#is he the royal version of moon moon?

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion's character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, I hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. I would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. I love you guys!

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves atop your slit, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently suckling on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing mound unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your slit resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs in your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens for a moment, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look when your face is hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, locking eyes with you, and the proximity between you is such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You have failed him, just as he has failed others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs in the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Be that as it may, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

[mimi-0007]

FATHER & SON: James Earl Jones with his Father Robert Earl Jones on Stage in the 1962 Production "Moon on a Rainbow Shawl."

Robert Earl Jones (February 3, 1910 – September 7, 2006), sometimes credited as Earl Jones, was an American actor and professional boxer. One of the first prominent Black film stars, Jones was a living link with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and 1930s, having worked with Langston Hughes early in his career.

Jones was best known for his leading roles in films such as Lying Lips (1939) and later in his career for supporting roles in films such as The Sting (1973), Trading Places (1983), The Cotton Club (1984), and Witness (1985).

Jones was born in northwestern Mississippi; the specific location is unclear as some sources indicate Senatobia, while others suggest nearby Coldwater. He left school at an early age to work as a sharecropper to help his family. He later became a prizefighter. Under the name "Battling Bill Stovall", he was a sparring partner of Joe Louis.

Jones became interested in theater after he moved to Chicago, as one of the thousands leaving the South in the Great Migration. He moved on to New York by the 1930s. He worked with young people in the Works Progress Administration, the largest New Deal agency, through which he met Langston Hughes, a young poet and playwright. Hughes cast him in his 1938 play, Don't You Want to Be Free?.

Jones also entered the film business, appearing in more than twenty films. His film career started with the leading role of a detective in the 1939 race film Lying Lips, written and directed by Oscar Micheaux, and Jones made his next screen appearance in Micheaux's The Notorious Elinor Lee (1940). Jones acted mostly in crime movies and dramas after that, with such highlights as Wild River (1960) and One Potato, Two Potato (1964). In the Oscar-winning 1973 film The Sting, he played Luther Coleman, an aging grifter whose con is requited with murder leading to the eponymous "sting". In the later 20th century, Jones appeared in several other noted films: Trading Places (1983) and Witness (1985).

Toward the end of his life, Jones was noted for his stage portrayal of Creon in The Gospel at Colonus (1988), a black musical version of the Oedipus legend. He also appeared in episodes of the long-running TV shows Lou Grant and Kojak. One of his last stage roles was in a 1991 Broadway production of Mule Bone by Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston, another important writer of the Harlem Renaissance. His last film was Rain Without Thunder (1993).

Although blacklisted by the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s due to involvement with leftist groups, Jones was ultimately honored with a lifetime achievement award by the U.S. National Black Theatre Festival.

Jones was married three times. As a young man, he married Ruth Connolly (died 1986) in 1929; they had a son, James Earl Jones. Jones and Connolly separated before James was born in 1931, and the couple divorced in 1933. Jones did not come to know his son until the mid-1950s. He adopted a second son, Matthew Earl Jones. Jones died on September 7, 2006, in Englewood, New Jersey, from natural causes at age 96.

THEATRE

1945 The Hasty Heart (Blossom) Hudson Theatre, Broadway

1945 Strange Fruit (Henry) McIntosh NY theater production

1948 Volpone (Commendatori) City Center

1948 Set My People Free (Ned Bennett) Hudson Theatre, Broadway

1949 Caesar and Cleopatra (Nubian Slave) National Theatre, Broadway

1952 Fancy Meeting You Again (Second Nubian) Royale Theatre, Broadway

1956 Mister Johnson (Moma) Martin Beck Theater, Broadway

1962 Infidel Caesar (Soldier) Music Box Theater, Broadway

1962 The Moon Besieged (Shields Green) Lyceum Theatre, Broadway

1962 Moon on a Rainbow Shawl (Charlie Adams) East 11th Street Theatre, New York

1968 More Stately Mansions (Cato) Broadhurst Theatre, Broadway

1975 All God's Chillun Got Wings (Street Person) Circle in the Square Theatre, Broadway

1975 Death of a Salesman (Charley)

1977 Unexpected Guests (Man) Little Theatre, Broadway

1988 The Gospel at Colonus (Creon) Lunt-Fontanne Theatre, Broadway

1991 Mule Bone (Willie Lewis) Ethel Barrymore Theatre, Broadway

FILMS

1939 Lying Lips (Detective Wenzer )

1940 The Notorious Elinor Lee (Benny Blue)

1959 Odds Against Tomorrow (Club Employee uncredited)

1960 Wild River (Sam Johnson uncredited)

1960 The Secret of the Purple Reef (Tobias)

1964 Terror in the City (Farmer)

1964 One Potato, Two Potato (William Richards)

1968 Hang 'Em High

1971 Mississippi Summer (Performer)

1973 The Sting (Luther Coleman)

1974 Cockfighter (Buford)

1977 Proof of the Man (Wilshire Hayward )

1982 Cold River (The Trapper)

1983 Trading Places (Attendant)

1983 Sleepaway Camp (Ben)

1984 The Cotton Club (Stage Door Joe)

1984 Billions for Boris (Grandaddy)

1985 Witness (Custodian)

1988 Starlight: A Musical Movie (Joe)

1990 Maniac Cop 2 (Harry)

1993 Rain Without Thunder (Old Lawyer)

TELEVISION

1964 The Defenders (Joe Dean) Episode: The Brother Killers

1976 Kojak (Judge) Episode: Where to Go if you Have Nowhere to Go?

1977 The Displaced Person (Astor) Television movie

1978 Lou Grant (Earl Humphrey) Episode: Renewal

1979 Jennifer's Journey (Reuven )Television movie

1980 Oye Ollie (Performer) Television series

1981 The Sophisticated Gents (Big Ralph Joplin) 3 episodes

1982 One Life to Live

1985 Great Performances (Creon) Episode: The Gospel at Colonus

1990 True Blue (Performer) Episode: Blue Monday

[science-lings]

I’ve probably said this before but I think one of the coolest and most underutilized ideas for LU Wild or any versions of the character is the implication that he knows about most of the other Links, he has an (admittedly very limited) idea about what most of their adventures were like. Him being the last in the timeline gives so much opportunity to make his relationships with the others more complex. There are things he knows that no one else does, he may even have an idea for how the timelines worked. 

Like we know that some things about the previous heroes were known, at least to the royal family. Zelda has her little ceremony thing that references at least three of them and the canon inclusion of their clothes and weapons in totk means that there are things known about them. I personally subscribe to the idea that Wild is the one that writes the descriptions for the things in his inventory, so when it comes to his predecessors items, he’s pulling from his own knowledge of them to write those. 

We also know that he pulled the sword a decent amount of time before the calamity even rose, and at that point he had already become the most skilled swordsman so what else could they have done to help prepare him for his role in everything? What about get him to study the myths of those that came before him? That’s a possibility right? 

I know we like to really lean into the whole ‘memory loss’ part of his story and it’s an important part of him, but just once I want to see him really knowing things about the others, like how Four’s shield gets passed down to Wind through his family, or how the fierce deity mask was used against the moon in a battle in another land, or how sky’s tunic was a uniform that he got from winning a race with a large bird or how he can get a hold of items that really shouldn’t even be in his plane of reality. (Twili helmets, Ravio’s hood, goddess sword (renamed ‘white sword of the sky’ in totk, etc) 

There’s always a focus on what Wild doesn’t know, about his past, about magic about populated civilizations, it would be nice to recognize what he might know. 

[golvio]

i dont really know how to word it, but ganondorfs speech after his rehydration about reshaping the world, crushing opposition, as a king does. i just went "oh so like rauru but hes being more honest and less nice about it."

Yeah, like...the story's mostly uncritical nationalism, but there are certain lines that stand out that I interpret as Ganondorf's existence being a natural consequence of Rauru taking power. Not just as plain, mundane secular politics, but as the universe trying to rebalance itself after Rauru's attempt to build a perfect world by suppressing things like monsters and the blood moon that were a natural part of the world but he nevertheless saw as undesirable.

Take Jerrin's line about the Horned Statue, for instance:

"As there is the Goddess of light, then it follows that she would have an opposite—the horned god. Like light and dark, one cannot exist without the other—their power manifests through the other's existence."

The Horned God wasn't originally the opposite of Hylia. That role would be better suited by an entity like Demise. However, there's a certain implication that, in the absence of a competing counterforce, certain entities eventually emerged in response to Hylia's existence or were shaped by the consequences of her actions to occupy that niche. Jerrin's tone makes this process of opposition sound inevitable.

