#and for the first time in centuries—perhaps ever—you feel full

[rcmclachlan]

what if i put my life in your hands? what if i took your life in mine?

[istoleyoursk1n]

HI HELLO MAY I REQUEST FOR HEADCANONS HOW WOULD ASTARION AND GALE REACT WHEN TAV IS THER SOULMATE IN SOULMATE AU (SEPARATE) THANK YOUUYUDNDNDBN

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How would Astarion and Gale react to Tav being their soulmate in soulmate AU?

(I’m literally in love with this concept so guess what? No bullet points this time, full on paragraphs to fully immerse you in this universe.)

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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

The wretched red string had been connected to him for centuries now, a string he had tugged, torn, and sewn back together throughout his decades of torment and loss. There were days when he saw the red string as a small piece of hope that he held onto ever so dearly, holding onto the delicate string with bruised hands from the many “lessons” his master had thrown upon him. Would the person on the other side ever come to his aid? Can this individual feel his pain and suffering? Would they ever hear his call? That tiny string was his one salvation but it was also a source of deep pain.

For why haven't you come yet? He had spent centuries waiting, mourning, screaming, and begging for a savior, wishing that one of these days his “soulmate” would finally come to save him from this torturous prison but no... No one came. 200 years and you never showed up. Could you blame him for tearing through the delicate string? Could you blame him for wishing to break ties with you? All this time waiting and he couldn't even feel you coming closer. Was he truly that worthless? Yet still, he always came crawling back to the torn string, despite his resentment he’d stitch the two halves right back up just as he's done time and time again. For as much as he wished to despise you, he couldn't. He’d claim that he’d given up on the concept of soulmates and true love yet he so desperately holds onto this vibrant red string like a lifeline. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing that was truly his at the time.

From the stress of being captured by mind flayers and recently escaping the cold grasp of his master, meeting his soulmate wasn't exactly the next thing he was hoping to experience. The moment his eyes met with yours, he was left stunned and speechless as he watched that battered red string slowly fade. A soulmate found.

You weren't what he had expected at all. He’d always think of what you may look like in his spare time alone in the shadows but never this. Perhaps a bit taller… shorter, it was hard to imagine how that you were here in the flesh. Though, at the same time he truly didn't know what to feel. A mixture of relief, sadness, anger, confusion, and perhaps even a sprinkle of happiness. For centuries he’d been waiting for you and you only decide to show up now? He couldn't quite tell if it was a blessing or a curse. He wanted to lash out at you, to ask what took you so long but at the same time he just… if anything he needed a break. He needed a long well-needed break. He was going to threaten the first damn adventurer he saw but seeing that it was you? Well. Perhaps, it would be better to stay with you as he processes his new-found feelings towards you. Both good and bad.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

The red string was always something that constantly piqued his own nagging curiosity. It was never something that truly left his mind. He’d often spend a few minutes a day staring at the thing, watching as it subtly moved or swayed each time the other end of it was dragged along by you. But who exactly was you? A question that constantly plagued his mind each time he felt a small tug or his eyes fell back down to the string. In truth, he already wished to meet you, he was quite enamored by the fact that he did in fact have someone meant for him. The things you both could do together and the adventures you both could share. He was already imagining how each would play out with this imaginary version of you he’d conjure in his head.

However, it all began to crumble down the day he finally made his mind up to seek you. That was the very day he fell into Mystra’s clutches. To be the very chosen of a goddess! How could he possibly deny such an offer? To be working so closely with his own deity and to be given an abundance of knowledge that he so craved. Soon enough, the goddess had wrapped the ambitious wizard around her finger, giving him a “love” that no mortal could ever deny. She was meant to replace this “soulmate” of his. To have a curious little mage adore to her own blissful amusement. Yet, as Gale indulged, he couldn't help but feel… wronged. As if despite being showered by the musings of a literal goddess, it just wasn't enough. What he had just wasn't enough. He didn't feel enough.

There had been days where he’d stare longingly into his own red string, perhaps even silently apologizing to the individual at the other end knowing that his heart truly never lied with Mystra. And perhaps she knew that too.

When Mystra had finally cut ties with him were the days he was the most devastated. Not just because of the loss he felt from losing the favor of a goddess he so deeply worshipped but because he felt as if he betrayed you. Would you even accept him like this? Would he even be enough for you? He truly didn't know. You could imagine the surprise on his face when he finally did get to meet you though. A firm hand suddenly pulling him out of a broken portal and when he finally looked up, he saw you. His red string finally began to fade and at that moment, he was already smitten.

He didn't have to be convinced or told otherwise. He already knew he was going to adore you.

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[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖: 𝕄𝕚𝕣𝕣𝕠𝕣 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Grim Reaper! Hongjoong x Old Maid! Reader

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: urban legend au, bloody mary au, grim reaper au, 19th century au, historic au, supernatural au

🥀Trope: strangers to lovers

🥀Summary: When you chant Bloody Mary in the mirror to get a glimpse of your future husband, you see the Grim Reaper instead, but those aren't mutually exclusive

🥀Kinks: Mirror sex, foreplay, penetrative sex with no barrier, anal (f), back shot (hongjoong is a gentleman and doesn't overstim you)

🥀Word Count: 1,875

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Two: Cheating/Creampie🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀 Day Four: Public Sex

“Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,” You chanted into the mirror.

You wished to see the face of your future husband but you weren’t willing to go up stairs backwards--you’d most likely break your neck--so you were doing it in your mother’s dressing room. It had a long mirror and was perfect to chant Bloody Mary’s name. Your friend said you were tempting death but you’d rather know if you were going to die before finding a husband. You were tired of being called an old maid.

After your fourteenth Bloody Mary, you raised your candlestick and peered into the mirror. All you saw was yourself and a disappointed look appeared on your face. Of course that stupid urban myth wasn’t true and anyone that said they actually saw their future husband was lying, clearly--

“Hello, Lovely.”

You screamed bloody murder and dropped your candlestick, putting out the flame on the wick in the process.

“I’m still here,” A voice whispered into your ear and every hair on your body stood up.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “There’s no one here, it’s all in your head, there’s no one--”

Two pairs of hands squeezed your upper arms and you jumped. “Weren’t you looking for a husband?”

You swallowed, not sure that you were even entertaining the fact that this was actually happening. Perhaps this was all in your head. “I didn’t see anything in the mirror though,” You whispered into the darkness.

“No,” The voice said, now sounding like it was in front of you, “You saw the Grim Reaper.”

A small whimper escaped your throat and your knees gave out. You would have collapsed onto the floor but instead a strong pair of arms grabbed you and carefully led you into a sitting position. The candlestick you had brought in was suddenly lit and a handsome face glowed eerily from it.

“Don’t worry, Lovely,” The grim reaper assured you, leaning on his legs while looking down at you. “I’m not here to kill you.”

You felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. “But that means I’ll die before I find a husband.”

A sad smile bloomed on the Grim Reapers face. “That’s what they all assume, isn’t it?”

That caused you to pause. You wiped away your tears and sniffled. “What does that mean?”

“Do you ever think that perhaps you saw the Grim Reaper in the mirror because I am your future husband?”

“I…” You swallowed, not sure how to handle that. “I’m Death’s Mistress?”

The Grim Reaper chuckled. “You could just call yourself Mrs. Kim.” He offered you a hand up. “Or you could start by calling me Hongjoong.”

You took his hand and it did feel warm against yours. You stood up, still unsure of what was going on. “What happens now?”

Hongjoong didn’t let go of your hand but he did raise it so he could place a kiss against the back of your hand. A skull appeared there. “First, I mark you as mine.”

New tears came but they were from a place full of hope. “I’m yours?”

Hongjoong smiled again but this time it was more happy than sad. “Secondly, I show you just how happy I am to make you mine?"

You licked your lips. “Yes, please,” You said eagerly.

Hongjoong undressed you with the care of a gentleman. Each piece of clothing was folded neatly and each inch of newly revealed skin was kissed softly. Hongjoong allowed you the same permissions, watching your reactions as his body was bared for your desperate eyes. The two of you were acting as if the naked body in front of you was food for a starved person. And in a way for each of you who was starved for the affections of another, it was true.

Hongjoong brought you over to the mirror that had connected you two, and by the light of the single candlestick in the room, he showed you just how much he would adore you as his future-wife-to-be.

With his head over your shoulder, Hongjoong admired your body in the reflection of the mirror. He murmured into your ear how soft your skin was to his waiting hands. His hands traveled over your shoulders, cupped your breasts, moved down the plain of your stomach and finally halted at your womanhood. After playing with your body, you were eager and pliant for him to show you what was waiting for you in your married life.

“Look at how your body reacts to mine,” Hongjoong purred, “Your nipples are pert, waiting for my mouth to close over them.” He spread your pussy lips and smirked at your wetness being reflected in the mirror. “Your cunt is wet and ready for me.”

You turned your head into your shoulder, embarrassed at how wet you were for this stranger who played with your body so well. Hongjoong wasn’t having that, however. He gently pushed your chin so that you had no option but to peer into his dark eyes in the mirror. “Don’t hide from me, Lovely. I want all of you.”

Hongjoong wet two of his fingers, dipping into your hole but not pushing into you, and then began to slowly circle your clit. You whimpered as the lust in your stomach curled even more. Your hips began to buck into his circling. “More,” You pleaded, not even aware of what exactly that more was.

You could, however, feel Hongjoong’s length behind you. He had been slowly rubbing himself between the cheeks of your buttocks. He wasn’t looking for anything other than some brief relief against his throbbing cock but he did groan when you asked for more.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Hongjoong responded. He dug his teeth into your shoulder in an attempt to ground his desire to take you as his wife right here and right now.

“Why?!” You cried out. “This feels so good.”

“We must be wed, Lovely,” Hongjoong insisted. “You are marked as mine but I cannot claim you until it’s official, those are the rules.”

You boldly locked gazes with Hongjoong, hungry for more pleasure from him. “Then why did you tempt me only to take it away?”

Hongjoong growled. “I didn’t mean to take it this far, I only wished to show you some simple pleasure!”

You wound your arms behind Hongjoong’s head, drawing his hungry gaze to your breasts. You pulled his head to yours and pressed your lips to his. He kissed you, his tongue flirting with yours before he moaned into your mouth. “I thought I was the one tempting you,” He groaned, pulling away.

“I…I can find a loophole but it will be difficult,” Hongjoong pleaded with his eyes.

“I want it,” You said quickly.

Hongjoong’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “You really were made for me, weren’t you?”

Hongjoong pushed his cock between your thighs, rubbing the length of his cock against your wet folds. You whined as you received more attention to your clit but none of the penetration that you were looking for.

“Patience,” Hongjoong urged you.

“I’ve had enough patience waiting for you,” You growled back, “I had to resort to calling for you in a cursed mirror!”

Hongjoong chuckled and then groaned when your lower lips clenched around nothing but whispered against his cock. “Soon, soon,” He promised, “I’ll show you a different kind of pleasure.”

