#also if you wondered whether 'in light of' as used in this post was written as a pun. the answer is yes 😌

[essektheylyss]

In terms of potential dunamancers for Essek to contact, I do think Uraya is a strong option, and I imagine there are others we aren't aware of since we were a little restricted in access to other dunamancers while in Rosohna (gee, Essek, wonder why that might've been...).

However, I do think it would be fun as a hypothetical to imagine his mother as one of them; she's the head of the den that is suggested to manage if not control the Dynasty's nexus of dunamantic research, the Marble Tomes Conservatory, so it's very possible she is an accomplished dunamancer of the arcane variety herself, especially in light of who she raised. I've previously tended to imagine her as a cleric of the Luxon, given her role as a religious figure, but considering that the Luxon doesn't differentiate much, it could go either way (even to the point of a multiclass, which honestly would be dope).

We have absolutely no basis of understanding her personal willingness to look past her son's transgressions, but given that he seems to think some would, and that the stakes are monumentally high, it's easy to think that his own mother might be among them. I mentioned last week that the information we have would suggest that she did actually live through the Calamity, and potentially was born in the later years of the Age of Arcanun. Even if she was in a position wherein she may have had sympathy for his situation but was not politically able to look past it, that may change if the stakes are, quite literally, apocalyptic.

But also, most importantly, it would be SO funny to me if Essek, epic-level wizard, international political fugitive, estranged from his family and culture at large, has to call in a favor from his mom.

[xxsycamore]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ━ ≪ VISIONS OF TEMPTATION 2024 ≫

Welcome to the fifth annual installment of Visions of Temptation, a multifandom kinktober prompt list/creation challenge! ►Under the cut you will find both lists written down in blank format. You’ll also find a short explanation of some of the lesser-known kinks.

███ GUIDELINES

► minors DNI!

► The two lists are absolutely free to use across all fandoms, with a main focus on otome games. If you’re a writer, artist, visual graphic creator, etc., you can use these lists to create your kinktober works.

►You can share this with your followers and open requests using these lists.

► In the kink list, you can choose a kink to work with for each day of October, while in the other list, you have 31 dialogue prompts. It’s up to you whether you choose to follow one of the lists or both, and to combine them or not. You don't have to follow just one list either - mix and match them if you'd like!

► Make sure to put content warnings where needed.

► Unlike most of my challenges, this one won't have a masterlist featuring the works created for it, meaning that it won't have a deadline either - feel free to complete it at your own pace.

► About credit: Make sure to mention the challenge itself and its creator. I’d be happy to see your works, so please tag me when using my list here on tumblr! Posting to other sites is fine, as long as you credit me :)  

►In order for us to find each other's works and appreciate them, please make sure to use the tag " #visions of temptation 2024 " !

►Don't hesitate to reach out if you have a question! My askbox is always open!

►Remember to have fun and not stress over this really long challenge! ❤

targeted fandoms: Ikeseries (Ikemen Villains; Ikemen Prince; Ikemen Vampire; Ikemen Sengoku + other cybird games); Love and Deepspace; Tears of Themis; Obey me!; Mr. Love: Queen's Choice; Count of Darkness; Voltage games; Mystic Messenger; Lovebrush Chronicles; Light and Night + all other mobile/console otome you can think of. Remember, this is just the focus of the challenge - you can write for any fandom at all!

Depending on how much free time i've got on my hands, I'll also be checking out your works and reblogging them on my main blog, @kissmetwicekissmedeadly - under the tag "#vot '24 reblogs" :)

If you're wondering if I'm taking requests for my challenge, make sure to check my blog beforehand. At the moment of posting this, requests are closed - but that might change in the future.

███ PROMPTS

► both lists in blank format + handy explanation of some of the kinks under the cut.

Happy creating, everyone and may you have a great October! ❤

KINK LIST:

 Porn Actors AU  |  Anonymous Sex/One-night Stand

 Gloryholes  |  Handjobs/Fingering

 Phone sex  | Guided Touching 

 Orgasm Control  |  Bondage/Shibari

 Make up Sex  |  Mirror Sex

 Feather Play  |  Coming Untouched

 Sensory Deprivation  |  Sex Toys/Object Insertion

 Workplace Sex  |  Sex in a Vehicle 

 Choking/Breath play  | Dacryphilia

 Accidental Stimulation  |  Body Part Worship 

 Wet Dreams  |  Sexual Fantasy

 First Times  |  Role Reversal

 Fetish Clothing & Accessories |  Striptease

 Bathroom sex  |   Outdoor/Public sex

 Discipline & Punishment  |  Degradation/Praise Kink 

 Nipple Orgasms  |  Lactation/Pregnant sex 

 Blade/Gun Play  |  Spanking/Impact play 

 Intoxication/Hypnosis/Aphrodisiacs  |   Dry Humping

 Watersports  |  Begging 

 Food Play  |  Come Play

 Anal Sex/Pegging |  Size Difference

 Omegaverse/Breeding  |  Petplay 

 Massages  |  Temperature Play 

 Facesitting  |  Deepthroating

 Voyeurism/Exhibitionism  |  Getting Caught 

 Spitroasting  |  Double Penetration 

 Casual Sex/FWB  |  Switching Partners 

 Biting/Marking  |  Jealousy/Possessiveness 

 Sex Games/Dares  |  Trying New Positions     

 Cockwarming/Somnophilia  | Foreplay/Aftercare focus

Non-human characters/traits |  Sexual Roleplay 

DIALOGUE LIST:

 "I have no plans of stopping anytime soon."

"You have to say it. Use your words."

"See this? It's going to go inside you."

"Hush now. I'm only trying to help you."

"Let's see how long you can last."

"You know what happens when you do that."

"Maybe I should be punished?"

"Look at you, you're taking it so well."

 "We can go, or we can stay here and fuck."

"And here I thought you were an innocent one."

"Go on, put it in yourself."

"Where do you want me to cum?"

"Don't tease now. Be nice."

"I want to watch you come just from this."

"Beg me to be gentle."

"You thought you could get away with seducing me?"

"One more orgasm and I'll untie you."

"You look good like that. Thoroughly loved."

"I thought this is what you wanted?"

"I love that you're only making this erotic face for me."

"Poor thing, you're barely standing on your legs."

"Here, bite into this. Since you can't stay quiet."

"That's it, you're doing such a good job."

"I can't stand a second more of not being inside you."

"Did the risk turn you on so much?"

"Oh, you'll regret letting me know that you like this."

"Come here. I'll make it all better."

"You're breathtaking. It makes me desire you so much."

"Seems like we can't keep our hands to ourselves."

"You feel so good. I don't ever want to stop."

"I've got much more in store for you."

some prompts explained...

Gloryholes - A person inserting their sexual organ through a hole in the wall with the intention to be pleasured from the other side.

Anonymous sex - Here's an idea: masquerade balls.

Orgasm Control - Can include Edging, Forced Orgasms, Orgasm denial.

Make up sex - Sex after an argument.

Mirror sex - Sex in front of a mirror.

Sensory Deprivation - Blocking stimuli from one or more of the senses. Example - Blindfolds.

Dacryphilia - Being turned on by your partner crying during sex.

Sexual Fantasy - Sharing/being made to share about a sexual fantasy, masturbating to a sexual fantasy, or helping your partner live out a sexual fantasy.

Role reversal - Swapping the giving and receiving role during intercourse.

Voyeurism - secretly watching someone participate in sexual activities or do something private and intimate like taking off their clothes.

Watersports - Everything involving pee. Holding it in, Golden showers, etc.

Come play - Anything to do with a partner's cum, for example Come marking.

Spitroasting - A three-way sex act in which a person is penetrated orally and anally/vaginally at the same time.

Omegaverse - A kink-trope-universe build around a hierarchy of biological roles: alphas>betas>omegas.

Somnophilia - Intercourse while a sexual partner is asleep.

FWB - Friends with benefits.

Switching partners - Two or more couples having intercourse at the same time, swapping/switching their partners.

Impact play - Slapping a sexual partner, could be across the face or on their rear.

Sexual roleplay - doctor/patient play, boss/employee play, all kinds of play pretend.

Hope these could be of help! Remember, you can always come ask if something's unclear. Once again, happy creating! ❤

[valkyrieromanoff]

5 times you innocently sat on Hunter's lap (plus 1 you didn't)

warning: sexual content in the last part, most of it is just fluffy.

words: 3k

a/n: I hadn't written anything for a long time, but then this idea popped into my head and I couldn't help but try. I also posted it on ao3, I hope you like it ;)

1) Sitting on his lap when playing with his hair

Your fingers were entangled in Hunter's locks, gently playing with his hair. Seated on his lap, you had the perfect reach to those exact spots that brought him tranquility. His once tense muscles began to melt under the tender dance of your fingers across his scalp.

With a soft sigh, Hunter rested his head against your chest, the sound a low hum of satisfaction. As your fingers reached the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratched the sensitive spot before massaging it lightly.

Your touch was as light as a feather and as warm as the morning sun, leaving him utterly at ease. His hands rested lazily on your waist, a secure yet relaxed grip. His eyes closed, and his breathing slowed to a quiet, rhythmic pace as he relished the gentle movement of your fingers through his hair.

He loved it when your hands were on him, even cherishing the playful times you joined Omega in braiding his hair when he dozed off on the sofa. In this moment, surrounded by the comfort and shared affection, he felt completely at peace.

2) Being in a room with no other chairs for you to sit on, so you sit in his lap 

As a Jedi—if you could still call yourself one, having been only a Padawan when Order 66 struck—you never fully grasped the endless parties and celebrations that inundated the island. It left you wondering whether the residents of Pabu were extraordinarily festive, or if you were simply old-fashioned. Yet, when your gaze met Hunter’s, you allowed yourself to relax. The long-haired clone, bound by his characteristic red bandana, seemed almost as out of place as you.

He had sought refuge from the crowd, sitting on a wooden chair that faced the beach directly. The moon kissed the sea in an almost ethereal vision, the sound of waves dissolving into foam on the shore working wonders to drown out the loud music, laughter, and animated conversations of hundreds celebrating the arrival of summer.

“Running away from fun?” Hunter’s deep voice rang out on the night breeze, breaking your reverie. You hadn’t realized you were staring. Nothing went unnoticed by him, you reminded yourself, taking a step toward him. Your attempts at walking were more like stumbling, brief steps in a straight line due to the ridiculously high heels you’d borrowed from Phee, who insisted they’d go perfectly with your outfit.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten used to the concept yet—drinking, dancing, and celebrating for no reason. It’s different from what I’m used to,” you reflected thoughtfully, your eyes lost in the starry night as fireworks ripped across the horizon, exploding in a kaleidoscope of bright colors. You shifted uncomfortably, transferring your weight between your feet, having lost count of how many times your heels had sunk into the sand.

“Your ankle is swollen. You need to sit down if you don’t want it to become a dislocation,” Hunter pointed out, his voice serious yet filled with care.

“I’m not in the mood to sit on the sand,” you muttered softly.

Hunter snorted affectionately, pulling you by the wrist to sit sideways on his lap. “That’s not what I suggested,” he retorted, gently undoing the buckle of your high heels. The relief was immediate; kriffing, how you hated those heels. He repeated the gentle motion on your other foot, his fingers searching for any signs of swelling or twisting.

“You shouldn’t wear heels, mesh'la, if you can’t walk in them,” Hunter mused casually. You responded with a dramatic snort that soon turned into a sigh as he began to massage your feet tenderly, releasing the built-up tension.

As the moonlight danced on the waves and the fireworks painted the sky, you felt an overwhelming sense of comfort and belonging in Hunter’s arms. The world around you faded, leaving only the soothing rhythm of the sea and the warmth of his touch. In this serene moment, you both found solace in each other, embracing the rare peace and simple joys that life on Pabu offered.

3) Sitting on his lap while you softly apply lotion  

"You know, just applying sunscreen would have avoided this," you pondered calmly, opening the bottle of moisturizer. You poured some into your hand and began gently spreading it over Hunter's sunburned face. With each leg on either side of his lap as he sat patiently.

He let out a deep sigh at the sensation of the cool lotion meeting his warm,a natural response to his sunburn from a day at the beach. He had spent the entire day, diligently watching over Omega as she played in the shallow waves, his concern for her safety overriding his need for self-care. Hunter's heart nearly stopped with Wrecker's antics of tossing Omega into the water, despite Omega's giggles of delight.

The memory of falling asleep only to be buried in the sand by Crosshair and Omega, leaving just his head exposed, surfaced with a mix of amusement and regret. The sun in Pabu had been exceptionally harsh that morning, intensifying the burn on his face.

“Uhm,” Hunter huffed dramatically as your fingers carefully spread the moisturizer over his skin. The soothing aloe vera brought immediate relief, cooling the fiery sensation on his face. You smiled gently at him, a pang of sympathy in your heart. He had been so focused on protecting Omega — even buying her a giant hat that nearly her view of her feet— that he had neglected his own needs.

