#just imagine it’s 200 years into the future

[ivyllamauwu]

Sometimes I forget that there’s only a 1cm difference in hight😭 (You’re short Lancelot, Tristan isn’t short though you are)

[im-secretly-a-frog]

🌻

Ooh a new one!! Oki

My brain is rotating doing the microwave noise rn so apologies if I make not very much sense

So like you see. My dad has a collection of classic books. And. There is one of them that is somewhere between 180 and 200 years old!! Isn't that cool?! A book that could be 200 years old is metres away from me!!

[bluecollarmcandtf]

"Dude, I'm in your brother-in-law!"

Panic twists your gut as the bizarre scene sinks in! Those unnaturally clouded eyes are the trademark of Jimmy, your long-dead friend, and they're sitting in the skull of Carlos, your sister's fiance! The ghost is up to his usual antics, possessing yet another guy in your life without any regard to you.

"Did you imagine a tight gym rat like this would wear undies like these?" Jimmy chuckles, referring to Carlos' patterned boxers, "I mean how could you be so intimidated by a guy who's got hearts on his crotch?"

The underwear is the least of your worries: the man is supposed to be walking down the aisle in an hour! It may have been a dick move for your sister to get engaged to your high school bully, but that didn't mean you wanted her future husband to be late to the altar!

"Don't even bother asking me to get out of this body, dude!" the deep baritone of Carlos sings with Jimmy's cadence, "The only thing I plan on getting out of is this tux! Training like this needs to be appreciated, and who better to appreciate it than you? I'm sure you'd love to know what your sister is getting tonight..."

"I mean just look at these abs. It's like a rock hard washboard if you want a feel..." Jimmy winks one of his starkly blank eyes at you, "...speaking of being rock hard, it looks like you're enjoying this bonding time with your new brother-in-law. After all, Carlos does need to apologize for all the bullying he did in high school."

With a racing heart, you shush him and beg for Johnny to leave. He needs to return Carlos to normal before anyone notices! The wedding would be over if someone found the groom naked and flirting with the brother of the bride!

"If you're gonna be my new little bro..." Jimmy says with an unsettlingly accurate impression of Carlos' demeanor, "...then I think you should get to know me. Come on and grab my fat, meaty pecs; pinch my nipples; let me know who the real man is around here..."

It's hard to resist. You've only ever caught stolen glances at Carlos. The jerk would always shove you into a locker when he caught you staring in his direction, yet now he was begging for your attention.

"Come on, bro. Grab my athletic little ass and grope my crotch. It's the least I can do after targeting you for all these years."

Before you realize what you're doing, you find yourself rushing towards the shredded latino and pressing yourself against his exposed body, layered with dense musculature. Part of you still expected Carlos to kick you in the nuts and call you a slur, but his lips instead gleefully embrace your own.

"Damn, if I'd known being queer was this good, I woulda married you and not your sister!" he exclaims. You just roll your eyes, knowing Carlos isn't actually saying these things. Jimmy is just puppeteering his mouth for your amusement, "I bet having your dick in my mouth will be better than the tits of any girl! The only way a piece of crap like me can apologize is on my knees..."

You stifle a moan as all 200 lbs of the naked jock drops to his knees with a dopey grin. Carlos' soulless eyes stare at the tent in your pants like it's the most desirable thing in the world. It doesn't take long for him to unbuckle your pants and open his mouth...

...twenty minutes later, you're still catching your breath while Carlos slowly redresses.

"Now you can watch your sister marry this homophobic dirtbag and know that you've shoved your shaft down his throat," Jimmy purrs, enjoying his final moments in Carlos' form, "I'm not going to brush his teeth, so he'll have to taste you throughout the entire wedding."

You giggle at the thought of the guy wondering about the strange flavor in his mouth while reading his vows. Somehow, Carlos doesn't seem as big or intimidating as he once did.

"If it were up to me, I'd commandeer his whole life," Jimmy went on with a sparkle of enthusiasm in Carlos' clouded retinas, "I'd walk him out there in nothing but his heart-patterned undies and announce to his whole family that he's a flaming homosexual. Then I'd like to spend a couple weeks working his body as a stripper at the nearest club, and of course I'd come home to you every night..."

The idea of Carlos coming out to his orthodox family and working as a stripper is an insane one, but it did turn you on. It's too bad your sister's taken a liking towards him, otherwise, you'd tell Jimmy to go crazy with the guy.

"Imagine your old high school bully coming home to you every night, hot and sweaty from dancing all day, with a new skimpy costume for you to explore. Damn, I'd want you to find a new way to degrade me each night while I wore him. It'd be healthy, I think, after all he's put you through."

Jimmy's crazy ideas never cease to amaze you. A little time belittling Carlos sounds hot as hell!

You give Carlos one last kiss and remind your paranormal buddy that he has to leave soon. The stud frowns, looking sad that he won't be possessed by a gay spirit anymore. At least you know that if this man ever screws up, if he ever wrongs your sister, if he ever hurts her; Jimmy is just one seance away from charging back in his body and making this twisted fantasy come true. It's only a matter of time before Carlos screws up his marriage, and then he's yours.

You almost can't wait for your sister's marriage to fall apart, and it hasn't even begun...

[gatorbites-imagines]

Dude, Absolutely write more about Steve and his 200 year old boyfriend. I wanna see into their life together more. Does Y/N become part of the avengers? What’s an average day for the two of them? What do the other Avengers think of them together? Has Steve ever called Y/N daddy out in public or in earshot of the other Avengers on accident? How inseparable are they? Anything you can come up with I’ll love man. Your writings so damn good!

Steve Rogers x Male reader

Headcanons

I was honestly so in love with the kinktober prompt with Steve and his 200-year-old lover, so I got excited when I got this request. Let’s say his hero name is Titan, just to have some old school sounding name.

The morning after your reunion, the two of you just laid in Steves bed, basking in each other’s presence and the fact that you were both alive.

After many kisses, from pecks to deep tongue filled kisses, and after a few rounds of Steve riding you again, as he was so taken with the fact that he finally could, you two finally talked.

You explained to him how you were a mutant, and how sorry you were for never telling him, how it had never crossed your mind to do so. And he apologized for throwing his life away like that, and leaving you the way he did.

Over the next couple of weeks, you stay in his apartment, even when Steve goes out to do avenger work or do stuff for SHIELD. He is always so tense when he walks in through the door, but he quickly finds you and crawls into your lap with a sighed “Daddy”, as if your presence alone is enough to calm him.

During this time, you introduce him to the future better than anyone else is able too, even rewarding him for being such a good student, just for the fun of it. You also end up telling him not to trust SHIELD, as you’ve seen who is involved with it, and what they do.

The Avengers team just assume Steve is uncomfortable with the future, and that’s why he’s always rushing home after missions or meetings, but in reality its to get home to you. When days are too rough, all he needs is you to squeeze him so tight his vision starts blurring and he’s left lightheaded.

He needs his daddy to take him out of his head, to take away his duty as Captain America, and just let him be your boy. Being with you is refreshing in the way that you always see him as Steve before you see him as Captain America, you’ll always see him as your boy before anything else.

The avengers first discover your existence during the attack on New York, as there is no way in hell you’ll allow your boy to run around on his own, especially not when you have more than a hundred years of experience than any of the members of the Avengers.

So, imagine their surprise when you come crashing in on your motorcycle, throw it right at a cluster of enemies, and immediately start tearing through the enemies with extreme skill.

I haven’t decided if you have any powers except for extreme strength, regeneration, no aging, the likes. But if you want, you can imagine the reader having any powers you want.

When everything is done and over with, the team, except for Steve, tenses when you start marching towards them. Seeing how you ripped apart the aliens with as much difficulty as one would a sheet of paper, they are on edge.

That is until you walk right past Tony, right past Natasha, right past all of them, walking right towards Steve. Whose face you take in your hands and start turning him this way and that, checking him over for injuries.

They’re all speechless to a certain degree, some more than others, especially when they see Steve start smiling and blushing like some kind of fair maiden.

Tony pulls a whole “are you guys also seeing this”, especially when you kiss Steve out of nowhere, and Steve almost arches into it, forgetting his shield somewhere on the ground to clutch onto you like a couple in an action movie.

Tony ends up being the one clearing his throat and being all “soooo… you gonna introduce us?” to get Steve and your attention.

Steve almost ends up introducing you as his Daddy, but he catches himself the last second and introduces you as his lover from before the war. When they want to know how you’re still alive, you just shrug and say you’re a mutant and you go by Titan.

After that you just kinda start hanging around the tower, but you aren’t an official part of the team. You don’t want to work for SHIELD, and you don’t want to work for the government. you’re also technically an honorary member of the X-men, a role you take seriously.

You end up getting along pretty well with the rest of the team, as you can take an interest in at least some of the things they are all into. You especially get along well with Tony, when you tell him you knew his father, and that he was a huge tool.

Seeing Steve with a man means that most of them need to change up the mental image they had of Steve, but seeing how happy and domestic you guys are, it’s clear it’s been a long-lasting relationship that just wasn’t in the history books.

If you guys end up rescuing Bucky and fixing him up without the whole civil war situation, you all end up just kinda living at the tower. You have your own apartment in Brooklyn, but its mainly for storage or if you and Steve need to go somewhere without anyone with super hearing nearby.