Hongjoong pulled his cock from between your thighs and then pushed you forward. You were mere inches away from the full length mirror, making you blink, not understanding. Hongjoong put each one of your hands against the edge of the mirror, encouraging you to cling to it. “You’re going to need to hold onto something,” He instructed.

“Hongjoong!” You squeaked in worry as you felt his wet cockhead pushing against your puckered hole.

He raised an eyebrow in question in the mirror. “You can say no. I will leave you and return upon the day of our wedding. I will wait for you until then.”

You pouted, stomping your foot. “No. I want what you are offering. I just… is it truly pleasurable?”

“Do you trust me?”

You looked into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. They were honest and genuine. Something about this stranger told your entire body that he had your best interests at heart. So you said, “Yes.”

You did indeed need both those hands around the mirror’s edge as Hongjoong fucked your puckered hole. And while he pushed in and out of your other hole, he played with your clit still, giving you immeasurable pleasure. You moaned and you felt his other hand slip around your neck. It wasn’t threatening, simply a way to show he was here.

“Look, Lovely, look at how happy you are,” Hongjoong commanded softly.

You looked at yourself and you didn’t recognize the woman there. Your hair was clinging to your hairline. Your lips were parted sensually to breath and whine. Your body was shining with the sweat from the fucking. Your breasts swayed at each thrust of Hongjoong behind you. You glowed with an inner happiness that must only come from being adored and pleasured and given exactly what you wanted.

“Cum for me, Lovely.” Hongjoong’s hand became more firm, forefinger and thumb pressing against your jaw, not wanting you to look away as he brought you to your climax.

His hungry eyes ate up everything you offered. Your forehead furrowed as you choked out a long moan when your climax hit you. Your breasts jolted as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your noises were music to his ears but it was the happy satisfaction on your face that truly made his heart beat… for you.

Hongjoong pulled out and gently pumped his cock with his hands. You didn’t see but rather felt his seed spurt on your backside. He grinned, tongue curling around his upper lip, as if he just won a prize.

He kissed your shoulder in thanks. “I wanted to show you pleasure, not push you over the edge,” was his explanation for finishing outside of you.

You pouted, like a child whose favorite toy had just been taken away. “But Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong let out a chuckle, a manly one that spoke of how aware he was that you were desperate to receive everything from him. “There will be a next time, Lovely.”

You turned in the mirror and he took you in his arms. The light from the candlestick painted his features in yellows that flickered over his handsome features. “Don’t leave me. Take me with you.”

His eyes were serious and his mouth opened to only utter the truth. “You are with me forevermore, my love. I am yours and you are mine.”

You wrinkled your nose at the awareness that you were naked, sweaty and now cold that the serotonin faded. “Perhaps we should get dressed first.”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkled in merriment. “You don’t want to welcome the deadlands the way you were brought into this world?”

You gasped and slapped Hongjoong’s ample chest. “How dare you, sir.”

Hongjoong laughed, tipping his head back with heartiness, and you discovered that you wished to spend the rest of your life making him laugh exactly like that.

🥀Day Two: Cheating/Creampie 🥀 Mini Masterlist 🥀 Day Four: Public Sex

[dinofromspac3]

Hi! Could I have 10,11 and 12’s reaction to alien reader? Perhaps realising their supposedly’human’ companion is very obviously in a human form. And that they aren’t themself, human?

I’m thinking maybe they convince reader to show their alien form more, or etc in general!

Maybe have readers alien form have yk, multiple arms? Or multiple eyes!

Sorry if this is to specific!

I absolutely love this idea! I sort of made into head canon form, I hope you don’t mind<3

Also, thank you for being my first request!

Enjoy <3

(also I think I may have only done what you actually asked for 12… oops)

Doctor Who Masterlist

10th Doctor

You’ve been traveling with the Doctor for a while, and you feel like he’s opened up to about some pretty serious stuff.

You’re happy that he’s come around to trusting you, but you can’t help but feel terribly guilty for hiding your true identity.

You were a Stask. A shape-changing lifeform that allowed you to pass as human for many years.

Your true form, however, was a grey-skinned, six-eyed, humanoid, with long white hair.

The longer you traveled with him, the more it ate away at you. Until one day, you couldn’t hide it any longer.

You left your room on the TARDIS and went to find the Doctor. He was easy enough to find, he was almost always in the console room. And if he wasn’t he was usually in the library.

“Um, Doctor?” You spoke up, calling his attention to you. You were nervous. What if he hated you for this? No, you mustn’t dwell on such things.

“Y/n!” He replied enthusiastically. He took a few steps towards you, but stopped in his tracks when he saw your face and your stature. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I… I have something to tell you,” you expressed, as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

“What is it? What happened?” He pressed, growing more concerned.

No matter how many times you stammered, and started over. You just couldn’t seem to get the words out.

He stared at you, his face full of worry. He could tell something wasn’t right, but he wasn’t sure why. And didn’t like not knowing.

You took a deep breath and did the only other thing you could think to do. You changed back to your true form, right in front of his eyes.

Your hair went white, and your skin back to its dull grey that you never liked. It was one of the reasons you never stayed in your true form.

His eyes went wide for a moment before his face scrunched up in total confusion. “What?!”(WOT!?) He exclaimed.

“Please don’t be mad!” You winced at his reaction, holding your hands out in front of you.

“You’re a Stask,” he pointed out the obvious, clearly dumbfounded by it all.

“Yes…”

“But-but-but what!?” He said again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you began dejectedly. “I understand if you want me to go.”

“Go? Go where?” The Doctor asked. Seriously, after one big shock, it takes a minute for his brain to reboot.

You just shrugged.

He shook his head, sympathetically. “No, I don’t want you to go.”

“Really!?” You felt your heart swell at that. He didn’t want you to leave, he was just a bit surprised.

11th Doctor

You’d been traveling with the Doctor for over 2 years now. Ever since he saved your life when you were trapped on that 54th century space shuttle.

The crew was human, so you’d disguised yourself as a human to avoid awkward stares. As your true form had deep violet skin, 5 inky black eyes, and pointed ears.

Your species was called Anziks. Of the many shape changer races in the universe you were not one of them, however, your people had the most advanced Shimmer technology in 3,000 neighboring galaxies. It was almost undetectable and much more comfortable than most others.

Of course, you had been wearing one when the Doctor found you. And you had been wearing it since, only taking it off when you were alone in your room on the TARDIS.

Often on your adventures you’d make passing remarks or jokes about how “humans are silly” and remembering things from your home planet. The Doctor never seemed to notice, at least he didn’t let on that he did.

Even with Anziks’s advanced Shimmer technology, it still got stuffy and little difficult to breathe after wearing it for a long period of time.

Today it was particularly bad.

The Doctor was rambling on about something, you really couldn’t say what. You had dismissed yourself quickly, heading straight to your room.

Immediately when you entered your room, you dropped the shimmer, and your deep indigo skin faded back to view, along with your ears and eyes.

You could’ve sworn you shut the door, but the next thing you knew you turned around after taking a breath, only to freeze completely, like a deer in headlights.

The Doctor stood there, a strange metal box he was holding, clattered to the floor.

“Doctor!” You practically screamed, as you quickly put the Shimmer back on, hoping somehow he’d forget.

But it was no use, he’d seen it. You’d been caught.

“Y/n?” He sputtered out, pointing at you. “No! No, no, no, no!”

“I can explain!” You blurted. “I swear I can explain! P-please don’t be angry!”

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak several times, each time with a new hand gesture, but he wasn’t really making any progress on saying anything.

You sighed, still feeling a little like you were choking in your Shimmer. And so you dropped it again, allowing the Doctor to see you how you truly looked.

His mouth snapped shut as he gaped at you.

“I don’t know why I hid it,” you admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“S-so y-you’re a-a-a—“ he stammered.

“An Anziks,” you finished for him. “I’ve been wearing a Shimmer. At first it was just for the job, to keep people from staring at me.”

“Then… we got stranded, and hunted by those Kruuls…” You explained. “and then you came and rescued me and I… there just wasn’t a good time.”

“I see,” he said, his face still slightly pale from the unexpected news.

“Are you angry with me?” You asked, hopeful he would say no.

And to your delight, he shook his head, and relief washed over you like a warm blanket of water.

He smiled and said, “It’s just nice to finally see you.”

12th Doctor

You’d only been traveling with the Doctor for a couple of months.

He was strange, and wonderful and kind, but still you were nervous to tell him your secret.

Today, you decided to confess to him, before the lie went on for too long.

You walked into the TARDIS console room, where he was reading a book on the second level. He noticed you come in but he didn’t look up.

“Doctor,” you said, taking a few more steps toward him. “I have something to tell you.”

He still didn’t look up. He licked his finger, and turned the page of his book. “Okay,” he said.

You let out a sort of shaky sigh at his aloof attitude. “Doctor, I think you should put the book down for a moment. It’s a bit… serious.”

He looked looked up at you, realizing how serious you were being, and decided to close the book as set it on the table next to him. He waited for you to continue.

You took a deep breath, before looking back at him. “I am… not human.”

He stared at you blankly, and you cringed at what that could mean.

“That’s it?” The Doctor asked, taking you completely off guard.

“W-what?”

“I mean, no offense, Y/n,” he continued. “But you’re not exactly good at hiding it.”

Now it was your turn to stare blankly at him. He’d known? How long had he known?

“So tell me,” the Doctor smiled at you. “Where are you from?”

“I…” you started, wanting to question him, but instead answered his question. “Scravikos 5.”

“Ah, Scravikos 5,” he repeated warmly. “So, you must be hiding that lovely second set of arms then?”

“Um… yes,” you said, still completely dumbfounded that he knew all along. “H-how long have you known?”

“Oh, I knew right away,” he scoffed. “It was very obvious.”

“But… you never said?”

“Why would I?” The Doctor questioned.

You shook your head, and shrugged. “Because I lied to you, I suppose?”

“Oh really it was nothing,” he waved off your reasoning. “How long have you had your arms tucked away?”

“About 8 months,” you responded. You had crashed landed on Earth a few months before you met the doctor, and you’d hidden the only thing that was your dead giveaway that you weren’t human.

Well, that must be terribly uncomfortable,” he sympathized. It was a little, and you silently tilted your head in agreement. “Well, you don’t need to hide them here,” he said, urging you to be comfortable in your own skin again.

“Oh, you mean…” you started, eyes wide in surprise at his acceptance, although truly you weren’t sure why you were surprised. He just nodded.

At that you allowed your second set of arms to sprout out of your back. With them out again, it felt instantly easier to breathe.

The Doctor smiled, and you smiled.

And you never hid them again, save for a few choice time period adventures.

[bloofinntoona]

Baby's Breath

Word Count: 1.4k

Themes: Fluff, a little bit of angst? Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader (Reader's house can be up to you!)

Summary: (SPOILER FOR HOGWARTS LEGACY ENDING) You're asking Sebastian Sallow who will he take to the Yule Ball.