"Don't worry, darling, I'll take care of you," you assured him softly, giving his nose a gentle kiss, careful not to cause any more pain than the sun already had. Hunter sighed deeply under your tender care, a profound sense of love and relaxation.

In your attentive hands, he felt cherished, his discomfort melting away as he basked in the warmth of your affection.

4) Take a seat on his lap as you read something from your datapad.

It was dusk in Pabu, the sun setting in a symphony of colors—yellow, orange, and red—tinting the sky like a masterful painting. The soft, calm sound of waves breaking on the long stretch of sand surrounding the island, accompanied by the fresh, salty scent of the sea breeze, painted a picture of serene domesticity. This tranquility and warmth, a solid change from his days as a soldier, filled Hunter with a thoughtful, almost wistful sense of gratitude. He pondered the sacrifices he had made to achieve such peace, his reverie only broken by the sound of your voice filling the silence.

“I don’t know how Shep got those meilooruns. I didn’t think they grew around here. I mean, technically, we’re in the Outer Rim, but the climate isn’t identical to Tatooine or Ryloth, for example,” you mused curiously, your eyes scanning the datapad in your hands. Seated on Hunter’s lap, your back rested against his chest, while he nestled his chin in the curve of your neck, trying to read along. “It’s not only rare, but it’s also incredibly sought after because of its unique flavor. Plus, it stays fresh for a long time, which is a big plus for traders,” you added, your finger trailing down the screen filled with highlighted snippets of trivia about the exotic fruit.

“Uhm, I bet it must be worth quite a bit on the market if it’s that valuable,” Hunter reflected casually, his hands resting on your waist, fingers gently caressing your exposed skin. “Well, now I understand why there was such a huge queue just to get a piece.”

You hummed in agreement, snuggling deeper into his arms. Every now and then, you’d bring up another interesting fact or detail that had caught your attention. Hunter, meanwhile, occupied himself with the simple pleasure of relaxing, savoring the mundane routine that now defined his life. The prospect of worrying about the rising price of fruit was far more appealing than the constant threat of the Empire. In these moments, wrapped in your presence, he found a profound sense of contentment, cherishing the peace he had fought so hard to attain.

5) Sit on his lap when applying some makeup on him.

“Darling, it's no big deal, just a little pressure. You won't even feel it,” you murmured softly, trying —and failing spectacularly— to apply the eye pencil to Hunter's eye. Despite your reassurances and his best efforts, he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Even small reflexes like wiggling his leg or shifting his thigh made you feel like you were dancing in his lap.

"It's not your eye that's being poked," Hunter grumbled quietly, pouting as  he struggled to keep his eyes open without blinking. The sensation of the eye pencil gliding along his waterline was uncomfortable, heightened by his keen senses.

You gently held his chin, your thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped his eye. You hadn’t realized just how intense the sensation might be for him. With a slightly guilty pout, you let the eye pencil drop from your fingers onto the bed.

“I managed to apply it to just one eye,” you pondered softly, leaning to the side to pick up the small mirror so Hunter could see your work. He stared at his reflection in surprise. He wouldn't have expected it, but the layer of black pencil under his eye looked surprisingly nice, though he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

“Maybe I could be persuaded to let you do the other eye,” he suggested mischievously, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of amusement and affection. His hands traveled to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Uhm, I can think of a few ways,” you whispered back, your lips hovering over his before closing the distance. You pressed a passionate kiss to his lips, your hands already pushing against his shoulders, guiding him to lie back on the bed. His heart swelled with love and ease, the discomfort of the eye pencil forgotten as he melted into your embrace. The sensation of your lips against his, soft and insistent, he felt cherished and deeply connected, the shared affection enveloping him in a cocoon of warmth and security.

6) Plus one time you didn’t 

The days in Pabu seemed to awaken earlier, as Tech had once explained, because the sun rose a few hours ahead of the neighboring planets. The warm rays of dawn gently invaded the room, casting a golden glow over the figures nestled in bed. A gentle breeze swayed the curtains, creating a delicate dance in the morning light.

"It's not even seven in the morning," you mumbled sleepily, your voice a soft whisper against the dawn. Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, you tried to adjust to the tender light of a new day.

"Is there ever a wrong time to be affectionate with you, mesh'la?" Hunter's voice was a gentle caress, his eyebrow arched in a playful query. His hand, warm and tender, brushed against your cheek, sending shivers of love and comfort through your drowsy form.

"Well, when I'm still half asleep, maybe?" you replied with a teasing smile, leaning into his touch. "But I suppose for you, there's never a wrong time." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "What's got you so affectionate this early, hmm?"

"Nothing, I just wanted affection from my girlfriend. Is that a crime?" Hunter murmured softly, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he breathed in your scent deeply. Your curls tickled his nose, but he didn't mind; all he wanted was to have you in his arms.

"Well, of course not," you replied gently, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair. Lowering your eyes to meet his, you added, "But I don't believe that's all. I know you, Hunter. Spill it."

Hunter chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Alright, you caught me, mesh'la. I must admit, seeing you in that dress last night... it's been on my mind." His hands, strong yet gentle, held your hips, guiding you to sit on his lap. "I've been longing to feel you close like this again," he whispered, his voice a tender caress, conveying the depth of his desire and affection.

"Oh, is that it, my love?" you teased softly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nestled into his lap. "I'll be sure to remember to wear that dress more often," you murmured, your voice a playful whisper. The closeness brought a warmth that filled the space between you, each touch and word deepening the bond you cherished so dearly.

Hunter’s eyes gleamed with desire, his grip tightening slightly on your hips. "Do that, and you'll find yourself in quite a few compromising situations, mesh’la," he warned playfully, his voice a velvety whisper. His lips met yours in a tender, passionate kiss, conveying a depth of emotion that words could not capture. "I promise to make it worth your while," he murmured, his breath mingling with yours as the promise hung in the air, full of longing and affection.

You smiled affectionately against his lips, moving your hips over his lap in a sensual dance, your fingers clinging to his bare shoulders to intensify your painfully lascivious movement. ''I'll remember, huh"

Hunter groaned softly, his body responding to your tantalizing movements. "You're playing with fire, mesh'la," he murmured, his hands wandering up your thighs, pushing the hem of your nightgown higher. "And you know I love every second of it." His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses as his hands explored your curves.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you caught Hunter staring at you, his gaze lingering on the hem of your nightgown, the fabric clinging to your curves in all the right places.

''You couldn't keep your eyes off me last night," you whispered, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. You slowly began to trace patterns on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. His breath hitched as you leaned in, your breasts pressing against him, your lips brushing against his ear.

"And now, I can't keep my hands off you," you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. You let your fingers dance down his stomach, feeling him shiver under your touch. You hooked your finger into the waistband of his boxers, pulling him closer, grinding against him. He was already hard, and you could feel him throbbing against your center.

Hunter's grip on your hips tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as your words and touch ignited a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing the primal hunger that coursed through his veins. "Mesh'la," he groaned, his voice a desperate plea, "you're killing me."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up emotions into it. His tongue danced with yours, claiming your mouth, tasting the sweetness of your desire. His hands roamed your body, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, before finally finding the damp lace of your panties. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing painfully against his boxers. He wanted nothing more than to tear off your clothes, to bury himself deep inside you, to feel you pulse around him as you came undone.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you lifted your hips, allowing Hunter to slowly peel your soaked panties down your legs, his knuckles brushing against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. Your heart raced in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps as you eagerly awaited what was to come.

Your fingers fumbled with his boxers, your hands shaking with anticipation as you finally freed him from the confines of his clothing. You marveled at the sight of him, thick and hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. You longed to taste him, to feel him pulse in your mouth, but your desire to have him inside you was too great.

You guided him to your entrance, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, stroking him gently as you positioned him at your core. You could feel the heat radiating from you, your body aching with need. Hunter's hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he held you open, his gaze locked on where you were about to join.

"Please, Hunter," you begged, your voice barely a whisper. "I need you inside me. Now." Your hips bucked, trying to impale yourself on him, but he held you firm, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Not yet, mesh'la," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I want to watch you take me in. Slowly." And with that, he began to push into you, inch by torturous inch, filling you completely, stretching you deliciously. You gasped, your head falling back as you savored the sensation, your body trembling with pleasure.

When Hunter finally sheathed himself completely inside you, you let out a cry of ecstasy, your nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to his size. He gave you a moment to settle in, his hands stroking your hair, his breath warm on your neck as he murmured soothing words in your ear.

But soon, the need for movement became too great. You began to rock your hips, sliding up and down his length, taking him deeper with each thrust. Hunter groaned, his hands moving to grip your ass, helping to guide your movements, setting a rhythm that had you both gasping for air.

You could feel the tension building inside you, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap. Hunter must have sensed it too, because he suddenly flipped you onto your back, his hands pinning your wrists above your head as he began to pound into you, his pace frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Come for me, mesh'la," he growled, his voice laced with desperation. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock as you come apart."

His words sent you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you screamed his name. Hunter followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside you, his own cries of pleasure mingling with yours.

In the aftermath, he collapsed on top of you, his body heavy and spent. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, your hearts beating in sync as you both struggled to catch your breath. 

[jmliebert]

creature of the night

Summary: You're just a toy in Tom's world, yet love has found its way into your heart

Warnings: Explicit content (18+), manipulative Tom

Word Count: 2,500

Author's Note: The irony is, I detest guys like this in the real world, but there's a strange satisfaction in writing stories about Tom’s character. There’s a hate-love relationship between us, well… enjoy the ride

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

(gif originally posted by voldemrt)

meet me tonight

The note said, with its neatly arranged letters. It held a promise that made your heart feel heavy and light at the same time as you were both excited and scared of what was to come. With Tom you could never be certain. Sometimes he made you feel like you belong, he made you feel seen. Other times he made you feel lonely, despite holding you in his arms. 

As if he wasn't there, not truly present, and it hurt, but you didn’t tell a word. 

You stared at the note blankly for a moment, finding it delicately placed on top of your pillow. The ritual was familiar – Tom's passion for leaving these little messages. They surfaced under the weight of your books, nestled in the pocket of your mantle, or discreetly positioned on your favourite desk in the library. His proficiency in crafting subtle messages left you perpetually anticipating the next one, creating a secret language between you two. Each note, a whispered promise, held significance beyond its written words.You carefully stored each note in a small wooden box, coming back to them when you feel particularly romantic or in the quiet moments, after yet another day where Tom treated you as if you didn't exist. The paradox of his presence and absence, the silent yearning  and the allure of his elusive messages painted a complex portrait of your twisted relationship.

The daylight stretches endlessly, but the promise of our night brings a spark to the hours

In the quiet secrecy of the night, you found solace in the secret meetings with Tom. His warm embrace, soft smiles, and gentle touches became familiar, creating an intimate haven that seemed to belong to just the two of you. In those stolen moments, you felt as if you had unraveled the layers of his complex persona, knowing him in a way that no one else did.

Yet, the illusion shattered in the harsh light of day. As the sun illuminated the hallways of Hogwarts, revealing its secrets and concealing its mysteries, Tom transformed. The tender moments you shared in the hidden corners of the castle were replaced by a cold indifference. It was as if the encounters of the night had never happened, as if he were a stranger passing you by in the endless corridors.

In the common room, amidst the chatter of fellow students, he glanced through you as though you wasn’t there. His eyes, once filled with warmth, now held an unpleasant distance, leaving you to question whether the tender exchanges between you had been nothing more than fragments of a dream.

It was a paradoxical, the dichotomy between the intimacy of the night and the detachment of the day. Tom's dual nature left you grappling with the unsettling reality that the person who whispered sweet promises under the moonlight seemed oblivious to your existence in the harsh light of day. The dissonance between these two versions of him became a puzzle, and you found yourself entangled in the endless shifts of his demeanour.

The secrecy of your relationship took a toll, and the contrast between the Tom who held you in the darkness and the one who ignored you in the light became a source of inner mayhem. The warmth of his touch lingered in your memory, but the chill of his indifference left you yearning for consistency. You couldn't help but wonder which version of Tom was the real one, and whether the night held the truth or the day.

The Hogwarts walls stood as silent sentinels, enveloped in an air of mystery, as if holding the secrets of centuries within their stone embrace. The night, full of shadows and cold whispers. The path, winding and labyrinthine, demanded caution, the necessity to watch your back a constant reminder of the precarious nature of your secret escapades.

Yet, every step, every twist and turn, seemed a worthwhile investment, for at the end of this nocturnal journey awaited Tom. He sat there, perched on the couch in the Room of Requirements, immersed in the ethereal glow of dim light. His brows were furrowed as he was bending over the book. It was late, but Tom, a creature of the night, was indifferent to the demands of sleep, his insatiable curiosity fuelling his restless mind.