In the end its Bucky that exposes you guys for your title thing, as Steve has been too embarrassed to do it out in public the way you guys used too, and you respect his wants and needs.

It’s said in a very casual conversation too. Something along the lines of Bucky asking Steve “so, where’s was your daddy going this week anyway?” after you left to help the X-men. It causes a laugh from some of your teammates, as they think it’s a joke, until they see the blush on Steves face.

They’d think it’s just a kink for the bedroom in the beginning, until they start paying attention and hearing Steve mumble it to you when he needs comfort or reassurance. That’s when they learn its much more than just a kink.

It’s a way for Steve to give up all the pressure and responsibilities he feels in his life, for him to feel small and protected, to feel cared for, no matter what mistakes he may make. Its also there to reassure you that you are wanted and needed, that there is someone who loves you so deeply they want you to carry such a title to them.

Most of your team doesn’t really get it, but most of them have probably also seen weirder in their lives. Steve is also still a very private person in that regard, so it doesn’t call you that out in public, and you don’t make him.

Steve does allow himself to be more affectionate and vulnerable with you when your teammates are around, since they to some degree know what kind of relationship you guys have.

Like sitting in your lap on the couch when the team has movie nights, or letting you serve him dinner, or leaning against your chest when you hug him from behind. Or the times he is unsure of what to do in certain situations, and he looks at you for guidance.

Bucky is the calmest about it, since he remembers it from the 40s, and he had been around when it all started out. He didn’t have a title like you did, but he had seen how much comfort it brought you two, so he never questioned it.

So, all in all, the team accepts it as a dynamic you two have that they don’t really get involved with. Your knowledge helps them take down Hydra, and keeps lotsa the drama that happens in the movies from happening. Steves daddy didn’t just save him, but a lot of his teammates and innocent lives. Yay for Steves daddy.

[lets-just-daydream]

i wanted more to astarion's storyline at cazadork's palace so here we are with my overactive imagination. also a hug for astarion because bro needs it

Summary:

It's almost time. Beyond the large ornate doors you'll find Cazador; you steel yourselves but a whisper of your name catches your attention from one of the prisoners behind the gate. An old flame.

(aka imagine you run into an old friend instead of astarion running into sebastian)

"No really, tell me more," Astarion said, barking out a laugh.

You hid behind your goblet of wine and laughed at his curiosity. "Have I really never told you about him?"

You had offhandedly mentioned an old flame of yours from a couple of years ago and this piqued Astarion's interest. The two of you sat side-by-side in front of the campfire, the rest of your company already retired to bed and as per usual, you and Astarion were still up.

"No, you haven't. So go on, tell me everything," Astarion said.

How to explain your strange relationship with Xavier. "Well, he's from a more or less noble family in Baldur's Gate and his father never really approved of our friendship. You know, with me being not at all noble."

Astarion kept quiet, sipping his wine as you explained.

"We spent a lot of time together and one day, I stopped seeing him as a friend and I fell in love with him, I think. He felt the same, too. He was walking me home one night after we'd been out at a tavern and when he saw me to my door, he kissed me."

You smiled and your cheeks flushed slightly at the memory. Astarion raised a brow and felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest at your expression. He couldn't help but wonder. Who was this man? Why wasn't he around anymore? Did you still love him?

You cleared your throat and continued. "After that night… I never saw him again. I assume his father found out about us and had him sent off and married to some noblewoman."

"What? He kissed you and then he disappeared?"

"Yes. I still don't know what he's up to now but I hope he's happy and out of his father's clutches."

Astarion put his wine down. You had fallen in love, kissed him and he had disappeared after the fact and you weren't cursing his name to the hells and back? Astarion figured you'd be at least a little bit slighted but you only wished the best for this Xavier.

"Do you still love him?"

You looked up at the pale elf and let out a laugh. "No, that was a long time ago. I still get a bit sad when I think back on it because we were so naïve and full of hope for the future," you said, a wistful smile on your lips.

Astarion knew this man could still be out there. You could still find him and return to him and at that thought he felt his chest burn. He didn't want you to find Xavier. Astarion wanted to be the one you thought of when you had these small wistful smiles on your face.

Sure, the sex you two had a couple times since meeting was great and Astarion had told you that his feelings were more than superficial at this point. But in an act of self-preservation he hadn't told you just how intense his feelings for you were. He figured you felt at least a little bit the same but this Xavier revelation threw him for a loop.

The elf played it off and held his hand out to you which you took. "Still, that must have been awful for you."

You nodded and didn't much feel like reminiscing on the past anymore. Instead, you decided to look to the journey ahead and what you were doing tomorrow. The real reason Astarion was still up tonight.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Astarion?" You asked as you stared into the flames of the campfire.

Astarion raised a brow at you in question.

You sighed. "Tomorrow. Cazador."

The vampire's gaze flicked to the fire then back to meet yours and he shot you a sure grin that you had learned to see right through a long time ago. "Of course I am. I've only been waiting 200 years for this."

You didn't have the heart to tell him off for the mask he slipped on. Normally you'd tell him that he didn't need to hide his true feelings from you, that you understood him and would never exploit his trust. And with time, he really had learned to trust you. You got to see a side of him he rarely ever showed and you were grateful. It made your heart beat for him in a way you had never experienced before.

But tonight, the tension and uncertainty in the air with how tomorrow would go down, you granted him this.

"I know you've been ready forever but, just know that if it gets too much at any point, I've got your back. We all do," you reassured him. "Just say the word."

Astarion gave you a rare, soft smile in appreciation and leaned over to drape his arm over your shoulders.

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring," Astarion said, his voice serious. "I don't even know if it will happen how I've forever dreamed it would. Pissing on his ashes, enjoying his screams as I tear each digit and limb from his body." Astarion sighed. "Maybe I'll die before I even get to lay a finger on him."

Your heart dropped. "Perish the thought," you said sternly. You turned to face him fully and you rested your hands gently on his cheeks. "I will never let anyone hurt you. Especially not Cazador."

Astarion's lip curled into a slight smile at the way you spat his master's name. You seemed like you hated Cazador as much as Astarion did without ever meeting the man. Not that you needed to. Astarion had told you countless horror stories of his life under his master that made your blood boil and tears threaten to spill.

You stroked his cheek with your thumb. "I'm sorry he took so much from you, I feel awful for what he did to you over these 200 years. I can't even begin to imagine it. And I… I feel strange to say it but I'm glad I met you."

Astarion's brows shot up in surprise and you thought you had gone too far. Too intimate. You dropped your hands but he grabbed one and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before letting out a sigh. "I'm glad I met you too, you're remarkable and I sometimes feel…" he trailed off. Now it was his turn to get flustered.

"What?" You coaxed.

"No, it's stupid," Astarion muttered as he looked at the ground. A very rare moment of insecurity.

You turned his face back to you and held his gaze, your eyes boring into his. "If you don't want to continue, that's alright."

"It's just…" He struggled. "I don't know. There's some moments, when we're talking like this or even in the middle of our romps, I feel as though I've lived this long because I was meant to meet you."

His words caused you to still and you felt your eyes water as he held your gaze, unsure of how you'd react to his candor.

"Oh, Astarion," you gasped as you leaned forward and wrapped him in a hug.

He held you in his arms and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory. He didn't know what tomorrow held. He didn't know if he'd make it out alive. But he had you and that was enough for tonight.

~

You awoke in Astarion's tent the following morning, his arms wrapped around you tight and one of your hands in his hair. Before he had even properly risen you could feel the tension in his body. You can't imagine the stress he must have felt all night. Today was the culmination of 200 years of misery, pain and torture and you meant to end it.

You stroked your fingers through Astarion's hair and he stirred, his eyes opening and landing on you.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted, his voice deep from sleep. "What a sight to wake up to."

You smiled and stroked his soft hair, wishing you could just… lean forward and give him a soft, loving kiss.

When you moved to get up, Astarion held you firmly in place, his eyes never leaving yours. Words on his lips that he didn't know how to formulate. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours softly. Soft enough that you could escape if he had misread everything. But he hadn't. You leaned into the kiss and slid your hand down to cradle his head as you pulled back. He chased you and held you firmly in place as he deepened the kiss, his movements almost desperate as he rolled you over and landed on top of you.

"Astarion," you breathed.

This was happening. Intimacy. Outside of just having sex. Or maybe this was leading to that but this kiss just felt different.

"Gods, I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips," he whispered against your skin before ravishing your lips once again.

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth and you granted him entry. You were mere putty in his embrace and you moaned softly as he cradled your head in his hand, his movements gentle but with an undertone of urgency. Like this would be the last time he would get to kiss you. You could understand the sentiment and tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him close and taking his bottom lip into your lips, causing him to let out a breathy moan.

You had to eventually pull away to catch your breath, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks and parted lips made quite the sight and Astarion wasn't ready to let you go just yet. He leaned down to claim your lips again.

"Astarion, are you awake yet?" Gale called from outside his tent.

Astarion let out an annoyed huff before looking down at you, hoping that his actions could speak where words failed him today. He gives you one last soft kiss. "We'll finish this later."