Author's Note: So... This is my first fanfic(after a while). I played Hogwarts Legacy and I love Sebastian's questline and his story. I'd thought I wrote a little bit of a story after the main HL story. Based on the marriage question???? scene from the first Avatar movie.

A year has passed since the massive battle with Ranrok, as well as the murder of Solomon Sallow. You, Anne, and Ominis had decided to not turn Sebastian in. The weight of killing his own family member was tormenting enough for the teen, there was absolutely no need of putting him behind bars at Azkaban. Despite the darkness that has been brewing inside Sebastian, his friends still have much love for him. Especially you.

You didn't think much of it at first. Why, Sebastian Sallow was notorious for being the Slytherin bad boy. Dodging detentions here and there, and persistently asking his schoolmates to duel in his not-so-unsanctioned-secret-dueling club. One would think that this boy was a menace. But you know that he was more than that. Sebastian was smart, curious, relentless, outgoing, kind, cunning, and obviously as ambitious as a Slytherin could be. As if the boy couldn't be more perfect, he has the most beautiful hazel eyes you've ever seen. You particularly noticed the tiny freckles that adorned his face — you swear you could see constellations if you connected the dots.

Getting back to your relationship before the incidents was not easy. Ominis and Anne took their time to make small talk and joke around with Sebastian. You, on the other hand, shared a kinship. You also wielded the unforgivable curses with him. You often found yourself between Sebastian's arms, finding consolation from the responsibilities of being the so-called Hogwarts Hero who possessed the Ancient Magic. There was also a time when Sebastian broke down in your arms, feeling guilty for being too absored in the Dark Arts. Nevertheless, time is the best healer as you both were able to cope and live somewhat normally in school.

After all that you both have been through, there was never a point where you confessed to each other. Yes, you hugged and comforted each other. You swore you felt him kissed your forehead once. Perhaps it's the archaic rule of courting in the 19th century that your guardians had been drilling into your brain. Or perhaps you're just too scared of being rejected and loosing the closest friend in your life.

⁂✲＊⁂✲＊⁂

You shifted your feet back and forth, hearing the snow rustling underneath your platform shoes. Merlin's beard, you thought, where in the world is Sebastian? Saying that it's freezing in Hogsmeade is an understatement. The wind blew past your ears as you cursed yourself for putting your hair in an updo today. You jumped as you felt hands tickled your sides, "Hey!" you shouted, turning around. Sebastian grinned, "Sorry, 'had to pick up something earlier." He patted your head, which prompted a red blush spreading across your face. "Shall we?" He offered his hand as you head into The Three Broomsticks. Nothing like a full glass of Butterbeer can make you feel better, especially with Sebastian as your company. This is how you both liked to spend the weekends after a tedious week full of classes and homework. The outing almost ended with You and Sebastian racing on the broom, cruising over the lake until you both reached the rickety docks in Lower Hogsfield, looking over the school.

"That was a good race. Obviously, I was here first." The boy puffed his chest.

You rolled your eyes, "Sure, consider yourself lucky that we're alone 'cause I literally landed first!"

Sebastian and you playfully bantered, pushing each others' broom. He accidentally pushed a bit too hard which sent you flying back. "Oop-!" you yelped as you felt his swift hands caught your back and pulled you close to him. Too close. You felt your chest pressed against Sebastian. Godrick's Heart, did he grow taller? You also swore he was not this strong and muscular before. Puberty years did work wonders for teen boys. Feeling his warm breath against your face, you started to panic and gently pushed him away. You swore you could see a hint of disappointment in his face.

"So," you cleared your throat, "The Yule ball is coming soon. I, uh, heard that you're supposed to look for your own date." You paced around the dock, afraid to look at Sebastian. "Have you thought about who you're going to ask?" You bitterly questioned him. A part of you was a bit disappointed that Sebastian didn't ask you when the ball was announced. You'd expect him to take you, even as friends. The thoughts of Sebastian secretly having a crush without telling you made your guts churn. It's not like other boys haven't asked either, Garreth Weasley was very sweet, offering an enhanced (his words) Wiggenweld potion warped in a bow with an invitation to the ball. You were flattered, but you thought there wasn't a point of going without the boy you actually had a crush on.

"I thought about it." Sebastian calmly said, using his wand to cast Levioso, levitating a rock and flung it to the lake.

"Oh..." you gulped. "May I know who?" You wanted to slap yourself for asking, why would you want to hear answers that will hurt? You still have your back facing Sebastian.

"Guess!" and there's Sebastian Sallow, never making it easy for you.

You used your wand to flung some pebbles into the water. "Well, Imelda Reyes is an amazing flyer. I bet you learned a flying trick or two from her," You smiled bitterly, "Plus, you both are in the same house, so I bet you're close with her?"

You could hear his laugh. "No way, I'm not keen on being ridiculed by Imelda." Sebastian flung more rocks into the water.

"I guess Natty is a good option too. She's brilliant, probably the kindest person I've ever met-"

"What about me?" Sebastian joked, "I'm also kind."

You rolled your eyes. "Also she has a professor as a parent, like you."

"It's not Natty, too... Gryffindor for me," He shook his head, "Don't get me wrong, Natty's a good friend. But she's just a friend for me."

"What about Poppy? She's the cutest girl in school. I think her passion for the beasts is amazing too." You chimed.

Sebastian shook his head again. "Nope, not her."

You raked your brain, thinking about the rest of your schoolmates. You didn't even notice Sebastian's footsteps inching closer to you.

"Ominis?" you blurted out, now facing Sebastian. Hearing your question, he made a face and blurted out an explosive laugh. "I mean I would, but he probably would kill me first," he wiped a tear from his eyes, "no, not my dear friend Ominis Gaunt."

"I give up!" You held up your hands, "I don't know who you have in mind."

Sebastian lets out a sigh. "There is this girl," he stood close to you, "She is beautiful, brave, and possesses an ability like no other. She's always eager to beat me in duels and learn new things. This girl is always there for me, through thick and thin. Even though I was a sodding disappointment of a mate, she still greets me with a warm smile. I don't think I could be here right now without her."

Your breath hitched, feeling warmth crept around your face. Sebastian's face is turning red as well. He took your hands in his, caressing your fingers softly. You can feel your body heating up despite the cold air. "I'm glad you came to Hogwarts. Having you in my life was the best present the universe gave me." He reached inside his pocket and presented you with a corsage decorated with baby's breath and baby blue ribbon. "I was going to give it to you tomorrow. But since we're having this conversation..." He smiled, face red as ever, "Will you go to the ball with me-"

Sebastian didn't get to finish his sentence before you crashed your lips against him. You could feel electricity sparked all over your body, butterflies flying all over your stomach. It seemed like forever, feeling his soft lips molded with yours. His hands rested on your waist, gently pulling you closer. You snaked your hands around his neck, entangling your fingers in his brown locks.

You broke the kiss, resting your forehead against his. "I'd take that as a yes?" Sebastian whispered. You nod, couldn't get a word out of your mouth. He smiled, peppering small kisses on your cheeks before capturing your lips for another kiss.

He pulled back, took your hand, and wrapped the corsage around your wrist. "You know, I had to do a bunch of tasks to have Professor Garlick help me grow this flower." He chuckles, admiring how the flowers looked on you.

"Sebastian.. I-" You grinned widely, "Thank you. I would love to go to the ball with you." You couldn't help but to wrap your arms around him again. "Why baby's breath?"

"Well, darling, they said it's the symbol of everlasting love."

⁂✲＊⁂✲＊⁂

[galacticgraffiti]

I Am Nothing (Like You Thought I Was)

Summary: Astarion changes after his Ascension, and while you hate what he has become, you cannot seem to love him less.

Pairing: Ascendant!Astarion x gn!reader Rating: Explicit (for a few nsfw lines and mature themes) Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: Reader is not described in detail, though there is one (1) line implying that they bottom when they have sex. TW: Angst, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, emotionally abusive situation, blood, biting, blood drinking, non-consensual drinking of blood, non-consensual... taking away of bodily autonomy (?)

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully. This is not smut, this is hella angsty and was - at least to me personally - somewhat emotionally taxing. Take care of yourself. If you have any questions, feel free to message me!

Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3

I Am Nothing (Like You Thought I Was)

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

You can’t remember what changed, exactly. It was something in his eyes, perhaps, something about the way he looks at you. The corner of his mouth not forming the half-smile you have gotten so used to, or even the possessive sneers he adopts sometimes.

It has been so long since he looked at you as anything more than his… pet. His pretty little consort, if he is in a good mood.

In the beginning, you didn’t realise that that was what you had become to him: A pet, a companion only because he did not want to be lonely after all these centuries. A trophy he could show off at his dinner parties. His own personal meal, ready whenever and wherever he wants - especially in front of hungry guests who know exactly they could never have you.

Hells, you even enjoyed the thought of it at first: To belong to him entirely - to be his and his alone. Forever.

His fangs have marked you hundreds and thousands of times through the years, and you have borne it willingly. Because you love him.

There is nothing else to say, really. Astarion has just… captured you. He is it for you. You knew it the moment you laid eyes on him, knew it the second he held a dagger to your throat only to apologise and join your mission moments after. You knew it when he bared his back to you, bearing the scars of years of abuse, and of… the Ritual.

Ah, yes. The Ritual.

It changed everything. It changed him. Seven thousand souls, sacrificed - killed - in the name of your love, and all you could think about was that he would finally be free. Sometimes, you think back to that moment, and you try not to feel ashamed that you did not even try to persuade him otherwise.

But you had never seen him as scared as he was the night you faced Cazador. And you had never seen him angrier, either. So when Astarion ripped Cazador from his coffin, when he stabbed and slashed and twisted his sword in the belly of his abuser, you… let him.

He deserved revenge. He deserved to kill him, to be free of him, to never be made to feel small and powerless again.

You liked it. You loved it, even: Loved him, free of torment, bloodied with his eyelids heavy from violence. Because you thought it meant his freedom.

And when Astarion turned to you, face smeared with warm blood, the infernal runes on his back glowing, and his eyes so big and full of bloodlust and fear, you could not say no. When he carved the runes into the back of his tormentor, savouring every scream of agony, you could not say no. You watched, and you loved Astarion all the more for every tear of pain he wrung from Cazador’s wretched body. And you let yourself forget it would not just be Cazador who would die for your love to be free.

The Ritual is by far not the only moment of weakness you have ever afforded yourself throug the years, but it is the one that has changed your life the most.

Seven thousand souls. All for the happiness of your love. All for him, for his freedom and his might, for him to live in the sun and never know hunger again. For him to be able to love you without fear.

Thing is- the Ritual never made him happy. It just made him other.

Astarion looks at you different after the ritual. He looks at you like… he owns you. You don’t realise it in the beginning, not for a long time. His words are sweet as ever, his hands gentle when he touches you. His fangs are sharp but his lips are soft, and he calls you his pretty little thing and his love. He calls you His, and you take it to be an affirmation of love, not one of ownership.