In the play of shadows, his jawline emerged as if sculpted from marble, each contour a testament to the divine craftsmanship of otherworldly hands. Cheekbones, sharp and pronounced, echoed the elegance of classical statuary. His hair, a cascade of raven black, seemed to absorb the darkness of the night. Divine. Surely, he didn’t belong to this world.

As you approached, the air crackled with an otherworldly energy. The Room of Requirement seemed to come alive in his presence. In this nocturnal realm, Tom beckoned like a magnetic force, drawing you into a world where magic intertwined with mystery, and the boundaries between reality and enchantment blurred.

When he noticed you, time seemed to pause. His gaze made your insides clenched, a strange monster clawing at your stomach, reaping you apart. 

“You came,” he said, the corners of his lips curling into smile.

“Yes, yes… of course I came.”

“Good,” he murmured, standing up and reaching for you. His lips met the soft skin of your wrist, sending shivers down your spine. The warmth of his touch left you breathless. Lifting you effortlessly, he held you close, your legs entwining above his hips. Your heads were now on the same level, and he kissed you passionately, each touch leaving a lingering sensation. His lips trailed along your neck, his hair and tongue teasing your delicate skin. Tom guided you to a secluded corner, settling on the leather couch with you still in his arms. The shadows flickered and danced on the walls, a silent play of darkness and light in the dimly lit room. You nestled your face in the crook of his neck, embracing him tightly. It felt like where you were meant to be. It felt right. 

“I thought of you all this time, couldn’t wait for you to come, you know that, darling?” Tom inquired, his voice smooth, yet calculated. His eyes bore into yours once again, attempting to unravel the thoughts hidden behind your gaze. Not much could escape him; he could see right through you. You looked away, a bashful smile playing on your lips.

“I couldn't wait either,” you admitted, your voice carrying a mix of anticipation and excitement. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re too sweet. What am I going to do with you?” he asked, his hands gently resting on your thighs, a subtle pressure against your skin.

“And what do you want to do with me?” Your mind was starting to get hazy. All you could think about was the anticipation building with his eager hands.

“Everything, I want everything,” he whispered in your ear, his voice low and seductive, carrying a hint of desire and... possession. The room seemed to shrink, and your head started to fill with dreams. He wanted you.

The warmth of the fire, the gentle caress of Tom's fingers on your skin, and the intoxicating scent of the room created a heady atmosphere. You were captivated, caught in the web of his allure. As Tom's hands continued their exploration, a tingling warmth spread through your body. The flickering flames cast playful shadows, dancing across the walls. The rhythmic crackling of the fire was the only melody in this secret meetings in the middle of the deepest of night.

His fingers, cool yet masterful, traced patterns on your skin, leaving a trail of anticipation in their wake. The touch, possessive and tender, spoke a language only the two of you understood. Time lost its meaning. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the symphony of sensations.

Tom's lips brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice like a seductive melody, weaving a spell around you. The possessiveness in his tone ignited a flame within, a dangerous thrill that both scared and excited you. As he held you close, you felt a magnetic pull, binding you to him in a dance of forbidden longing. As stolen moments unfolded, a haunting question lingered: Why couldn't he be wholly yours? The wish to unravel his secrets, to see him in the unfiltered light swept through your every emotion.

As his lips fervently sought yours, a surge of unrestrained need flowed between you, each kiss a profound declaration of a passion that defied reason. Tom, with an intensity that bordered on desperation, cradled your face in his hands. The kiss that ensued was all-consuming. His eyes were hungry, a desire for more.

In that suspended moment, the world outside ceased to exist. You found yourself entangled in the harmony of interwoven tongues and intertwined breaths, a magnetic force pulling you deeper into the forbidden. The air around you crackled with the electricity of shared longing, and every kiss became a vow, a binding promise of the undiscovered intensity yet to unfold.

As the urgency of the moment heightened, so did your willingness to surrender to him.

Tom’s hands traveled to your shirt. His movements were deliberate as he was yielding each button to his touch as if surrendering to his command. You felt the fabric parts, revealing the vulnerability beneath. Tom’s expression remaining composed. As the last button succumbed to his fingers, a rush of cold air met your exposed skin. His hands traced a path along the newly revealed expanse, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The room seemed to pulse with a quiet intensity.

“You’re exquisite,” he whispered, his voice low and laden. Time seemed to stretch, and you found yourself suspended in a space where only two of you existed. 

When Tom started sucking on your nipple, a soft whimper came out of your lips. He smiled softly at your response and showed no intention of stopping. His actions continued with

unyielding determination, his tongue hot and wet on your willing breasts. His hands all over your exposed body, tracing patterns on your soft skin, making you lose your mind, making you forget yourself and forget all these bright days spent without him. With skilled fingers Tom unbuttoned your skirt, taking it off in one swift movement, leaving you almost naked, while he remained fully clothed, a stoic figure in his unchanging black attire, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he teased from you with every touch. You wanted to touch him too, make him feel as good as you felt yet your yearning to caress Tom was met with a playful denial, as he savoured the moments of teasing, drawing out the anticipation. 

His fingers exploring the thin material of your underwear, the gentle touches felt as light as a feather, igniting a trail of sensations. Relentlessly, he continued as his hands grew bolder and bolder. Silver rings on his fingers warm on your skin. Oh, how you wanted him inside you already. To feel him in the most intimate way possible. “Please, Tom,” you moaned, and started to grind on the bulge in his pants, desperate for more, fire running through your veins. At this point it was a pure torture, not to have Tom inside you.

With surprising ease, Tom flipped you onto your back, unbuttoned his unpleasantly tight pants and guided the head of his penis into your hot entrance. As you merged into one, a profound sense of belonging washed over you, a feeling you had yearned for so long. A solitary tear trailed down your cheek, carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. He penetrated you with raw force, driving you to the edge of ecstasy with every continuous stroke. It was raw, characterised by the relentless pursuit of desire, teeth digging into tender flesh, and unyielding grips that promised bruises by dawn. Despite the roughness, every moment was a symphony of pleasure you couldn't get enough of. When you both came, your back arched, the sound of a soft moan escaped your lips, but it dissolved into the heated intensity as Tom claimed your mouth once more

The room was saturated with the lingering echoes of passion as you lay on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his laboured breaths. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, an aftermath of the intense encounter. Tom's hand traced soothing patterns on your back with rhythmic strokes, creating a sense of comfort.

"I love you," you whispered, the words escaping your lips like a confession, an unfiltered truth that hung in the air. The vulnerability of the moment lay bare in the quiet aftermath.

A beat passed before Tom’s lips curved into a mocking smile as he listened to your heartfelt declaration. With a calculated nonchalance, he leaned down and pressed a cold, indifferent kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that tasted of detachment, a bitter irony wrapped in the guise of a tender moment. Breaking away, he looked into your eyes, the amusement evident in his gaze. "Silly little girl," he said with a dismissive chuckle. Tom's words, delivered with a cold detachment, lingered in the air, settling like a heavy curtain that draped the room in a somber reality. The silence that followed carried the weight of your shattered expectations, and in that moment, the intimacy you had shared seemed like a fleeting illusion. You felt stupid. The vulnerability you had exposed, the love you had confessed—all reduced to insignificance by the stark revelation of his indifference.

In the aftermath of Tom's callous dismissal, a bitter truth settled upon you like an indelible stain. The daylight hours were not meant for you. The warmth shared in the night, the whispered confessions, and stolen kisses were facets of a reality carefully curated by him—a reality where you were permitted only under the cloak of darkness.

In the wake of this revelation, the weight of your unrequited emotions became palpable, each heartbeat a reminder of the divide between the two worlds you inhabited with Tom. The nights were yours, a realm where he seemed to embrace you, but the days belonged to a version of him that eluded your understanding. Regrettably, you accepted the truth that, in Tom's realm, you were fated to be merely a passing shadow; you were his, but he wasn't yours, and he never would be. He belonged to no one else but himself. 

In the symphony of darkness, your presence is my favourite note. Until the night claims us again, know that you exist, a cherished memory in the sanctuary of my thoughts. Yours in the shadows,

T.M.R.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡

[cupiohearts]

CANT CATCH ME NOW ?! - leaving them behind

they see you everywhere. james, jonggun, joongoo. they find bits and pieces of you lying around in their pockets, their houses and memories. it depends on which one it is which scene they see you in.

DG VER. gun ver. goo ver.

for james, he sees the sight of you in the crowd when he first started as an idol. he catches himself hoping for a glimpse of you in crowds as he did before. maybe you just show up at one of his concerts one day. he knows its a childish hope to think you'll come back. especially not when theyve all pushed you out of their lives.

but was it such a hopeless thought to have? a particulary fond memory of seeing you in the front row at barricade. hopping down and singing his lyrics to your face. fans thought you were just a really lucky person to catch the attention of DG, minimizing it to a harmless fan interaction moment just for the concert.

he loved the way your eyes twinkled underneath the stage light illuminating your face in a mesmerizing glow. he recalled the heartbreak when they were all gathered up at your apartment.

it had become a haunting memory of seeing the house abandoned. the only thing left was a small ragged old scarf you insisted on keeping

"yknow! one day for my super awesome snowman! ive been waiting for winter to come in korea so snow is finally here!" you tell him with a giddy grin at the mall. your loose baby strands around your face and your face bare with nothing on it standing out to him.

you always mentioned you wanted to experience the snow. you said you didnt have it where you were from. far too sunny for that you said.

"you wont have to wait long. it get cold fast in korea" he tells you. chuckling as you hold the scarf in your hand while picking out more winter items.

how unfortunate. it was snowing right now. he wondered where youve gone. maybe youve died off, its better for him that way. that way he wont have to think about whether or not youve settled down yet. maybe gone back to your old country or somehwere new.

maybe youre out on a date somewhere, possibly 6 feet down in a ditch. his mind wanders when it comes to you.

reading the note you left behind for him. written in a sparkly pen you always used.

"why do you have so many pens and only use one?!" he questions you with a raised eyebrow. his long fingers unzipping your pencil pouch and looking through all the pens you own.

"you cant expect me to use all of them. plus my papers look sparkly this way and its cute. the design is cute and i like how it writes!" you chirp at him. turning behind you and hitting his forehead with your pen. "red hair... i like you with your curly red hair. reminds me of someone i used to know" you tell him.

curling his hair around your pen before dropping it when you hear the teacher say your name and turning back to the board. your hair whipping him in the face "im innocent!" you joke with your hands raised causing the class to laugh.

you tell him youre sorry in the note. that you couldnt handle it anymore.

you tell him everything but telling him nothing at the same time. telling him of how you felt like everyone else was moving while you were stuck in the present. everyone was special and you were not.

he let the paper drop down after skimming the rest of its contents. he wished to just crumple it up and tossed it away. he couldn't.

he knew he was being selfish wanting you back when youve clearly stated in the note this was out of youre pure will, leaving them behind. he wouldve cried. he wouldve cried if he was james lee.

all he could do was pick it back up and meet back with gun, and goo.

it was gonna all be in one set page but i found that it was longer than most of my other projects if i actually completed this whole

so i broke it up

like the friend group

ha

i caught up with lookism

i like the new pretty boys :3

ALSO QLSO I HAD AN ENTIRLY SEPRATE DOCUMENT FROM THIS AND I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED MY UNFINISHED STUFF BC I ACCIDETNALY POSTED IT INSTEAD OF COICKING DRAFT SO I HAD TO COPY AND PASTE ALL OF THIS PARAGRAPH BY PARAGRAPH TO THIS PAGE THINGY BC IM ON THE PHONE TYPING ALL PF US THIS SO A+ FOR WFFORT

did not proof read (bc im insecure abt my works 😔🤞)

[violet-moonstone]

highlights from "searching for oswald...and chicken"

wow I loved this episode...I feel like I say that every time but I REALLY REALLY enjoyed this one

first of all its a Dagur episode, which automatically makes it great...most of the screenshots I took are of him. Honestly all of his dialogue is very quotable, especially since so many of the jokes they give him are thinly veiled adult humour

also the B plot with chicken was certainly something (and makes me think the writers were thinking about the end of the hidden world while writing it?)

ok so the beginning of the episode was already tugging at my heartstrings. I love seeing Dagur and Heather's sibling relationship, whether hey're arguing or getting along.

Well that's deeply upsetting! and the fact that he said "most of his life" makes me wonder how much of the confidence Dagur displayed as a teenager was a cover for whatever he was dealing with internally.

The part where Dagur hugs Heather and she looks happy but almost surprised was very bittersweet. It seems like she's still getting used to having a family, and affection catches her off guard.

Excuse me while I go cry

Call me deranged but I think Dagur slamming Snotlout against a cage was hot

As always, Hiccup is adorable. Literally looks like a cat

This is funny but also very upsetting! Snotlout and Dagur really make a habit of using humourous line delivery to cope with being deeply unwell:

*clears throat* uh yeah Dagur, I'm sure you do love a good "fruit bath," from time to time if you know what I mean...