And then there's the Depths being a mirror image of the surface, a little like ALTTP's Dark World or ALBW's Lorule. The terrain of the Depths is an inverted version of the surface's terrain. The Lightroot names are even the names of the Shrines spelled backwards, and are in the exact same locations as their aboveground counterparts. As above, so below. And although the Depths were Ganondorf's prison, they eventually became his home and the metaphorical womb-of-the-earth where he could be nurtured back to health and reborn. As their ruler, he, too, is a mirror image of someone above: first Rauru, and later his descendants, culminating in the current Zelda.

As Rauru was the self-proclaimed King of Light, it would stand to reason that there would eventually be a King of Shadow who took charge over the things the King of Light refused to touch. Both the monsters and the blood moon, which IIRC existed well before Ganondorf took on the crown if Rauru and Mineru built the shrines to suppress them before the events of Zelda's memories, fall under the Demon King's dominion. And then there's that one theory that Ganondorf might be the Sage of Shadow, which made me literally say "oh shit" to myself because that was the one element that was missing from Rauru's stable of pals compared to the seven sages of Ocarina of Time. Of course Mr. Light-Must-Dominate-At-All-Times wouldn't want a Shadow guy around, even if they were an absolutely loyal secret-keeper and professional warcrimes-mess-cleaner-upper like Ocarina of Time's Impa.

But also...Rauru wasn't just "a king." The narrative presented him as the absolute monarch over the nation, literally sent by the gods to rule. He's elevated so far above "the common people" that even the leaders who aren't part of his Important Royal Bloodline are presented as faceless and subservient, always wearing masks in his and Zelda's presence and never giving their own names, as who they are isn't as important as their oath to serve the king. However, there cannot be absolute power without the capacity to abuse said power. No matter how "nice" the guy currently in charge is, systems of absolute divine-right monarchy are problematic by nature and inevitably create conflict. Ganondorf was the other side of the coin of absolute kingship, the uncomfortable truth lurking in the background, never outright said but always felt. It's kind of why a lot of our ancestors got together and agreed the whole "divine-right monarchy" thing wasn't a great idea.

[playasmo]

IM BRAINROTTING ON THE OBEY ME CAST AS FATHERS,

how would they name their children???😩😩😩

how the obey me brothers would name their children

disclaimer; these are my personal headcanons, feel free to tell which names you liked the most!

edit;;i posted the side characters version too! go check it out if you want <//3

genre; fluff

lucifer;

lucifer would either name the baby with a variation of his name, or homage somebody or something dear to him

if it’s a boy, lucian or lucius. both names means light, if it’s a girl, he would call her lilith. danica is a second option: the name means morning star.

mammon;

he would either name his baby after something expensive. another option is mashing up your names together

if it’s a boy he would go for midas, which means touch of gold, or straight up fortune,

if its a girl, esmeralda which means emerald. or diamond, the name speak for itself.

leviathan;

definitely name his baby to reference something he likes. some people may think he would name his children after an anime character he likes, but that is not the case

if it’s a boy, henry without a doubt, the name means house ruler. he would also like christopher, to simeon’s joy, which means bearing christ. very very ironic.

if its a girl, mira, which means ocean. he also likes umiko, a japanese name that means child of the sea.

satan;

he takes inspiration from human literature and would name his baby after a character or author he particularly likes.

if it’s a boy, william which means protection and desire. he chose it because of william sherlock scott holmes, probably the most famous fictional detective in the history of literature, it’s also a reference to shakespeare. another boy name is dante which means everlasting, after the italian poet dante alighieri, that wrote “the divine comedy”, which is set in heaven, purgatory and then hell.

if it’s a girl he would name her juliet which means youthful, another tribute to shakespearen literature. emma, after jane austen’s book, is also a name he likes, it’s means whole or universal.

asmodeus;

he only choose the name if it’s pretty. often goes for floral and fancy names that sound aesthetically pleasing to him.

if it’s a boy, narciso which means of narcissus, named after the myth.

he briefly considered cupid but he threw away the idea and choose a simple but pretty name like prince, which means royal son.

if it’s a girl, regina which means queen, or bellerose which means beautiful rose.

beelzebub;

he is a family-oriented person, and will try to pass his values to his children.

if it’s a boy, titan which means defender. despite being the name of a fruit, he also likes açaí which means weeping fruit.

if it’s a girl, ohana which means family in hawaiian, another name he consider is belarmina which means beautiful armor, he choose it because it’s starts with ‘bel’, just like his and belphegor’s name.

belphegor;

big fan of space-related names, it’s even easier for him since there are a lot of stars and constellations he can get his inspiration from. like lucifer, he would also try to pay homage to lilith.

if it’s a boy, sirius which means glowing, named after the brightest star in the earth’s night sky. he also likes badar which means full moon.

if it’s a girl, a name variation of lilith, something like lilithe or just lili. he also likes alrisha, one of the brightest star of the pisces constellation, since pisces is his and beelzebub’s zodiacal sign.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations 🌇🌇🌇

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion

🌇 Capricorn Venus or Venus at a Capricorn degree: you will have people that will love you even after 10 years! You are unforgettable and people keep memories of you for a longg time let’s just say this.

🔆 Libra Chiron, Chiron in the 7th house and Chiron at a Libra degree: you might take care of more house chores than your partner. Your partner might go on weekend trips with friends and you will be staying at home, taking care of home.

🌇 If you have Virgo Mars, you appear very sexual or just a sexual person to your close friends and co-workers despite this being your authentic self or not.

🔆 We people ask me about compatibility? The easiest trick to check is to look at your crush’s parents Sun signs. It tells you which energy they are familiar with. They might not always have the best relationship with their parents and those Sun signs, BUT it is the energy they are most comfortable with despite everything. Like your crush is a Cancer Sun and their parents are Gemini Sun mom and Cancer Sun father. They are very comfortable with Cancer and Gemini energy or understand it best. The other hack I would use? Check their best friend’s Sun sign or the person that they are a very close friend with. Usually people are so similar to their friends that they often share placements, so it’s very revealing too. Like your crush is a Cancer Sun, but his best friend is Taurus Sun? He is very comfortable with Taurus energy then. And you know how they say that guys are kind of in love with their best buddy? It helps if you are a female version of that said best friend. 😂

🌇 If you have Virgo Mars, you appear very sexual or just a sexual person to your close friends and co-workers despite this being your authentic self or not.

🔆 Libra Chiron and Chiron in the 7th house: you might get blamed for a lot of things your partner does! Like your partner could start having a drinking problem, people could start saying that this person started drinking because of you. Especially for bad habits.

🌇 You will feel the most productive when the Moon is in the same sign as your Mars sign. You will feel the most active and like you can achieve a lot in the day when Moon is in Sagittarius for example if you have a Sagittarius Mars.

🔆 8th house sign shows what you feel trapped by hence which freedom you desire. Cancer over the 8th house you feel trapped by your own emotions and you dream of freeing yourself of your strong emotions. Taurus over the 8th house you dream of financial freedom, yet when you have lots of money, you tend to feel trapped by it.

🌇 Neptune in the 1st house: people get a lot of ideas of how you’re like, personality wise, your life experience and outlook on life, so when they get to know you they get either positively surprised or a bit disappointed, because their illusion of you breaks. People also feel like they can perceive whichever traits they want to see in you in that moment without anything really connected to the actual you.

🔆 Neptune in the 3rd house, Uranus in the 3rd house: you might get into the habit of muting people on social apps. Sometimes because you literally don’t want to hear from them too often and other times, because you get so easily OVERWHELMED with constantly receiving messages.

🌇 I think a clear sign that is better that you date that person after your first Saturn Return is if you have Saturn in the 1st house synastry overlay or Saturn in the 1st house in the Composite chart. The same goes if you have Saturn in someone’s 7th house in synastry, might be a better chance at a relationship with them after Saturn Return.

🔆 Scorpio Rising and Pluto in the 1st house seem to always come up with some ‘royals’ metaphor. They love to talk about that. Perhaps because they see themselves as powerful or striving to be like other power figures, in their head: royals.

🌇 Look at the chart wheel and check all degrees of the planets. This will be your age of your big transformative, life-changing, influential events of your lifetime. Never underestimate that. If you have Venus at 22 degree, you may most likely never forget what you learnt about love, relating, values, work ethic, your talents, self-care, self-worth and self-esteem that year when you were that age.

🔆 Cancer Mars men seem to view women as something to be conquer, yet become really selfish, arrogant and a bit narcissist when in actual partnership.