Eventually, though, you start to understand what he really means. It starts to sink in when you deny him, and he talks of still taking what he wants. When you disagree, and he does not hear you out. When your neck is covered in bruises, and you still don’t find it in yourself to deny him. Because even with the blood of seven thousand souls dripping from his hands, even with the way his eyes turn cold when he looks at you, even with the things he asks you to do and the kind words he used to have so many of growing few and far between, you cannot stop loving him.

And so you stay, through the cruelty and the ecstasy, through the nightly soirées and the everchanging guests of the palace, through the dark masses and the bloodlust. The joy of his kisses is enough to keep you chained in place without needing to lock you up.

You remember how he used to be: scared and alone, eager to manipulate if only to save himself, because no one else had ever looked out for him.

You remember what he became as you travelled together: kind and thoughtful, even though he kept pretending like he wasn’t. Sweet and caring, protective and assured. How much he overcame to love you, and surely that must be worth something, mustn't it?

When you look at the man that stands in front of you now, in all his glory, bathed in the light of his Ascension, you decide that he is still worth staying for. Every time.

You sit next to him, you offer your neck to him, your wrist, your thighs and your shoulders, wherever he can reach, though he does not hunger for your blood as he used to. But he likes showing off, and you are his favourite trophy.

You can’t say how long you have lived in Cazador’s palace. Years, maybe.

Astarion takes you to bed every night, to drink from you, to hold you. And that is the thing that keeps you here, with him, even after all this time: He still holds you like he cannot sleep without you, and you are always there when he wakes up from his nightmares, gasping for air, crying out the name of his tormentor, of his long-dead parents and friends. In the darkness of these nights, there is a humanity to him that you cannot find when you look into his eyes in the sunlight that he so craves.

You are not so foolish as to think you could save him. You gave up on that thought long ago, after he made you sit at his feet with your wrists still dripping in blood, just to let it flow down the stairs before his throne and tell the guests of his soirée that they could never have you - that they were not even allowed to lick your blood from the floor - because you were his and his alone.

No, you can’t save him anymore. A small sliver of your soul holds onto the hope that he might… get bored. That he will grow tired of the favours that people ask in exchange for gifts of gold and knowledge, that he will grow tired of sitting in the sun while you read to him. That he will get tired of you. That he will make you leave, because you are not strong enough to do it on your own.

And as Astarion stares at you from across the table, his fangs showing as he curls his upper lip in displeasure, you think that, maybe, you will be so lucky.

You are not.

Astarion’s hand grabs your jaw and tilts your head into the light of the candelabra.

“What’s that?” he asks, and he sounds so disgusted that you nearly start to cry from his words alone. For all the hope you had that he might let you go, you never wanted him to hate you.

“What is what, my love?” The nickname falls easily from your lips, years of habit and a tinge of truth. Your love. For all his mistakes, he is still that.

His finger traces your brow in a surprisingly gentle movement, and your breath catches. But the look in his eye is still one of revulsion and contempt. He pulls at you until you get up to follow him, stumbling through the halls of the manor to stop in front of the big mirror he usually keeps covered. 

The mirror. One of the only things his ascension did not fix: Astarion still can’t see his own reflection. Sometimes, you wonder if he keeps you around just to ask for accounts of his beauty that he will never be able to see.

Dozens of portraits have been made in his honour, the artists killed so they would never surpass their masterpiece: Him. None of the portraits manage to capture his ethereal beauty, the cruel twist around his mouth or the pain that still lingers in his eyes. None of the artists understand him the way he would need to be understood to be painted the way he wants to be seen. The way he wants to see himself. 

You have caught him on bad nights, standing in front of the empty mirror you see before you now, staring into the silver surface with flaming eyes like he could will himself to appear if he only wanted it enough. It has been years since then. Now, he only asks you to describe him to himself, when he is buried deep inside you, when his pale hands glow on your skin in the moonlight, and his fangs are sunk into the bruised flesh of your neck. You excel at it, because after all, one thing is still true: You love him. You understand him in ways nobody else ever could.

The mirror has been covered up for a long time, collecting dust as you assumed its supposed function.

Now, Astarion pulls at the velvet cover, and your mirror image is revealed to you. Astarion’s hand wraps around the nape of your neck as he pushes you closer to the silvery surface.

“What is that?” he asks again, so accusatorily that you shy away from your own reflection. You see nothing out of the ordinary: Your own face, his mirror absence behind you. Maybe your hair is a little messier than you would like, maybe the bruises on your neck more prominent than you would prefer. But you look just like you always do.

Astarion’s finger traces your brow again - and you realise what has him this riled up.

A faint wrinkle, barely visible, stretches across your forehead like a thin, twisted branch. 

You worry too much, as Karlach would have put it. Gods, you haven't seen her in ages. You don't even know if she still lives.

“I-” you set on to explain, though you don’t know what exactly you could say to calm him. When Astarion is in this mood, there is little to do but wait it out. The storm always passes eventually; with sharp fangs slicing your skin or cold hands finding their way beneath your robes to watch you writhe and beg. 

Astarion’s gaze now is colder than it has ever been, and it makes you shiver.

“You are ageing.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“Such is the nature of things, my love.” Your voice is dry with annoyance, but you cannot find it in you to care. What a useless thing for him to lose his mind over.

Astarion’s face glows with the beauty of an anger that is senseless as much as it is boundless. You can barely look at him when he twists you around until you are pressed up against the wall, his body so close to yours you can feel the coldness of his skin. Nothing hurts more than to look at him like this, his red eyes devoid of any affection. He didn't used to look at you like this in the beginning… did he? You can’t remember.

His words are poison, his fingers digging into your throat with every syllable he spits at you.

“No, no no. Not in the nature of me. Not in the nature of my world, the universe I have created.” He is aflame with an anger you have not seen in years. It tugs at your heart. All of a sudden, he looks almost as he did before the Ritual: passionate and full of emotion. It doesn't matter that it’s not affection that sets his eyes aflame. At least it’s not indifference.

Astarion wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking you up and down.

“This… this just won’t do,” he mumbles, tilting his head and eyeing you up and down.

To say your heart leaps in joy would be a lie. It leaps in terror. You know what happens to things Astarion has no use for anymore. They are discarded, and if they used to be alive, they are discarded dead. 

He might make an exception for you, for his consort, his pet, his trophy. But he might not. These days you can never tell.

“I have waited too long,” he whispers, almost like he has forgotten you are even there. His iron grip on your neck loosens, and you twist around, trying to escape his grasp, not to have to look at him anymore. You can’t bear it. You close your eyes and breathe.

When you open your eyes and see how he looks at you, tears fill your eyes at the expression on his face.

There he is.

After all these years of hoping, of waiting and praying to every god, he is standing before you again: Your love, unchanged by the years, eternally beautiful as he already was before his Ascension. His eyes glow red and his fangs are sharp as ever, but his face is delicate and full of fear. You have not seen him like this in… forever.

“I have waited too long,” he says again, sadness dripping heavy from his eyes. “I… We have waited too long.”

His hand runs up your side, caressing your face, and the look in his eyes is so warm that for the first time in years, you don’t feel like you are freezing from the inside out. You bask in his affection.

“What did we wait for?” you whisper as Astarion buries his face in the crook of your neck, his soft lips warm on your chilly skin. He presses against you and you let him, even though the wall is cold and hard behind you, because this is all you have dreamed about for so long. A sign that he is still in there, that he is still capable of loving you the way he used to.

His lips move against the delicate skin of your throat when he answers.

“For you to be ready.”

Your head falls back as his nails rake down your back, and his thigh presses between your legs. Your fingers weave into his silver hair as your breath catches at the warmth in your chest.

“Ready for what?” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. The familiar sharpness of his fangs sinking into your skin is no surprise.

“To be mine.” Astarion’s words sear holes into your skin, deeper than his fangs ever could. “Forever.”

You let him push his fingers into your mouth without resistance, your lips parting easily as blood red eyes burn into yours. Astarion smiles a smile that is only fangs and cruelty. 

By the time you feel the world flicker, your consciousness fading into darkness, it is already too late.

You are not only His. You have become His Creation. Forever.

Dive into Angstarion - become insane with me.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon02 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @darlingbravebelle @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @midnightdragonzero @thatweebitch @triangleshapewinner @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @fuckalrighty @meabravo @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @cometstail @beesherbsandivy @gub @codename-indigo @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion

[princess-tulip-writes]

my illyrian baby • cassian

genre: fluff

summary: mornings in valeris are magical, but a certain baby bat doesn’t appreciate it when his girl admires the starry dawn by herself.

a/n: this just a quick morning thought i had while getting ready for work :) its not edited so im sorry.

there was not a single sight like this one; speckles of starlight painting the sky as the sun rose, shades of pink and orange swallowing the dark night as morning greeted the night court. the air was crisp and welcoming, like a baby fawn in the mossy woods during spring time, and your morning cup of tea seemed to taste better than usual as you sat on your porch, enjoying the sunrise.

stealing a few moments for yourself before being clung to all day was a ritual you wished you could maintain every morning, like this one. something about valeris made loneliness feel like a warm hug, as if you were never truly alone, and perhaps you weren’t. perhaps, maybe in some way, the souls of your loved ones stuck with you here, always lingering and watching over you. valeris was a very mysterious place, even after centuries of residency you still had so many secrets to uncover about the city, and it certainly wouldn’t surprise you if sprits were trapped here, following their dreams in the after life that had yet to accomplish in their life and finding happiness in the city of starlight—at least that’s what you hoped anyway.

taking a long sip of your tea, you sighed contently as the silence of the morning enveloped you in a tight embrace, causing a content smile to tug at your lips. silence was rare for you these days, not that your mate’s roudy nature annoyed you or anything, the occasional silence was nice though. it was new, refreshing to take some time to yourself. but, after a full hour, you missed him. you missed his warmth, his touch, his laugh, his voice, his face—

as if the both of your mind’s were linked, the loud groaning of hardwood sounded from behind the open door, and your smiled wider as sandalwood and mountain air found you, filling the fresh morning air with his scent as he neared.

he was clumsy in the early morning hours, even at the beginning of training most days, so when his large feet stumbled over nothing, you didn’t flinch.

“baby…”

his whine turned into a yawn, causing your gaze to finally tear away from the sunrise and settle on him for the second time today, but the first time seeing him awake today. you may have stolen a loving glance at him before you slipped outside earlier that morning, but you’d never boost his ego like that by telling him.

his arms stretched over his head and his wings flared out completely as he stepped onto the porch, finally having enough room to fully expand to stretch all of his crampy limbs. especially the large wings that spend most of their time tucked tightly behind his back. his hair was a tangled mess and his face was puffy with a good night’s sleep, yet he still looked like the most beautiful male you had ever seen.

he smiled lazily at you as he caught your gaze.

“g’morning.” he yawned as his arms fell limp to his sides. his wings tucked in slightly, but still stayed flared and you were sure it was just him showing off. not that you minded of course.

you returned his smile. “good morning, cass.”

cassian’s hazel eyes seemed to clear up at the awaited sound of your voice. waking up without the warmth of his mate atop of his chest was not something he was happy about, and finding you star gazing without him caused a pout to replace his smile.