Come on, the writers, animators and voice actor HAVE to have known that line came across as suggestive. Like the way he sounds? His facial expression? They may not have intended it to specifically imply he was talking about getting in a sauna with some twinks, but it certainly sounded like something sensual was going on.

Also I didn't get a shot of this but when Dagur starts listing adjectives to describe Heather's reckless behaviour, Hiccup says "Sentinel" while looking at Oswald's journal. Dagur says something like "that's not quite the word I'd use," which makes me think Dagur was going to call her a not so PG word...

Snotlout staring directly at the camera while narrating Tuffnut's emotional breakdown in the style of a pun-loving mystery novelist:

What an asshole (I love him). there's something really funny about Tuff leaning against the tree with a hand on his hip. Poor guy. Astrid and Stormfly were clearly less amused than I was.

Ok let's talk about Hiccup motivating Dagur to open the door to Oswald's shelter. My little Dagcup heart was really soaring here. And look at the lighting!

LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT HIS FACE!

Oooohh man, Dagur expressing guilt about his past and Hiccup trying to help him through it also really got to me.

Dagur: I was a villain!

Hiccup: No, you were a kid

Me: *crying*

Because yeah, Dagur in Riders of Berk/Defenders of Berk did horrible things, but he was also enabled by all the adults in his life who could have stepped up after Oswald left. I've already written (both in posts and in one of my Dagcup fics) about how being thrown into a dungeon as a kid only made Dagur a worse person (no one in the show talks about the scars on his face that weren't there before...). And There is clearly an opportunity for restorative justice when it comes to characters like Alvin and Eret that wasn't extended to Dagur despite the fact that they had already overpowered him and could have at least given him a choice between punishment and trying to make up for his actions. Anyway...let me not rant about that anymore.

Ok what's next...oh yeah! Astrid doing this:

Hilarious.

Um...ok so...I needed to screenshot this for uh...reasons. It's the um...the composition and the...the lighting and...yeah. All that stuff.

THE DRAWING OSWALD DID OF DAGUR AND HEATHER AS KIDS

oooooohhh my heart!

Look. At. My. Boy. He looks so happy and at peace after reading his father's letter.

Ok so again...the writers making very interesting decisions for Dagur's lines.

Dagur being funny and a little concerning again

I liked the colour scheme for this Gronckle

More Dagur appreciation.

Before the episode where Fishlegs helps Dagur fly Shattermaster, I would have assumed Dagur would make fun of Fishlegs for being a nerd -- but instead he appreciates it. I think their friendship is super adorable, and I wish we got to see more of it.

Fishie! He calls him Fishie! (I ship them a little sometimes tbh) I can see Dagur having a thing for nerds.

hehehe

and uh, let's close off with hiccup being hot and windswept

[resowrites]

Rogue’s Company - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife become parents…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, mention/some detail of birth (I’ve tried to write as sensitively as possible but please avoid if you’re unsure), banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2095

A/N: This was supposed to go up next week but I’ve just got too much on. There are a few more pieces that I can post asap but I’m also happy to leave the story here - let me know if you want more.

Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rogue's Company.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the soft but unnatural light. At first, she didn't recognise the off-white walls, punctuated at intervals by bland pictures. After a while, she could hear a strange muffled sound. She realised someone was speaking. "Ollie? Are you awake?" It was Henry.

"W-where… am I?"

"The hospital, darling. You've been asleep the last six hours." Then it dawned on her. She'd given birth that morning.

"Where… where is he?" He smiled softly.

"He's fast asleep, as you should be. Come on, close your eyes." Henry smoothed her hair and hushed her softly, but a burning desire stopped her from slipping back into the depths of sleep. She had to see him.

"Where is he?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"He's just over there, darling. Don't you remember? He guzzled a whole bottle of milk and fell right to sleep…”

"Need to see him--" she tried to sit up slightly but pain shot through her stomach. Her grimace made Henry hold her down by the shoulders.

"Oh no you don't. You've got to try and relax for me darling, or you'll hurt worse." He eyed the buzzer above the bed, wondering if he should call the nurse. That morning suddenly flooded back to her. She remembered the high blue screen, the nauseating sensation as her stomach was pulled apart until… cries. Soft at first and then harder, stronger. They'd had a son. Her need to see him grew desperate.

"Darling, please. I must see him." Henry bit his lip but decided the only thing to do was to wheel the trolley over to her side. He did so painfully slowly, eager not to wake the little bundle wrapped within it. When Henry finally came to a stop, a smile spread across his face. Her eyes were glued to him immediately. Swathed in a white blanket and fitted with a tiny knitted hat, their baby boy was divine. His small fists were bundled up by his cheeks but his bottom lip stuck out, making his expression carefree.

"He's so lovely, isn't he?" He whispered though she could hardly find the words. Instead, tears filled her exhausted, heavy eyes. Henry gently wiped her face as her eyes screwed shut. "Oh darling, you're in pain aren't you?" When she didn't respond, he pressed the red button to the top left of her hospital bed. Moments later, an older woman in bright blue scrubs breezed into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cavill! I was just about to check on you both. How are you dear? Is your stomach giving you grief?" But Ollie couldn't tear her eyes away from the small bundle to her left.

"Sorry, she's a bit preoccupied…" Henry nodded toward their son.

"Ah, well that's alright. I just need to do a couple of checks and then I can bring you both up some dinner if you’d like?" He tried repeating the offer to his wife but her attention was still fixed solely on their little boy. The nurse went about checking her as quickly and carefully as she could. She also gave her some stronger pain relief. But instead of feeling sleepy, Ollie rallied and became fully aware that she was now a mother. Her sobs came hard and fast.

"Darling, what is it?" The nurse patted Henry gently on the arm.

"It's alright, it's just overwhelming isn't it?" Ollie nodded, somewhat embarrassed that she was feeling so overcome. "I just need to take him for a few minutes so I can see how he's doing as well?" She felt reluctant for anyone to go anywhere near him, but she was hardly in a position to resist. He stroked her hand and reassured her when she could hear their little boy stir the minute he was placed on a table at the other end of the room.

"Is he alright?! You're not hurting him?!" Henry and the nurse chuckled.

"He's fine darling! And I'm sure once the nurse is done she'll let you hold him?" He looked over at her for confirmation.

"Yes, of course! But you'll have to support his bottom, she won't be strong enough just yet to hold him by herself. Let me see now, he's still six pounds, three ounces, and eighteen inches long…" Ollie craned her neck to try and get a better view.

"Has he still got two balls?" She swatted Henry with her hand but immediately regretted it when the sensation reverberated through her stomach. She gathered her strength to try and sit up properly. He dashed to help her.

"I'm fine love, stop fussing over me… are those measurements okay? It seems pretty small." The nurse smiled softly as she put their son back in his babygrow.

"It's somewhat on the small side but he's all good, you've got a very sweet little boy. Well, I'll leave you three to it. I'll be back with dinner in about half an hour, if you need help using the bathroom just buzz. For now, try and get some rest and when you're ready with a name, just let me know." She then smiled, handed their son over to Henry, and made her way from the room. For a while, he just stood holding him, rocking gently back and forth. His whimpering hadn't quite died down but Ollie couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Henry, I can't see him! Please, put him on my chest--"

"Alright, alright, here he is…" Henry ducked down, careful not to put too much pressure on either her chest or stomach. Immediately she was struck by his eyes - bright blue like his father’s. She felt her lip tremble. He just chuckled softly. "So… what do you think? He woke up an hour after you fell asleep and just gurgled away happily in his cot. He hasn't cried once!" She stared down at his little face and felt a strange sensation spread through her chest. It was pure, unconditional love.

"He's… glorious. Even though he looks just like you!" It was true. From the dark tufts of hair on his head to the strong jaw and double chin, there was no denying who his father was.

"Yeah, but he's got your ears, look," Henry rotated him slightly so she could see the side of his head.

"Well that's a relief…" They both laughed. “Wow. I can't believe we made that…" He laughed again.

"I know, I still can't even believe he's here! It feels like only yesterday you told me you were pregnant…" Henry kissed her cheek for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But her eyes were still glued to their son who was cooing to himself.

"Bloody hell… he's chatty like you as well."

"You should have heard him earlier, he was having a whole conversation with the nurse--" He lifted him up to place him back in the cot.

"No, don't. Don't take him away!"

"But darling my arm's going dead! I'm just putting him back down for a little while so you can rest…"

"Fine, but pull that trolley down a bit so I can still see him…" Henry did as he was told, smiling at her enraptured face.

"So, I take it you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm besotted. I never want him out of my sight again--"

"You know you cried and cried when they had to take him away to clean him up?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I have no memory of that…" A pit opened in his stomach.

"Do you remember him being born?" She tried to think.

"Only in fragments. I remember his cries, and that he was all slippery. Apart from that my head's still foggy." Henry crouched over and stroked her head.

"It'll probably come back to you as you recover. The surgeon also did a great job, the incision wasn't that big as he's only a wee thing--"

"It certainly doesn't feel small…" She winced as her mind fell back to the soreness she could feel at the base of her stomach.

"Well, give the drugs a chance to kick in, and if you don't feel better in a little while I'll call the nurse back. So, do we have a name?" A small smile curled her lips.

"Yep. Hal."

"Hal?"

"Yeah, don't you like it?"

"Of course, but why that name?"

"Don't you know your Shakespeare? It's short for Henry. You know, as in Henry IV? And you call yourself an actor—"

"You… you wanna name our boy after me?"

"Well, technically Henry V…" She smiled mischievously but he was too choked to speak. "What I also like is that it rhymes with Kal." Henry snorted.

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to wait until the morphine wears off?" She gave him a knowing look. "Fine, Hal it is! But if he's named after me then it's only fair he's named after you as well--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his middle name should be Oliver. What do you think?"

"My name isn’t Oliver, you little shit!" She went to thwack Henry only for the pain to pull her back to the bed. He smirked.

"Mmm, it’s gunna be a fun couple of weeks… and technically it is! You were named after Oliver—"

"Yes, yes, alright. Hal Oliver, it is. Poor little sod. Well, in for a penny, in a pound, let's use another of your names—"

"What, you mean Dalgliesh?"

"No, you twat, William." Henry snorted but felt pride swelling in his chest once again.

"Hal Oliver William. You know that spells 'How?' He could go by Howie—"

"Yeah, no." He laughed.

"Well 'Hal's' perfect, just like him. And his Mum." Henry leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. "Well done, darling. I'm so, so proud of you."

"I'm just grateful he's here and doing okay--"

"Me too. Can you believe we're parents? It feels so weird!"

"It does. But in a way, it also feels like he's always been here, as a part of us… I know that doesn't make sense."

"No, I know what you mean. I just couldn't imagine life without him now. We're a family of five! Oh my God, my mum and dad are going to be so thrilled—"

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yeah, though I haven't sent a picture. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Shall I take one of you holding him? That way we can send it to everyone?" She smiled and nodded. But just as he went to pick up their son, the nurse shuffled back into the room wheeling a tray of fresh sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries. "Oh, great, I'm hungry." Ollie giggled and the nurse smiled in her direction.

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking a bit brighter! Just let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get out of your hair. How are you feeling now?"

"Elated," she sighed.

"He is a gorgeous little thing. The spitting image of his father, right down to the chin!"

"It's alright, I still love him…" Henry and the nurse burst out laughing.

"So, have you settled on a name?" They smiled at each other.

"Yes, our son is called Hal Oliver William," her voice broke.

"What is it, darling?!"

"It's nothing, it's just… that's the first time I've ever called him our son." He brushed the tears from his own cheeks and gave her another kiss.

"Aww, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled for you both. And it looks like you're recovering well, your blood pressure's good too. When you're feeling a little stronger, you can have a walk around and take a shower. All being well, you can all head home in the next day or so. Well, I'll leave you three in peace. Just buzz if you need anything." In a whirl, she was gone. Henry began breaking the sandwiches into smaller pieces so he could feed Ollie directly. Normally she'd have fed herself but she was grateful for the help as her whole body still ached from the procedure.

"There we are, just try and have a little bit for me." He beamed at her, still feeling shocked and relieved it was all over. Henry knew their lives would never be the same, but already parenthood was proving to be so much better than he'd expected. He felt like the three of them could take on the world. "Well, my darling girl, are you happy?" She swallowed her small mouthful and gazed up at Henry.

"The happiest I've ever been in my whole life."

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @livesinfantasyland @jackjanira

[thelunarfairy]

Thinking about how the type of relationship between Amane and Tsukasa is written and shown, like Aidairo they really like to play and, evidently, they do it on purpose: is it just something brotherly or is there something more? (Always interpreting the content they give us and never affirming [or denying] something)

It can also be said (and from what I have seen, it is something that does happen) that part of the jshk fandom rejects and ignores the theories that the interactions between the twins hide something beyond the fraternal because they're brothers and shouldn't be seen as such.