You could only nod back dumbly as he stood and offered you a hand. Astarion stepped out of his tent and shot Gale a glare, holding the flap open for you to leave.

"Ah," Gale said to you. "Sorry about that, didn't realise that you were also in there…"

You waved him off and moved to your tent where you dressed and readied yourself for today's stomach-churning quest.

~

Getting into and around the Szarr's palace was surprisingly easy. Astarion charmed the guards on the way in and you were met with little resistance when you entered.

"Being back here…" Astarion shivered. "Can we just get this over and done with as quickly as possible?"

You made eye contact with Gale and Shadowheart and nodded.

You searched the palace as quickly as possible while Astarion sadly explained his memories of the places you wandered. You wanted to stop and give him a hug at every discovery you made but you'd be here forever if you did. You painfully kept your hands to yourself until you found an ornate ring that looked rather important.

After some more exploring, you found an elevator that even Astarion didn't know existed. But as soon as you all stepped in and started descending, he became even more nervous. His body stiffened and his eyes became steely. You stepped closer to him and offered him your hand which he took with a hint of a smile.

You descended into one of the most ornate but cold hallways you'd ever seen. It was grandiose, but uncomfortable and with a sense of foreboding. You all knew Cazador was somewhere down here preparing for the unthinkable. None of you could say a word. No funny quips about the architecture or loot you found.

You slowly descended the stairs and stepped towards the doors in front of you. Astarion's grip on your hand tightened slightly and you rubbed your thumb against his skin, trying your best to soothe him. You didn't think anything could soothe him right now.

Your heart beat intensely in your chest and you felt like you could vomit. You can't imagine how Astarion is feeling right now, about to walk back into the clutches of his master, not knowing if he would prevail. No. He would prevail and you would help him.

Astarion glanced around and you opened the doors, holding your breath and peeking through. You didn't see Cazador, but you could hear murmurs. Voices. You cautiously stepped through and were met with two large cells either side of the hallway, all filled with dirty, ragged looking people.

Astarion dropped your hand and it flew to his mouth. His eyes widened as he looked at the people in the cells. He recognised these people. He knew these people. These were people he had killed years and years ago. Or so he thought. He approached a cell and looked in at the countless people he had brought to Cazador. People he thought his master would feed on and then discard. But no. There were hundreds of ragged spawn.

"I… I don't believe it." Astarion gasped. "I never knew… Cazador was doing this."

At hearing Astarion's voice, the spawn in the cells turned to look at you and it was clear that a few of them recognised him. But to your surprise you heard a soft call of your name. The voice was vaguely familiar and your heart dropped.

You turned to the source of the voice and found yourself face-to-face with a haggard, red-eyed Xavier.

"X-Xavier…?" You asked, shocked. You felt like you were about to faint. "What are you doing here?"

You stepped towards the cell and he mirrored you, gripping the bars with his dirty fingers.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. "They didn't get you too, did they?"

You glanced at Astarion and if it were even possible, he was paler than usual.

"No, I'm– We're here to help you," you replied softly. You let your hand slide up the bar and come to meet Xavier's hand. Tears welled in your eyes and your voice became strained. "How long have you been here?"

Xavier's face scrunched as he tried to remember. "Hmm. I think… That night I walked you home and we kissed. I was so happy and unaware of anything around me. On my way home one of Cazador's spawn took me. It's all I've been able to think about. It's one of the only things I remember."

Your head spun and you felt like you could throw up. "No," you gasped. "T-Two years… You've been here all this time?"

The tears you'd tried to hold back fell all at once as you looked up at the man you once loved. "All this time," you sobbed. "I'd hoped your father had forced you off to marry some noblewoman."

Xavier smiled and rubbed your whitening hands where they still held the bars. "No. But even so, I would have come back to you. Somehow."

You stood back up and wiped the tears from your face. "I'm going to get you out of there, you're going to be okay."

Xavier nodded and looked over your companions gratefully until he landed on Astarion. "No…"

You sensed Astarion stiffen behind you and you hoped the dots you were staring to connect weren't true. You prayed, you hoped, you begged silently. But Xavier's next words pierced through you like an icy lance.

"You brought me here…"

You turned and looked at Astarion and he couldn't meet yours nor Xavier's gaze. He stared down at the floor and nodded, his eyes hooded and unreadable. He knew what he'd done. He knew what he'd caused you to lose. The words you spoke last night could only extend so far and now that you knew it was Astarion who had caused Xavier's disappearance. How could you forgive him? He couldn't bear to look you in the eye.

Shadowheart stepped forward and put a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go deal with that monster and free your friend, okay?"

You nodded, your body moving in slow-motion as you approached the large ornate doors that held Astarion's fate on the other side.

~

It was a hard battle, made harder when you had to dodge through Cazador's minions to free Astarion from the binds of the ritual. The whole time you fought, you thought of the pain Xavier had gone through, the agony and torture Astarion had gone through and quickly enough, the pale elf had his master on his knees.

Astarion was right on the edge of having it all. Being an ascended vampire. He could walk in the sun after the tadpole had been dealt with, he wouldn't have to fear anyone again. He'd be a greater vampire than Cazador ever was. He asked for your help. But you know such great power never came free. There was always a cost.

What toll would sacrificing thousands of souls take on Astarion? Sweet, tortured Astarion who had been through hell and back and had made leaps and bounds to start becoming a better man. Someone you had grown to love. You couldn't bear to see him ripped apart like this.

But then again. You could help to give him this awesome power so few could ever be granted. You did want this for him, really, but your thoughts wandered back to Xavier and the countless other spawn who were waiting to be freed. Who you'd promised this to.

You looked back up at Astarion and shook your head. You imagined the life he could have. "Please don't do this, Astarion. Don't you want to live a life you can be proud of? I know you're better than him."

At your words, the fog in Astarion's mind cleared and he looked down at Cazador, blade in his hand. "You're right. I can be better than him." Astarion's gaze flicked down to a pleading Cazador. "But I'm not above enjoying this."

Before you knew what was happening, Astarion stabbed Cazador, hacking at him over and over until the former master was nothing but a lifeless, bloody corpse. You felt a fraction of the gratification Astarion must have felt as Cazador's screams filled the chamber before slowing into a gurgle and finally stopping. The pale elf dropped the blade and stepped back, a pained cry ripping through his throat. He'd done it. He was free.

He was free.

At this astronomical realisation, Astarion dropped to his knees and cried. He cried for the man he was when his heart still beat, cried for the centuries of torture he'd endured and cried for the life he'd had stolen from him. The culmination of 200 years of torture beyond belief and the aggressor was finally dead.

Astarion cried out again and you stepped toward him and knelt beside him. He suddenly felt warmth as you enveloped him in a hug and he held onto you, turning to face you and sobbing into your neck.

"My sweet Astarion," you whispered. "It's over now. I'm so proud of you."

At this, he sobbed harder for a moment and you ran your fingers through his hair and rubbed comforting circles into his scarred back. You didn't rush him, Gale and Shadowheart said nothing and let him take all the time he needed. After another moment, Astarion leaned back and caressed your face, his own face streaked with tears, blood and dirt. You saw how teary he was and the mixture of disbelief and hope for his future and your heart squeezed.

His brothers and sisters were freed from their magical shackles and one of his sisters approached, asking if it really was finally over.

"Yes."

Astarion then explained to his brothers and sisters what to do, where to take the freed spawn and wished them good luck. As they left, he stood and took Cazador's staff in hand, the following movements came to Astarion instinctively as he pressed it to the ground to free the thousands of trapped vampire spawn.

You smiled as you watched him. You truly were proud of Astarion, he would still be self-preserving and perhaps paranoid after you left but you hoped as time went by, he would be able to relax. Truly enjoy his freedom. You heard voices from the other side of the doors as Astarion's brothers and sisters greeted the other spawn. Your mind wandered to Xavier. At least he would have a chance at a new life, whatever that life may be.

"I think we're done here," Astarion said, tired. "Let's go."

You draped his arm over your shoulder and helped him up the stairs as Gale and Shadowheart led the way. They stopped at the top and shared a look before looking to you and stepping aside. The spawn had started filtering out but one remained near the cells. Xavier.

You approached him slowly, Astarion still hanging off your shoulders. Gale stepped forward and took Astarion off of you so you could have a moment. Astarion shot him a look but they lingered within earshot much to Gale's dismay.

"You did it. You freed us," Xavier smiled.

"Of course we did. I promised you that I would," you said. You swayed slightly on the spot and Xavier stepped forward, taking your hand in his.

"Will you come with me?" He breathed.

You almost weren't sure what he said but the way Astarion bristled and lowly hissed, you figured you'd heard correctly. Your blood ran cold and you were thrown back to 2 years ago, Xavier's kiss and the smile he gave before he left, promising to see you soon.

"Look, I," you didn't even know where to start. Your heart broke for him and the life you could have had together but you had closed that chapter long ago. You knew who your heart belonged to now, if the pale elf wanted it.

You tried to form into words your thoughts. How to explain that while Xavier's life was at a standstill, you continued living, loving and growing. Your heart ached as you tried to form the thought of, 'you know that vampire spawn who brought you here? Well I'm actually in love with him now, so…'

"Don't tell me it's him," Xavier gestured to Astarion who looked about ready to rip the former's head off. "He… he ruined my life, our lives."