🌇 You know the trick with getting more recognition and likes on social media is really just embracing your MC energy. If you have Leo MC, just post sunset picture that only you know so well how to take. Or post something creative, like something you drew, painted or you singing, performing, playing an instrument. People love seeing content of the themes of your MC sign, degree and house ruler.

🔆 The decan of a woman’s Sun sign can point to her partner, spouse. For example: if you are Taurus Sun, Virgo Decan, your partner can be Virgo Sun.

🌇 Scorpio, Aries Ascendants are those people you just cannot picture in your head against someone. They are already full on their own, hence they don’t even seek partnerships that much. Libra Ascendant on the other hand, always needs to be in a partnership. Like having a partner is part of their identity. Like Leonardo DiCaprio, a Libra Rising native. Gemini, Virgo, Aquarius Ascendants, I gather, tend to like connections, but would prefer a friendship over partnership. They really prioritise friendship and platonic connections.

🔆 People that have Lilith conjunct Juno can really struggle with actually committing. Or this is the person who might constantly say that they are not ready for a relationship, despite probably being very charming, even flirty in their own attitude.

🌇 People often wonder and speculate, even question, someone’s sexuality if the person has Venus conjunct Mars, especially in Cancer, Libra, Taurus, Aquarius and Gemini.

🔆 Virgo Lilith woman was conditioned at some point in their life with perception that red nails, or even make-up is “a whore look”. They might be silently judge women with red nails or too much make up. So they prefer minimalistic, really natural, clean-looking nails and make up (or non) to avoid their own mental picture prison they created for themselves, because they might even judge themselves if wearing it.

🌇 A lot of Pisces Risings, Neptune in the 1st house, Neptune aspect Ascendant women and even men loove to wear shells jewellery, like a necklaces, earrings, an anklet.

🔆 And also Pisces placements are fans of anklets, jewellery around your ankle.

Credit goes to my astrology blog @astroismypassion

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Some betrothed/royalty au doodles, ft. Reader soothing Eclipse during one of his stressed-to-the-point-of-breaking-down-moments, and the first time Reader met Sun (and, not realizing who he was or that he was a royal, decided to start happily chatting with him as if they were on the same level, which caught Sun off guard lmao)

Some betrothed/royalty AU tidbits n info below the cut!

- Reader is a footman! Or,, lady in waiting. Or foot,,person,,, in waiting. Whatever the gender neutral version is, they’re that to Eclipse!

- They’ve known Eclipse for a long time! They were born to a servant who worked in his castle, and tended to follow their mother around as she worked- occasionally crossing paths with Eclipse, and sometimes playing games with him when he was avoiding his tutoring or responsibilities sjdhdjd

- They’re smart and practical, and Eclipse wants to make them his advisor as soon as he has the jurisdiction to do so. They’re very good at seeing the issues politicians debate over from the outside view, one of the people, but also can keep in mind what the political side to an issues is, and Eclipse often asks them what they think when they’re alone and considers it very unfair that their voice would never be taken seriously if brought up at the table.

- Eclipse has had a crush on them for a while lmao

- Also he’s over protective and jealous and has broken at least one(1) bone in defending reader from a rude servant or pushy royal lol :3

- (he has extensively researched ways he could possibly marry Reader without making the entire kingdom hate them n call them a manipulative vex for it)

- Sun and Moon overlook two neighboring kingdoms and have been ‘betrothed’/co-ruling them for a long time! Eclipse’s counsel has decided it would be a good idea to have Eclipse, when he takes charge of his kingdom, be the third to this ally-ship and make a trifecta of three countries that can act as one

- So they’re not really BETROTHED betrothed, but the social implication is basically the same lmao

- (none of them r super thrilled, Eclipse especially lmaoooo)

- Reader first meets Sun separately from Moon, and assumes he’s just a fellow servinghand at the banquet being held to celebrate Eclipse n Sun n Moon meeting under the same roof for the first time

- They start chatting with him like it’s no big deal and he’s so used to ppl being all kiss-ass or backhanded that he can’t stop thinkin abt it for days

- They meet Moon in the garden! They show him their favorite spots and a small patch of blue violets they’ve been trying to cultivate

- When they realize who Sun and Moon are, they just about die on the spot from pure societal horror

- They try to apologize in a thousand different ways, but Sun n Moon, more than a little intrigued/smitten with them, both won’t have it and encourage them to be just as they were

- Before Sun n Moon realize they have feelings for Reader, they realize ECLIPSE has feelings for Reader, and, definitely not bc they r big jealous and also in love with Reader, make it their personal mission to cockblock make sure Eclipse never has the chance to confess or have an almost-kiss with Reader

- Reader loves Eclipse! When that love turned romantic is unsure, and how they’ve been able to cope is by Not Acknowledging The Feelings At All and also denial lmao. When they start to crush on Sun n Moon, they can’t rlly deny the feelings anymore and have several existential and romantic themed crises over it

- None of the boys tell each other about their feelings for Reader bc they all just messy like that <3

- When they all end up confessing to Reader, it’s separately and secretly, and Reader is so shocked that they just say “HHUH UM YYEA I LIKE U ALSO” without thinking

- So now they have three secret royalty bfs and have several more existential crises about whether this is cheating and how in the good golly fuck they got THIS many sweet mans all 🥺👉👈 over them

THATS ALL I GOT FOR NOW LOL OK BYE SORRY FOR LENGTH N RAMBLES

[jade-green-butterfly]

Today...is a very special and important day for me, folks~💝😊Three years ago, a certain special troll became the highlight of my 2020 during rough times and immediately won my heart from the moment I knew he would have his own destiny and journey to find others like him...and his family. Since the first Trolls movie, I have always admired dearly him from afar and the moment I saw him during the Trolls World Tour trailer, my heart literally poured out him and I have truly loved him for just being his wonderful, lovable self ever since~💘🥹 And that certain special troll, is none other than...Cooper~💗🌈✨

I have always been a big fan of him and he’s always been my favourite troll to begin with but every time I see him and hear him, my heart always beats so much for him, making it aflutter and words cannot describe how special he is to me...how he means the whole world to me~💞🌈💗🌈💞I mean...can you blame me? >//w//`< How could I resist and say no to such an adorable face to go with such a darling like him??💖😍💖😍💖 Cooper is more than just the goofball that we all know and love...he’s my goofball and so much more...~🥹The most amazing troll with such talent, a unique voice and a dazzling yet loving royal family to go with him...~🌟Cooper is also the prince of my heart, who deserves all the love and happiness in the world...and I feel so blessed to be the one to give it all to him, along with my heart~🥰💝💝🥰 April 24th 2020 was the day I drew Cooper for the very first time, and when I started shipping myself with him. And together, him and I have remained strong and inseparable ever since!🫶🏻😌💕We’ve had such happy memories together - becoming part of his world and family, sharing one another’s lives and music, even officially marrying and creating our own dear little life together~✨💜💗💚✨And I wish to keep on loving Cooper forevermore~💓😊

Which is why I dedicate this very special piece above (with a textless version too) to us, inspired by one of my favourite scenes in TWT - where King Quincy and Queen Essence were happily together with their twin eggs (before our dear Cooper was cruelly snatched away from them😭) and I wished to capture that tender moment between Cooper and I, with our darling Toby's egg nestled warmly within my hair~🥰 EEEEEEE~!!😍🤩😍I am so, sooooo happy and truly over the moon of how all of this turned out~!💖🥹💖Just how I imagined it, especially Cooper snuggling against me with his neck wrapped around me as we lovingly embrace one another, feeling like the proud parents we are~💜💗💚😚I am also chuffed with the cherry blossoms I drew to make the bed cover look more prettier~🌸 I would like to deeply and gratefully thank many wonderful peeps out there for helping bring my beloved OTP to life, such as my lovely @x-elyssa-x, KaitlinEXE, @gloryraiin, @jaguardorado16, @vampireflowerarts, @zoey-nillesen, @king-trollex-fangirl, @glitchy-witchy1994, @blooeyedtroll, @kittyball23, @angoraram, @yeenstrollart, @asa-de-ouro, @whiteflame-selfship and many more, for all the beautiful commissions, gift art and loving support you have given me over the past four years, and for putting all your fantastic work and effort, and heart and soul into every single one which I absolutely love to this very day~💞🌟💙💜💛💚🌟💞 I can’t thank you all and the rest of the Trolls Fandom enough for how amazing and welcoming you’ve all been to me when I first jumped onto the bandwagon, and I am so happy I did too!💖🤗Thank-you all so much for everything, including all the dear friends I’ve made and all the loving supporters I have gained - bless you all and don’t stop being awesome~!✌🏻🤩✨💕 And finally, thank-you ever so much for everything, Cooper...my cupcake king and sweet jellybean~🩷♛🧁🫂For always being there for me, making me feel such love and happiness I never could imagine~💝🥰🌈I am truly blessed and the luckiest lass alive to such a wonderful darling like you in my life and by my side~💗😇🪽U///w///U

🎊💜♓💗♎💚🎉~Happy 4th Anniversary, Cooper...my beloved prince, my one & only...~ I love you so much with all my heart, more than life itself...and I will keep on loving you so, forevermore and beyond~🎉💜♓💗♎💚🎊

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Cooper (c) DreamWorks Trolls/DreamWorks Animation

Trollsona Jussy/Justina Butterfly & Toby/Toby's Egg (c) @jade-green-butterfly​ (Me~!)

