomes the World's Biggest Herbo by making herself a human shield for the Government-secret Geek Squad employee. Sparks fly (literally).

From Genesis Day

Genesis day is such a fun ride despite the general tension the plot consistently maintains. While there is a sort of building unease that something is about to happen, Oz still manages to make moments between characters feel fun and easy going- Alice and Freyja especially!

Genesis day to me as a reader feels akin to a love letter of to all those hours spent as a kid fantasizing about fighting Big Bad Monsters in an attempt to both do good and be good.

----

As an Author, Oz has such a fun ability to take these wild and almost goofy sounding concepts and turn them into not only an enjoyable read, but a beautiful read. He has a skill with prose and his descriptions often times read artfully- elegant and poetic, with ethereal imagery and flowery language. This man could write about taking out the trash and turn it into something magical.

[potato-lord-but-not]

ME WHEN IM ILL ABOUT THESE TWO

[starjunkyard]

Obsessed with the degrees to which james wilson is a messy bitch. Primps and preens himself whenever he realises his boy best friend is stalking / sabotaging / psychological-warfare-ing him. Slept with his terminal patient. Immedicable people pleaser. Chronic adulterer. Three ex wives. PROPOSED TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AT SOMEONE ELSE'S WEDDING? Fuck you doin in the oncology wing my boy. Psychiatric ward is on the left corner

[ghost-proofbaby]

too sweet (astarion ancunin x reader)

"you know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain. pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. [...] you're too sweet for me."

summary: astarion realizes you're too sweet for him, and he probably shouldn't let this go further than necessary. but, oh, he's going to. isn't he? (based on this request and the song 'too sweet' by hozier <3)

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for games regarding camp dialogue with astarion, discussion of astarion's past trauma, talks of self-loathing/disgust with sex, vague mentions & allusions to sex having been had, manipulation at it's finest! minors dni.

wc: 2k+

a/n: i just wanted to get inside this man's mind when he drops that fucking line the second time he tries to sleep with us/tav. why does his face fall like that? why?

divider by @firefly-graphics <3

As Astarion observes the rise and fall of your chest in the soft morning light, he can only think one thing: shit. He fucked up. 

And he had spent most of the early hours trying to retrace his steps, trying to decipher exactly where his monumental mistake had begun, but it seemed useless. 

It could have been somewhere between the first and third bottle of wine shared with you last night during festivities, where he’d sweet-talked you to the high Hells until you’d agreed to return to his bedroll in the dead of night. Where he’d made the joke that wasn’t all that funny – the joke that he loved you. Three pretty words tried out on his tongue, and they hadn’t been nearly as light-hearted as he’d wanted them to be. More of an experiment, a quick sip to see if he liked the taste. And he had fucked up, because he did like the taste. He liked the sweetness that stuck to every corner of his mouth as he delivered the sugar-coated lie to you, his entire face falling as a new weight appeared in his chest. 

But perhaps it had been the first night he tasted you – well, your blood, that is. The night he’d awoken from a nightmare of Cazador and in his vulnerability, had chosen you as his victim of yet another experiment. A test to see if he was truly free. One drop of a thinking creature’s blood, that was all he needed. But you’d given more than he’d bargained for, and your cloy ichor had coated his taste buds so addictively, and he had just known that night was only the beginning. It was the first time, but certainly not the last. 

He thinks he could drink in whatever you offered him, and only that, for the rest of his days while still finding some sickly, twisted version of reprieve regardless. Not a drop more than he needed, always vying for more. 

He’d be okay with that type of hunger, that type of yearning, and that might have been his first real mistake. 

Or maybe, just possibly, it had been that very first meeting. Maybe he had doomed himself from the moment he’d pressed a blade to your neck, when he had dragged you to the ground with him and felt all that warmth, all that fear, radiating off of you. So frightful, and you still had offered your help to him when it was all said and done. Perhaps that was when he had well and truly screwed himself over. One simple introduction, void of his usual wine and flowers, and he’d locked himself in for pure trouble. 

Not even the fun kind, at that. What a shame. 

At the end of the day, or rather the beginning of the day as it is now, it doesn’t matter where his threads had started to unravel. All that matters is that they were – every carefully thought out line of his plans had all frayed, all detangled from the bigger picture, all because of you. 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. You were far too sweet for him, and he knew it. 

“Having fun, are you?” 

“I am, it’s hard not to with you.”

You’d taken each of his tactics in stride, hadn’t you? Whereas his face had nearly crumbled beneath the weight of that beautiful lie, insides twisting uncomfortable as the humor had slipped through his fingers, your eyes had only glittered as you bit back a smirk. To so lightly tease him, to banter right back with him, instead of see the truth behind it all. He didn’t know if you were simply that naive or if you were another kindred soul – Perhaps you were finding just as much safety, just as much sanctuary, in whatever dance he’d dragged you into. An entanglement of lies, a blithe facade, a daring smile that whispers come now, play with me. 

And play with him, you had. 

You’d played with him, you’d drank with him, and you’d now slept with him. Twice. 