You felt tears well in your eyes. You knew how hard this must be for him. He's thought of you nonstop for 2 years and you were about to tell him the man who ruined his life is the man you were choosing. But you knew Astarion. He wasn't that man anymore.

"Xavier, I can't go with you," you said. "I still have so much to do and… it is him." You sighed. This wasn't how you wanted to confess your love for the vampire spawn. You imagined it on a night you were alone and having a gentle moment. But here you were in front of your former love, your companions and the object of your affections all hanging onto your every word. "I know it's hard to come to terms with, Xavier… But it's always going to be Astarion."

You didn't see it but Astarion smiled and his face gained a bit of colour once again at your words. Xavier nodded and pursed his lips. He understood. He didn't like it, but he did understand and the finality in your voice told him that you weren't changing your mind.

"Well," Xavier said, lifting your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. "If you ever do change your mind I'll be somewhere in the Underdark. I'll wait for you forever."

"Please don't do that," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

Xavier smiled and gently dropped your hand, turning to follow his coven of vampires to start a new life.

You sighed and watched as he left, years welling in your eyes. No one moved an inch until Gale and Astarion shuffled over to you and you felt a hand slip around your waist.

"Darling," Astarion breathed.

You could form no words and now it was your turn to cry in Astarion's arms. His skin was still caked in blood and sweat but you didn't care. He held you and stroked your hair as you sobbed into the crook of his neck.

"H-he was down here all along," you sniffed. "And I didn't know. I could have looked for him or… I don't know."

Realistically you knew you could never have done anything but you still felt like Xavier's fate was somehow your fault. Well, it wasn't your fault. Really it was Cazador's fault… Astarion's fault.

"Why him?" You asked, pulling back and looking up at Astarion with watery eyes.

He knew this was coming, honestly. You'd want to know why. How could Astarion pluck someone so innocent from the shadows who he knew was having such a wonderful night? You knew Astarion watched his victims, picked them carefully. He'd told you so himself. So, of course you'd want answers. And he knew that you knew it wasn't personal - he was doing what Cazador told him to. But it didn't hurt you any less.

"Let's get out of this dreadful place, clean ourselves up and we can talk," Astarion offered.

You nodded silently and stepped away from him, leading your small group out of the castle and to the tavern the rest of your group organised upon entering the city.

No one spoke another word the whole trek from the castle to the tavern. The rest of your companions swarmed you at the door but fell short when they saw your grief-stricken face, Astarion's unreadable expression and Shadowheart and Gale's awkward side-eyes.

You stepped past everyone, gathered some of your clothes and retreated into the bathroom wordlessly. Astarion watched you the whole time, wondering if this was it. Was this the straw that would break the camel's back? Would you send him away? He supposed now that he was free, he didn't really have anyone to fear anymore, he might be able to make it alone.

Alone. Not a feeling he was used to anymore. Not a feeling he wanted to experience, especially if it meant losing you.

In the bathroom, you were pleased to see that the bath was already filled with warm water, so you stripped your dirty clothes off and entered the bath. A sigh escaped from your lips and you let the water rush over your body, your thoughts stilling for a moment before you let out a choked sob once again.

You rested your head behind you on the tub and stared at the ceiling. What possible explanation could Astarion even give you? Xavier was one person in thousands that had fallen victim to Cazador's plot, Astarion included. But it didn't hurt any less.

The door to the bathroom opened slightly and you saw white curly locks poke through the gap. "May I come in?" Astarion asked.

"Sure," you said, your voice monotone. Flat. Not something he was used to hearing from you.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him, standing in front of it. His movements were careful, unsure. He stood by the door with his hands clasped together as his eyes shot from the floor, to you, to his surroundings and back to the floor.

He took a deep breath. "I know there's nothing I can say to make this better. I can't take it back and I can't fix it."

You said nothing, waiting for him to piece his thoughts together.

"I've told you what it was like, being Cazador's slave. I did what I had to, to survive and that included bringing people to him that didn't deserve it," Astarion stepped towards you and knelt by the bathside, finally meeting your eyes.

You'd seen true sadness in people's eyes before and you had caught Astarion in moments of sadness previously. But this was different. He wasn't just sad, he was sorrowful, and fearful. You almost reached out to smooth out the wrinkles on his brow but he continued talking.

"I know he meant a great deal to you and I… ruined so much. I'll do anything to show you I'm sorry. And if that includes…" Astarion trailed off and gulped before continuing. "If that includes me leaving this camp, then I will. I'll leave and that will be that."

"No!" You cried, leaping onto your knees and wrapping your arms around him. "No, I don't want you to leave, ever."

Water splashed onto the floor and dripped all over Astarion but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around your naked torso and held you close, squeezing slightly as if you might float away and disappear.

You craned your neck back and looked at him. "I am upset. And… It is sad to learn Xavier's fate, but I did mean what I said down in those dungeons," you whispered. "It's you. It's always been you and for as long as you want me, it's you I want."

You hardly knew what was happening before you felt Astarion press his lips to yours in a searing, passionate kiss. It took your breath away and he poured his love for you and fear of losing you into it, never had you ever been kissed like that and you couldn't help but return it. His lips captured yours and you felt his fangs nick your skin but you didn't care, you opened your mouth up to him and he didn't hesitate in slipping his tongue in, tilting your head back so he had complete control over you. It felt like if your bodies could meld together they would and your breathing turned heavy as you fought with not wanting to break the kiss but needing to pull away for air.

You eventually broke the kiss, your chest heaving as you gulped for air. You eyed the pale elf in front of you and looked like he was ready to pounce on you again. You let out a light chuckle and sat back in the bath again.

"Would you like to join me? I'll clean you up."

"My love," Astarion whispered as he stood, removing his clothes. "I'll join you anywhere."

[seat-safety-switch]

Recently, I was struck by the concept of just how many things we will leave behind for future generations. Especially with the advent of modern computer technology, we get rid of things within only a few years of use that will confound people yet to be born for centuries to come. My grandmother used the same telephone from the 1960s until she died, but I've gone through four Xboxes just in the time it took to finish Halo 3.

And that's just things of value. Imagine the vast seas of home decoration crap we've had to throw out. Wood paneling? Passé. Toss it in the bin. Has it been another couple years? Okay, put new wood paneling up, it slaps now. Archaeologists used to have to deal in thousand-year spans, and now they're busy trying to figure out just what month of 1981 it was when this particular piece of shit got thrown into the landfill.

Here's what doesn't age like milk: cars. Sure, cars are in a state of flux right now. They're being built with way more complexity and are harder to fix. Would someone from the 1920s still identify a modern hydrogen-burning aerodynamic cough drop from Hell as a functioning automobile? I bet that they would, just as soon as they got done shrieking in fear at the automatically-opening door at the supermarket. It's not likely that they'd be able to tell you the difference between, say, a 5-1/4" and a 3.5" floppy disk. Hell, I'm not even sure they had decimal points back then.

All this is to say that if you want to tell future generations that you were here, that you were important, you should hoard a bunch of cars. Chances are that people in 200 years will still be able to go, yes, this was some kind of special temple to the internal combustion engine, which they worshipped until the skies were burned by the Hrothgar Imperium during the First Milky Way War. Oops. Bit of a spoiler there. Forget I said anything.

[theelfsongbard]

Counterweight

Pairing: spawn!Astarion x AFAB!reader

Summary: after the epilogue, you and Astarion share a summer’s afternoon together in the meadow. For @oharahive’s breeding kink challenge!

Warnings: epilogue spoilers, breeding kink, mentions of potential future pregnancy

Word Count: 2273

Image source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/760123243354175763/

These past 6 months have been the counterweight to 200 years of misery. Thank you.

He had said those words to you weeks ago, and from then, he had slowly been opening up more and more to you. More frank, more transparent with his feelings than ever before. Today, he is quiet again but you know his mind is anything but, still coming to terms with his grand adventure and the turn of fate that it has brought with it. All at once, he speaks up.

“You bring me the best happiness. You show me the way, where I cannot see and you give me love where I don’t always deserve it. I don’t know how you do it, but I will always be grateful for you.”

The summer breeze blows over the meadow, sifting over the long grass like a wave of verdant green. How lovely it is, to be here, to be loved. Astarion’s thoughts lazily drift as he rests his head in your lap, his eyes shut and sheltered from the sunlight by the wide canopy of an old oak. Slowly he breathes in, bringing cool air into lungs that no longer work. Things have changed drastically in the past 6 months, and now, despite his condition, he found himself flourishing and a free man.

Above him, your gentle humming stops though your hand in his hair continues to massage his scalp with just the right amount of pressure. “And I would give up anything to see you happy for all eternity without hesitation. Has last night’s party been on your mind, love? You’ve been introspective lately.”

“How can I help myself, darling? I can’t help but think about how things could’ve turned out so differently, and yet every iteration I think about, I cannot imagine myself being happier than I am now. You led me here and I… hate to think what life would be like without you being my guiding light. I’d be bitter, resentful, enslaved still by my own will or by Cazador. And I know that I was not always easy to love, but you stayed anyways when it would have been so easy to walk away.”