“why’d you leave me?” he whined, his shoulders and wings slumping as he stepped closer to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, and his face nuzzled in your neck before he took a deep inhale of your preshower scent. the natural smell of your skin in the morning air always made cassian’s heart feel warm and full, if he had it his way, you wouldn’t shower at all.

but that’s gross, you always remind him when he suggests the idea. so he drops it and enjoys the short lived scent while he can.

your free hand, the one that didn’t have a glass mug in it’s hold, settled on top of his larger hand as he began to take a handful of your chub.

“i wanted to watch the sun rise before it was too late.” you answered softly.

he huffed into your neck. “coulda woke me up. maybe i wanted to watch it with you.”

a soft kiss was pressed to your neck after he spoke, causing your lips to upturn.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered.

you couldn’t explain to him that you wanted some time to yourself, even if you knew he would try to understand. he was sensitive when it came to you, and although he would pretend to be understanding, he would feel a bit rejected and most likely pout all day. so, instead, you played it off.

“wake me next time.” he grumbled into your skin, sending vibrations down your shoulders. “please.”

his plea was a soft whine, giving away just how grumpy he was about waking up alone, and you couldn’t fight the guilt that built up from it.

“i will, i’m sorry.”

your hand squeezed his reassuringly, sending strokes of love and apologizes down the bond to soothe him from within. it seemed to have worked because his arms tightened around you slightly and his breathing slowed down. the tickle of his stubble scratched your neck as he nuzzled in closer, wanting to savor the feeling of you before the day begins.

for a few moments, silence filled the air as you continued to watch the dawn turn into skies of blue, sipping the rest of your tea as you both enjoyed each other.

“missed you, sweetheart.”

you chuckled. “you had me all night. i was only gone for an hour.”

cassian groaned in disapproval to your answer and nipped your neck playfully, causing you to yelp in surprise. his soft tongue was quick to run along the sore spot, and soothed the irritated skin under his wet mouth. “still felt like forever.”

you rolled you eyes at him but felt a sense of appreciation for his need for you. it was flattering coming from a male like him; powerful and so so sexy. how the hell did you get so lucky?

“i don’t like waking up without you.”

you turned to look at him, as difficult as it was given his position, and placed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. his hair was soaked with his scent, causing your ovaries to scream out for him.

“neither do i, my love.”

his arms tightened around you again, but this time it was an action of security, to remind him that you were there now, in his arms and making no effort to abandon his embrace. your body felt as if it was made for him, the soft plush feel of you against his hard body was safe, like home. he never wanted to see how empty the feeling would be without it.

a few more minutes passed as the two of you fell into a conversation about the day ahead, sorting out each other’s schedules and knowing the where abouts of each mate for assurance that you’ll both be okay. this routine wasn’t rare, in fact it was nearly a daily occurrence given how scared you both are after the war of losing each other. cassian was terrified especially, the thought of losing his whole world, his mate, his girl, made his stomach queasy and bile rise in his throat. without you his life would be nothing, he wouldn’t survive.

as the sky became blue, a rumble of your mate’s stomach brought you back to the reality of your usual mornings.

“want me to make you some pancakes? i’ll add the chocolate chips you love and some powdered sugar.”

his ears perked immediately at the slight mention of food, let alone your cooking. the male was convinced that every me you ever made him was with love, even when you were angry with him. you put so much thought into how he liked things, adding special ingredients you know he likes and serving it to him with a smile and a cheek kiss most days.

you made everything so much better.

a grin creeped on his features as he lifted his face from the crevice of your neck. his eyes finally met yours, and he couldn’t stop his lips from finding the skin of your temple as you looked up at him. next, was your lips. his eyes darted down to your lips, and before you could catch on, he dove in and took your breath away.

the pouty illyrian was no longer there, now the general was awake and greeting his wife for the first time that morning with a kiss.

your lips molded together, tongues smoothing against each other as his hands found your hips, flipping you over to face him so he could get to you deeper.

with you, he always wanted more. nothing was ever enough, he needed all of you.

“i love you.” he mumbled against you.

you smiled into the kiss at the sound of voice, setting down your mug on the table behind you without disconnecting, then wrapping your arms around his middle, his strong, hard torso.

“i love you too, my illyrian baby. always.”

[themagicbrew]

everyone! Meet Utrom.

The original traitor. The first defender of earth.

You may be able to read more about him Below. (side note: some things in my previous posts may be reconned)

(edit: sorry about any of the spelling and grammar errors)

Assigned Name: Utrom

Age: Uknown

Gender: Unknown (Queergender)

sexuality: Pansexual (poly)

Current occupation: Part-time nature conservationist, full-time tourist. (formerly) Rebel leader and Kraang surveillance scout

personality summary: Utrom is a jovial charismatic bundle of love, who cares deeply for the world around him and is burdened by his past. He continues to learn and grow for centuries, wishing to right his wrongdoings. He is a strict pacifist, however, Utrom is still capable of intimidating others when needed. Think of him as the fun laidback uncle of Earth! (for the most part)

Backstory!

Pre-Rebellion:

Utrom started out as any other Kraang, born on planet primordial and raised to be a soldier for their glorious empire. He was by no means, a cut above the rest. Utrom was just another nameless soldier- another cog in the machine

He (just like any other member of his species) took pride in what he was. Despite his big hulking figure, Utrom served as a surveillance scout for the empire. His occupation was to scout out planets prior to the oncoming conquest. He would study various things like the enemies' ecosystem, culture and technological advancements. Utrom had a deeper fascination- perhaps, even a hidden admiration for other lifeforms but not to the extent where he’d feel remorse for aiding in their complete genocide. 

Unlike most Kraang, Utrom would acknowledge to some degree his enemies were capable of outwitting them- though he knew no creature could ever overpower the might of kraang, Utrom also knew blindly underestimating their prey would have consequences.

This was not a common ideal, even for scouts like him. 

His comrade. The one assigned to aid him on all his missions. Kraang2. Had a completely different set of ideals, ones that were more aligned with the common kraang soldier. They were polar opposites in many ways BUT- their differences were what forged their strong bond. 

Utrom had even developed deep romantic feelings towards Krang2 but due to the culture they live in. Recognising or understanding such complicated emotions was nearly impossible. From his perspective, Kraang2 was his comrade and nothing more.

Sure, he liked the way She’d slaughter their foes or how she’d recklessly jump into battle without a thought or- even the quiet moments where they talked about climbing the ranks together but, She was just a comrade. Nothing more. 

Utrom never knew why but Kraang1 (2’s elder brother) did not trusted him. He didn’t understand what warranted such specific hostility directed his way. Utrom never made the connection that his close friendship with 2 may have been the root of it. Kraang1 never outwardly showed his concern for his younger siblings, especially in front of others. Kraang1 was also a higher-ranking member of the empire, he is considered a prodigy to General Chre’ll. 

He would abuse his authority over Utrom, singling him out from other soldiers for petty reasons.

To describe dynamic in the simplest of terms: they are like petty coworkers. a lot of their interactions would range from passive aggression to straight-up hostility or (more commonly) strained professionalism.

Utrom, being a lower rank could not bite back- otherwise, he'd be met with severe punishment. The abuse he undergo was something normalised within their society. Utrom would quietly question The kraang as a whole, however, his doubts would be buried. His head 6ft deep under the propaganda he was raised upon.

He was a soldier, meant to aid the empire's glorious crusade. To keep the natural order of things. the strong will devour the weak.

Utrom's betrayal/rebellion:

Names are important things within their culture. They are symbols that are achieved, rather than a title given upon birth.

Typically, a kraang would earn their Name after ascending the ranks and becoming a general however, a name can be earned through other means...more importantly, earning a name isn't always a good thing within the kraang.

Planet Earth was meant to be Kraang1's first conquest. Think of it as a crowning, one where Kraang1 would assert himself in the empire as "General Prime" (after a successful invasion.)

So what exactly happened?

Utrom, someone who was never seen far from kraang2's side- working in tandem- Was tasked with scouting out earth, alone. He was no position to question Kraang1's decision as per usual and thus, remained silent.

Once Utrom arrived on Earth (landing in Japan during the Heian period.) He went through the usual motions, Examining and collecting data. However, during this time- without his beloved comrade to distract him, his doubts began to take hold.

It was then he met a Sōhei, one who was unafraid of Utrom. Normally, when an enemy discovers him- Utrom was quick to kill but.. this time, he didn't.

the Sōhei fascinated him. They had simply struck up a conversation and even in that moment, they had hit a personal cord with Utrom. With words alone, he began to wonder- his doubts beginning to unearth.

So he did something he'd never thought he'd do.

Utrom began to befriend the enemy. He learned many things with the Sōhei and eventually, other humans too. A whole new world of opportunity had opened up to him, one that he'd never considered if he was with the kraang.

All of this was done under the Kraang's (metaphorical) nose.

Utrom saw how imperfect the empire was, thanks to the help of his human friends. Yet, he wanted others to see it too. Utrom wanted his fellow comrades to know, that there was more to life then blood and conquest.

He began to orchestrate an entire rebellion, gathering kraang from lower ranks to rise up and defend Earth. Kraang2 was the first to know about this but opposed the idea. Yet she remained silent, thinking that Utrom would come back to his "senses" (which he never did.)

This rebellion was how Utrom earned his name. Once word got out about a traitorous scout, he was 'branded' and named Utrom.

However, this act would lead more kraang to aid Utrom. He was a normal loyal soldier like they were, if he had the courage to fight authority then perhaps they could too?

This lead to a full on Battle on earth. The rebels and humans were getting decimated, despite everything- they were losing to the kraang.

Til the very last second, the human friends pulled out a piece of precious kraang tech. One built by a rebel and meant to seal in the kraang....and perhaps the rebels too.

Utrom knew this and allowed this, knowing that he too may be sealed as well.

Once the Key was unleashed, the battle was over in an instance.

Utrom somehow managed to avoid being sealed into the prison dimensions along with only a small handful of rebels left. The rest were sucked into the prison dimension where they'll no doubt, meet their demise.

This... Affected utrom in many ways he never thought it would. Unsure what to do with himself. He gifted the Key to one of his human friends.

The lost of kraang2 cut him deeply... Now stranded on earth, all he can do is heal and live a new life.

Post-betrayal

Utrom spent his first century on earth within Japan, living closely with the Sōhei he trusted so dearly. He had vowed to become a pacifist after the war, which was a tough journey for Utrom.

He had lived his whole life as a soldier. War was the only thing he knew but with help from his Human friends. Utrom managed.

Eventually, one by one his friends would pass on. Their lives were so much shorter than his.

He than decided too travel across earth. learning from humans without involving themselves in their conflict. Utrom would spend many centuries attempting to conserve the planet's ecosystem, socialising with humans and more importantly, trying to forget kraang2

Fast forward to present day

Utrom received word from the E.p.f that there was a failed invasion within NYC and that his presence is required. He was horrified to know, that he'd be helping with Kraang2 interrogation.