[nightmare-grass]

Odd Moon-related Connections in Genshin Lore

- Glaze Lillies and Nilotpala Lotuses only bloom at night

- Glaze Lillies may have been the favorite flower of Guizhong, who’s hair was grey/white and who’s outfit had stardust on it (she was the god of dust, so unless she was a god of stardust specifically that’s some odd things about her)

- Nilotpala Lotuses bloomed at the bleeding feet of the Goddess of Flowers after being cast out of Heaven in the wake of the Seelie disaster

- There is at least one account in Sumeru that claims Liloupar came to the people in a moonbeam. Quote: “Our prayers to the Goddess of Flowers have borne fruit. Her envoy came to us in a moonbeam, granting us life-saving medicine and clean water … …She called herself Liloupar, born of the lilies” and later in that same passage, Quote: “At moonrise, she warned us that the water from the canal may carry disease.” So many mentions of the moon in one text about Liloupar and her relation to the Goddess of Flowers.

- Seelies seem to have a moonlit sky with sparse clouds reflected in their bodies, the bright orb in their heads looks like a moon.

- Guizhong’s death produced a cloud of dust that blocks out the sky and creates a darkened area in Liyue.

- Istaroth was said to be responsible for the Sin Shades, who only show up in Evernight in the dark.

- Nahida has some moon connections in her titles, and she has white hair and pale skin, like Paimon, who has a starry pattern on her scarf like Guizhong had on her robes.

- The Goddess of Flowers built a city for her offspring, the Jinn, and she called it Ay-Khanoum, translated to English that’s the City of the Moon Maiden.

- You can link the mythologies of the Goddess of Flowers and King Deshret to King Solomon and Astarte, who was a version of Ishtar, who is the root for the name Istaroth

- The power of the Aranara is the power of dreams, they exist in the dreamscape. And with how much we use a harp to connect with Aranara, it’s just as likely that music is linked to dreams. And Venti, one of Istaroth’s thousand winds, is a bard who knows all songs past and future, and plays a harp.

- The moon sisters were named Aria, Sonnet, and Canon, literally musical terminology.

- There’s probably a connection between the three moon sisters and Teyvat’s concepts of Time, Memory, and Dreams

- One of Venti’s powers is that he can pull up memories from the far flung past

- The quest for Time and Wind has these sun dial looking things that are actually moon dials since the puzzle only activates at night

- Seelies make a jingling tune, Nahida makes a jingling tune, the Goddess of Flowers taught Rukkhadevata the “source song” which birthed the race of Aranara, and the Pari fought the abyss using the Great Songs of the Khavarena, which seem to summon pure elemental energy aligned with Dendro.

- One of the fairytales that was weirdly important to the Abyss Order before we learned that fairy tales could hold the truth about the past if it’s been rewritten/deleted in Irminsul was the Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies. I’ve already noted a few pale characters with crowns or royal status but there was also a character called the Night Mother, who seemed to be the villain of the story. Another odd Night connection.

- Andersdotter wrote The Boar Princess, her signature rose design is on the cover. A rose is also on the cover of The Pale Princess and the Six Pygmies, so could she have written that too? As a member of the Hexenzirkel, it’s pretty likely.

- The Seelies were said to be beautiful pale people, and Rukkhadevata is pale with white hair, as is Nahida. Another trait they share are elf ears. Klee is pale with fair hair, and she’s an elf; from what we know of Alice, her mom, she could look much the same. Although he’s old, Pulcinella of the Fatui Harbingers is also an elf with white hair and pale skin, fitting the description. Seelies are fairies, and elves in real world folklore are considered fae, so could the Seelies have given us the elf race in Genshin? Or the Moon Sisters, who presided over the Seelies? Elves seem to be as long lived as gods, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

- I think Aria, Sonnet, and Canon represented Memories, Time, and Dreams, symbolizing the past, present, and future respectively. I don’t know the order of the goddesses in their roles, but I do know they had a fight and two died, leaving only one, and wouldn’t it be something if that surviving moon goddess became Istaroth, the god of Time? Maybe even Irminsul came from the death of the moon goddess of Memory? I don’t know what could’ve happened to the goddess of Dreams, but maybe her death caused the constellations that are canonically made up of the crystalline fruits of Irminsul in the sky box of the Firmament.

(If I could post more than 10 pictures I would but you have the internet, you can look up photos of the stuff I’m talking about.)

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 25

I make two promises about the end of this chapter. It's not what it looks likes, and that it WILL be fixed in the next chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24

****

Steve was keeping busy. He was! Running a shop full time and his apprentices were only half way through their training, he didn’t have time to moon over Eddie.

But as much as he wanted to lie to himself he knew that there were too many times that he spent checking his phone for text messages, voicemails, and IG DMs. It was lame. And worse?

He had to watch this.

Vickie walked up to Robin. “Hey, babe. Can you show me how to do the multiple scheduling again? The time I tried, I accidentally scheduled all the way out to the year 3025. Which really, really shouldn’t be possible.”

Robin giggled. “I think they had to put in an end date and went as obscene as possible thinking that they wouldn’t have to update it in their life time.”

Vickie blushed and ran her hand up and down Robin’s arm. “Thanks for showing me again.”

Robin nearly fell out of the chair. Vickie quickly grabbed her and barely managed to prevent her from taking a nosedive.

“Right,” Robin said, ducking her head to hide her flush of embarrassment, she showed Vickie how to do the scheduling again.

He turned to Chrissy. “Please save me from this disaster, Duchess. It’s killing me.”

“You wish is my command, my liege,” she purred and stalked toward the reception desk.

Her outfit was barely this side of professional, but considering what other artist wore in their shops, he couldn’t call her out on it. It was pretty much the preppy pastel version of those other shops. Tight, light blue, skinny jeans with a baby blue tank top and white suede jacket, draped artfully on her elbows to show off her tattoos.

She leaned over the desk giving Robin and Vickie an eyeful of her perky breasts. She reached over and curled one of Robin’s loose strands of hair around her finger. Robin turned absolutely red.

‘You coming to Club Rainbow tonight?” Chrissy simpered, using the easier to say nickname for the Rainbow High Club.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, glancing over at Steve and then back to her. “With E–with it being so quiet lately, I figured we weren’t going.”

Chrissy smiled. “I’m always down for bright lights, pumping music, free flowing booze, and...” she leaned closer, “pretty girls.”

If Robin had been red before she positively scarlet now.

Chrissy twisted so she was leaning back on the desk. She flicked a long nailed finger under Vickie’s chin. “How about you, green-eyed girl? You coming, too?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped.

But it worked.

Suddenly Robin was tripping over her feet to say that of course she was going clubbing tonight, that of course she was. And that she was clearly out of her head to even think to stay home.

“Good,” she said, tilting her head back to look at Robin upside down. “Now convince your boy over there to join us.”

Steve gasped. “Traitor!”

Chrissy laughed. “Come on, Steve, you need to get out and feel the earth move under your feet for a night!”

His phone rang and suddenly his was on his feet in an instant.

“Hey, Eds...”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed into the phone. “You sound tired, you okay?”

“No, I’m good.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“We were thinking of going to the club tonight,” he murmured. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Go, have fun, babe,” Eddie said. “You deserve it.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, while I’m thinking about it,” Eddie said nervously. “Did you find someone to fill my tattoo slot?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” Steve replied, pained. “I wouldn’t just have someone come in and fill your spot, Eds. That’s your three hour block of time, because you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course, I am, Stevie,” Eddie said gently. “I just worry about you losing money you could be making.”

“I know it’s twelve hours I could be making more money, I know that. It’s just–”

“Hey, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m being rushed out the door. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No, of course. Miss you lots.”

“Miss you more.”

He hung up feeling worse than before he got the call. It had only been three days, but he felt his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He walked back to the reception area, rubbing the end of his nose. He cleared his throat. “You guys go on ahead without me tonight. I don’t feel so good.”

