#lotsa potential

[0m3g45n1p3r4lph4]

Okay so obviously Adaptive Armour has a silver default like Nuva armour. And obviously it can change colour when shape-shifting to match the environment- see the Toa Nuva Phantoka. Dark Gray armour to blend in with the dark gray rocks of the Stalactite villages.

So why did the Mistika have silver? Doesn't fit. I could see them all reverting to silver in the Codrex, or while piloting the Battle Vehicles, but in the Swamp? There's a better colour match.

They should've used Metallic Green.

[wheeliescoot]

Finished ok ko last night (my first full watch thru since I would catch the eps on cable as a hyperfixated teen) and tell me why this show didn’t get 5 more seasons and a movie.

I have so many thoughts but I am overwhelmed by the fact that we BARELY got to see voxman get back together in a meaningful way. I mean PV was REALLY shitty to boxman (granted it was shadowy and nothing the real PV would actually do, seeing as shadowy also missed poor finks recorder recital 🥺) but I ended up feeling SO bad for boxman and I wish we got MORE than just the little cameo “I’m sorry” moment in the last ep…

It’s great to see what they were going for! And clearly PV felt so bad after the fact he was willing to FUCKING DIE … but I just wish we could have gotten a proper apology/scene + boxman expressing how much it hurt … sigh…

Manifesting a okko spinoff or movie !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[bolithesenate]

@charmwasjess ask and ye shall recieve

now, as I am a fan of jar'kai-wielder Sifo, my mind initially went to 'one of Sy's sabers is powered by the half of Dooku's crystal and one he gets later with his own'

possibly finding an old saber in the Hall of Memory that calls out to him (once wielded by a powerful Seer of the past?)

and as kyber retain partial memories of their wielders, imprints and such, who's not to say that such a saber wouldn't help Sifo navigate his own gift-curse from the Force?

ALTERNATIVELY

and that is just a personal fave of mine

the saber that calls out to Sy, the one that is actually meant for him, is the Darksaber (Mand'alor Sifo, anyone?)

i just find the visual of sifo dual-wielding dooku's sister-blade and the darksaber very appealing :3

(and ofc sifo getting the darksaber results in Jaster living, which solves many a problem of the coming years and prevents quite a few more, so everyone is happy and less people die)

[stars-inthe-sky]

So, hey. How did you and your family celebrate Passover when you were a kid? How about now?

My Rhode Island aunt and uncle almost always hosted a big family Seder, and it was the absolute best. A good Seder is educational, food-filled, and legit fun—it's a ritual meal that includes storytelling, singing, prayers, and a general focus on including and teaching everyone involved, regardless of age or even whether attendees are Jewish. (If ever you're invited to a friend's Seder, go! Do not bring a challah, which my actually-bar-mitzvahed brother-in-law did once as an attempt at a thoughtful host gift. We still make fun of him.)

And my uncle (the same one who officiated at my wedding, and the wedding of my other sister) may well be the greatest host/leader there is; over the years he compiled from a medley of sources what added up to his own Haggadah (basically the guidebook to the Seder—there are a million published and informal versions working off the same template, with readings and activities and interpretations that can go kid-centric or feminist or traditional or whatever). It was always just insanely fun, and warm, and joyous, with incredible food and an increasing array of baked-in, just-us traditions.

Since I went to college basically down the street from their house, and then lived just an hour away in Boston for so long, that was pretty much the heart of my and my family's celebration most years—right up until Passover 2020, at which point the pandemic negated what had been plans to travel from our new home in Illinois for it, and they also downsized and had their own kids scatter geographically and gain very little ones, so that particular tradition is at best on hiatus now.

But there are fun Seders everywhere—well, the Zoom ones of the pandemic years were a mixed bag, but we've found friends who've make a good go of it, over the years, too, if not quite as an elaborately planned out hourslong celebration as my uncle would do. When I studied abroad in Denmark, Boyfriend and I went to an Orthodox Seder that was in a mix of Danish and Hebrew, for instance—that was novel, and so much of the procedure and the Hebrew was familiar enough to follow along.