“You are worthy of love. I have chosen to love you because waking up to your smile every day and seeing you grow into who you are brings me joy. You are my home and my guide. The obstacles we faced together only strengthened our bond.”

Astarion cracks one vermillion eye open, a knowing smirk on his lips, “You like my smile? Why don’t you tell me more?” His voice deepens playfully as he drags you down to press some feather-light kisses on your mouth. This is his way of processing his feelings on complicated topics, as if he is afraid that wallowing in his thoughts any longer will eat him alive even though he has become less self-conscious about openly sharing his thoughts now.

You gasp in feigned scandalousness, “If I feed your ego too much, you might be too full of yourself for tonight’s dinner! I suppose you’ll just have to settle with knowing that you’re just lovely.” The way you giggle into his mouth sets something alight in him and he flips himself over, pinning you down into the grass below him, earning him a squeal of delighted surprise. This time, it’s your turn to lean up and capture his lips with her own, pulling a low rumbling chuckle from deep in his throat that vibrates through his chest and into hers where he presses against you. “Cheeky little thing aren't you?” the sound of his voice combined with the feeling of his arms caging you in makes your heart beat wildly in its ribcage. Nobody plays the game of seduction better than Astarion and the past 6 months together have only given him time to learn exactly what makes you tick.

“If you're worried about me being too full for dinner, I suppose I can always have dinner a little earlier, if you'll permit it. There's always room for dessert afterwards.” his lips graze tantalisingly over the exposed skin of your neck, his nose nuzzling the shell of your ear with care.

The ring of your laugh chimes like a bell on the wind, “Oh, just stop playing coy and come down for a bite then!”

You don’t need to ask twice before you feel his fangs probing for the blood beneath your skin before finally piercing into your neck, you grit your teeth and cling to his arms as he bears down. The feeling of pain never gets any better no matter how many times he feeds from you, but you have gotten used to the icy pricks and the ensuing numbness as he draws the blood from your body into his. It's his chest that warms first, followed by the healthy flush of life that fills his cheeks and… more intimate regions making itself known by the hardening desire pressed into your stomach.

Drunk on the fresh bouquet of your blood, Astarion laps his tongue against the puncture wounds at your neck, capturing the remnants of his dinner as it runs from the site. An appreciative moan pours from his throat, and when he pulls away at last, you can see that his eyes burn with fire and need. Feeding Astarion doesn’t always lead to sex, but the intimacy of the act makes it a very appealing activity for you both and today is one of those days.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about our future as well, what adventures it might hold for us both,” he kisses up your neck, tickling you and leaving you gasping for air as he teases. The only coherent word you can manage to utter is a shaky “yes?”.

“And I had the most interesting chat with Gale at the party.”

You frowned, wondering where on earth he was going with this. There was once a time when he and Gale weren’t on the best of terms with one another, not in the least because he was also competing for your affection when it was clearly already given to Astarion. Although time had mellowed out Astarion’s moodiness and dislike of the wizard, you couldn't help but think that perhaps it was jealousy that had stoked the fire of his appetite today.

“Oh? And what about him?” you squirmed about as his lips found your ear.

“It's nothing about him, but it is about us. You see, he was telling me about a guest lecturer he had at his school, a dhampir.”

Oh. Oh. So that was what was on his mind.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” The implication hung there, tantalising. The idea of children wasn’t a topic that you had broached with Astarion. In all honesty, you had both had your hands full with other things; adventuring, searching for a cure to vampirism, working to rebuild the Underdark for the many spawn that had been released from Cazador’s manse. But now that he had mentioned it, your mind couldn't help but be filled with images of Astarion lovingly gazing down at a small fragile bundle close to his chest, swathed in cloth. Astarion smiling as he held out a finger clutched by tiny hands. Astarion cooing and stroking its cheek as it drifted into a trance, protected from the cruelty of the world by his love. “Astarion.” A familiar tingle of heat fills you and concentrates itself at your core as the thoughts suffocate the forefront of your mind until nothing else surfaces.

“Think of them reaching for us, seeking the comfort of our loving embrace, filling our home with joy in the mornings.” he breathes in wantonly, inhaling your intoxicating scent. You are fertile, and the tang of your blood on his tongue and the scent of it lets him know that your body is ready at its peak to receive a child if you should choose to do so. “I’m ready for a child, if you are, my love.” he breathes it like a promise against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours waiting for your answer.

“Yes. I am ready.” you respond in kind, kissing him earnestly. “Give me your child.”

Astarion’s ministrations grow as much as his enthusiasm. From where he is hovering above you, he growls with a hint of possessiveness and primal joy. The fact that you were willing was a promise of security, of having you by his side in the years to come with the knowledge that you loved him so much that you would choose to create something that would immortalise your expression of love for each other in flesh and bone and flowing blood.

You were his of your own choosing and he was yours. Would always choose you and stand by your side. The thought drives him mad and admist the attention that he lavishes on your lips, a hand snakes down your body, freeing your tucked shirt and undressing you with uncanny dexterity and speed fueled by his need to have you as his partner and his mate. Immediately. To press you down and fill you to the bursting with his essence until his seed overflowed in your womb and blessed you both with child.

His hand is distracted by the curve of your breasts, kneading them gently as he begins to move down your body to lick and suckle on them. The moans pouring from you only serve to heighten his own arousal and fill him with satisfaction as he plays you with all the expertise of a bard with a well-acquainted instrument. When he finally relieves you of your pants, he lovingly dips a finger along your folds, making you buck your hips up, collecting the slick and rubbing it against your clit, revelling in the way you’re already wet with desire for him causing a shiver to run through your body. “Excited, darling?” he dares to tease out with that high giggle of his. The heat in your cheeks only grows as you huff, “you don’t say. Please, don’t stop now.” you're so desperate for his touch, to feel him inside you.

He chuckles, “Only because you’re so desperate -“. He licks a long stripe up through them, but despite pretending otherwise, the hold you have on him is too great and inhumanly quickly, he scrambles back up, his knee hooking up under yours to open you up and pulling himself free from his trousers as he aligns himself with your entrance, coating himself in you before pushing in until he’s fully sheathed in your warm heat. The unexpected stretch rips a stifled yelp of pleasure from you and Astarion can’t help but moan in kind. “Don’t hide, let me hear you.”

Waiting until you’ve adjusted to him, he lifts your knees up to his shoulders, folding you over so that he can bury himself deeper inside. The new position brings you closer to the edge as he thrusts with increasing vigour, losing himself in the need to fill you up completely, imagining his seed taking and the swell of your belly bearing the evidence of your passion for everyone to see. “I want to see you dripping with my seed, fucked full until there’s no room left for anything else.”

“Then do it!” you just about screamed as he reached between you to rub on your clit. “Give it to me,” you sobbed, “until there’s nothing left to give.” the added pressure sent you tumbling over the edge, and your vision blacked out momentarily as your mind tried to catch up with your body, still spasming and twitching around his cock, milking him of all he had as he met his release with a shuddering roar, driving himself even deeper than he had before as he spent himself inside you. He doesn't move to pull out, keeping himself and his spend inside you do as long as possible and the intention of the action makes you clench slightly around his softening cock drawing a hiss from Astarion. “You want to go again, love?”

Catching your breath, from the exertion you couldn't help but drag him down to lay beside you, holding him close as you rest your head on his arm, nuzzling close to his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. It spells safety and tenderness that you know is only reserved for you. “Not right now, Astarion. I'm exhausted, but maybe we do it again another day,” you say with a laugh, “after all, if it doesn’t work this time, we’ll just have to keep on trying.”

“Well,” he says with a lazy kiss, “I’m very on board with your idea.”

“This is nice. This is really nice,” you whisper to him. “I just want to lay here with you forever.”

His hand snakes over to rest on your waist, the reassuring weight grounding you and the gentle press of his lips to your hair making your heart flutter. “Then let’s stay, for a little while longer at least. Close your eyes, darling.” Without even being able to see it, you can hear the smile on Astarion’s lips as he says it. You can’t help but feel a swell of contentment and pride at these moments of softness where so much was said with so few words.

You don't know how long you lay there in the field with Astarion, holding each other as the sun sank below the horizon but the next time you’re pulled from your trance, it’s the stars that watch over you as you anticipate the hopeful possibility of what might come to fruition.

[rayroseu]

Lilia's proposal is so meaningful now knowing the depths of how the Senate controls the Draconias 😭

From their job, the way they dress (only black clothes as its fitting for a royal), their personality (must be noble and dignified), what place they go to, who are they friends with, and even who they love and marry too... as stated by Lilia that Meleanor used to have arranged marriage (highly likely its because of the Senate wanting to make political gains from another dragon nation by marrying Meleanor to them😔)

Mind you that this is a memory when Lilia and Meleanor was still kids.... meaning the Senate already was profiting off Meleanor by putting her in an arranged marriage 😭💔

I feel like Meleanor was so upset by this arranged marriage and how controlling the castle is, thats why she's such a troublemaker... Perhaps thats just her acting like a child but the Senate keeps her on a leash to act more dignified rather than a "tomboy"-

So, I really think that Lilia's proposal, his love confession to her when they were children must've been a precious memory for Meleanor...🥲💕

Dragons don't like distant love, like how Malleus rejects Maleficia's magic because she never visits Malleus... And distant "love" is usually what happens in arranged marriages

"One shouldn't take lightly of their vows of love to someone" (Suitor Lilia).... Imagine how Meleanor probably felt so happy that a person proposed to her purely because of LOVE and not because the Senate told them so 😭‼️

Even if she's teasing here, the fact that Meleanor remembers the proposal even 200 years, she took that seriously argh... 😭💕‼️

Perhaps because of Lilia's proposal that Meleanor finally stopped being in a arranged marriage???😭😭

Like I'm imagining what happened was that Little Meleanor told Mother Maleficia that's she's married now!! to a fae in Briar Land!! so she doesn't need to be married off in a faraway land now 😭🥲💔

Like She's married to Lilia Vanrouge! My future Right General... 🥲💕💖💕

"I never loved anyone...!" "But you love me and my husband and someday you'll love our child too-" 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔 IM THEMM....