The three girls shared glances but nodded.

Argyle took a deep breath. “Why don’t Jonathan and I come over with pizza while the girls go to the club?”

Erica came out her room with a grin. “Did someone say club?”

Chrissy cheered. “Hell yeah, girlie. We are going to have so much fun.”

Steve thought about the offer while the girls made plans, then nodded. It was better than being alone and he was really starting to like Jonathan now that he had broken it off with Nancy.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The entire shop breathed a sigh of relief.

The club would have been better with its loud music, lots of people, and free flowing beer, but pizza night with the guys was good, too.

“Wait!” Steve said, his brain catching up through his fog of misery. “Erica is only eighteen!”

“Buzzkill.”

*

Sunday was awful. Dustin and Suzy kept gushing about how cool it was that they knew someone who was playing with Metallica.

He was thankful when his phone rang. He walked out to the front porch to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” came the warm voice on the other end of the line.

“Wayne?” Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after seven.

“I figured since we were both missing our boy, I’d give you a call.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Steve murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but yeah I guess he can’t call you if he’s on stage.”

“This is alright, yeah?”

“No, course it’s okay, I appreciate you thinking about me.”

“How have you been holding up?”

“It’s only been four fucking days and it’s liking I’m missing a limb. I can’t imagine what you felt when he moved to Indy.”

“That’s different,” Wayne murmured, “I knew it was coming. This was sprung on ya, it was bound to feel like shit. What’s eating ya?”

“God, I don’t even know. It’s just when we were finding our feet, the rug got pulled out from under us and I feel like I’m the only one that fell on my ass. And I know that’s not fair to Eddie. I get to live my dream, but he’s not allowed to live his? What kind of shit boyfriend would I be?”

“A hurt one,” Wayne muttered. “I always tell Ed when he gets like this he has two choices with me. You do all the talking and I listen. Or I do all the talking and you let my voice wash over you like a warm, comforting blanket.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks and he hurried to scrub them away.

“You talk, I just need a kind voice on the end of the line.”

Steve listened to him talk about the book club and a used car he bought recently when his truck finally gave up the ghost. He let the warm slow Southern drawl just wash over him and soothe his soul.

Finally Wayne ran out of things to talk about, but by then Steve was feeling better and they said their goodbyes.

And somewhere in Hawkins Wayne stood his kitchen with tears of his own streaming down his face, missing both of his boys.

*

Steve’s heart leapt every time he got a call, a text, a voicemail. He tried not to sound disappointed when it wasn’t Eddie. He made doubly sure he didn’t sound like that when Wayne called. They were both missing Eddie and he wasn’t about to take it out on him.

Robin was getting more and more concerned. She knew that he wasn’t sleeping, that he was barely eating enough to function and was pretty much living off Monsters and coffees too large to be sane.

She really got concerned when he ordered a six shot espresso and downed it in one gulp.

“Steve...” she said warningly.

“I took it slow like everyone wanted,” he spat out bitterly. “I respected his space and his pace. I rescued him from his evil ex. I dotted all the Is and crossed all the Ts and I’m stuck here wondering if he’s going to find someone better than me. Someone who likes metal, not just go to his concert because he’s the playing. That he’ll find another tattoo artist. A better one. One that will really let him fly. That he’ll pack up and move to LA and I’ll be here with a broken heart and shop I will learn to resent.”

“Oh.” Because what else could she even say to that. Because sure, he could do what Max did and just follow Eddie to LA, but he couldn’t do it immediately. He still had at least four months mentoring Chrissy and Argyle. Eight months on the outside. And by then what would be the point of moving out there.

If Steve was like this after a week, six months would kill him.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen,” Robin said. “You just have to trust him to talk to you and do what’s best for both you. How has he sounded when he calls?”

Steve frowned for a moment. “I guess like me, happy to hear my voice, sad that we’re apart. But there is this tiredness underneath and a hint of anger.”

“At you?” she asked, putting her arm around him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

“He probably doesn’t know how to say it,” she said wisely. “Just give him time.”

Steve nodded.

*

Steve made the first impulsive decision he’d made since deciding to be Hop’s apprentice.

He was going to get a tattoo. He made the appointment with Hop and calmly explained what he wanted and where.

Hop leveled him with a glare. “You sure you want this? You’re an artist yourself, Steve. You know how hard it is cover up a mistake. If I do this there is no going back.”

Steve nodded. “I want it because even if it doesn’t work out, even if we go our separate ways, I want something to remember him by.”

Hop took a deep breath and started his work. It didn’t take long. It was a small tattoo, simple enough in its design. He would have done it himself if Robin hadn’t stopped him.

Soon it was done and Hop scooted back on his chair. He cleaned Steve up, bandaged it, and wrapped it in plastic wrap.

“There you go, kid,” Hop said. “I hope it’s what you wanted.”

Steve nodded. “It is. I promise I won’t regret getting it.”

Hop sighed and got to his feet. “You’re smart man, Steve. A good tattoo artist, too. You’ve been through so much in such a short time. I think you need to take a break and just think. About the shop, your apprentices, your employees, friends, Eddie. Decide what you want and then go for it okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It’s just I’m the only full artist at my shop, I can’t take time off without closing it.”

Hop nodded back. “I’ve been there. I just worry about you.”

Steve sighed. “I worry about me too.”

*

Steve was vibrating out of his skin. The band was coming home today. He was going to see Eddie today.

But when the bus pulled up to the depot and they all filed out, there were only three of them.

Miranda and Jeff were hugging and kissing, Brian and Cecil were hugging. Even Gareth was getting swamped with hugs from his twin and mom.

But–

“Where’s Eddie?” Robin asked first. And Steve was grateful that she was there.

The other three members of the band looked at the ground, around them, anywhere but at Steve.

“He made us stop in Hawkins,” Jeff murmured and even Miranda was starting to look concerned.

“He wanted to spend a couple days with his Uncle Wayne,” Gareth said.

Steve heart plummeted to his stomach. “He’s not coming home?”

“It’s just for a couple of days,” Brian hurried to explain. “The tour just gave him a lot of things to think about.”

“Oh.”

Steve turned on his heel and ran out of the depot, shouts of his name following him out.

****

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[yaekiss]

#MailroomOpen! hi hi my darling qi this is the promised letter to my Special Little Guy!! letter delivery for yandere tartaglia with a nsfw reply back and also a meme reference for number 25 if it's alright? pet names are a-ok, encouraged even. ok here goes, thank you so much for doing this!!! i am cringe but i am free ♡

(The letter that arrives is black with gold borders and purple ink, with a purple lipstick kiss mark on the back of it. There are doodles of stars, moons, skulls, and hearts in the margins. The penmanship is neat and playful, every i and j dotted with either stars or hearts, depending on the subject matter. A small box of the same color as the letter comes with it, inside is an ocean-blue collar with a tag that says "My Ajax". It looks expensive.)

My lovely Ajax,

It's only been a few weeks since you left, but in my opinion, any time away from you is too long. I miss your presence, your conversation, your cooking, and some more...intimate things. I'm sure you feel the same. I really wish you didn't have to leave so often, sometimes I think you might care for your Tsaritsa more than me~ Hehe, I'm only joking, of course. I know you're very loyal, and love me very much... (There's a furious scribble over the next words, but you can just barely make out that it says "maybe more than you should") Anyway, moving on, this letter should arrive with a collar. I picked them out special just for you; blue like your eyes! There's a matching leash, but I kept it with me so we can use it when you get back, hehe ♡. Make sure to show me how pretty you look with it on, okay puppy~? ...And come back safe. I'll be patiently awaiting your return, hopefully soon.

~Your darling

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Tartaglia, no gendered terms for reader, Tartaglia calls you "dearest exalted", mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Tartaglia, worshipping (reader receiving), collar and leash (used on Tartaglia), masochistic Tartaglia, mentions of mirror sex, Tartaglia calls himself puppy once, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Weird, as soon as he handed his parcel to me, he started booking it to your address, like damn it's not a race?! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

A medium-sized parcel finds its way into your possession, placed in front of your doorstep. The box is made of smooth varnished timber and the intricate details are inlaid with gems and shards that match the stunning shade of your eyes. Judging by all the elaborate carvings and the overall quality of the trunk, it must have cost him a pretty penny, especially if it was commissioned just for you. 

Flipping the lid of the box open at its hinge, your eyes are greeted by the sight of the sheer amount of items he sent to you. Ajax is nothing but a generous lover and it's definitely evident with all the gifts he prepared for you this time. Starting out, there are a few neatly packed food containers imbued with a charm that helped to preserve their contents perfectly over the lengthy delivery trip. Each one is labelled with the name of the dish it holds and after looking through the various containers, you realise they’re all your favourite dishes, lovingly made from scratch by Ajax.