Still working on exactly where we'll be for those two nights this year (we haven't really met any Jewish families in Pittsburgh yet to garner an invite, and none of the Reform or Conservative synagogues seem to have community events, which is surprising? And I don't really want to go to Chabad?) but we'll figure something out.

That said, as fun as the Seders can and should be, the rest of Passover is a slog of not eating bread or adjacent products, and experiencing whatever it is matzah does to one's digestive system over the course of a week. It's a meaningful observance, and the fact that the relevant rabbinical boards have stopped including rice and legumes in the "no" column in recent years has been great, but...it's ultimately a holiday recalling the story of the Exodus, and how we were slaves once, so, like, there are some less-fun elements. But the freedom celebration parts usually outweigh that!

[sp4rrowdoll]

Another request before i sleep, i hope I'm not bothering you💀😭

BUT! this is your post to share any headcanons about literally anyone from dol😌 just a space for you to put stuff youve been thinking about but not knowing where to organise your thoughts. Hit me with anything abt anything bro let's fucking GO

(and i ask this just before heading to bed so goodnight😩🤌)

You are not bothering me at all!!! I love getting asks and requests, and getting to write for people, it's genuinely really helpful and inspiring. Gimme all the asks! I want them all!! Sometimes I do sit on them a bit though, they need to incubate. Marinate, if you will, for maximum flavor and tenderness.

Alrighty, headcanon time. I've got some headcanons for both Bailey and Mason. (Mason is fantastic and I love them so much) Bailey:

Bailey was a good person once. 

Not anymore, certainly—that ship sailed a long fuckin’ time ago, and he doesn’t even bother to pretend that he wants what’s best for the orphans under his care, regardless of age—they aren’t quite livestock to him, but they’re close. When he’s doing the accounting for the orphanage, the younger ones are labeled “investments,” and the ones that have hit eighteen are moved into the “assets” list. It’s cold and brutal of him, and he knows it. But that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? No matter what he does, he knows it’s immoral as shit, that it’s fucked up and evil of him, and he keeps doing it anyway. 

He wouldn’t call himself tormented about his actions, or his lifestyle, but something has him showing up to the hookah parlor regularly, huffing sweet smoke and doing his best to forget.

He wasn’t born here. Sometimes he wishes that he was, so the effects of the town didn’t hit him like a fucking truck, unwinding all of the baser impulses he’d stashed away and accumulated over the years. And sometimes he’s glad he wasn’t, because he still has at least some control over himself, and he’s sharper than the rest of the idiots trying and failing to run the place. There was a point in time where he’d wanted to be a good person. When he’d gotten a degree in developmental psyche, and was bright eyed and pursuing the advertisements in the local paper. When he’d seen a job opening in a small town that he’d never heard of before, for a caretaker at an orphanage, and something inside him had compelled him to take it, even though the pay was shit.

Sometimes he feels like two different people stuffed into the same skin suit, and the person that he used to be is clawing at the edges of his mind, begging to be let out. That’s when he sighs, rolls back his ostentatious leather-backed office chair from his desk, and heads down to Barb Street.

He needs another pipe. Mason:

Mason is a virgin. 

He has no idea how he managed to get past his twenty-first birthday in this town without having been forced to have—intercourse—with someone, and maybe it’s the fact that he can’t even think about sex without flushing like it’s his very first health class, and maybe it's the fact that he’s been swimming since before he could walk. His parents were big on physical fitness, before they—he still doesn’t know exactly what happened to them. Maybe they died, maybe they left, he doesn’t know and he can’t quite remember. He can’t muster up any feelings of regret or abandonment, so at least there’s that. They must have told him where they were going, or he must have known what happened to them, but he just can’t remember, no matter how hard he tries.

He thinks about teaching a self-defense class sometimes. God knows there’s plenty of kids—he doesn’t know why he calls them kids, they’re barely that much younger than he is—in this town who could use them. And then he spends all day getting leered at by them, and he remembers exactly why he doesn’t do that.

At least the lake is always there for him. It’s the only place in this town where he feels like he can breathe. Even if it’s raining and the sheets of water from above and below surround him, and there’s barely any air at all. It’s like flying. 