So,

Using the analogy of "If character A were the opposite gender of character B, then everyone would support their romantic relationship, but since A and B are the same gender that makes them just good friends and 'romantic' is just a thing." part of the community", one could deduce that if instead of brothers, Aidairo had chosen to be childhood friends, would the majority of the fandom more easily accept their interaction as something more than brotherly?

If they were just childhood friends who grew up together and their relationship is the same as it is currently in the manga, perhaps the entire fandom would say, and it wouldn't be something crazy or misplaced, that there's not just friendship between the two; perhaps a one-sided love, or a childhood love that ended badly. Maybe there would even be more posts of parallels between hananene and amane and tsukasa.

I would like to know your opinion ^ . ^

Just thoughts derived from insomnia and how I love to find three feet for the cat. And since I love to see the relationships of some characters in another light to see if it's just my interpretation or if there is something more.

P.D.: ilove your theories and analysis.

Do you want me to be completely honest?

I have been very cautious when talking about this subject precisely because it is such a taboo.

It's not about gender, but about being brothers, it's not something natural or accepted, it's strange to think or talk about it in a general context, most people have brothers and know that the love they feel for them is fraternal.

So this forbidden love causes a lot of strangeness, even if it is in fiction.

But yes, I'm happy that the fandom is finally seeing that there is SOMETHING STRANGE in their relationship, it's not just brotherly love, right?

It does not seem.

Tsukasa blushes when he is with Amane, when he talks about him. Hanako also blushes when he is around Tsukasa. The way Tsukasa touches Hanako, panels where they are almost kissing, Hanako under Tsukasa in a suggestive position while Tsukasa puts his hands on Hanako's lips. The way Hanako looks at Tsukasa, whether when he was pointing at the stars or when he ran to hug Amane.

There is more evidence of romance than of a healthy sibling relationship. The way Tsukasa didn't care about anything other than fulfilling Amane's wishes…

But what about Hanako, what must he have been like with Tsukasa?

The general idea that goes through my head sometimes is that the twins fell in love with each other. For Tsukasa, in a more innocent way, that kind of love that he still doesn't understand and doesn't know how to differentiate from brotherly love, everything for him is just love.

For Hanako…. this is more problematic, Hanako is not innocent, he knows what kind of love he feels for Tsukasa, and maybe because he realizes that it is wrong, forbidden, he just buried this feeling inside his chest. Even though he felt love and desires, he seemed to want to be the "perfect" brother, as we saw in the PP arc.

Most analyzes of JSHK symbolism point to a romantic love between them, and in some cases, unilateral. An innocent twin and a pervert, opposites but with similar desires.

I always wonder why Hanako has such a latent sexual desire, as if he was repressing an old desire, and when Kako revealed this in front of Tsukasa, Hanako blushed intensely!

He literally wanted to die again, so why was he so blushing because of Tsukasa? It doesn't make sense if we don't think about the desires he might feel about Tsukasa, and because it's something shameful and forbidden, he feels bad.

"I want Tsukasa, but he's my brother, we can't! It's wrong…."

He blushed more with Tsukasa than with Nene, even when Nene kissed him on the cheek, the moment he blushed the most with her, it didn't surpass the way he blushed with Tsukasa, even his HANDS were blushed.

Think with me, Hanako wants to stop time to do any kind of perverted things, who could he stop time with so he could do whatever he wanted without anyone knowing?

He already did perverted things with Nene without needing to stop time, he can even try to do perverted things with random people, since no one sees Hanako because he's a ghost

But he couldn't touch these people even if time stopped, because in order for him to touch them the other person must be supernatural, have a sixth sense or a bond with Hanako, as in the case of Nene, Kou.

So WHO was the person he was talking about?

Touching Tsukasa with time stopped… Would it lessen Amane's guilt if Tsukasa didn't know? Hmm…..

He likes to do things in secret because he doesn't like to feel guilty, he does things knowing it's wrong, and that's why he does them in secret.

This would also explain why he was so embarrassed when Tsukasa found out that he wants to do perverted things, it was as if Kako had revealed to Tsukasa that Amane had this type of desire towards him.

A forbidden desire that Amane hides, touching Tsukasa, but he can't, so would he wish time would stop so he could do what he wants, because he believed Tsukasa would never know, would it be the only way to alleviate his desire?

When the secret was revealed, Amane felt the guilt and shame for his desires strongly.

Should I also mention the sexual connotation between eating and being devoured? Hakubo and Sumire? It was explicitly a sexual scene between the two, and well, Hanako will probably have to devour Tsukasa in the same way, so sexual connotations continue here.

So, let's go to the scene of Hanako's intense crying when he sees Tsukasa kissing Nene.

Did he see the two people he is in love with kissing? And him being left out of it?

So, let's conclude, maybe this will all lead to a three-way relationship, if Nene accepts, of course. Hanako seems to be in love with both of them, and with the way things are going, we're going to see more of Amane showing love for Tsukasa.

See his look in these two situations:

It's the same look…. in one panel he tells Nene that he's happy because she was the first girl who said she liked him, in the other panel he's talking about Tsukasa.

Same tender look, same look, SAME LOOK

BUT

It's just ONE of the possibilities, maybe it's just another one of those things that some manga authors put in, you know, to tease and give false clues, maybe it's just "ah, that's just a joke, they're just very close brothers" and nothing happens.

Aidairo created a game in which there were twins in love with the same girl, they also had a suggestive relationship between them, but nothing explicitly romantic was shown between them.

This is what I think will happen in JSHK, there is all this evidence that their relationship is romantic, but in the end it won't be anything canon, just suggestive moments.

I don't think Aidairo will have enough courage to put a romantic relationship between canonical brothers???? I doubt it, I would challenge her if I could, because I definitely don't believe she would put that on! Because it would be very brave of her to do that!!

Neither the romantic relationship between the twins nor the relationship between three. Tsukasa will probably disappear, Nene will stay with Hanako for a while and Amane will disappear too, Nene (if she survives) will be sad for a while and then forget.

It will be?

Everything is still hazy, I'm wandering between the two paths, do they love each other romantically or is it just Aidairo's joke?

I have no idea the answer, because the evidence is getting stronger and harder to ignore….

Anyway, remembering that I don't ship the twins and I'm not saying that this is what will happen, it's just an analysis based on their behavior.

[bettsfic]

Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

[higherthanvic]

PAINTER!GETOU HC'S.

first post! enjoy a few (n)sfw headcanons of a AU that has taken over me. minors, SHOO!

this was written with a black reader in mind btw !

SFW.

painter!getou is a worldwide known artist for his wonderful use of symbolism and meaning behind each piece he curates in the comfort of his studio apartment that he has the pleasure of sharing with his muse and symbolism expert; you.

muse!reader is the overall inspiration for each piece and reason why he loves what he does for a living. you make his painting career so eventful, and he can't find the words nor actions to thank you enough.

painter!getou takes your suggestions and thoughts when it comes to anything. when it comes to painting, you help him try to broaden and emphasize what message he wants to come across with your knowledge of symbolism. you both work as a team; getou with the artistry, the muse with the knowledge and explanation.

"wait, how about you add red to this? i get the message and everything, but the red would make it more obvious of what you're trying to say. red can mean passion, en-" quickly pours out red paint as she talks

every painting painter!getou curates has to have a certain part of the drawing involving you. if it isnt your actual full body on the piece, there's always something in the background that he puts in. when the piece finally gets published into art shows, its like a guessing game to find out which part of the piece is symbolizing you before you get getou to tell you (which you're mostly right at times).

painter!getou secretly loves when you draw on his canvases just so he can keep each drawing in the final piece, he just gets "mad" for no reason.

"wait, baby... aren't those the hearts I drew on the corner of the canvas?" "mhm, what about them?" "why'd you keep them?" "i...forgot."

painter!getou bought you your own plush lounge chair when it came to posing for him so you didn't get too uncomfortable to stay in the same position for too long.

after you suggested that he should try to light incense around the apartment to help set the mood for painting, painter!getou never paints without incense lit and warm lighting dimly lit in the living room.

"sweetheart, can you grab the open box of incense in the kitchen? i need to start this commission." "you know you don't have to light them everytime you paint-" "they make me feel relaxed."

painter!getou adores the way you get so excited and run to your lounge chair when he asks if he could use you for a piece idea. your smile lightens up the entire room, and he cant help but smile back.

you two have "dates" almost every weekend + Friday. whether you go out for a movie, dinner, make a pillow fort, or just spend quality time with each other, you always insist on calling it a date when painter!getou just says its just spending quality time.

"i call it a date because we're together and doing fun stuff together!" "so are painting nights not fun?" "that's different. that's for work."

NSFW.

since painter!getou works from home instead of in an office, you have to leave during the day to attend your corporate job even after getou insisted on helping you financially instead of you leaving his side every morning. during these few hours of your absence, he can't help but think of you. stroking his cock as he reminisces about your nude body sprawled out on the lounge chair you pose on, getting your pussy drilled into continuously as the finished canvas dried. there were also a few times he jerked off to his own pieces of your nude body, but never told you that.

painter!getou adores forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror as he fucks you senseless. he wanted you to see what he saw in you for yourself.

painter!getou is POSSESIVE AS HELL!!! he understands that people might find the anonymous person on his pieces sexy because she's nude, but all he cares about is that you come home to him at the end of the day. you come home and gag on his cock delightfully before you both continue with your day.

painter!getou doesn't just like cumming inside of you. he adores the way his warm liquid drapes across your face or stomach. it makes him feel like he's making a masterpiece on a canvas all over again.

painter!getou's position that makes him the most weak in the knees ever since being with you: cowgirl. the way he can see your entire figure all out for display and bouncing so quickly on his cock sends him into a spiral.

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: Rat-holed Memories.

Length: 4500 words

POV: Astarion

Pairing: Astarion/M!Elf!Tav(Rorik), rogue/paladin

Rating: MATURE 18+

Themes: mlm, consent, clarity of expectations, dissociation, manipulation, setting boundaries, light erotica, internal conflict.

Content Warnings: References to rape, incest, broken family dynamics, murder, slavery, mild knife play, anger, emotional outbursts.

Author notes: First and foremost, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and Smegol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

@ghostkingart wrote a post desiring that the fandom wrote more fic about Astarion being denied intimacy due to concerns about intent and whether he's actually in the headspace to do so, with emphasis on his canon tendancy to go somewhere "a million realms away". I thought I could oblige. Digging in my docs for inspiration revealed that I'd basically already written this exact piece, give or take a few details. Decided to put on the Big Boy pants and be brave enough to post this.

I think healing is going to be messy for him. He's a big personality and these are some big complex feelings for a man who's been on the world's shortest leash for 200 years and also has had to solve every problem with either his body or a blade.

This fic also heavily implies that some healing and learning has already taken place so bear with me. Enjoy

“I don't know. It's veiled from me… I can't remember that clearly. Just. Parts… I think so.” Rorik told Astarion.

"Nothing? You remember nothing of circumstance or even who delegated to you at all?” Astarion scoffed and crossed his arms.

Astarion had been warned that some questions he might have may not have much of an answer, for Rorik was good at burying memories too sharp to hold. Knowing of the predilection toward purposeful forgetfulness didn't make this conversation any less frustrating. He wanted to know if Rorik had ever been sent to Baldur's Gate on loan, as Rainar often ordered him to do if a nobleman or another vampire lord bid high enough. He said he'd been to the city during that time, but maintained that he couldn't remember why.

“You want to know if Cazador ever paid Rainar to have someone vanish, don't you?” Rorik asked a new question rather than answer one they both knew the answer to.

“You told me the name Cazador Szarr was familiar, once.” Astarion probed.

“It is.”

“Then you should understand why that would concern me.”

"I do.” Rorik assured him with a single nod as he half-dozed, sprawled on his back.

Silence fell upon them as they lay still but restless in Astarion's slightly tidier than usual tent. Fitting two bedrolls in it necessitated some level of order. Frankly, Astarion hid the trash and used glassware behind his temporary abode. Rorik probably knew where the mess was, but said nothing.

“What would you say if you found out tomorrow that we passed like ships in the night long ago? What would it change?” Rorik inquired, appearing curious toward the demeanor of the bees in Astarion's bonnet.

“I'd ask what Cazador would have paid to have you do. I have to lay there, every damn night, wondering if that bastard sent the Gur down the street where I lost everything. It could just as easily have been you.” Astarion explained irritably. Sometimes Astarion felt like he had to spoon feed Rorik his thoughts. He should be able to string together the pieces by now.

"I have an opinion, Astarion, but it might not be a thought you want reinforced.” Rorik offered with a warning.

“give it.”

The dhampir spoke as if reading off law rather than opinion, the gravity of his tone leaving little room for argument. “Vampires are known to stalk a target for days. You should know, to a point. But lords, or true vampires, looking to create spawn for their own uses are different. They assign much, although sometimes arbitrary or even nonsensical, ritual to their pursuit. I'm certain, if he didn't send the Gur himself, he was already watching your every move for months.”