To a side, there’s a hefty drawstring pouch. Tugging the bag open, a large pile of mora shimmers back at you. You should’ve known he would spoil you like this even if he were away. Tucked underneath the bag of mora, is his letter.

The envelope is a version of the one typically used for fatui matters, except this one is a lot gaudier than usual. …It’s the kind used for letters addressed exclusively to Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa. Just the look of it is expensive: A frosted gold border lines the front of the envelope and his wax stamp seals the letter shut at the back, away from prying eyes. Surely using an envelope reserved for the Tsaritsa for you is more than a bit… blasphemous. Nonetheless, you try not to think too much about it and gingerly open the letter up to read his reply.

His handwriting is scrawling and slightly messy as always but you know that it’s just from the eagerness that he seems to constantly have while around you, like some sort of oversized puppy. Present is a tangible tenderness in all his words and you can just about picture the silly little smile he had on his face while he wrote this letter to you. Additionally, there are hearts blotchily drawn in a rusty red around in the margins to match your love letter sent to him. His response reads:

“To my highest divinity, my owner,

It’s so so so good to hear from you, dearest exalted! Ah, I can’t believe you’d miss me, I’m swooning, at least now I know I’m not the only one left longing. I saw you mention that you missed my cooking so to remedy that, I prepared some of your favourite dishes, I didn’t quite know which one would be the best to send to you, so I just sent all of them, haha. Please let me know if they’re to your liking, dearest exalted. Regarding missing my presence… there’s only 1 solution for that which you’ll see soon enough!

I saw your scribbled-out words. ‘Maybe more than you should.’ My reverence for you must not be enough, and that’s why you still doubt me, doubt my love for you, right, dearest exalted? Although the Tsaritsa may be important to me, however, even the loyalty I have for her cannot hold a candle to the utmost adoration that I have for you. Far, far, far from it. What you see right now is but a mere glimpse of my endless devotion and love for you, dearest exalted. There is so much more that I would do for you. Just say the word, that’s all you’ll ever need to do, and I’ll carry out any of your orders till the end of my days. Even in death, I’d still be yours to command. Beyond the grave, that’s how much you deserved to be loved, dearest exalted. (His paragraph drips with festering lovesickness in the way the ink looks to be redder than the one in his inkwell.)

Ahem, moving on! Thank you for the collar, it sits wonderfully around my neck and fits like a glove. Really brings out my eyes too, was that intentional? And the tag… oh, the tag. I must confess, I’ve imagined what it would be like, to have you attach the leash to it and tug me in front of the mirror, making me watch through the reflection as you have your way with me. I would let out all the sounds you said you liked hearing from me, my moans or whines or screams, I’d give you anything you want. You could be as rough as you’d like to too, pulling harshly on the leash as you take your frustrations out on me, you know I love whatever you grace me with, dearest exalted.

I’ll end my letter here, my remaining words can be relayed when I’m back soonest, I promise! Remember to tell me if anyone has wronged you, I’ll gladly rid you of them, dearest exalted. Can’t wait to be under you again! 

Your most devoted puppy,

- Your Ajax -”

That’s certainly… a reply worthy of your contemplation, to say the least. Inserting his reply back into the envelope, you wonder what else he could’ve left unsaid in a letter that’s already chock full of the rawest form of veneration towards you. Sitting in pensive silence, your mind reels. Fortunately for you (or perhaps it’s the contrary), your answer arrives frighteningly fast, disrupting the stillness. 

There’s a knock at your door, a familiar keening whine bleeding through the wood.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[evaarade]

New Mandalorians ARE the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians

Ok so, a long time coming but here's the gist:

I truly think that the New mandalorians are, to canon, what the True Mandalorians are to fanon.

Yes fanon, not Legends Canon because they aren't as good as people make them out to be in, you guess it, fanon.

Let's get on with it.

To start, let's established what I mean with Fanon True Mandalorians and Canon New Mandalorians.

New Mandalorians are show to:

Want to move on from their Imperialistic History

Not erasing any history (see: murals in the city) nor the language (see: the mando'a all over the city, in the Academy and Satine openly speaking it) nor even their warrior traditions (see: kids still knowing how to fight)

Seem to be the majority of the population, composed by a big mile by Non-Warrior AKA the majority of the population even before the civil war.

Are hated by the Death Watch

Are the middle ground

Want and Do focus on the non-warrior traditions and elite (after centuries of it being the focus on their sector), but not to the extreme of banning all warriors (see: The Mandalorian guard, the Protectors - who are lead by Fenn Rau) instead possibly asking the Warriors who Refused to back down to not start shit in return of having the least damaged planet/moon aka Concordia

Are trying to make Mandalore and it's people Better

Those outside of the Royal Guard and the police don't seem to wear armour, though those seem to not be the bounty hunting version of it and those who Don't wear it certainly seem to use clothes with the beskar heart - the Kar'ta Beskar - in them

Follow a more progressive type of government - out from the Warrior's Elite control and more into the non-warrior population (aka the majority of the population)

Don't seem to have problems calling non-warriors Mandalorians as long as they meet a certain criteria

The Fanon True Mandalorians, meanwhile (from what I could gather from fanfictions):

Warrior Focused but out of necessity because of the Civil War, but don't seem to want to focus All on the warriors

Are Hated by the Death Watch

Are the middle ground

Care about their culture

Don't seem interested in going imperialists

Are trying to make Mandalore and it's people Better

Wear Armour even outside of battle

Don't seem to be the majority of the population - fanon varies between them being a minority or being a big part of the population (or at least, the minority with the support of non-warriors)

Follow a more traditional Mandalorian Government

Don't seem to have problems calling non-warriors Mandalorians as long as they meet a certain criteria

From these, we can that they ARE similar, and if we go further into semi-canon (which is iffy but we are handling fanon while talking about canon, so I will allow it) we do know that the New Mandalorians and True Mandalorians were at least relatively neutral towards each other, imagine if the True Mandalorians were their fanon self? They would get along way better!

But that's not the point of this post, the point is to show how the New Mandalorians are the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians with a few tweaks - which I do think I already proved from the points alone.

Out of the 10 points I spoke about, 6 they immediately agree on (even if on the last points they need to have a conversation on what their mutual criteria would be), with the first and seventh point being an half point since they are in a civil war and seem to be part of warrior clans, and we were not shown any of the warrior clans in the New Mandalorians outside of Satine, a Pacifist that leads by example (hence not using her armour, especially because she might have trauma related to it), Korkie, a child that may very well not see the point to when everyone doesn't wear it + there is peace (maybe he only used it from traditional celebrations), and Almec, who doesn't wear the armour until there's a civil war again.

Either way, summed up it's 6 points out of 10 that they agree on, more than half.

The New Mandalorians could simply be the True Mandalorians but evolved post war, or, as I suggested in the start of the post, they ARE the Canon Version of the True Mandalorians.

Simply because they weren't wearing armour at all times or fighting or part of the War, people threw them under the bus as 'genocidal colonizers' (even though nothing in canon suggests otherwise, if anything it suggests the opposite).

Personal Thoughts: The Canon New Mandalorians and the Fanon True Mandalorians are a LOT more alike than people think and it's sad that all they can seem to write is 'New Mandalorians Bad, True Mandalorians the BEST EVER'.

[odditycircus-2002]

Little out of the box but me and a moot talked about a while back whole we thought given a certain status: Mk1!Shang becoming the royal painter for the Outworld court due to a natural talent and him using materials from backwater place he lived to make paintings and other stuff for cheap to get by. He gets by Jerrod/Sindel whoever and becomes the royal painter to make portraits and such around the palace, such as making portraits for the champions who win during the tournament.

Pre!Medusa!Reader is more or less the same in the Mk1 version, she is a more prominent healer and is a well known/respected mage, having trained Rain, the current Archmage in the past.

Bascially over time, Shang Tsung feels a connection and even an obsession towards her growing. He begins to paint her in secret with a lot of paintings dedicated to her beauty.

When you mentioned painting with Shang Tsung, this image was the first thing to pop into my head. 😂 Still, that's an exciting take on Shang Tsung in MK1.

From what you're suggesting, it seems like Pred!Medusa!Reader is further out of reach for Shang Tsung than in my works due to her status. Shang Tsung is a simple painter compared to the famous Healer, who caught his eye when she and Sindel had tea in the Hanging Gardens. While Y/N is admittedly pleasing to the eye, which drew Shang Tsung's attention, their intellect and passion kept it. Y/N showed Sindel a new type of anti-venom they created, having filtered the venom through a carnivorous plant they carefully bred to eat corpses. Although, The Empress did not seem as enthralled as they were.