(god i wish they reveal levan now i want him to simmer with my lilinor thoughts... 😭)

[simply-ivanka]

If Taylor Swift Had Endorsed Donald Trump

Democrats would scorn her business savvy, cap her ticket prices, and fret over her huge carbon footprint.

Wall Street Journal

By Allysia Finley

Forbes estimates Taylor Swift’s net worth at $1.3 billion. Despite her liberal leanings, the singer-songwriter has amassed her wealth the old-fashioned way: through hard work, talent and business savvy. Her endorsement of Kamala Harris last week is rich considering she owes her success to the capitalist system the vice president wants to tear down.

“The way I see it, fans view music the way they view their relationships,” Ms. Swift wrote in a 2014 piece for the Journal. “Some music is just for fun, a passing fling. . . . Some songs and albums represent seasons of our lives, like relationships that we hold dear in our memories but had their time and place in the past. However, some artists will be like finding ‘the one.’ ” She has become “the one” for hundreds of millions of fans worldwide with lyrics that chronicle relationship woes women commonly experience.

Ms. Swift took advantage of her ardent fan base in 2014 by removing her catalog from Spotify in a bid for higher royalties. “Valuable things should be paid for. It’s my opinion that music should not be free,” she explained. “My hope for the future, not just in the music industry, but in every young girl I meet, . . . is that they all realize their worth and ask for it.”

She also criticized Apple Music for not paying artists during the streaming service’s free trial, prompting the company to change its policy. As she jeers in a hit song, “Who’s afraid of little old me?” Apparently, Big Tech companies.

Last year she reportedly raked in $200 million from streaming royalties on top of the estimated $15.8 million she grossed per performance during her recent “Eras” tour. Some fans have shelled out thousands of dollars on the resale market to see Ms. Swift perform. Americans have even traveled to Europe when they couldn’t get tickets in the U.S.

Her fan base may be more loyal and enthusiastic than Donald Trump’s. JD Vance scoffed at the idea that the star’s endorsement of Ms. Harris could influence the outcome of the election. The “billionaire celebrity,” he said, is “fundamentally disconnected from the interests and the problems of most Americans.” Maybe, but she certainly taps into the problems of young women.

Democrats hope to use Ms. Swift’s endorsement to drive them to the polls. But it isn’t difficult to imagine what the left would be saying about her had she endorsed the Republican antihero. It might go something like this:

The billionaire has gotten rich by ripping off fans, avoiding taxes and harming competitors. Time for the government to break her up. Unlike rival artists, Ms. Swift writes, performs and owns her compositions. This vertical integration allows her to charge exorbitant royalties and ticket prices.

Tickets for her “Eras” tour on average cost about $240. That’s merely the price for admission—not including food, drink or Swiftie swag. VIP passes that include memorabilia go for $899. How dare she make young women choose between paying for groceries or rent and going to a concert.

The Federal Trade Commission must cap Ms. Swift’s ticket prices at a reasonable price—say, $20—and ban her junk fees. Concertgoers shouldn’t have to pay $65 for an “I Love You It’s Ruining My Life” sweatshirt.

Her romance with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce also unfairly boosts their star power, letting them charge more for endorsements. As Ms. Swift writes in one song, “two is better than one.” Mr. Kelce reportedly signed a $100 million podcast deal with Amazon’s Wonderly. By breaking up the couple, the government could reduce their royalties and ticket prices.

Ms. Swift, the self-described “mastermind,” also dodges taxes on her “full income,” which includes some $125 million in real estate and a music catalog worth an estimated $600 million. “They said I was a cheat, I guess it must be true,” Ms. Swift acknowledges in her song “Florida!!!”

Under the Biden-Harris administration’s proposed billionaire’s tax, she would have to pay a 25% levy on the $1 billion increase in her fortune since 2017. But that isn’t enough. Ms. Swift should also have to pay taxes on the appreciating value of her “name, image and likeness,” which the Internal Revenue Service considers an asset.

How much is her brand worth? Easily billions. She might say, as she does in a song, that her “reputation has never been worse.” True, Miss Americana’s image took a hit after reports that her private-jet travel in 2022 emitted 576 times as much CO2 as the average American in a year. When Ms. Swift sings, “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me,” she’s correct. She and her fat-cat friends are what’s wrong with America.

Appeared in the September 16, 2024, print edition as 'If Taylor Swift Had Endorsed Donald Trump'.

[andreisvechnikov]

Hurricanes’ Seth Jarvis leans into status as an honorary Harvard grad

By: Luke Decock, April 24, 2024

When Tripp Tracy was asked to speak at a meeting of the Harvard Club of the Research Triangle last week, he naturally invited the Carolina Hurricanes’ two other Harvard Men to join him. Jack Drury, owner of a Harvard diploma, class of 2023. Seth Jarvis, owner of a “Harvard Alumni” T-shirt, class of not quite veritas.

Neither Drury nor Jarvis could attend because of the team’s pre-playoff dinner gathering, but Jarvis was nevertheless welcome despite his self-proclaimed “Grade 6” education, because if there’s one thing that’s true about the Hurricanes’ third-year forward above all else, it’s that if you try to make him the butt of a joke, even a heartfelt, good-natured one, he’ll find a way to turn it back around on you.

When Drury returned from his Cambridge graduation last summer with the crimson T-shirt as a gift for Jarvis, he never expected Jarvis to cut off the sleeves.

He never expected Jarvis to make it his undershirt and wear it under his shoulder pads every single day of the season. For every practice. Every game. Every postgame interview.

“I thought, there’s no better way to put it to use than cut it into a tank top and wear it under my gear,” Jarvis said.

Seth Jarvis. Harvard alum. The shirt says so.

“There have been a few people who have seriously asked me if I went to Harvard,” Jarvis said, “and they’ve obviously never had a conversation with me.”

The Hurricanes have always had a strong connection to Harvard, through Tracy and his youth teammate and future front-office executive Jason Karmanos, through players like Craig MacDonald and Craig Adams.

They’ve had players from the rest of the hockey-playing Ivy League schools as well, other than Brown: Jeff Hamilton (Yale), Kevin Westgarth (Princeton), Lee Stempniak (Dartmouth), Riley Nash (Cornell). Now Drury. And, apparently, Jarvis.

“I think it’s been awesome,” Tracy said. “I would have liked to have had him on the roster.”

Even within the hockey world, it’s hard to imagine two teammates as different as the goofy Manitoban and the cosmopolitan Harvard grad becoming so close. Jarvis left home at 14 to play junior hockey in the Western Hockey League and was in the NHL by age 18.

Drury, scion of a prominent hockey family, spent two years at Harvard and another year overseas in Sweden; even though Drury is two years older than Jarvis, Jarvis has played more than 100 more NHL games than Drury.

The two are akin to brothers as much as they are friends or teammates, so when Drury gave Jarvis the shirt, it was with the best of intentions. Still, give Jarvis an inch or two, he’ll take all 200 feet, same in the dressing room as on the rink.

“I got it for him hoping he would wear it,” Drury said. “Using it as the undershirt, I love that. I didn’t know he’d do that. Once he started to do it, I thought it was awesome. He’s a character. But you couldn’t have a better guy around the room.”

Every single day, the shirt goes into his laundry bag to be laundered with the rest of the team’s base layers, an old-school throwback amid the sweat-wicking, high-tech gear.

By now, seven months into the season, as the Hurricanes head north for Thursday’s Game 3 against the New York Islanders with a 2-0 lead in their first-round series, the T-shirt should probably be in tatters. It looks just fine. Other than the missing sleeves.

“It’s hung on,” Jarvis said. “It’s high quality. Only the best at Harvard.”

At the end of the regular season, when Jarvis sat in on the Bally Sports broadcast with Tracy and Mike Mansicalco while sitting out Game 82, he told Tracy he would have liked to major in “micro-macro engineering” at Harvard, which sounds like a typical Jarvis malaprop, mishmashing economics and engineering. But it also could very well be somebody’s bespoke “special concentration” in Harvard’s engineering school, studying “theories of engineering principles” or the “interactions between microscopic innovation and large system models.”

Jarvis, with his elite hockey IQ and even quicker wit, may be more evidence that you don’t have to be book smart to be smart. He plays up the dopey-goofball angle because it gets laughs — “There’s still a lot of stupidity going on throughout my day,” Jarvis said — and won the Josef Vasicek Award this season for his quotability, but he’s the son of two educators, and there’s a spark that animates both his personality and his game, burning bright under all the self-deprecating humor.