“You’re up early,” your voice murmurs, silken tone cutting through all his racing thoughts. 

He hadn’t even noticed you had stirred, rousing yourself out from underneath his stolen blankets to peer at him curiously as he perched on the edge of the bedroll. As far from you, and as far from your sweetness, as possible. 

“Oh, you know what they say, my dear,” he chirps, rolling his shoulders as the act wraps him back up. The charismatic charmer. The illusive rogue, trained impeccably to coax you in and secure his safety, “No rest for the wicked.” 

He’d awoken before you last time, too. Had watched the sun rise and enjoyed the warmth of it plastering across his skin long before you’d ever woken up. He half-hopes you’ll be less talkative this time; he half-hopes you’ll try to rope him into whatever discussion you can, if only for a few extra seconds of your attention. 

You were too sweet. Too sugary on his tongue, too soothing in his chest. He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

You hum thoughtfully, the blanket slipping and exposing more of your chest. With the light flickering in from his tent’s entrance, he can easily spot those two scarring dots along your jugular where his fangs fit perfectly, “I don’t know if I’d describe you as wicked, lover.” 

“No?” Roped into discussion, it is. “How would you describe me then?” 

He’s not comfortable in this lighting. He feels feverish beneath your steady stare, the way your eyes take their time as you look over every inch of him. The languid observation has him convinced you’re seeing right through him – your glance can pierce right through all his armor and expose every flaw. You see him for the monster he is, you see him for the bitter soul he’s become, you see him as the unworthy spawn he believes himself to be. 

He almost swears that you even see right through his nice, simple plan at hand, not so easily fooled as he had believed you to be. 

“Charming, certainly,” you suddenly sigh, sitting up and keeping your body mostly covered still with that knitted blanket. He’d only snagged it because the shade of the wool nearly matched your eyes – not that he was paying attention to your eyes, of course, “But then again, you’d have to be to have bedded me twice now, wouldn’t you?” 

“We can always make it thrice,” he banters back, ignoring the bile that builds at the insinuation. But if that’s what it takes – laying on his back over and over again – to guarantee your protection, he’ll do it. He’d do it a thousand times over to keep himself as far away from Cazador’s chokehold as possible, “Does that entice you, love?”

When he turns his body fully, beginning a carefully and calculated crawl up the bed roll, ready to slot his body back between your thighs and encourage you to have his way with him, you stop him. The heel of your foot delicately presses against his chest, your head tilted curiously before you shake it. 

“Who’s the eager pup now, Astarion?” 

He likes the way his name drips off your tongue. Almost as if he might be made of the same sugar and spice as you, the same pure honey flowing through your veins also inhabiting his. You say it like a song, articulate it like the sweetest fruit. 

He shouldn’t like it. It shouldn’t be able to overpower his lingering disgust with himself so easily. 

“It’s hard not to be eager when it comes to you,” he says the line with good practice, beckoning a purr to his tone that had always won over the victims he’d entrap in dark taverns back in the city, “I said the Gods had made you just to ruin me, and I meant it.”

He’d meant it more than he’d realized. It wasn’t just your body that had been sculpted to draw him in – it was everything. Your entire aura, your entire glacé demeanor. All that innocence and all that geniality enticed him more than he could ever admit. You were certainly going to ruin him, so wholly and so entirely. You’d already started to, really. 

You don’t respond at first, and he swears he has you. You’re locked in on his distraction, caught up in his web, just as he needs you to be. One lithe hand lifts to your ankle, cool fingers wrapping around your warm skin as he begins to lower his lips, ready to pepper kisses up your leg. Prepared to offer you his mouth, his body, in return for the one thing he needs. Self-loathing be damned. 

Old habits die hard, right along with pride, and he’s not quite ready to bury either at your grave yet. 

But just as he presses the first chaste kiss to your skin, nearly taken back by how your sweetness still breaks through the salty surface, you’re pulling the limb away from him. Your knee draws back and a disarming smile has risen on your cheeks, eyes glittering at him just as they had the night before. 

“I suppose I’ll have to come find you when everyone is asleep, then.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

What exactly had he been waiting for? You, of course. But had he been waiting for you to find him solely for what had transpired? To explore your portfolios of talents once more, as he had put it? Or had it been for something more… precarious? 

Was he nothing more than a prey, waiting for you to be his demise? 

Had he actually been waiting for this? 

The challenging look in your eyes as they reflected back stars, the warmth of your skin so close to him he nearly melts into you. The upturn of the corners of your mouth, outlining the way you certainly know something that he doesn’t. A look you wear well, a look that shakes his foundations and rattles his bones. 

“As tempting as you are, I’ll have to decline. Duty calls, as they say.” 

Can you see right through him? 

He should be more deflated when you start going through the motions; he should be pouting or overthinking it all as he watches you gather your clothes once more, covering up the few bite marks of his that litter your skin. Every moment you prepare to leave his tent should be one spent overthinking where he’d gone wrong – why didn’t you want him? Was his plan even going to work? 

Were you truly too sweet for him? Would he have been better off trying to romance the likes of Gale for the safety just shy of his grasp now?