It’s like freedom.

[korppipoika-fr]

The NotN dudes that I have listed right now, these are gonna start getting exalted next so PWYW! Just send a CR and which one you want! There's also a fourth one but they didn't have a scry so yeah |''3

[dapper-lil-arts]

i got a demon goat girl sona to rate but the best image i have of her is a tad old and rough

hmm just a headshot isn't much to work on, but i do like what i'm seeing, the hair streak and earring are cute, so is the color selection! (green eyes very cool) it definitely has potential for something if it gets fully fledged out! It definitely has the potential of a fantastic rating, but it could also end up with a lukewarm rating, without a full body i cant fairly rate it! 🤔

[hana-no-seiiki]

how they act around reader! you know the usual, how horny they get and how the reader is potentially uncomfortable because not even they can handle the harems hormones.

MIDNIGHT DARLING HEAD-CANNONS (Unang Yugto / First Part)

YANDERE COLLEGE BASED OCS x READER

Hoo boy we have a lot of characters to go through and I haven’t even named all of them so *cracks knuckles* Let’s go with my favorite children for now.

warnings: dead dove do not eat territory here. yandere themes (lotsa violence). please don’t read this if you have a wild imagination like me oh god im aboutta faint at darling’s section. cannibalism. knife play. necrophillia. a transphobic society.

[previous ask for more context]

[next part] - yandere! faculty

Let’s start with our boy Justin Del Rosario [Yan Jock]

He’s incredibly sweet and caring. At least when you two were dating. The type to always check in on you. Always makes sure you’re hydrated and keeping up with your self-care routines.

As if popular! reader isn’t completely meticulous when it comes to their image.

Looks like a bad boy but is an actual sweetheart. Your relationship started off as a transaction of sorts. Being the softie he is though he developed feelings. Quick. The masochist.

Is a whole ass push-over when it comes to you.

Now post break-up Justin is a bit of a freak.

Like I said in my previous post of his experience as your boyfriend, he has gone through shit.

Suddenly his grades are perfect. People are actually tolerating if not appreciating his presence.

He’s becoming a threat to your place as the ruler of the campus.

But unlike you his fans aren’t declined atrocious yet.

How does Popular! Reader feel about him? Not much really. Their whole relationship was a transaction to them. I can’t emphasize how much of an apathetic bitch I wrote reader to be ya’ll I’m sorry. But in order for their harem to thrive they gotta turn a blind eye.

In terms of Horni Levels it’s uh - not so bad. Once he lost his virginity to you (yes you took his virginity) he found it to be the best stress relief and got addicted. But he’s also super respectful of your boundaries.

That was when you were originally dating though. He’d probably pound you to oblivion if you ever got back together. Pent up horni does that.

Actually, that event might not even need them getting back together. I won’t be surprised if current Justin just takes you even with his relationship with Darling.

For your favorite, Darling De Leon [yan good girl] . . .

⚠️THIS IS THE PART WHERE IT’S DEFINITELY DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Hella shy around you. You almost didn’t know she existed if it weren’t for her consistent placement as second. At least before Isabel came and Justin’s grades shot up.

She has a pretty shit past.

Has always been a little scared of you.

Extremely possessive. She had always been overshadowed by her siblings, and her time abroad without you had really shattered her self confidence. Although she’s deathly afraid her past actions would be revealed, she’s more scared of losing you to someone else.

She thought that by agreeing to date Justin, you’d think of him as disgusting for moving on so fast.

Definitely enjoyed her time on your lap a little too much.

Which brings me to Horni Levels.

If you think Justin is bad. Darling is just the worst out of all the yanderes. She’s the kinkiest one too. She has been saving herself for you, waiting for the time you corrupt her. Hoping that by that time, every obstacle has been removed.

The type to have you fuck her atop the corpses of her rivals kind of kinky. The type to fantasize about you using a knife and inserting in every way possible inside her type of kinky. The type of kinky to fuck your dead body or eat any and every part of you to fully make you two as one.

She’ll own you, dead or alive, one way or another.