He did not work for them, serving more so as a "kraang consultant" due to his former role as a rebel leader. Yet, given that this was his old comrade, he felted the need to stay.

Now Utrom is trying hard to undo the damage that she and her brothers have caused.

Triva:

Utrom voiceclaim is Keith david (x)

Utrom likes telling stories about his time on earth. His antics with vary but all of them bizarre in their own special way. Utrom is essentially one big history book. A living artifact.

Utrom begins to keep an eye on those involved in NYC's invasion. Whether they be good or bad.

He struggles with being a pacifist, even til this very day. He often worries about snapping at someone since he's constantly aware of his strength.

Utrom great with dealing other peoples emotions however, closes himself off from his own feelings. He feels responsible for everything that had happen and is trying hard to 'fix' everything.

He still retains strong romantic feelings towards kraang2 and will continue to visit her once The E.p.f efforts in finding her brothers prove to be fruitless. (biggest simp in all the galaxy)

[brabblesblog]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, dearest @pursuitseternal

This is from a latter chapter of Remember ye not the former things, the sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone?

Astarion and Ban, by @primopinku

The Ascension, from Astarion's POV:

I’m sure you’ll make the right decision, she had said that fateful day, as they prepared to face Cazador.  He had, he thinks, but not when it came to her. Not when he saw her expression as he carved Cazador’s back, not when he could feel her fear, her judgment, through the tadpole.  He could smell the blood, the sick-sweet-tang of it rousing his stomach for what was to be the last time, could hear his master’s screams - but none of that mattered. What had was that feeling that passed from her to him: her love receding like the tide, replaced by a myriad of negative emotions: unnamed, fleeting, but all-encompassing; as if her love was so shallow, so conditional, a toe out of line and he was discarded yet again. She had stopped seeing her lover, then; she had seen a monster where he once stood. Then a monster he would be, he thought, as Rhapsody sliced through Cazador’s back.  That sentiment didn’t abate as he took his rightful place, Woe in his grasp. Even as power flowed into his veins, even as his heart began to beat faster, that was still on the forefront of his mind.  Had he lost her?  No. She lost me.  Bitterness and anger had suffused him, as surely as that newfound vigour of his heart and the rush of his now-altered blood did. How dare she - how dare they - wrest this from him? This was his moment of triumph, two centuries of pain leading to this, what he deserves what he is owed - The very first moments as the Ascendant, each full and purpose and power and freedom; it should have been glorious. And it was. Or it would have been, if she didn’t look at him that way. If he didn’t know exactly what she thought of him. Thus the mask went back on, perhaps forever. What did it matter? He was - “- free. I’m finally free! Oh it feels delicious.” Ban approached him, expression wary. “Not sure I like the sound of that.” Immediately he wanted to snap at her, to scream. Freedom, everything he’d ever wanted, and she says that? Instead he smiled, cold and all teeth. “Oh don’t worry, darling. I won’t bite unless you ask very, very nicely.”

Tagging @leomonae @icybluepenguin @tragedybunny @vixstarria @bhaalbaaby @bunnidarling @bludazey

[chimielie]

i swear that i will hate you 'till forever

summary: Yaku x F!Reader. sometimes divorce is what you really need to strengthen a marriage

word count: 1.2k

cw: angst, alcohol, pr marriage gone extremely wrong, yaku is older by six years, reader is a socialite with no life skills or healthy coping mechanisms, yaku also has no healthy coping mechanisms, no one in this story is doing well, The Judgment of God Himself, also blasphemy

a/n: heeey long time no see. i actually genuinely don't know when i wrote this, i'm just emptying my drafts of all the half-written fics i have locked in jail. i do still like this concept a lot so shoot me an ask if you want to know more about what i had planned for the full thing :)

Morisuke hates weddings.

He stares up at God, who is trapped in a little circle in a bigger circle, surrounded by gorgeous, centuries-old paintings of angels and saints and little red devils. Everything is gold, the flickering light of hanging chandeliers shining down to gild a rapt audience, even as the real people seem to pale in comparison to their artistically rendered counterparts. Standing here, surrounded by ornate displays of divinity, Morisuke has never felt so wealthy in spirit and physicality. He wasn’t raised in this religion, nor was he ever baptized into it as an adult, but he doesn’t find a seed of objection in himself he’d though he would. The icon he thinks is God looks both mournful and benevolent. All the shining things make Morisuke feel as though he’s looking into a mirror.

The people rustle, whispering among themselves. A stray string instrument sounds, alone and twanging into a silence far greater than itself, and Morisuke almost misses it when the orchestra starts up moments later. He has a headache, the kind that gets worse because he’s so irritated that he has one at all.

He looks down and away from God, straight into the blinding flash of a camera. His only reaction is a slight narrowing of the eyes, the closest he’s come to flinching in years. When the spots clear from his vision, you’re there, an angel from the fresco come to life, a goddess in the church.

Morisuke folds his hands. It feels only right to pray, the way he’s seen it on television, the way some of his teammates do before matches. You stare at him as you walk down the aisle, light playing over your dress in shining bursts that make his head throb harder. He can’t find any bridal tears in your eyes.

He shifts in his dress shoes, fights not to run his hands through his carefully-styled hair. The air-conditioning is too strong, meant to keep a thousand pressed-together people from overheating, or perhaps it’s the winter air leaking in through the great doors. You reach the stairs to the altar, wobbling a little on your first step up, though the movement is so minuscule anyone but him wouldn’t have noticed. Without thinking, Morisuke reaches a hand out to steady you. Your fingers press hard into the flesh of his palm, gripping him bruisingly tight. He can barely pull his hand away fast enough. The music stops, and Morisuke takes in a deep breath, while your chest doesn’t move to inhale or exhale. This is the last moment before you are knotted together irrevocably for life. A groom who hates weddings for a bride who doesn’t cry.

one year, eight months later

If you tilt your head up and almost close your eyes so that you’re looking through your lashes, you can pretend that you’re floating among the stars. You do so, walking backwards, tipping champagne down your throat as you go, trying to envision yourself as a constellation. You’re pretty sure you are one—Morisuke’s gift to you on your birthday, the first one after you’d married. The tabloids had eaten it up. You, watching him board a plane through the social media stories of your so-called friends, hadn’t felt quite as romanced as your picture in the news claimed.

You had forgotten about the constellation. Perhaps it had stuck in your subconscious, though; it was awfully romantic. Perhaps that’s why you had chosen the planetarium as a venue for tonight, though in the light of day it had been the midnight blue velvet and shadowy, domed ceilings that had cinched it for you. But you throw a lot of parties, and you don’t need any more sentiment in your life than what you’re currently suffocating under. You’ll come back on your own, you decide, finishing off your glass and plucking another from the nearest hand to you. You like being lost amongst your guests, freewheeling in space even without oxygen to breathe.

You stumble as you continue your backwards, meandering path through the party. You kick off your shoes, lab-grown crystals chipping off as they bounce. You don’t notice. You’ll buy more. You could buy the whole stupid world, with your husband’s money that he throws at you so he doesn’t have to come home and face you. Your husband who leaves you alone to do whatever you please. Alone, dancing among the stars.

Morisuke was twenty-eight when he proposed to you; you had just turned twenty-two when you said yes. You had been officially seeing each other for three months and acquaintances for nearly a year prior.

The story of your first meeting the interviewers knew was one you and your husband had told many times. A mutual friend had introduced you at a high-profile event and said, blatantly, that the two of you should “make babies.” Morisuke was smooth; you were flirtatious. The story played out like a romantic comedy, ending in a fairytale wedding.

You and he had kept the real story for yourselves, to take out and admire in times of trouble, to tuck away in your pocket like a note between secret lovers.

You were running through a rose-garden maze, eyes over your shoulder, hands fisted in your skirts. He had been walking a perpendicular path to yours (looking for someone else, another lover, you’d later learn) when you had tripped right over him, tumbling head over heels through the flora and into a new sector. Your breath knocked out of you, it was all you could do to stare up at the sky and try to laugh.

“Miss?” He’d called, ducking through the opening, pushing stray rose canes away. “Miss! Are you alright?”

He sounded so formal. You accepted his hand up, but only pulled yourself into a sitting position, trying desperately to catch your breath. He was so handsome, it was making things much harder. Inconsiderate of him, you thought

“I’m fine,” you managed, eventually. “Are you?”

“No more bruised than usual,” he’d returned, teasing. You cocked a brow. “I’m an athlete. I dive face-first onto hardwood floors all day."

For reasons you couldn’t recognize, you’d taken his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his shirt. His forearm toward the elbow had a nasty bruise, as he had said. You ran a careful finger over the discoloration, and he hissed.

“How was my form?”

“Awful,” he said frankly. “But—“ He’d seemed to get lost there, watching the way the sunlight filtered through the clouds and played across your features. With all the raw honesty of someone saying something they hadn’t even known they were thinking, he opened his mouth and said: “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

On a slight breeze, the petals you’d knocked off drifted around the two of you, catching on his shirt, in your hair. They pooled between you, and when you ducked your head down they were all you could see.

You fell in love during that first meeting.

He never fell in love with you at all.

[earthstellar]

Medical Staff Superstitions and Cybertronian Medics

I was just thinking: What superstitions might Cybertronian medical staff have?

For some real world examples:

-Deaths come in threes

-Tying the corners of a bed's sheets "keeps the soul in" (helps prevents a patient from worsening/dying)

-Preparing for certain procedures ahead of time wards off certain incidents from happening (crash cart, some surgical setup, etc.)

-Full moon means a busy shift

-Some staff can be "unlucky"; For example, if a certain doc/nurse is working that shift, you can expect X to happen

-Nobody should ever say the word "quiet", or things are about to get real, real loud (busy)

Superstitions in healthcare vary from region to region, and from speciality to specialty.

For example, in a maternity/birthing ward, a well-prepared birth plan means everyone should prepare for emergency c-section or post partum haemorrhage.

One of my friends who is a nurse in Mexico said that a picture of an upside-down cat or upside-down dog pinned on the wall helps prevent poor outcomes! (This is apparently often done with pictures of staff member's pets, lmao.)

I'm sure that Ratchet wouldn't (at least knowingly) lean into any superstitions that might exist in Cybertronian healthcare, but I feel like other medics might.

Perhaps it varies regionally across Cybertron, too-- Tetrahexian medics may have different beliefs compared to Praxian medics, and so on.

I can see First Aid, with his collection of Autobot badges, potentially putting one upside-down on his work station. It would probably drive Ratchet up the wall, but Velocity might ask questions about it and share some Camien medical superstitions!

IDK It's just fun to think about.

Ratchet might even engage in some superstitions unconsciously, just out of habit from centuries of working with other medics in Iacon etc. who would probably get upset if the superstitions weren't taken into consideration, lmao.

First Aid might call this out in front of Drift, who would then be aaaaabsolutely fascinated, lmao.