“...You're telling me he was inevitable.” Astarion muttered with venom and a curl of his upper lip.

“...I'm saying: vampire lords aren't spontaneous.” Rorik clarified.

“Well, all I'm saying is: you're missing my point. I wish you remembered. So I could be sure.” Astarion complained with a flick of his hands in the air above them.

“If it reassures you at all, I know for a fact that Cazador didn't send me. I'd have proper fucking killed you too completely to bring back.” Rorik abruptly stated.

“What!? Exactly what makes you so sure of that.” Astarion spat.

“Beating the guts out of a magistrate but not enough that a vampire cannot turn him sounds like a miserably delicate chore… I was never bought for things like that. I'm too heavy handed.” Rorik asserted bluntly.

In mostly mock hurt, Astarion went on the defensive. “No, I mean: what in the hells makes you think I was an easy mark?”

“Hmm? How much do you weigh?”

“Eh?”

Rorik sat erect to turn and loom over Astarion, arms caging the other as he held himself up with palms pressed flat to the floor by each of the elf’s shoulders.

He huffed through a smile full of sabers, he was about to tease, “Couple sacks of grain, if you were soaking wet, I’d guess. I could toss you over my shoulder and run up a hill without losing my breath. I imagine you wielded a quill and inkpot then. The sharpest thing in your arsenal might've been a letter opener.”

How dare this often bald cunt of a man wear that disgustingly smug grin, smear insults, and manage to be bizarrely charming all the while?

“Wrong,” Astarion rebutted, “men of Baldur's Gate are required starting at age nine to learn archery, and it is short sighted for an individual of my former station not to be prepared for scorned citizens challenging him to a duel over an unfavorable ruling. You would've bitten off more than you thought.” Astarion stubbornly asserted, completely guessing although he wouldn't admit that. He had no idea what he used to do in his spare time as a mortal, or where he lived, or even what his favorite food used to be…

“Hmm, you make a good argument, sure. But your hands wouldn't have known much hardship. Could they have fended off these ragged mits?” Rorik's right hand slid against the reed mat until fingertips found Astarion's elbow, from there encircling his forearm and following its shape until he met a wrist, then the hand he meant to squeeze.

Rorik's hands were square in their shapes, knuckles scarred until the skin remained thick and rough, crooked fingers from many breaks, and strange knots of bone that betrayed how many times he'd fractured his dominant hand as he gripped his sword and struck a shield or armor rather than flesh and bone. Astarion could feel every callus like a knot under the skin of Rorik's leathery palm. Their textures were jagged and would pull runs in fine silk.

Such a gnarled paw might've repelled Astarion a month ago. His always empty guts used to twist at the touch of a victim with hands like these. Those nights and those marks did feel as though they pulled vicious runs in the silk of his skin.

Rorik was just, as per fucking usual, the one outlier. Terrible hands on him, but they squeezed his fingers carefully, they were almost warm, and their textures were becoming nuanced to Astarion's touch. He was starting to think, perhaps, if you queued up ten men of the sword, whose hands were all terrible, he could pick out Rorik's while blindfolded.

He brought Astarion's knuckles to his lips, dragging them across his cheek with a sigh that teased a quick flash of his maw of ruthless thorns.

Rorik's eyes flickered an uncanny glimmer from the candlestick glow, the eyes of a smitten predator fixed to Astarion's equally haunting gaze.

“So soft now, softer still long ago I bet, but not as soft as your eyes.” Rorik cooed down to him from behind a finger he selected to kiss.

It made Astarion's throat itch dryly to hear that. His thirst always doubled when Rorik spoke of his eyes.

The bastard grinned against his hand with too many teeth showing. Rorik's way of flirting and giving a compliment was very different from Astarion's well practiced methods. He was much too frank. Rough cut gems was what the rogue called these moments in the relative privacy of his thoughts. Rorik was getting too cocky, however, so strange charms couldn't go unpunished.

Astarion hooked a heel into Rorik's knee, kicking that load bearing joint out from under him and destabilizing him just enough that the edge of a palm clapped around his jaw easily pulled him over. This allowed Astarion to roll with him, reversing the pin. His dagger, kept tucked under his pillow, was gathered in the lightning swipe of searching fingers and brandished at Rorik's jugular.

And Rorik? He simply went limp and chuckled. The Jackass had offered no resistance and gone slack under him, hands thrown back in surrender. It offended Astarion to be allowed to win their grapple, but Rorik's implicit trust in spite of the blade threatening him always made Astarion ache somehow. The inveterate crank under him snapped his jaws at anything that pressed his boundaries, but never Astarion. Adorable Idiot. To be fair, Rorik knew that these jabs and tussles were only fun and games.

“I was not entirely defenseless, and certainly no guileless lamb. Besides, you were no different than a spaw- pardon, but you were under the complete control of Rainar. If you were ordered to destroy a man without outright killing him, you’d have no choice but to comply.”

“I think you'd remember me. I'm not something you'd mistake for Gur. Unlike some people, I shall not name them, I actually look like an undead wretch.” Rorik shook his head -foolish to do with a blade pressed near to skin- and laughed softly against the cold kiss of Astarion's dagger.

The way the apple of his throat bobbed under the razor edge could wring any vampire’s stomach with hunger.

“...True, but not quite so any longer.” Astarion dragged a finger led by a languid arm from Rorik's navel to the space under his chin.

He meant to tilt this face for a closer appraisal. Rorik's expression changed, glazing over as Astarion's thumb followed the shape of his lower lip.

“You've turned rather pink since we began this little jaunt,” Astarion reminded him.

Interesting creatures, dhampirs. One foot in the grave at all times and a hand clawing a stubborn grip on life. Apparently, if they've been behaving like their undead half they will look the part, but Astarion had yet to observe Rorik feeding. That abstinence from the sanguine was reflected in his freckled, peachy skin. He might've been a touch sunburned across the bridge of his nose and the tip of each notched ear.

Rorik gazed up at Astarion, eyes searching, questing about his shapes. He stared as though he were looking upon that sun god he claimed not to love. Silly beastly thing. Blindly devoted damn fool.

“...Would you let me kiss you?” Rorik breathed.

What could one more impossible moment hurt? Who knew when Rorik would wake up and realize Astarion had no precious light to offer him?

“Mm, just this once, darling,” Astarion hummed with lips pulling into a loose smile. It was his turn to tease.

Rorik waited so very patiently, licking his scar streaked lips with what could be perceived as lewd eagerness, but eyes wide and full of something else that called softly.

Astarion retracted the dagger, slowly, making a show of it as he held it away from their bodies. Then, Casually, as he leaned back and settled his weight over Roriks lap, he allowed the blade to slip from his fingers and pierce the mats and dirt below. He left it sticking there, at the ready, but easily forgotten as he pitched forward to claim his companion's delectable mouth.

Rorik had tried to lift himself to greet Astarion, but palms clapped over his shoulders sent him back to the floor with a hollow thud resonating from his chest. The dhampir let slip the faintest moan of approval as his jaws parted for Astarion, offering the warmth within and the taste of his nightly herb brew. His arms wove themselves all about high elf.

Rorik always squeezed, held, stroked the rogue. It briefly repulsed Astarion that first time, when Rorik held so tightly and explored him so earnestly, but that had changed. The paladin longed to be close. He didn't want Astarion's body, Rorik wanted Astarion. That came with its own new form of revulsion. How could Rorik's standards be so low that he actually wanted all of the filth under Astarion's perfect surface?

Astarion knew the answer to that. He winced silently and masked the upset by delving deeper into the pleasures of Rorik's gasping mouth the moment he was done stealing a breath.

The ex-wife, Zarla, must surely be why Rorik found Astarion an acceptable partner. Astarion himself had uttered the perfect analogy for it once before. When you're accustomed to drinking from the sewer, even plonk is a marked improvement.

Anything at all must be better than being forced to swallow every last drop of misery to survive a borderline incestuous arranged marriage to a complete and whole nightmare of a woman.

Rough fingers massaged up the back of Astarion's neck, soon cradling the back of his head. Rorik seemed to like playing in his hair, since he had none of his own until very recently.

The moment Astarion thought of it, he moved to push his fingers though that scant half-inch of strawberry blond. Rorik had still been shorn up top the last time they… But he'd thought about it, curling his fingers in it, gripping it so tight, using it to shove Rorik's keening face in the pillow to muffle him.

Once, it was their second late night encounter, Rorik had mewled things in a tongue Astarion didn't know, both betraying the wellspring of his faint accent and revealing his patron god. A heathen sun diety which pre-dated Lathandor. That night many moons ago, Astarion had delighted in watching the paladin slap both hands over his gaped jaws to keep that holy name out of his mouth while he behaved profanely.

All Astarion could think about was gripping that short ginger crown and pulling Rorik’s head up from a pillow to hear his name mingling with half formed prayer. Oh, the things which come unraveled from Rorik's disciplined tongue when Astarion fucked him were always delectable. There was something sinfully gratifying in defiling a holy man. It must be the same thing which kept Rorik coming back for more and more of Astarion. He must crave to be engulfed by the elf’s tainted touch, like an addict who craved the deadly bliss in his own destruction.

Astarion slipped his curious tongue between the split halves of Rorik's. Maybe after, he'd ask why the man had his tongue sliced. Could be a faith thing, or perhaps a fun story, but hopefully not another rat-holed memory from worse times. He set aside the thought and chose instead to be gratified in the way Rorik arched under him.

Rorik's hands curled in hair and slid down Astarion’s spine, but that left claw hesitated at his waistband and instead formed a self-restraining fist in the elf's untucked shirt. No, no, he wanted Rorik to go further. He wanted to give Rorik his hit of destroying bliss, keep him close, keep him asleep and unaware of how unfit his favorite “pain in the ass” was for him.

His guts were grinding acid at the wolves playing tug-o-war in his silent chest. Rorik aroused Astarion's dead flesh and dead heart, that was true, but it repulsed him that the only catharsis he could summon for that were the things he could do to Rorik's flesh to lure him closer. It made it feel like working one of his marks, the men and women who’d walk and blush at his side without knowing they were good as dead. This felt like raping himself and Rorik with a predatory false self.

Astarion wanted to sink through the floor into the dirt and become beetle shit, he wanted to make Rorik wail his name, and he wanted to drag all of the beauty in the world through the tar in his soul for revenge. He hated feeling it all at the same time, but most of all, his worm-holed brain screamed to keep Rorik in place, with him, blind to his truth but with him.

Gods, five minutes ago he'd accused Rorik of potentially being involved in his murder, then held him at knifepoint while the fool giggled at the game. It was only a matter of time before he saw it all for what it was. The flailing of some irreversibly ruined creature. But he could keep Rorik coming back...

I just need a little more. Stay a little longer. A few more moments to last me once you-

Astarion flattened himself to Rorik's sprawled body to let him feel the arousal he’d inspired. Putrid. Rorik's lips stretched open to drag in a much needed breath, face screwing up as his head fell back while he was ground upon. He submitted to the desire to crush Astarion closer. His arms would snap taut about Astarion so fast when he became overcome by desire. This yearning squeeze was the signal of victory for Astarion every time. He'd won. Rorik was his. He'd pushed him to the-

Rorik broke from the embrace of their lips and turned his face away, sucking down two great breaths between his words “Solan's tits… Astarion?... Astarion, Wait.”

Rorik's arms loosened from him, then carefully lifted away. He put them at his sides and flattened his hands against the reed mat in a calculated manner. Astarion's command over the situation had slipped away. He could feel warm breath heating his cheek and sense eyes trying to find his own. Astarion didn't meet the other's gaze, he couldn't because he didn't want to see Rorik's bloody concern. It was worse than the most depraved leer.

“What? Darling, you're souring the mood. Wouldn't you rather…” Astarion tried to put them back on course by laying a perfectly placed kiss at the space just under Rorik's right ear.

Predictably, the man shivered at that delicate affection and his hands clapped over Astarion's thighs to apply their crushing squeeze of approval. Gods, you're easy. Right back on the road, like recalling a loyal mutt gone sniffing too far ahea-

The thought nauseated him the moment it completed itself in his head, comparing Rorik to an animal to be commanded. The revulsion turning his stomach gave him pause, stopping him dead in the middle of suckling a decadently soft earlobe between his lips to hiss mournfully.

Rorik's hands pressed over the mound of each shoulder. He pushed slowly, putting space between them. Chaos erupted within Astarion like a crowd of men shouting over one another.

No! Not yet… Gods, thank you… Don't leave!?

Astarion was made to sit up with Rorik as he rose from the mat. He was then seated in the paladin's lap, but there was nothing titillating about it. Rorik's eyes bore through him like drill heads. His stare made Astarion feel naked when they were like that, stripped, but not erotically. He just saw him. Through him. Into him. He used to hate that and it still unnerved him, being seen.