"That is impressive, Y/N, but was this man-eating plant necessary?"

"Uh yes, well, it was a project I had brewing I've been meaning to see to fruition. I thought I may as well use the new plant for something."

That is when Shang Tsing stepped in from behind a pillar, acting as if he was just passing by and not listening the entire time.

"It's an ingenious use of such a plant. Not only did Y/N create a new type of flora to dispose of corpses and further fertilize the land, but they also created a new type of anti-venom that will no doubt save many lives."

Y/N gives a bright smile, which sends heat to bloom within Shang Tsung's chest.

"See? He understands."

Unbeknownst to Y/N, this small interaction would begin Shang Tsung's obsession with them. After Sindel introduced them before Y/N dismissed themselves to return to their workshop, Shang Tsung began to work secretly on their perfect portrait. This portrait perfectly encapsulated their beauty and intellect. Yet, much to his frustration, it seemed as if he always felt short of capturing their essence. How could this be?!? He, Shang Tsung, is well renowned for his talent in capturing the essence and appearance of a person to a fine detail! Yet, their beauty is so great that the moon would hide itself in shame, and koi fish forget to swim and then sink the moment they laid eyes on them.

So Shang Tsung would take the time to watch them from afar and to engage in any interaction with them that he could, committing every last detail of Y/N to memory to the point that he could paint them in his sleep. Still, it's not enough. It's not the real thing. It's not Y/N.

[moonlightgrisha]

Little Palace at Night

Ch. 10 After your grand display, you must face the consequence. Are you content with losing the Black General's trust? [Masterlist] Previous - Next

All days look the same.

Training with Botkin, summoning with Baghra, reading your books, and try to get some sleep.

You wear your kefta, blue as the Etheralki's uniform. It was given you as soon as you returned to the Little Palace. Nobody asked you if you would have chosen another color.

Some Grisha actually like you. They are fascinated by your strange nature, they help you feel at home, they don't care where you are from.

Some others don't make an effort to hide their dissatisfaction. You are a joke to them, a little spoiled royal whose pretty tricks are good only for tea parties.

You walk among them like a ghost.

You spend all your free time reading, especially all reports about war, politics and diplomacy you can get your hands on. The rest of the day you dive right into your training, even though you are not that strong as Botkin would like, or even close to anything Baghra would find acceptable.

Baghra, indeed, is the finishing touch of all your days. No matter how inadequate you may feel, she always manages to make you feel worse. She urges you to learn summoning in the daylight, which seems impossible at first, but as you start practising it, she finds more and more flaws.

She says it's a waste, all this power in a vain little princess like yourself.

You know she's trying to make you angry. And you get angry, and sometimes leave slamming the door of her bloody hut, but you always come back, because you want to learn. You want to master your power.

Baghra may whine as much as she pleases, but you are learning fast.

Genya introduces you to David, a lovely Durast who wants to know everything about your moon summoning, even though you don't know much yourself. He claims that light, like all things, is matter, and you can use it as a blade or a bullet in the same way you shape it as sparkles or spheres. Maybe General Kirigan could teach you the Cut. David insists about it, saying he's pretty sure you can work on your own version.

You don't reply to that.

You have not talked to the Darkling for a while, now. If he asks about you, requesting reports of your training, you are not aware. You see him, of course, passing through the Little Palace and sometimes at dinner, but he never speaks to you, and you never go after him.

You pretend you don't care.

But you find yourself going over and over your last conversation at the Winter Palace, always in the most unconvenient places, like during your training, or when you lie in bed, exhausted after a long day. It is unnerving, and you must put a stop to it, but you don't know how.

There is no friendship between you and him, as both of you have already made clear in your own choice of words.

You will never, ever make the first move, ever.

And you will never apologize. For what!? Just to have your little skirmishes back?

You have more important things to think about, now.

That's what you set your mind about, and you carry on stubbornly.

You'd never think you'd be betrayed by your own body, in your own beloved nighttime.

So, tonight, when you wake up with a startle, finding yourself standing instead of lying in bed, it takes a while before you realize you have been sleepwalking for the first time since you moved to the Little Palace.

Those few seconds feel like a vortex of confusion. You look around, lost, and grab whatever is in front of you. Well, whoever, actually.

As you look up, it turns out it is the General himself.

You try to step back, but he takes a firmer grip on you.

You look at him in confusion long enough to make him feel compelled to speak.

"You exited your quarters and didn't seem alert. The opchrinki reported to me". he explains.

That's the first time you hear his voice in so many weeks, you lost count.

"Sleepwalking", you manage to answer. "See, I did not lie about that".

"No", he repeats, his voice low. "You didn't".

The shapes around you are clearer, now. You are right in front of his rooms, and the door is opened. Why on earth were you going there?

"I am sorry to have disturbed you", you say. "Goodnight".

He shakes his head, and only then you notice you are shaking, too. Your hands tremble, even in his firm grip. "You are in a state. Please".

He gestures to the open door, and before you can refuse, you have already stepped inside.

The light is dimmer than you remember, and he is not wearing his kefta, but a black, loose shirt that looks much more informal. He gestures to an armchair and while you go sit, you ask: "Did I wake you up?"

"You did not". He pours something in a glass, then hands It to you. "I am not having much sleep these days".

His war table is set up with miniatures soldiers and banners. You look at it, while you take the glass to your lips, capturing an unfamiliar scent. "I thought you did not drink liquors".

"I said I do, sometimes. And I reckon you need something stronger than tea".

You sit in silence, sipping the liquid. He leans on the war table, observing his miniature army, stubbornly ignoring you. But you can only be ignored so long.

"That Is quite the army, General Zlatan has gathered", you remark.

He doesn't even lift his gaze from the table. "What would you possibly know of General Zlatan's wherabouts".

His dismissive tone enrages you. You put down your drink. He doesn't know yet, but you can play this game just as he does, maybe even better.

"Well, according to rumors, and to the pamphlets that have been smuggled around in the stables, he has been gathering quite an army in Os Kervo. Deserters, mostly, but regulars too. It seems, our First Army General believes West Ravka might be better off without the Royal Family. You'd be surprised, he doesn't have kind words for you, too. Plus, his father's country estate is not that far from my aunt's, and I remember stepping on the General's feet a few times at receptions. I also remember him not being fond of the Lantsov. Strange way to charme a girl with royal ties."

The Darkling is staring at you, now. How satisfying, finally being more interesting than his miniature army. It takes him a long time to try to speak. "How-"

"I read".

You can spot the ghost of a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

"And what does he say about me?"

"That you are arrogant, impulsive and positively dictatorial".

"And do you agree with him?"

"Are you trying to dislike me even more, General?"

He chuckles, and you might think you have won him over, at last. But it's not that easy, and it has only started.

"I do not dislike you, princess. I don't trust you".

Delusion is not easy to hide, but you try to mask it with pride. "You only call me princess out of spite" you reply.

"How would you have me call you, then? Moon Summoner? Or maybe Sankta?"

"I have a name, you know. And you do too, even if you never cared to tell me"

He frowns. The shadows are starting to consume the already feeble light, but maybe you are just imagining it. His words, though, are as sharp as rocks. "My name is something to be earned".

If this was a chance of reconciliation, it went terribly wrong. You stand up and move to the door, without a second look. "I shall leave you to it. Goodnight".

But then, you reconsider. There is still a way, maybe, if you can swallow your pride. It might not get through him, but it could make you feel better.

You are almost on the door when you turn to him. Your words are like a river in flood.

"You know, I really am sorry for disobeying your orders. I was reckless. At the same time, I don't regret it a bit. Isn't that strange? I am still convinced it was the right thing to do. But I should have discussed it with you. Maybe I would have done it anyway, even if you didn't approve, but sneaking behind your back was vile. Just, please, know… I cared for your support more than my actions might have shown. And my satisfaction in putting the Queen in her place was utterly ruined by the fact that you were staring at me like the finest traitor of the lot. Thank you for the drink, It made me look like a fool even more. Goodnight."

You turn around, planning to leave as fast as you can. There will be time to consider all the things that escaped your mouth, later, in your bed, as another sleepless night comes to an end.

But you cannot leave. He has come after you, and he's holding you back, his hand on your wrist.

You look back at him in disbelief.

"Let's walk", he says, slowly. His eyes are such a mistery, he looks at you like he has been knowing you for his all life, and yet you know so little of him.

"Fine".