How popular! reader feels about her is again, indifference. Maybe a little horni for her soft aesthetic and cute demeanor. Definitely plans to gobble her up once Justin is done playing pretend.

A character that hasn’t been mentioned yet is Isabel Labrador [yan! nerd]

Isabel used to go by the name Isaiah. She used to be pretty alright with being assigned male at birth until popular! reader suddenly announced one day that she’s more horni towards women.

She got disowned for transitioning, and like Darling, disappeared from your life for quite a bit that you forgot about her.

Similar to many of the harem members, she’s very pliant to your whims. She does many of the assignments and projects that aren’t worth your time or would lead to you lacking sleep.

Not like the professors assign you much.

A bit of a whiny brat. Used to be hella spoiled when she was younger so she’s a lot more outspoken when it comes to your sexual escapades. This leads to you beating her up the most out of everyone in the harem.

Popular! Reader is the only one who knows she’s a trans and is surprisingly very respectful about that part about her.

The two of you are mostly amicable.

Horni Levels: Pretty normal for a young adult. Loves to tease you by showing more skin sometimes. Though she always covers up when anyone else is in the picture.

Her hella religious upbringing made her pretty conservative about sex and all that but it’s often balls to the wall when they see you. Literally. Never knew she was into pegging til you took her one day.

How popular! reader feels about her? Mostly a means to an end. She’s the least careful when it comes to her simpery. It gets tiring having to discipline her every time but the angry sex makes up for it.

This one will be short since I plan on him and the rest to be minor characters. Nobody knows how Ricardo Peralta [yan! president] became the President with how much he hates your ass.

People who voted for him were probably like. ‘If a person who doesn’t even want [Y/N] became president. We won’t have a threat.’

Jokes on them he has more notes on you than the entire student body combined.

Boy is the Candace to your Phineas/Ferb. His entire mission is to bust your ass. (and for you to bust a nut in his-)

…

You don’t even know he exists.

LAST BUT NOT LEAST LET’S TALK ABOUT YOU.

It was almost as if you were made to be the apple of everyone’s eye. Not one person in campus could remember a time where they didn’t know you.

No, it was more like they didn’t want to. Why imagine a terrible era such as that?

A lot of the students from the college are spoiled brats that absolutely adored how cut throat you were. How you weren’t afraid to put them in their place unlike those push-overs they usually meet. Some were just drawn to your charisma and confidence.

Or well, just general fuckability.

People think you’re also rich but you just get a lot of stuff from the students with money.

Your birthday is a bloodbath and a half. You started celebrating it alone so that people wouldn’t see your reactions to the gifts. Both because you wanted to keep them guessing and ‘cause the person whose gift is liked will probably get murdered.

You have to routinely check for cameras or tracking devices.

It takes you every bit of your self control not to just twerk in front of the camera if not give it the finger by fucking someone who you know is innocent right in front of it. They don’t even get to see you properly in the angle.

You strategically use pussy as both a punishment and incentive.

It’s super effective!

It’s super effective.

You often use pussy to discipline or incentivize your harem. It’s super effective. At least, considering you haven’t been kidnapped and/or killed yet.

You’re a bit of a sadist.

Yeah you’re a bit of a sadist.

Popular! Reader uses pussy a lot to keep everyone in check. You’re used to giving your body away to get what you want that you’ve become numb to it.

No one is normal in this College. Not even you.

You don’t even know he exists.

[astarionancuntnin]

Dancing on the Edge of a Knife

summary: ever since his ascension, Malva was convinced that Astarion was the only person who could understand her every twisted desire. well, almost. there are some things she still keeps to herself, he simply wouldn't understand this part of her, the one who dances on the very edge of her knife.

or Ascended Astarion learns how real punishments work

rating: E

word count: 2.8k

pairing: ascended astarion x consort malva (oc, evil!sorcerer!tav)

cw: 18+. KNIFE PLAY (big warning cause the whole fic will turn around this specific one), smut, post-game setting a few years later, mention of violence/murder, mentions of and actual self-harm, slight voyeurism, shared sensations, blood play, bdsm relationship (Master/Pet, punishment), teasing, overstimulation, orgasm denial. full list on ao3

a/n: i just dont pick where the inspo comes from but malva lives rent free in my head

a/n2: decided to make the stories about malva and astarion into a series, they can be read independently but if you wanna read the first one featuring lotsa spanking, here it is (they also get to cum in that one)

read on ao3

or keep reading down below~

It was just another day of bloody business for Malva and her Master. 