I'm at work right now so I might elaborate a bit on this later, just thinkin' out loud lol

[the-darklings]

“my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own” with dream/wanderer ? 🫣

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader (wanderer)

wc: 1.1k

warnings: don't want to scare you all,,,,, but soft, a touch of protective!Dream, they're in love and gross. basically, something nice to tide you over until part 7.

dream & wanderer series: part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

“Wanderer.”

Dream Lord’s call echoes and bounces throughout the space, just as deep and piercing as it had been the first time he voiced your moniker. Instinct jolts your shoulders upwards, sensing the slow curl of his power wrapping around you long before he comes into sight. 

“Morpheus.”

Dream’s serious expression cracks at your greeting, splintering his sullen, severe mien. You’ve spent centuries attaching one name after another to him. Perhaps none as grandiose as those others bestow upon him, but uniquely yours and his all the same. Despite it, his proper name, the name he insists upon hearing from your mouth with an increasing frequency, still feels clumsy on your tongue. The effect it has on him, however, is something you savour. 

It thaws something buried deep under that ancient, stubborn cast. It is a small, insignificant victory, but it is yours nevertheless.  

“I felt you enter the Dreaming hours ago.”

His muted footsteps cut closer, his arms at his side. There’s an edge to his words, though, a disquiet Dream rarely, if ever, permits to show. 

You drop your fingers from the smooth leathery spines, concluding your search. “Hm? Oh, yeah.” You turn towards him with a relaxed shrug. “I was helping out Lucienne at the library. Then we had tea with Abel at the House of—”

“You did not come to see me.”

You swallow, briefly licking your lips. Candles flick at Dream’s curt words, wobbling on their wicks. A particular hush blankets the library, snuffing all sound out. Dream’s power burns from within him, and you eye him for a lengthy, weighted moment. 

“You were busy,” you say lastly.

Your feet carry you towards the nearest table, polished and mahogany, material smooth under your palm when you touch it. Scooping up multiple volumes, you slot them back on the shelf. More study on human magic. Spells, and their coequal, curses. 

“You were gone for three weeks.”

There are entire universes, languages, and poems dissolved in that single sentence. It says I missed you; it says I am glad to have you back with me, my reckless Wanderer; it says I breathe easy now that I am reassured you are safe. Of course, with Dream, all of it is unspoken. And there is, of course, an unanswered question scorching and pulsing through everything. 

Why did you not come to me?

Because sometimes it’s still hard—to forget what transpired between you two, what cost it exacted, how long was stolen from you. 

“I had Cori with me,” you retort without looking at him. “It’s fine. Good luck to anyone trying to go through him.”

Silence, heavy and tense, then: “Corinthian has much to make up for.”

Once more, your spine straightens, but this time in defence, not happiness or anticipation. 

“Yes, he does.” Those words come out factual, not some mindless presupposition or appeasement. “But we’re trying. We’re working on it together. Better than holding grudges for centuries and eradicating any possibility of happiness.”

You sound sharp, and you acknowledge as much immediately. Your mouth falls into a slack, near grimacing line. Great. Biting your inner cheek, you pivot on your heels, an apology ready on your tongue. 

But Dream of the Endless is already next to you, your chest bumping into his. Tall, grim, and looming. Slight furrow you’re so intimately familiar with cuts between his strong brows. You have to banish the itch in your fingertips to reach over and smooth it. Lay a kiss there. 

“I do not wish to fight,” he whispers, his words a silken caress. 

Exhaling deeply, you let your rigid muscles relax. “Neither do I. I'm just… sorry.” You tilt closer, your bodies brushing against each other. Dream’s intent, heated stare burns into you wordlessly. You can’t help but reach out, ghosting your fingertips over his sloping jaw. “What is it? Have you missed me, Dream Lord? Is that it?”

Dream’s lids hood, but he doesn’t otherwise react. Fuelled by sly intent, you let your thumb settle against the soft edge of his lips. Electricity sparks where your skin meets, each nerve come alive. 

“Why ask me when you already know the answer, stardust?” His soft breath tickles your hand, and you shiver. Subtle shadows have knotted around you, holding you close and veiled, providing you privacy. Dream’s voice is the gentlest murmur; a single, shining crack in his proud cast: “My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

You tuck yourself closer, resting next to him, breathing together for a long moment. Hearts are such impetuous traitors. Yours flutters with simple, unconstrained happiness at his muted, fierce declaration. 

Your nose settles near his collarbone. “I missed you lots too. Lots and lots.”

“Good.”

Your lids have slipped shut, and his quiet, finely laced smug remark pries them open. Your head jerks upwards, your faces inches apart. Squinting, you can’t help your short laugh, pleasantly surprised. “Good? What kind of response is that?”

His dark hair brushes over your forehead, his unblinking stare on your mouth, the fond smile sitting there. “One that gets you to smile.”

You purse your lips, biting back another laugh. “Ah, smooth talker.”

Dream browses your features with such dedication, such fervent longing, but not a word escapes him. He’s glimpsed your face a thousand times—more than—but right now, it’s as if he’s rediscovering you anew. Every time, unfailingly, upon your return, you meet again. 

Hello, Dream Lord. 

“What plagues you?” he wonders.

You brush your noses together. Brief, light contact; a playful graze. “A dream.”

Something hot swirls in those blue depths; his words sound gentle, prompting. “A dream.” His hand settles lightly on your lower back. “What is this dream, Wanderer?”

“I dream…” Your palm settles on his cheek, breaths mingling. Other brushes over the lapels of his black coat. You don’t care who might see you; there are no worries, troubles, or lost time right now. Just him. “I dream about a handsome Dream Lord giving me a kiss.”

His lips whisper over your own. Close, but not quite. “Just the one?” he rasps. 

Your grin is taunting and sharp-toothed. “Well, I suppose that much depends on whether the first kiss is any good.”

“I see.” His arm winds around you tighter. “Then, this handsome Dream Lord of yours should endeavour to ensure no doubts are left behind.”

Dream braces you against the bookshelf, secure in his half embrace. You manage a deep, fortifying breath before the Dream Lord encloses you in the dark folds of his starlit coat. 

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

fem!plus size reader, wc: 576.

cw! poor self worth issues :(

a/n: im super happy to be able to give my fellow plus size friends a fic for comfort! <3

Even though Loki came from Asgard, he was an Earth man, through and through, why wouldn’t he be? That was the planet where he had found you. It was a complete accident, at least in your end, bumping into him on the street where he stood with his brother. If you were anyone else, he would’ve snapped on you, but it was as if his words died in his throat, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, the god of mischief, the man that always seemed to have something to say, was rendered speechless.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze follow you, even after you apologized to him. All he could recall from that day was Thor saying, “That’s a good one, brother.”

And a good one you were. At least in his mind. Loki considered you his goddess, a queen that everyone should bow down to and worship for the rest of their days. Sadly, you didn’t see yourself that way. At first, he was angry, angry that these pathetic humans ever dared to talk down to you, to make you feel any less important than you truly were. To him, you were the sun, the moon, the stars, the creator of the universe, the person that made his life make sense, but your insecurities only got worse when you’d visit Asgard.

“Loki…” You said unsurely as you stared at the dress laid out on the bed before you. Even though Loki despised his “family,” it would be the first time that they had met you, and he demanded that you’d have respect. “I don’t think this is going to fit.” Which was a half lie. The gorgeous cloth was intimidating; with beautiful intricate golden details to the corset which was even prettier. To you, you felt as though you had no business wearing something like this.

“Darling,” You heard him state as he walked over to you. “I’ve had that dress made just for you. It is one of a kind.” You shook your head, trying to conjure up any other excuse, but coming up empty handed. “I don’t deserve to wear this.” You said as your shoulders slumped. It was embarrassing really, how harshly you looked down on yourself to the point where you couldn’t allow yourself to enjoy the fact that you were on a whole other planet, let alone dating a god.

He placed his hands on your waist lovingly, turning you around so that you faced him.

“That’s nonsense and you know it.” He said sternly. “You are more deserving than anyone in the cosmos. You have hung the stars, my love.” His hands innocently traced your body, no lust in his intentions as he looked at you earnestly. “You are gorgeous. Perhaps the most enchanting woman I have ever met. It kills me, my sun, to hear you speak of yourself this way.” Your heart beat fast in your chest as his hands cupped your full, rounded cheeks that he adored so much.

“Loki I…” You went to say, but he was quick to cut you off. “No, I refuse to listen to such ridiculous words.” He then in turn, grabbed the dress and handed it to you. “You are my queen, and a queen deserves everything pleasant the universe has to offer, but,” He said with an airy laugh, “A dress is a great way to start.”

And for a moment, you believed him.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Round three of death by Snu Snu with boyfriend master wearing I want GF to sit on my face with Penthasalia, Caenis, Medea, Medusa and Atalante( berserker) if you can do her. As a treat you can also sneak Gorgon in if you want

You have chosen death.

She is going to make you see stars.

She may also make you pass out from a lack of oxygen.

Penthesilea can get pretty… excited.

Especially in an environment that has emotions running high.

To put it simply.

You may be walking into that room on your own two legs.

But you either won’t be coming out for a few days, or you will be rushed out and put in a full body cast.

The more likely of the two is the second one.

Again, she tends to get excited…

If it makes you feel better, she’ll be by your bedside the entire time you're recovering.

Caenis is not someone who flusters easily.

However…

Even she has her limits…

One of those is you proudly walking around in that shirt.

How could you be so shameless while wearing it?

She felt like she was going to self combust out of embarrassment!

She had already decided she was going to be teaching you a lesson when she first saw it.

However, her idea on what lesson she was going to teach you…

Well, that got less and less like a punishment as the day went on.

If anything, it got more and more debauched.

Then again, Caenis isn’t known for holding back.

She was going to explode.

How?

How did you wear something so… so… so…

HOW!?

The poor lady was red as a tomato while looking at you.

The entire time, fighting off impure, unmaidenly thoughts about what she and you could get up to.

She was going to give you a piece of her mind by the end of the day.

If she didn’t vaporize first.

If she doesn’t, you will be in for a lecture.

This will be followed by perhaps the longest and most insane night you have ever lived through.

You… may also want to hide the shirt before she burns it.

Medusa will have two very different reactions to the shirt that will depend on the environment she is in.

If she is alone with you, she’ll tease you for a bit before giving you what you want until you tap out, or she does.

If her sisters are around however…

She will be scrambling to shove you into whatever she can to hide you from them.

In small part because of the shirt, yes.

But also, because you were hers and hers alone.

Also, if they saw the shirt you were wearing she would be teased about it until the heat death of the universe.

Though, if she got to keep you, it would be bearable.

However, you would have to be her… chew toy for lack of a better term.

Something tells her you wouldn’t mind that.

And she wouldn’t either.

You are in immense danger and only have two options left for you to take.

The first option is to ditch the shirt and hide until Atalante cools off in… eight centuries.

The second, is to accept your fate, write a last will and testament, settle all earthly affairs, and ready yourself for execution.

If you take the second option, she is going to tear you apart.

Once she is done with you, your soul will have left your body and your body will be in desperate need of either healing, or a funeral service.