“He plays a little dumb, but he’s pretty smart actually,” Martin Necas said. “I’m positive. He’s pretty smart. He just makes himself look like it on purpose, sometimes.”

Watching his game grow over the past two seasons, as he spent last year becoming a two-way player and this season reaping the rewards, it’s fair to wonder what would happen if he applied himself in the classroom as he has to his hockey career. Who knows what might be possible.

“It’s never too late,” Drury said. “He plays it up a little bit but he’s smarter than people realize. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

And the T-shirt over his shoulders to sort-of prove it.

[sol-consort]

The mental image of Shepard going up to Wrex after all these years and being like "oh yeah I'm a parent now :) meet my krogan son, isn't he precious?"

And being the most annoying human alive about it. Each single interview afterwards has them hijack the conversation to talk about their son Grunt and how many kills he got last mission. They're so confident and passionate that no one in the whole galaxy dares to ask how did a human birth a krogan.

Anderson immediately summoned Shepard on an emergency to his office, demanding they explain what those interviews were about. But he doesn't care about the fact that Grunt is a krogan. He is just very mad at Shepard for not telling him he's a grandpa sooner. He demands time with his grandson and at least 200 pictures to hang around his office.

Imagine if this Shepard romanced Kaidan or Ashley before and after the break up on Horizon, they turn on a random TV channel to find out their ex, the commander Shepard, has a whole son now.

Ashley's mind is boogled, and she wonders if Grunt is related to her somehow because he definitely has her temper and speech.

Kaidan's heartbroken that you moved on so fast, and how come you didn't name your son after the agreed names you two came up with for your future children?

Meanwhile, Grunt who thinks this is just a human thing and tags along for the ride because funny humans and their weird lives.

[astaroth1357]

Another Headcanon I'll Take to My Grave:

I like to believe that since he's more or less a timeless being, Barbatos actually has a pretty fucked up sense of time-scaling and priorities. If you think about it, giving a mortal being immortality already messes with their head, so just imagine always existing with the ability to know, see, and affect the past, present, and future. At worst, you would completely disassociate from the world around you and maybe even gain a God complex. At best well... existence would be goddamn boring.

I like to imagine that Diavolo had to train Barbs into understanding things like promptness and urgency by cutting him off from his powers the way he did.

Dia: Yes, I would like my tea right now.

Also Dia: No, 4 years is not an appropriate time to wait for tea. No, you can't just wait until you feel like doing it, then have that future you go back and make tea for the present me. I want the present you to go make me some present tea. I'll see you in ten minutes.

Why I like this so much is that really makes Barbs' devotion to his job make sense. It would be the first time in his gazillion years of life where he like... has something to do. Always, consistently, and he can't rely on time travel to cheat-code his way around it. Bonus points that he won't always know what will happen next to boot!

I also like to imagine that though Dia was able to teach Barbs about urgency in day-to-day schedule, he still doesn't quite get it with other aspects of life like self-gratification. He'll always put off taking time for himself and what he wants because even 50 years of waiting is barely an inconvenience to him. He is literally made of time, he'll get to it whenever.

Then enter in the very mortal MC so someone has to sit him down and explain to him that: "No, you shouldn't wait for like 200 years to finally see if you have any feelings for them. In 200 years, they'll be made of dust."

"And also, no you can't just go back in time to kidnap a past MC and bring them to the future if you figure it out 200 years from now. Be reasonable, they are literally in the room next door. Go talk to them."

Meanwhile Barbs:

[bgthree]

Imagine Tav breaking things off with Astarion post-game because they’re worried he’s just with them because it’s what he thinks he wants.

For 200 years Astarion hasn’t had the freedom to make his own choices, and he gained that freedom while he was already involved with Tav. Tav is worried they’re preventing him from being able to explore and find out who he is, and what he wants.

Tav wants him to have the space to figure that out, without a shadow of a doubt and without any influence on their part. If Astarion wants a future involving a romantic relationship with Tav, wonderful. That’s what Tav wants too. But if that’s ultimately not what Astarion realizes he wants, true Tav would be heartbroken, but above all else Tav just wants him to happy.

Tav encourages Astarion to take some time to experience life (or un-life) free from Cazador’s control without any expectations from anyone. If he comes back, Tav will most assuredly be waiting with open arms.

Of course, Astarion hates the suggestion initially, feeling as though he’s being cast aside or abandoned. He accuses Tav of trying to get rid of him, of wanting to get rid of him so they can be with one of the other party members instead. Gods knew he hadn’t been the only one to take an interest in Tav. Probably Wyll, or Gale, he sneers.

He’s terrified, for more than a few reasons. He’s grown attached to Tav, come to trust them. He cares about them, doesn’t think he has the capacity to feel the way he feels about anyone else. He’s never faced such uncertainty about the future before and it unsettles him, as if he’s been thrown into a deep body of water.

He’s angry when he leaves, doesn’t tell Tav or any of the others where he’s going.

Tav tries to focus on other things: rebuilding the city, settling back into a life that doesn’t involve the tadpole or the constant threat of being turned into a mind flayer.

It’s late, and nearly a year to the day when someone knocks on the door to Tav’s lodgings. Tav half expects it to be Karlach, who’d mentioned coming for a visit soon, though the hour is a curious one for entertaining friends.

When Tav answers the door Astarion still braces himself for there to be someone else there, rumpled from sleep or annoyed at the interruption. One of their companions, perhaps, or someone unknown to him. That would be worse, he thinks. Because it would mean Tav had given up on him coming back, if Tav had ever even wanted him to.

But the look on Tav’s face when they see him, and the happy tears in Tav’s eyes are all he needs. Tav lets him in, almost convinced they’ve fallen asleep at their desk and the Astarion suddenly standing in the middle of their lodgings is merely a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He stalks towards them though, and Tav’s pulse races as he suddenly invades their space, backing them up against the opposite wall.

“Don’t ever ask me to do that again,” and it almost sounds angry, like a command. But Tav sees the hurt there, the same longing they see every time they look in a mirror. Astarion isn’t angry, he’s pleading with them.

“Not if you want me here,” he whispers.

“I do,” Tav nods. Nothing has changed. “I love you.”

And the sound he makes before he kisses them makes Tav realize they could never send him away again, even if they wanted to.

It’s a couple days later when Karlach shows up, and Astarion answers the door. She’s surprised to see him, so much that she nearly misses the disheveled appearance and unruly hair.

“Go away,” he smiles, and slams the door in her face.

Karlach laughs, and is so happy for them that she doesn’t even mind having to come back another time.

[fatehbaz]

Because tuatara are very long lived - between 100 and 200 years by most estimates […] - the founding of Aotearoa/New Zealand as a modern nation and the unfolding of settler-wrought changes to its environment have transpired over the course of the lives of perhaps just two tuatara [...].

---

[T]he tuatara (Sphenodon punctatus) [...] [is] the sole surviving representative of an order of reptiles that pre-dates the dinosaurs. [...] [T]he tuatara is of immense global and local significance and its story is pre-eminently one of deep timescales, of life-in-place [...]. Epithets abound for the unique and ancient biodiversity found in Aotearoa/New Zealand. Prized as “Ghosts of Gondwana” (Gibbs 2008), or as denizens of “Moa’s Ark” (Bellamy et al. 1990) or “The Southern Ark” (Andrews 1986), the country’s faunal species invoke fascination and inspire strong language [...]. In rounded terms, it [has been] [...] just 250 years since James Cook made landfall; just 200 years since the founding of the handful of [...] settlements that instigated agricultural transformation of the land [...]. European newcomers [...] were disconcerted by the biota [...]: the country was seen to “lack” terrestrial mammals; many of its birds were flightless and/or songless; its bats crawled through leaf-litter; its penguins inhabited forests; its parrots were mountain-dwellers; its frogs laid eggs that hatched miniature frogs rather than tadpoles [...].

---

Despite having met a reassuringly temperate climate [mild, oceanic, comparable to western Europe], too, the newcomers nevertheless sought to make adjustments to that climate, and it was clear to them that profits beckoned. Surveying the towering lowland forests from the deck of HMS Endeavour in 1769, and perceiving scope for expansion of the fenland drainage schemes being undertaken at that time in England and across swathes of Europe, Joseph Banks [botanist on Cook's voyage] reported on “swamps which might doubtless Easily be drained” [...]. Almost a century later, in New Zealand or Zealandia, the Britain of the South, [...] Hursthouse offered a fuller explication of this ethos: The cultivation of a new country materially improves its climate. Damp and dripping forests, exhaling pestilent vapours from rank and rotten vegetation, fall before the axe [...]. Fen and march and swamp, the bittern’s dank domain, fertile only in miasma, are drained; and the plough converts them into wholesome plains of fruit, and grain, and grass. [...]