The two of you walk together in the empty corridors of the Little Palace. There's not a sound, not a soul. Beams of light are cutting through the windows, breaking the thick darkness which you step on.

He takes you outside, on a terrace leading to one of the courtyards. The fresh night air dissipates the last bits of anguish that linger in your heart. Behind you, the Little Palace shines in the night.

"You care so much to regain my trust. Why?"

He has been observing you for a while, already, but you only noticed now. You were captivated by the night sky, the moon you belong to, watching over you. Under this shimmering darkness, you feel you can reply honestly.

"I sometimes think you are the only one who could really understand this". You open your hand, and the glow seems to reflect the moon up above. He looks, charmed as he has always been by your power, and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't dare. A rare power like yours, I cannot begin to understand".

"Just like yours might be incomprehensible to most".

"Not to you?"

"I think I have known darkness all my life".

Your words leave him speechless. You realize something has changed in him, you feel it in the way he stands next to you, hands behind his back, composed as always, but with restless eyes, deep breathing.

When he finally speaks, he has regained control of his emotions, or this is what he wants you to think.

"You wield a majestic power, you know politics, and your insight has proven right more than once. We would be powerful allies".

"And the matter of trust?" you ask, your heart racing.

"You seem willing to work on that".

You look at him and see a wicked smile on his lips. There is tenderness and provocation, and oh, you like this game, but you'd never let him win. "This is not only on me. I require more clarity from you too. If we are to work together, we shall be equals".

You hold out your hand. He waits a moment, then he shakes it, but instead of letting you go, he holds it a bit longer, a bit closer. This is not an handshake anymore. But then he makes one of his witty remarks.

"Fine. You do know how to strike a bargain, princess".

You snort, annoyed, and take back your hand. "Please!"

You lean on the terrace and look once more at the darkened landscape, the silent woods, the silhouette of the Little Palace lying asleep under the moon. Finally, you turn to him, and you don't know this, but your smile, and the randomness of what you say next, it fatally breaks his heart .

"After all this melodrama, if I ever find out you betrayed my trust, General, that will be the end of you".

He smiles back, bitter and aching, but you mistake it for a smirk. His voice is a whisper that gets lost in the night.

"And the end of me shall be".

Taglist

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[itscomplicatedx]

Marvel at the beginning of the show: So this show will be about Loki learning to love himself and not being afraid of being lonely anymore.

Also Marvel: completely ignores Loki‘s trauma and tries to make him an evil narcissist** (Mobius is not qualified to make that assessment, especially since according to the TVA, Loki was supposed to do the bad things he did) at the beginning, tries to stick him with a Thor light version of himself, and has him end up alone, where once again, very few people will know or care when he did something heroic.

I liked season 2 a lot better than season 1, but that ending was whack.

If you don’t feel like reading a long rant, feel free to skip below. If you disagree with me and want to make your own long answer, write your own post. I’m mostly here to express my opinion, not get into long debates.

**Marvel doesn’t seem to understand much at all about mental health. I wish we could get whoever wrote Moon Knight to write everything about mental health in the MCU as they handled it in a decent way for a TV show. The last guy they tried to call a narcissist (Tony Stark) literally either tried to or sacrificed himself to save the universe more than once; as did Loki and his variants. Loki was set up to fail since the beginning of the timeline; and while obviously he’s far from innocent, acting like it was all his grievances were in his head and “imagined slights” or just a function of a narcissist is a pretty awful message to send about trauma. We know for a fact there’s a shit load wrong with Asgard, and an amazing slew of double standards in the MCU. It would be a great way to explain it to say it was all part of a timeline that was meant for somethings to turn out a certain way, but I’m not sure they’ll do that. But that’s my head canon anyway, based on what we saw in the What If series. There we see that when certain events aren’t set up and happen differently, heroes can go off the trail and villains can be just fine.

They conveniently showed Loki how Odin “loves him”, but not that he literally kidnapped him and lied that his birthright “was to die”, and just basically let everybody else off the hook including people who have done worse than Loki.

I understand if they didn’t want to use another actual mental health term, but instead of “narcissist” they could’ve just gone with Loki having “severe attachment issues” or something more vague like that, but then they might’ve actually had to talk about how he got them. Because I guarantee you when the majority of people hear the term narcissist they think of the worst kind who have all the worst full blown traits on the spectrum, not of the fragile kind, who do have self-esteem issues, share a lot of traits with BPD, and are said to be more rare. They most definitely don’t think of people who would sacrifice themselves.  

I personally see Loki as Borderline with some narcissistic traits (who wouldn’t have them being raised a royal in a place like Asgard). With Tony I think some of his supposedly worst traits were him trying to cover up his trauma. Sorry Natasha, but an assassin/spy who works for a shady government organization is not qualified to make a mental health assessment. Neither is Mobius.



[prof-ramses]

Decided to rant about Striker's character and why I think he works (Warning: This ended up being massive)

The best analogy about Striker that I can make is that he isn't really a cowboy, but a comic book villain who themes himself around being a cowboy. Now that I've done the meme-y version, allow me to actually explain.

A lot of people seem to overlook that there is a single thread that holds together Striker's personality, and is the root of most of his characterization. And that thread is a need for respect.

Let's look through his appearances and explore how his obsession manifests:

Harvest Moon Festival:

In his first episode, Striker presents himself as a model Wrath imp in order to gain the trust of Millie's family and Blitz. The only person he breaks character around is Moxxie, since he assumes Moxxie's insecurity about not being good enough in the eyes of his in-laws will make him automatically respect someone who they do approve of.

He later breaks character when Blitz catches him, he tries to convince Blitz that they're too good to live their lives around the whims of nobles, he tries to show himself as someone who can get Blitz what he wants, or rather, what Striker thinks Blitz wants, again to seem like someone who's "got it figured out" .

Another note worthy thing is his very professional way of speaking with Stella in both this and the next episode he's in, we'll get back to this later.

Western Energy:

The first point of interest is easy to miss the significance of, when breaking into the Richest Cup he makes it as dramatic as possible, he's trying to show himself as dangerous enough to warrant such cocky recklessness while surrounded by goetic demons.

After he takes Stolas we see his hideout which is full of scavenged western imagery that looks like an ominous lair, but upon closer inspection is actually a meager living arrangement for a deeply troubled demon.

His actual rant to Stolas includes a line about nobles taking everything lower class demons care about, showing WHY respect is important to him, he's never felt that he, or the part of society he belongs to, have been respected, or as he later says, all nobles do is try to talk over them.

Striker torturing Stolas shows how his need for respect is reflected in him being an assassin, he thinks he can get respect through fear, that having the most primal form of authority over someone will make him feel more significant. And this is why Stolas and I.M.P. are his greatest enemies, their irreverence makes them the only targets that don't play his game, that remind him of what he really is, a desperate, fragile, hero in his own mind, willing to do whatever it takes to prove his importance, not to others, but to himself.

Once again, he's begrudgingly cordial towards Stella despite his hatred of royals, in an effort to get even a fleeting acknowledgement of his worth. Showing that his belief that he can play into people's minds to get what he wants extends to his emotional wants as well.

Oops:

Here we see Striker in a much different light, mostly due to his new employer. First off, he's much more open with his frustration and moments of weakness, despite Crimson actually being physically present there and being able to see and hear everything. I think this is because Crim is a rare example of someone Striker doesn't feel he needs respect from. Crimson is, at least in Striker's eyes, an imp who has found moderate success by mimicking the lifestyle of a royal. He might not show it, but Striker probably resents Crimson just as much as, if not more than, he resents Blitz and Fizz, since Crimson has no actual royal support (that we know of).

Speaking of Blitz and Fizz, in his interaction with them in the cage scene we get the most blatant example of Striker thinking that his victimhood as an imp makes his "accomplishments" more worthy of respect, as he completely skirts around the fact he's the only hybrid out of the three, and we also learn he's aware of all this on at least some level when he threatens Fizzarolli for comparing him to a royal due to his arrogance.

And lastly, the climax when he grabs Fizz and the moment when we get the immortal line "Why is it always a sex thing!?", and why is it always a sex thing? Why do the members of IMP and those close to them not fall for his act? Put simply, it's due to trust, no matter how skilled or intimidating he is, Striker is still a loner with no one and nothing to fall back on beside his own skill. In sharp contrast to this the main cast have strong enough bonds that they know someone will oppose him. For example, Striker's attempt at demoralizing Stolas fails because he didn't think Blitz would trust his employees enough to do the saving.

So, yeah, I think Striker currently has a better thematic through line than any other villain in the series and I'm interested in seeing where they take him next. That being said, I feel Crim could be just as great and will probably make a similar post for him after his third episode.