Do not wear the shirt around her.

Seriously.

DO!

NOT!

If you do, you are either extremely brave, or extremely stupid.

[s3ibro]

➢ capitano brainrots !

// hi welcome to my brain dump i wrote this at 12:49 am

big man. prolly something around 213 cm / 7 ft? makes him very scary to stand face to face with. the mask doesnt help, it makes him feel distant and inhuman. although, there is an allure to it as well, a mystery you are desperate to get to the bottom of, an unbreakable attraction.

capitano has a habit of watching you from afar, grateful that his mask hides the truth of his gaze. he’s quite sure you would run, full of fear and regret, if you had even the slightest idea of how he truly feels for you. is it hatred? is it carnal desire? something else entirely? what is it that draws him to you? he despises that you are a distraction from his duty as a harbinger, he cannot remember the last time he was touched beyond a battlefield, he sees you smile and he feels that this could quickly become a problem. love has never been in the cards for the harbingers </3

When you’re constantly on the warpath, what you need to stay sane is stability, and that’s what he would look for in a partner. he would like the way you always ask how his day has been, how easily you settle into routine with him, how even so far from schneznaya, he can still a home with you around.

i feel like capitano’s love language would be physical closeness, not necessarily touch, but intimate closeness nonetheless. sitting on a sofa next to him, each of you busy with different things, but still together, silent but showing each other love through the simple of act of being together. or when hes in council and you speak up. one of his advisors is quick to shut you down but capitano is there behind you, strong and cold and comforting. the advisor doesnt try it again.

imagine his hands. large and calloused from decades or perhaps centuries of war, forever scarred from close calls and duels with fearsome enemies. imagine how stunned, how flustered, even, he’d be if you showed those hands affection; if you kissed them and held them and made sure that if the man they belong to ever fell in battle, they’d know love before that moment.

how would he feel if he were forced to betray you for the fatui? what comes first, his loyalty or his lover? in the end, i think he’d chose the fatui. centuries of loyalty weighed against a few more short decades with you,,, he tries to tell himself he’s seeing the bigger picture.

imagine capitano falling in love with you at first sight during a raid on a natlan village. you, so pretty with tears running down your face, weeping as everything you’ve ever known burns. he takes a brief moment to dismount his warhorse, stares down at you in utter silence. you wait for him to swing his blade and put you out of your misery; instead, he grabs you round the waist and hauls you onto his horse, mounts behind you, and as the town burns and the wind lashes your cheeks, youre left in utter shock with no choice but to hold onto him for dear life kinda wanna write this into a full fic but I have so many wips already dhsosoheks

[happynowyo]

Reflection, part 2

A/n: feel free to send request if you want to see some particular scenes in this fic between different characters or if you want me to write some other stuff based on some prompts with Kaz💜

And one more thing. The timeline in this fic takes place after season 1 of SaB but Pekka didn't frame Kaz, Inej and Jesper for murder. Matthias is too good to stay in Hellgate so let's imagine that Kaz was in a good mood one day and helped Nina (from the book kanon) to get him out just as she asked him over and over again. Wylan is a part of the Crows as well but no one except for Kaz knows that he's Van Eck.

Fandom: Six of crows

Warnings: Kaz Brekker and everything that goes with him

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x ShadowSummoner!OC

Summary: wandering about Ketterdam leads Jess to an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 1,7k

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Tag list: @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @valkyrie05x

The small hotel, located in the business part of the town, looked quite decent. But not enough to convince Jess that Ketterdam could claim to be the fair capital of Kerch.

The journey by sea took several weeks and by the end of it Jess was literally sick of the sight of the water and the noise of waves. She was endlessly bored, but deep down she consoled herself that the calm routine on a ship was far better than being anywhere near the Fold. The farther away she stayed from it, the safer it was.

A few weeks spent in near silence, with the exception of a brief dialogue with the captain, allowed her to put her thoughts in order and fully comprehend what had happened. At night Jess saw her father in her dreams over and over again, and he was so much like his old self, the one who had affectionately stroked her hair and spoiled her with fascinating stories from the past, that it seemed wild to her that the same man could try to subdue Alina to take her power of Sun summoner and use it to destroy everything and everyone around.

The contrast was so great that it was still hard to believe. Jess remembered perfectly well that her father was capable of cruelty, and the scars left on her back as the terrifying reminder were itchy but he was her father, and she was trying to hold on to the good things that had once bound them together. Baghra would surely scold her for that and call her a weak foolish girl whose naivety would lead to a bad outcome, but hadn't Baghra herself stayed by Aleksander's side for centuries and supported him by going along with her motherly feelings?

Jess was well aware of her grandmother's combative nature. Baghra would have found a way to kill the Darkling long time ago if she really wanted to stop him. Perhaps she clung to the idea that time would change Aleksander and allow him to pacify his lust for power and his hatred of the royal dynasty, that used the powerful Grishas as toys for entertainment at fancy parties, and Jess could not blame Baghra for that blind hope for the best.

When she arrived in Ketterdam, the first few days fell entirely out of her mind as she rested and slept pretty much all the time. Dreams saved her from the severe anxiety that came in choking waves and filled every cell of her body. Along with it there were some destructive thoughts full of obsessive paranoia. The Darkling was the strongest Grisha she had ever known, and she could easily imagine the rage her father would feel when he learned of her runaway. She would never be safe as long as he lived, but now Jess had no one who could truly confirm the Darkling's death in the Fold. She wished she had a mass of useful spies in different parts of the world, like Baghra, but she clung to the tip about Nina.

Jess was a couple of years older than Nina, but their rooms were next to each other in the East part of the Little Palace. That was one of the first reasons for their friendship. The other was that their impulsive nature and desire to act out of spite caused them to be punished by their teachers more often than anyone else. They practiced together, spending time chatting and also helping each other during their studies, trying to get their powers under control. Jess joked that she volunteered to be a guinea pig for Nina when she slowed her heart or made it gallop when Nina tried to squeeze her lungs, depriving her of oxygen and instantly plunging Jess into a state of animal panic for her life.

They got along well, so well that they once trusted each other with their most intimate secrets. Technically, Jess was known as one of the servants in the Little Palace. Baghra insisted that the fact of her kinship with Aleksander should have remained in shadows because of the fear of possible future consequences. But the burden of that truth grew heavier and heavier as the years went on. Nina was her only friend and Jess found it increasingly difficult to lie to her about why she always disappeared in the evenings. So on her fifteenth birthday she told Nina about her ability to summon shadows. Putting two plus two together was easy as everyone knew that such a gift was only inherited through the Morozov's bloodline.

Nina appreciated the trust that had developed between them, so in return she opened up about the planned escape. Jess was well aware that her friend was opposed to the idea that Grishas should serve the Crown without complaint and unconditionally participate in someone else's war as part of the First Army. Nina was a hopeless romantic and a relentless adventurer. She wanted something more out of her life besides orders, fear, and endless fighting with creatures in the Fold.

Perhaps it would have been easier for the two of them to run away together, but Baghra kept saying that Jess lacked self-control and the Darkling would instantly send an entire group to find her. The moment was not suitable and with tears in her eyes she had to let Nina go alone, enduring her father's interrogations later, when the alien darkness surrounded her with a thick veil and hurt by touching bare skin. Even if her father guessed the truth, he could not learn it from Jess.

Now she wanted to think that the memory of their former friendship would help her connect with Nina, though she was worried that Nina's opinion of her might have changed over the years. She could believe that Jess had helped her father of her own will and not by the order with the threat of cruel punishment, because who really cared about such details? During the war your motives and sincere desires don't mean anything — it's your actions that matter. And that's how Jess soothed her conscience after another nightmare that threw up pictures of the horrible things Aleksander forced her to do.

Finding someone in an unfamiliar city was a new task for Jess, but she was always the one to learn quickly, so the good two hundred kruge left in the hotel receptionist's pocket helped to get the names of a couple of places where Heartrenders usually worked. After visiting these places, however, Jess was left with nothing. If Nina had ever worked there, it wasn't under her own name. So her next attempt was the town square. You can understand a lot about the people of any place if you listen to what they say.

So Jess lurched in the shadows, clinging to scraps of other people's conversations about debts, gangs, Dime Lions, brothels and tourists. The flow of information poured over her in an avalanche, made her get lost in the names and places. Everything began to blend into indecipherable white noise, and Jess stopped focusing so much on her self-control. The shadows instantly came alive, licking her fingers with a unbodied chill and becoming thicker under the visor of some fancy bakery. The anxiety began to override clear thoughts, and Jess shook herself off just in time to see two guys walking past her, making lively conversation.

The vaguely familiar "Nina insisted that this is where they sell the best pistachio ice cream" caught her attention, and she let her curiosity take over, following the pair in a decent distance. She hadn't been able to follow them all the way, however, as someone's hand suddenly tugged at her shoulder, pulling her sharply into an empty alleyway. Her shoulder joined painfully with cold bricks, and Jess felt both indignation and fright as she looked up to see some Suli girl, whose face was half concealed by a grey cloak. She looked so thin and frail at the first side that Jess was surprised that the girl held the blade so confidently at her throat. Not the first time, apparently.

— The city is drowning in corrupt politicians and dishonest merchants, but you guys still rob an ordinary tourist? — the silly joke flew off her tongue before her brain had time to assess the dangerous situation.

Suli's brown eyes narrowed but her grip on Jess' shoulder was still firm.

— You were too focused on my friends for a tourist. Jesper spotted you three blocks back.

— I honestly don't understand…

— Did Pekka send you? Is he so desperate that now he's recruiting some pretty faces from Ravka? Your accent is minimal but my hearing is too trained.

The stranger's face remained impenetrable, so blank that Jess immediately noticed the contrast with the anxiety that flashed in the girl's eyes. God, if Nina wasn't in Ketterdam and Jess had come all that exhausting way for nothing, just to die in an empty alley because of someone else's suspicions, then Aleksander had better be dead indeed so he would never learn of such an embarrassment.

— Look, I arrived in Ketterdam three days ago and I have no idea who Jesper, Pekka and who else are! I'm looking for an old friend, Nina Zenik, I heard a familiar name in the crowd and just followed, so you don't have to worry about your safety. Whatever problems you have with Pekka, I won't give you any trouble, — Jess felt much more confident, though Suli's skeptical look full of mockery made it clear that she doubted Jess' ability to hurt anyone. That's better.

— How do you know Nina?

The jubilation that gripped Jess could be compared to the first alcohol in life that hits instantly and intoxicates too fast. Or to the time when she'd managed to confront her father and her shadows had swallowed his whole. She didn't hide the relieved exhale and visibly relaxed, pulling the stranger's dagger away from her with a slight smile.

— We'd been neighbors once. I hadn't seen her in a few years but I hoped to get some help. It's a matter of life and death, literally, and if you agreed to take me to her, I'd owe you forever.

— You know, Jesper says the same thing when he tries to convince me to leave him with cards alone for another game, it's a surprise you haven't met each other yet.

Part 3