“Astarion, let's talk about this first,” He spoke much too softly, like addressing a sniffling child. It made Astarion feel infantile.

“Talk? Why? Don't you want to forget where we are? For just a moment?” Astarion pivoted, sliding a palm over Rorik's cheek to hook his fingers over the back of his neck, bringing him close again.

If he kissed and nibbled just right, between the scars, Rorik would offer a feed. Bastard loved pain. Probably needed it to get off at this point. A bite would put a stop to this nonsense, all Astarion needed was permission. It was time to bring a sword to a knife fight.

“Ast-... Oh my….- wait, wait! No.” Rorik forced his hands between them again to put a foot of distance between his neck and Astarion's fangs.

Gods damn it. Astarion's stomach twisted, but not out of hunger, at the word no. A word he barely knew how to use. He couldn't ignore it. Rorik had refused him. He had to stop.

“Astarion, I don't-... I want to be told what you want. I don't want to guess. We agreed not to, I want to be sure this is really what you want.” Rorik told him, again too gently, and let his hands settle at either side of the other's waist.

“I would have thought I seemed damn sure of what I wanted eight seconds ago, but I'm starting to think you've gone and robbed me of even that!” Astarion swatted at Rorik's hands to banish them from his body and spat bitterly before he could think better of it.

He’d lost at his own game, all because he couldn't hold his disgust at bay anymore. Rorik must have sniffed it out. Bastard had ruined him. Taken away the one thing he truly was good at. Or good for.

Rorik said nothing and only looked at him, brows pinching and turning upward just as his eyes revealed his exhaustion. Astarion had to look away. It hurt. It was fucking agony to be looked at that way and see how lost Rorik appeared on what to do or say.

I'm projecting. Fuck.

No, Rorik knew exactly what he wanted to do. He'd wanted clarification on what Astarion wanted and expected and asked. Astarion on the other hand…

“I-... I don't know what I'm trying to do.” Astarion lied and told the truth at the same time. Felt disgusting, hiding intentions but admitting uncertainty in the same breath.

“What do you not want to do?” Rorik asked, but Astarion wasn't sure what to make of the phrasing.

Ah! Yes, a reference toward Astarion's lurid tendencies. Yes, he used to pretend to “want” just about anything to hook a mark and gain their implicit trust. Astarion's palm struck Rorik, albeit not as hard as he deserved, upon the creek and jaw to shove him away. Bastard's hands clenched in his shirt on reflex, making escape more difficult than it should be. “The hells is that supposed to mean? Do I have to spell it out for you again?! I played the role of a prostitute. It was all lies and-”

“No no! I meant that: Sometimes it's easier to know what you don't want.” Rorik barely restrained a bellow as he rushed the words past the hand which muffled him. He continued, more mindful of his voice. “Which is. I don't know… Something to go on.”

Gods, Astarion loathed to do it, to let go of the misfired anger, but the wisdom Rorik spoke was sufficient. He felt foolish for the misunderstanding, too, and he burned with renewed anger and irritability. He knew one thing he didn't want, and it left him feeling that he appeared inordinately needy as he dropped his hands into his lap uselessly.

“I don't want to be alone… Tonight I mean. I don't want to be alone tonight.” Astarion admitted part of the problem, painfully.

“And I am happy to resolve that. Anything else you don't want?”

Astarion was reassured, a little. Trying to think about what he wanted was, indeed, fucking impossible. He was too shameful to admit that he was trying to pick up where he left off seducing Rorik for fear he would one day leave him in the absence of sex. Astarion tried to figure out how to tell enough of the truth not to hate himself.

“I don't want to… I don't want to hate it. Sleeping with you. I don't want sex. But I want it.” Astarion gripped Rorik's shoulders tightly and mimed jerking him close, but his eyes soon had to crush shut to hold back tears. “...But I can't. The thoughts, the loathing. It comes when I used to be able to just. Put myself away and do what I came to do.”

Rorik's hands covered the back of Astarion's fingers where they pressed red marks into his shoulders, pulling them down to be held tightly between their bodies. Thumbs stroked over his knuckles so tenderly. It was far more than Astarion felt he deserved.

Rorik kept his eyes on their entwined hands. “I understand, I think.”

“I don't… Want to treat you like a victim. But I don't want you to..-” he lost his words in his throat.

Rorik lifted Astarion's left hand to his lips, as he so often did. He was starting to wonder if the man had a hand fetish. “You can tell me anything, I swear that I'll try to understand. What don't you want me to do?”

Why are you good to me?

“I just. Don't want you to leave… Tonight.” Astarion wasn't ready to tell Rorik that he was waiting for him to wake up one morning jaded and too exhausted from this game to carry on playing it.

lips pressed to the inside of Astarion's wrist. “Then you have me until Sol calls me to prayer, and then you'll have me again if you wish it. And you may do, or not do, whatever you like with me... And changing your mind is perfectly legal."

That made Astarion's chest tight. Bastard was getting too good at quelling the storms in Astarion's head. It scared him, the possibility that Rorik could use that new talent to manipulate just as he'd been manipulated. Drag along the carrot of innocent affections. But, to gain what? Rorik had offered it countless times with almost no gain. He just didn't seem work the way Astarion did.

I don't deserve this.

At least, for now, Astarion knew what he wanted after a moment more watching Rorik tenderly worship his hand with a savage mouth. He longed for more of that specifically.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He parroted, then added after another moment of careful thought, “...I want that. With certainty. I want to kiss you until our lips bruise, actually,”

Rorik smiled in Astarion's favorite way. His head tipped to one side while a silent laugh left him through a grin which pressed his eyes closed.

“I could gladly piss away the whole night with that if you let me, you should be careful what you wish for,”

“Oh? You're dealing with a professional. I doubt you'd last ten minutes.” Astarion goaded.

“Sounds like grounds for a bet. Loser has to be the big spoon.” Rorik taunted back.

“Done,”

Arms clenched tight under Astarion's weight, scooping him under the rump to smash him close. Rorik slotted his face under Astarion's chin for a kiss at the join of his clavicle.

“Cheeky,”

“You never specified where I was to kiss you, care to offer further instruction?” Rorik murmured into his skin.

Smart bastard, “You're tricking me into setting boundaries again, aren't you?”

“Yep,” was Rorik's shameless, one syllable admission of guilt.

“Fine, nothing below the neck.”

“And not my ears, please.” Rorik added.

“... Because that gets you-”

“Unreasonably hot, yes.”

A kiss brushed under Astarion's left jaw as Rorik's arms relaxed to let him sink again. It made him shiver.

“So, we have an accord?” Astarion had to beg one more assurance just because he knew he'd be given it freely.

Lips pressed dryly over his own before he got his answer. “Yes,” he heard right before another peck landed right between his eyes, followed by a chuckle.

“This isn't exactly what I had in mind.” Astarion complained softly, unsure what to do with the squirmy, restless feeling in his core. Rorik was being too endearing. That's what got them into this mess. Fucker kept making him feel- well…. Making him feel.

“Then, I will require another round of your instruction on how, precisely, Mr. Ancunin wishes to be kissed?”

“Gladly.” Astarion promised.

[xxsycamore]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ━ ≪ 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ≫

Welcome to the fourth annual installment of Visions of Temptation - the multifandom kinktober content creation challenge hosted at my blog.

►under the cut you will find both lists written down in blank format. You’ll also find a short explanation of some lesser-known kinks you might encounter above.

███  RULES

▍This challenge features kinktober dialogue & kink prompt lists for everyone over the age of 18.

▍It’s absolutely free to use across all fandoms, with a main focus on otome. If you’re a writer, artist, visual graphic creator, etc., you can use these lists to create your kinktober works.

▍You can share this with your followers and open requests using these lists.

▍There are a total of 62 kinks, two for each day of the month of October, and additionally 31 dialogue prompts. It’s up to you whether you choose to use prompts from one of the lists or both, and to combine them or not. You don't have to follow just one list - mix and match them if you'd like!

▍Make sure to put content warnings where needed.

▍This challenge won't have a masterlist featuring the works created for it, meaning that it won't have a deadline either - feel free to complete it at your own pace.

▍About credit: Make sure to mention the challenge itself and its creator, me. I’d be happy to see your works, so please tag me when using my list here on tumblr! Posting to other sites is fine, as long as you credit me properly :)  

▍In order for us to find each other's works and appreciate them, please make sure to use the tag " #visions of temptation 2023 " !

▍Don't hesitate to reach out if you have a question! My askbox is always open!

▍Remember to have fun and not stress over this long challenge!

targeted fandoms: Ikeseries (Ikemen Prince; Ikemen Vampire; Ikemen Revolution; Ikemen Sengoku; Ikemen Genjiden; Ikemen Villains + other cybird games); Tears of Themis; Obey me!; Mr. Love: Queen's Choice; Count of Darkness; Voltage games; Mystic Messenger; Light and Night + all other mobile/console otome you can think of. Remember, this is just the focus of the challenge - you can write for any fandom at all!

Depending on how much free time i've got on my hands, I'll also be checking out your works and reblogging them on my main blog, @kissmetwicekissmedeadly - under the tag "#vot 23 reblogs" :)

If you're wondering if I'm taking requests for my challenge, make sure to check my blog beforehand. At the moment of posting this, requests are closed - but that might change in the future.

███ PROMPTS

both lists in blank format + handy explanation of some of the kinks under the cut.

Happy creating, everyone and may you have a great October! ❤

Kink list:

Day 1 - Oct 1st - Cowgirl Position | Doggy Style

Day 2 - Oct 2nd - Biting/Marking | Dacryphilia

Day 3 - Oct 3rd - Angry Sex | Vanilla Sex

Day 4 - Oct 4th - Jealousy/Possessiveness | Voyeurism

Day 5 - Oct 5th - Spit-roasting | Double Penetration

Day 6 - Oct 6th - Sex Toys/Object Insertion | Glove Kink/Uniform Kink

Day 7 - Oct 7th - Public Sex/Outdoor Sex | Sex in a vehicle

Day 8 - Oct 8th - Facesitting | Deep-throating

Day 9 - Oct 9th - Praise Kink | Degradation

Day 10 - Oct 10th - Somnophilia | Cockwarming

Day 11 - Oct 11th - Frottage | Accidental Stimulation

Day 12 - Oct 12th - Bondage | S&M

Day 13 - Oct 13th - Hypnosis/Aphrodisiacs | Begging

Day 14 - Oct 14th - First Times | Guided Touching

Day 15 - Oct 15th - Shower Sex/Bathtub Sex | Scent Kink

Day 16 - Oct 16th - Pegging | Choking

Day 17 - Oct 17th - Anonymous sex/One night stand | FWB

Day 18 - Oct 18th - Omegaverse/Breeding | Size Difference Kink

Day 19 - Oct 19th - Phone Sex | Wet Dreams

Day 20 - Oct 20th - Oral Sex | Anal Sex

Day 21 - Oct 21st - Not Wearing Underwear | Sexy lingerie

Day 22 - Oct 22nd - Mirror Sex | Striptease

Day 23 - Oct 23rd - Coming Untouched | Overstimulation

Day 24 - Oct 24th - Against the Wall | Bent Over a Table/Desk

Day 25 - Oct 25th - Morning Sex | Edging/Orgasm Denial

Day 26 - Oct 26th - Body Worship | Aftercare

Day 27 - Oct 27th - Temperature Play | Knife Play/Gun Play

Day 28 - Oct 28th - Impact Play | Food Play

Day 29 - Oct 29th - Nipple Play | Body Part Fetish

Day 30 - Oct 30th - Dirty Talk/Voice Kink | Come Fetish/Creampie

Day 31 - Oct 31st - Monsterfucking/Non-human Characters | Sexual Roleplay

Dialogue list:

"Sorry, I was just thinking of all the ways I can ravage you."

"Open wide and let me see."

"It can wait. I must have you now."

"Don't play innocent now. I know you want this."

"Lie down and let me love your body."

"You let out such beautiful sounds when I touch you here."

"I can keep you right where you are all day."

"Does it excite you that we can get caught any second?"

"Time for revenge."

"I'll take good care of you. I'll be gentle."

"You're not the one giving orders here."

"You've got a pretty mouth. It'll look even better pleasing me."

"Feel it. You did this to me."

"Where else do you want me to touch you?"

"Oh, but it's so fun to make you beg."

"You poor thing, you're shaking with pleasure."

"Should I bend you over this table? Is this what you want?"

"I need you to be quiet." "Make me."

"Mark me so everyone knows I belong to you."

"You're shameless, seducing me at such a time."

"Touch yourself for me. Look at me while you do it."

"Oh, that's a new reaction. I like it."

"I'll spoil you rotten until you can't take it anymore."

"That's a dangerous game you're playing."

"How does it feel when we both please you at the same time?"

"All this and you still want more?"

"Maybe if you try asking nicely, I'll fuck you."

"I can't stand you sometimes. And I want you so bad."

"I love that dirty brain of yours."