[The British administrators] duly set about felling the ancient forests of Aotearoa/New Zealand, draining the country’s swamps [...]. They also began importing and acclimatising a vast array of exotic (predominantly northern-world) species [sheep, cattle, rodents, weasels, cats, crops, English pasture grasses, etc.] [...]. [T]hey constructed the seemingly ordinary agronomic patchwork of Aotearoa/New Zealand's productive, workaday landscapes [...]. This is effected through and/or accompanied by drastic deforestation, alteration of the water table and the flow of waterways, displacement and decline of endemic species, re-organisation of predation chains and pollination sequences and so on [...]. Aotearoa/New Zealand was founded in and through climate crisis [...]. Climate crisis is not a disastrous event waiting to happen in the future in this part of the world; rather, it has been with us for two centuries already [...].

---

[T]he crest formed by the twinned themes of absence and exceptionalism [...] has shaped this creature's niche in the western imagination. As one of the very oldest species on earth, tuatara have come to be recognised [in Euro-American scientific schemas] [...] as an evolutionary and biodiversity treasure [...]. In 1867, [...] Gunther [...] pronounced that it was not a lizard at all [...] [and] placed the tuatara [...] in a new order, Rhynchocephalia, [...] igniting a frenzy of scientific interest worldwide. Specifically, the tuatara was seen to afford opportunities for "astonished witnessing" [...], for "the excitement of having the chance to see, to study, to observe a true saurian of Mesozoic times in the flesh, still living, but only on this tiny speck of the earth [...], while all its ancestors [...] died about one hundred and thirty-five million years ago" [...]. Tuatara have, however, long held special status as a taonga or treasured species in Māori epistemologies, featuring in a range of [...] stories where [...] [they] are described by different climates and archaeologies of knowledge [...] (see Waitangi Tribunal 2011, p. 134). [...]

While unconfirmed sightings in the Wellington district were reported in the nineteenth century, tuatara currently survive only in actively managed - that is, monitored and pest-controlled - areas on scattered offshore islands, as well as in mainland zoo and sanctuary populations. As this confinement suggests, tuatara are functionally “extinct” in almost all of their former wild ranges. [...] [Italicized text in the heading of this post originally situated here in Boswell's article.] [...] In the remaining areas of Aotearoa/New Zealand where this species does now live [...], tuatara may in some cases be the oldest living inhabitants. Yet [...] if the tuatara is a creature of long memory, this memory is at risk of elimination or erasure. [...] [T]uatara expose and complicate the [...] machineries of public memory [...] and attendant environmental ideologies and management paradigms [...].

---

All text above by: Anna Boswell. "Climates of Change: A Tuatara's-Eye View". Humanities, 2020, Volume 9, Issue 2, 38. Published 1 May 2020. This article belongs to the Special Issue Environmental Humanities Approaches to Climate Change. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity. The first paragraph/heading in this post, with text in italics, are also the words of Boswell from this same article. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism purposes.]

[thenightwolf51]

A detail from the first Trolls movie that always kinda confused me was the fact that Chef was gonna feed Poppy to Gristle.

Poppy is King Peppy's heir, shes the future queen. You'd think that would make her off limits. She needs to survive to be crowned and eventually continue the royal line. The bergens are a monarchy themselves so they understand this importance and the trolls are their livestock so they would have to put some focus on maintaining genetics and keeping the trolls at a somewhat stable quality of life, that includes the social dynamics of the tribe. At least as much as we would keep track of the Queen bee in a hive, the biggest bull in a herd, or the fastest horse in the derby.

But now with Band Together it makes more sence.

Viva is older than Poppy, which means that she would likely have been assumed to be the future queen. As far as the bergens are concerned King Peppy already had his "heir and a spare". Poppy was just the spare.

With that in mind, i wonder if it was a tradition for bergen royalty to be fed a royal troll for their first trollstice. "Every prince deserves a princess" Chef had said. Did Peppy have a sibling that was fed to Gristle's dad?

If Poppy hadn't been born, would Viva had been considered old enough for Peppy to be given to Gristle instead? She managed to lead the Puttputts when she got seperated. Or would Gristle have gotten Viva and the bergens just hoped Peppy would create a new heir?

And back to the genetics bit. Do you think they selectively bred the trolls for the best taste or effect. Like specifically choosing trolls or families with undesirable traits to cook at trollstice so that their genes die out. Is that how the average pop troll of the current generation got to be so... delusionaly cheerful.

Like i know its all played up for the movies because their pop trolls, constantly singing and dancing and eating sugary sweets. But in comparison to the other genres they just seem more exaggerated.

So how much of that happy positivity and optimistic near lack of self preservation that most pop trolls have is natural for their genre and how much is enhanced due to at least 100 years of selective breeding.

I imagine the happier a troll the more dopamine/serotonin they produce naturally so the bergens would probably take care to decrease the the amount of trolls that wernt as "potent". Which likely would have been trolls that sang and danced less, were more likely to develop anxiety or were prone to depression or going grey.

On the evolutionary side of things this would have led to the happiest and more optimistic pop trolls to be the most attractive and ideal mates even if the trolls don't relize the scientific reason behind it or consciously notice that happy trolls had a higher servival rate.

(Which kind of reminds me of that one post that said something about boybands like Brozone who made trolls happy with their music likely being "protected" in some way because bergens wanted them to continue making trolls happy)

And i do think the pop trolls were captive for at least 100 years because i doubt a whole town and castle, essentially a small kingdom can be built in one life time. Especially not one with an established monarchy and near religious holiday that has a "minister of happiness". Honestly i wanna see it as over 200 years, give them plenty of time to forget their pre-trollstice history like the existence of other tribes

This is a bit long and rambling but my world building mind really wants to hyperfixate on the details of the pop troll's captivity and what it means for them as a species and for the ways their culture might have shifted or adapted.

[louisapennyfeather2021]

My sibling and I thought of a hilarious sub-plot for Season 2/possible main plot for future seasons of Hazbin Hotel:

First and foremost, it would require the introduction of Archangel Michael, voiced by the one and only Andrew Rannells. We just wanted him to be a part of the cast, but introducing Michael would be really interesting for a few reasons.

For starters, we know there will be discussions between Lucifer and Heaven. 1) He intervened in the Extermination(even though a Hellborn was harmed and Heaven broke their end of the deal). Heaven won't just let that go, especially since Adam is dead(now a sinner???) 2) Pentious was redeemed, so if Lucifer and/or Charlie find our, that would mean they have a LOT more conversations with Heaven.

Let's say druing one of these conversations Lucifer is at his whits end with Sera and the rest of the Heavenly Council. Maybe he makes a demand to bring the Big-Boss-Man into this. Well, you see, God doesn't get involved much unless it's really a big deal, so who better to send in his place than his Gold-Star Son, Michael???

(For the sake of this post, let's run with the idea that Lucifer and Michael are genuinely brothers. Just for the fun of it, we could even say that they're twins and neither can agree on who was "born" first)

And ohhhhh, how Lucifer immediately regrets it, not because Michael is necessarily a threat to Lucifer. No, no, no, Michael is essentially harmless right now. But Michael is Lucifer's "perfect" brother. The golden boy who stood by their father's side while his wayward brother Fell.

And boy, is Michael very well aware of the fact that he's the favorite. Lucifer mostly can't stand him because he's rather smug and entitled. He also 100% refers to himself in the 3rd Person and it makes Lucifer's eye twitch.

Michael isn't really an antagonist, more so an obstacle similar to Sera. He's like a weird mix of Adam and Sera. He's not vulgar like Adam, but he's not exactly the epitome of Heavenly Grace like Sera. Think of the most stereotypical entitled Cinderella step-sister or Sharpay Evans from High School Musical.

Michael has power, that goes unsaid. He's an archangel, of course he has power. However, when he initially defeated Lucifer, it was with the help of God. By all technicalities, Lucifer and Michael are on the same grounds for power. Maybe in the future, if we get an all out war with Heaven, it could come down to a fight between brothers/families. Lucifer might taunt Michael similarly to how he taunted Adam, but Michael is also one of the warriors of Heaven, stronger than everyone except God. This would be a fair fight between the two.

And imagine Charlie trying to process the fact that she has family in Heaven, but they had no interest in even thinking about her. Charlie's ideas of Heaven have already been tainted and she's aware of how Heaven hurt Lucifer, but to really process it and feel it first hand when Michael dismisses her like they aren't direct family? It could help drastically change Charlie's outlook on redeeming sinners into Heaven. Maybe it could push her to have a more radical opinion on Heaven and how it functions. That doesn't even take into account how she'll feel when she finds out where Lilith has been while Hell suffers Extermination after Extermination.

But all angst aside, can we just take a minute to imagine how hilarious it would be to watch Jeremy Jordan and Andrew Rannells banter on screen? It was great to watch Lucifer and Alastor play verbal badminton, but Lucifer and Michael?? Hell, maybe Lucifer and Alastor might finally agree on something and it would be their mutual disliking of Michael.

I also think it'd be really funny for Michael to call Lucifer "Lucy", but in a really condescending way that had Lucifer ready to launch into the most epic Sibling Cat Fight of all time. I also personal think Michael refuses to use forks because a certain Fallen Angel spent at least 200 years antagonizing his dearest brother with one.

This post started as "silly haha, Jeremy and Andrew being silly" and then I got distracted.

The big take away is that I really want Andrew to make an appearance in the show in the future and I think him doing that through Archangel Michael would be brilliant.

Kudos to @anymal28 for helping me with initial idea