He doesn’t, though. For once, his mind is quiet as he watches you patter about. The bile retreats, the disgust fades. For the first time in a very long time, Astarion is leaving this interaction not feeling used. 

Maybe it’s in the way you cheekily snatch one of his shirts as you both pretend he doesn’t notice it, or maybe it’s in the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair as you pass him to pick back up your discarded weapon. Maybe it’s in every shy glance you offer him, or maybe it’s in your ever present grin. 

Watching you leave should worry him, but it only feels like a breath of fresh air. A wind that comes sweeping in with the promise of next time just as you pull back the flap to his tent. 

And he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting patiently for you to turn back to him until you do just this, offering him one final glance that sets him aflame, “Oh, and before I forget – you can feed on me tonight, if you need to.” 

Heart of gold, blood of honey. He couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Then I’ll see your delicious self tonight,” he takes a pause, one big and unnecessary breath filling his chest alongside that warmth you bring to him. The fearless leader, the kindest soul. His most apt nickname for you yet falls off his lips in a content sigh, “My sweet.”

He shouldn’t entertain you – he shouldn’t let this go further than necessary. 

But he’s going to. Gods, he is going to. 

After all, the sweetest fruits always fall from the most forbidden branches, do they not?

[todayisafridaynight]

[jeeaark]

Never seen an illithid recoil so fast when trying to give it smooches. Turns out there's a very good reason for it!

Wanted to draw my guardian boi one last time. First time the Emperor suggested it, got a lil affronted

Like, Squid bud, you don't think Greygold 'gets it'? You don't think Greygold had a bit of the 'don't belong's? the not-be-yourself-to-fit-in? Greygold gonna accept the shit out of you, buster. Gonna figure out dat squid biology one comedic lesson at a time.

Also. dat hair. I like to imagine when the emperor saw what would instantly gain Greygold's trust, the illithid was like-This is....Way too dreamy. Had to tone it down, Clark Kent dat Hunk-orc up with a hair-bun.

[citrusinicake]

in another universe

[sevinite]

sevenite sketchbook veteran theo makes his humble return to the public eye

[angelinefairydoll]

♡I'm Yours Forever♡

[trueloveistreacherous]

MARELLA'S 12TH TUMBLR ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION special gifset for @jakeyp 🎁 @pscentral event 25: seasons

Wait, so you heroically fought off three guys and that put you in a bad mood? If I did that, I would literally write a song about myself.

[okirrka]

Who else up thinking about her

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[unloneliest]

in the lonely hearts club job leverage asks the question "does romantic love exist?" and answers it by having eliot buy parker a venus fly trap on hardison's behalf, expecting no recognition and revealing eliot remembers a throwaway comment parker made on their second job together.

we all know this.

but was anybody going to tell me hardison already had a browser window open looking for restaurants to buy eliot in portland in response at the start of the episode immediately after that? or was i supposed to figure it out on a rewatch all by myself?!

[wuntrum]

merry christmas. watch the green knight (2021)

[beanghostprincess]

Sakura is such a refreshing character when it comes to Shonen protagonists. The one insecurity most main characters share is always feeling weak and like they cannot protect the ones around them. The typical Shonen MC goal is always to get stronger, whether it is because of a dream or the people they love. But Wind Breaker goes even further with this and instead of making Sakura's character arc only about becoming stronger, it acknowledges that becoming stronger also means trusting others and letting yourself be loved because you can't do everything on your own. His strength relies on the people he loves because they lift him up. It has been repeated over and over again by various characters, but it's Sakura the one making the effort to apologize and trying to trust them more and jump off the rope that kept him from walking a safer, more loving path with his friends.

I'm not saying this plot is entirely new because it's classical Shonen behavior (and I wouldn't have it any other way) but Sakura's insecurities come directly from a place of interiorized rejection and genuine hatred to himself, because of past experiences. Again, it's not new, but the way the manga narrates his character development just feels so human and like teenage growth that it's impossible for me not to adore it.

Shonens, in my opinion, usually lack that message that ties the characters to real life. You can relate all you want to these characters but at the end of the day, most of their stories are exaggerations of real insecurities and you can just relate to the mere translation/interpretation to real life. But Wind Breaker does it in a way that feels entirely human and realistic.

So, to summarize, I am a big fan because the manga about fist fighting and street gangs ends up having an unexpected "get loved idiot" message.

[tls12lessthan3]

kim dokja who transmigrates to his favourite romance webnovel as the second lead who dies tragically due to love triangle bullshit and resolves to stay firmly away from the black flame empress han sooyoung (fl) and crown prince yoo joonghyuk (ml) as a result. except he's a little bit too tempted by the idea of seeing his favourite love story play out without the interference of that annoying kim dokja character. so he keeps finding himself sneaking out to see major plot points go down from just outside of line of sight (because cmon, of course kim dokja would risk his life for a good story, and it doesn't count as getting caught up in the plot if he's just watching!). except of course he gets caught, and yoo joonghyuk and han sooyoung find themselves intrigued enough by this strange man that they end up showing up at his manor the next day...............