"If only you could see yourself now."

"I already want to fuck you again."

some prompts explained...

Voyeurism - secretly watching someone participate in sexual activities or do something private and intimate like taking off their clothes. An idea is person A catching person B masturbate accidentally but lingering by the door just a little longer...

Frottage - Rubbing against another person's body/part of the body.

Mirror sex - Sex in front of a mirror.

Dacryphilia - Crying during sex.

S/M - Sadism and masochism.

Spitroasting - A three-way sex act in which a person is penetrated orally and either anally or vaginally.

Omegaverse - taken from fanlore. org: A kink trope wherein some people have defined biological roles based on a hierarchical system. 

Somnophilia - Intercourse while a sexual partner is asleep.

Anonymous sex - Here is an idea: masquerade balls.

FWB - Friends with benefits, no feelings attached.

Impact play - Slapping a sexual partner, could be across the face or spanking for instance.

Sexual roleplay - doctor/patient play, boss/employee play, all kinds of play pretend.

Hope these could be of help! Remember, you can always come ask if something's unclear. Once again, happy creating! ❤

[bre-meister]

Hello! About your last post, you said you were reading some fanfics, so I wanted to ask: What are your favorite fanfics from the fandom??? Especially the green pls, because I'm obsessed and nothing can help me 😃 (Looking forward to the mafia story)

This is probably not an exhaustive list. If you can't tell I'm a very forgetful person and I'm probably forgetting some good ones. I'll include whether or not the fic is incomplete (NC) and if it contains sexual content (M). I'll also try to find links for all the fics I list. I will say to anyone who uses these recs leave comments and kudos but don't be that person who harasses for an update. Definitely show the author some love though!

More Than Human NC. A definite must-read for anyone getting into the fandom. It was the fic that sucked me in! A great High School fic. Anything from Sbj at all is a win. Make sure to check her out on Dreamwith and FanFiction.net. Some of her stuff is crossposted but not all of it is

Green Lights NC/M. My current obsession. Buttercup moonlights as an exotic dancer and meets a mysterious man (Butch) who captures her attention.

Lie in Lime NC/M. Butch is a fashion designer and Buttercup gets roped into being his model. Features a slight love triangle with Brick. Great fic!

Any of the fics in this series on Ao3. This author is just amazing and most of her works are complete and also pretty long. A win-win if you ask me! Don't shy away from the NC ones though. Lilys of Snow Valley is amazing!

The Good, The Bad, and the Rowdy NC. An old west au.

The Greens Way of Life NC/M. A wonderful collection of One-shots and short stories surrounding the greens

The Number 3 NC. A great High School fic with some mysteries going on in the background.

Lycan NC. SO GOOD! A 19th-century supernatural au that is so well written. I can't recommend it anymore!

Killer's Playground. Mafia au. One chapter for each of the color code parings. Kinda violent

93,000 miles. I don't want to say much and give it away but it's super touching.

In general, just check out Miss.RoseGold. She has amazing greens content (the last few recs were from here) and I'd be here all day if I try to list them all. She's on FanFic.net and Ao3 but I'm not 100% sure if all her works are crossposted.

Green Maiden NC. An interesting dragon au. I don't think this one will ever get completed but it's still worth reading what's written imo

XXY NC a great high school, combined team fic.

Watching Her Move M. Short and smutty from Butch's perspective

Favours Fortune NC/M. A different take on the mafia au.

Our Italian Resturant. A great secret baby au fic. IDK if that made sense but you should definitely read it though

i thank the oceans (for giving me you). The fluffy family feels. I revisit this fic A LOT

Leaving. Just super cute and fluffy (maybe with a tad pinch of sadness)

Re-Life. Has some time travel shenanigans and is so worth the read.

I think that's a pretty good starting point. Again, it's not an exhaustive list of all the fics I have enjoyed in the fandom. A great piece of advice is if you find an author you like, check their account for their other works as well as their bookmarks or favorite stories. You'll find a lot of good fics that way. And don't limit yourself to one site. With a fandom as old as ppg you can find some amazing gems on "older" sites like FanFiction (it grosses me out to consider that site old). net and even here on Tumblr. Here is my own Ao3 link as well if you'd like to check out my own writing. Happy reading!

[still-a-morosexual-help]

As I was playing the Levi bd, I saw Mammon's TSL outfit. And it's just... All lightning.

I know your theory that he's more inclined to fire, so why do you think he's just so obviously displaying lighting?

The others' outfits keep the subject/elements on point. (Lucifer has a leash 💀💀💀💀)

Yeah that's the question that created that post. I honestly don't know what that's about. It's the first and only time we see him associated with lightning because in the few times they associate him with an element it's usually fire. Lucifer gets more of a lightning association in the game tbh because the magic he uses for punishments looks like lightning and in the white day event his first response to stop Belphie & MC from napping in a blizzard and possibly dying was to suggest striking them with lightning

The reason could be something as simple as they needed something yellow for his outfit

But here's the more fun answer;

The "Lord of Fools" as a moniker is painfully inaccurate.

The rest of the brothers' TSL counterparts' names (more or less) actually fit them.

But Mammon may be a dumbass, however, the game has repeatedly shown that when he puts any effort into it he becomes extremely competent and in his brothers' words "can accomplish anything he sets his mind to". Hell they start showing it in the first few lessons of S1 itself after he starts helping MC out and comes up with all their plans.

He's also the only character with any sort of functioning emotional intelligence and he makes use of that

But this is something his brothers have obviously forgotten about, seeing as they're always suprised when he shows that intelligent side

Even Mammon's TSL devilgram (called "The Lord of Fools") is one where he is scarily competent and is nothing like you'd expect from one who inspired a character called "The Lord of Fools". That's odd right? That there's such a disconnect between the story of the devilgram and the character he's dressed as in the picture.

Even in TSL itself one of the reasons they give for him being called the Lord of Fools is because he sent food to the Lord of Flies while his kingdom was undergoing a famine but the food spoilt before it got there???? It's not a foolish act right? Given that TSL doesn't take place in a modern era and the Lords live in separate kingdoms, food spoiling just seems to be due to circumstance? And even if they were packaged wrong and so rotted sooner than it should have, the act of wanting to help someone in trouble still isn't foolish.

He's a dumbass for sure but it's not the main point of his character in the actual om! game because om! the game starts to slowly dissuade the player of that idea

The entire character of the Lord of Fools doesn't fit with Mammon. It feels like a façade similar to the one we see Mammon put on, that slowly dissolves the longer you spend getting to know him. So wouldn't it make sense, wouldn't it fit the theme, if his outfit which so storngly associates him with lightning for the first and only time in the game, didn't fit him either?

I wonder how much of The Lord of Fools was based off that angel Simeon remembers cutting holes in books & stuffing frogs into them and not off the angel who worked hard for Lucifer which eventually led to his Fall because there was never a question about whether or not he'd follow Lucifer. How much of it was based off the angel who sold pigeon feathers by advertising them as Raphael's and not off the demon, whom Simeon never got to see, who kept his family together and soothed their fears and injuries after the Fall.

TSL was afterall written by Simeon to cope with missing the brothers, he hadn't met the brothers again after their Fall until S1 but TSL existed since before S1, so it'd make sense that it'd be based off all the good times they had in the Celestial Realm with parts of the rumours he'd heard about what they are like as demons influencing the characters' personalities as well.

For example:

The rumour that the Avatar of Greed had become indebted to some witches and was unable to escape their demands would have gotten out and spread. And there's no way someone of Mammon's power could become indebted to witches unless they were a fucking idiot. The fact that Mammon ended up in this position was because the witches are looking after a human child for him and that he's paying for all her needs and also being extorted by the witches for it, wouldn't have gotten out, specially considering that even his younger brothers don't know about it

Also makes you wonder about the Lord of Masks....how Simeon wouldn't have even known Satan existed in order to miss him, how rumours about Satan's birth and Lilith's death would have floated up, how it was obvious that (if we take into account how Luke seemed to know nothing about Lilith during S3) that Lilith's existence wasn't spoken about/was kept hidden from the younger angels....... makes you wonder just what that mask is hiding

Related Posts:

Mammon being emotionally intelligent

Mammon's "façade" and how it is broken away

Mammon being smart

The duality of Mammon

Canon things mammon is good at

Mammon being the only one with his shit together post the Fall

[cutiedwaekki]

I'm sorry but are we seriously going to "collab" with ai now to write kink fics??? Ai that literally steals from hard working authors who post their original work? I was supportive of this blog until now- that kind of behavior seriously harms the fanfic community as a whole

Hi !

I assume you are referring to the last fic of @nana-kom

In any case, thank you sincerely for your point of view, which is very interesting. I admit I haven't really thought about it.

It's true that nowadays AIs are starting to take on more and more importance, especially for artists, who are sidelined when faced with a robot doing the same work with less effort than a human.

It initially started from a discussion with @nana-kom where we wondered if it was possible with chatgpt to really write a kink fic since there are limits precisely with these AI and explicit content. that mainly came from me who curiously tested and encouraged my friend to try it on her side to see how far this was possible because in reality we often have good ideas for fics that we share but studies and our personal lives mean we lack time for that and we saw this as a way more effective although this will never replace the fics that we can write ourselves and (at least on my side) in no case will this thing people reproduce unless it is mentioned

As for her fic, although she was helped by chatgpt, it's also her work, although she was helped by an ia , she rearranged everything, added dialogue scenes etc... can we ultimately just see this as a sort of help like a translator or a spell checker perhaps? But with this vision where would we find the limit between an original work and a work created by an AI?

In any case it should not be something bad, in the sense that as indicated all of it started from a discussion but also that she recognizes having used an ia and not self-proclaimed to have written everything alone. I don't want to speak against or in the name of @nana-kom but I hope I've shed some light on the situation.

I love the fanfic community, I've been immersed in it since I was a teenager, whether it's wattpad, ao3, tumblr, and more, nothing can replace fanfiction made by human writers

I sincerely appreciated your comments, don't hesitate, you or another anon to share your point of view with me as long let it be constructive and not a message of unfounded criticism :)

I hope that my answer will be quite explicit and comprehensive, I wish you and everyone a good day/evening, take good care of yourself

[blu3berrydraws]

i love all your zukka content recently! since u sort of asked in the tags of that body type post, for what it’s worth, more visibly muscular/thicker body types are often a stereotype assigned to men of color, and giving zuko a slender body type sometimes contributes to the uwuification of his character by fandom that is commonly done to east asian characters. i say this because, as you said in your post, canonically sokka is smaller and skinnier than zuko; there are even a few jokes made about his lack of muscle, and zuko is drawn as more muscled and buff. to make a change to that canon material—whether because of well-thought through hcs about how their bodies change as they grow older, unintentional racial stereotyping, both, or some other reason—is a decision and so i think it’s worth considering other implications besides preference and headcanons as well. otherwise, i do personally <3 beanpole sokka and buff zuko, and i feel so blessed by all the wonderful zukka content you’ve been sharing recently! take care 😁

-- Yeah, I was actually also thinking about this, because the woobification of Zuko is something I've seen quite a bit of myself, and while I think he is allowed to also be gentle and sensitive and shy (and I personally additionally headcanon him as autistic) he is not an uwu sexless softboy, which is something I consistently see in asian characterisation (either that, or making characters overtly pervy). So, yes, you make absolutely hella valid points !

I think Sokka would (most likely) take after his dad. Hakoda is muscled, but he's lean.

Functional muscle of a sailor based warrior, but on a generally more slender frame. So while I don't think Sokka will stay beanpole sokka throughout his adulthood, he'll definitely stay more light on his feet.

Now Ozai, in contrast

Iroh, too, carries muscle in a similar way (when he cares to).

The fire nation has a super rigid training regime I'm sure, so all these men seem to keep up their muscular appearance whenever they actually are working out. Whereas I think the Southern watertribe, especially as ravaged by the war as it was, does not have the same emphasis on rigorous training. Sokka was the only 'man' in the tribe for a long time, and he had to do everything by himself, including exercise. Perhaps after the war he gets more guidance, or takes bits and pieces of everything hes seen/learned across the world, plus he's got his swordsmanship then, too.

So anyway, Not saying the boys would be the spitting images of their fathers, but genes do play a large part in the distribution of muscle and body composition in general. In the canon material we got, in their 20s, they really don't seem to differ much

But honestly, that may be a function of the clothes they're wearing, or even just the artists using a standard bodytype for both (Aang also has the exact same body) :' ). As a fanartist, you always want to diversify your interpretations of beloved characters and make them more your own (or complicit with fanon hah).

All of this not disregarding at ALL your point about racial stereotyping though, that is definitely something I try to guard for! And having written this all out, I think I am leaning more towards buffer Zuko and lean-muscled Sokka. But then again, I do love drawing Sokka very buff and grown up heheh so I can't say how consistent I will be in this (i just love drawing big muscles :') )

Thank you for your ask, you really made me think on this a bit more !!