Another party used as distraction; another life to take; another bloodshed.

Another reason to dive her pretty blade into the chest of yet another unfortunate soul.

She remembers back when Orin had mentioned her potential to join the ranks of the bhaalists, and of course, she would’ve; Malva’s talent to murder people came as naturally to her as her powers had, but the mere idea of being attached to any godly entity made Malva retch.

And Bhaal out of all of them? The same one who sent his minions to do his dirty work? Really, what was the point in becoming a God if you didn’t use that power for yourself?

No, Malva acted sinfully within her own code based on her own goals; no Gods or voices guiding her blade, only her inner bloodthirst and the knowledge that she was mightier than any other mortal crossing her path. Compared to other species, she was already considered immortal, but now, as a vampire? A spawn of the Vampire Ascendant, out of all of them? She might be even greater than the Gods themselves.

Even then, killing was just a job, something that needed to be done nevertheless, and knowing how much she had to do, she just decided to take pleasure in it. After all, the line between pleasure and pain had been blurry ever since Malva could remember, even at a young age.

Ever since her mentor had shown her how to master her powers.

“You will need to use your powers for the greater good,” he had said. “They come with responsibilities. Wield them to perfection so they serve you on every occasion. Those powers are a part of you.”

Obviously, she remembers thinking, they're what makes me better than the others.

“But you need to know that, as much good they can do, they can also harm, and to fully understand this, you'll need to feel them yourself.” 

She recalls how he had grabbed her arm and inflicted a benign version of a lighting spell on her, just to show her how it would feel to receive it — the impact of it, even on a smaller scale.

“Now, every time you inflict this pain on someone, you'll carry the weight of it as if you felt it yourself.”

He couldn't have been as right and wrong at the same time.

Yes — the spark lighting up her skin had burned, and she had flinched and pulled her arm back the second the shock hit her. 

But what a delectable sensation it had been.

How the burn had tingled and resonated through her entire body, lingering long after, introducing her to a new world of possibilities, one she hadn't even considered.

She had spent the rest of her life chasing that feeling.

Using her powers on herself as she was still learning them, gradually increasing the intensity as she became numb to the minor pain to still feel the hurt but relishing the burn of the wound, that sweet tingle rippling on her skin.

Venturing into taverns as she grew older, looking for easy strangers with whom to spend the night to easily discard them once morning came, until one night led to her first kill, and instead of fear she had felt a thrill. The same one as her self-inflicted burns.

Picking up dangerous bounties only to use her powers on others without holding back, see the light leave their eyes as she felt the blood from her own wounds drip from her body, smearing her pale skin.

A knife held at her throat, her life hanging by a thread — the burn of the blade penetrating her skin even better than any cock could ever feel.

The rush of heightened pleasure that clouded her mind for those brief moments was better than any sketchy potion on the market, and yet, the conclusion always turned out the same.

This rush was short-lived. 

Every kill was done with the next one already in mind.

Pain was her pleasure, and no one had understood that about her in the past. She even led herself to believe that Astarion didn't understand how far her limits went. Believing he couldn't satisfy all of her needs — and he would go far; spank her hard, choke her, bite her — all things she adored, but there was still something… missing. 

Something she would just need to take care of by herself.

So that night, a night that felt as meaningless as the others — or that should’ve been — she let her mind wander after disposing of this nuisance of a man. With her spirit  clouded with lust from the blood now warming her veins, she eyed her dagger in her hand with a different intention.

Her dark, yet see-through long dress didn’t allow for under clothing — like most of her other dresses, she had noticed — and the skirt, which split in the middle only to be covered by a thin layer of fabric, made it easy for her to pull the slit of her skirt aside and slide the blade of her knife along her plump thigh.

The tip just ghosted over her skin at first, teasing herself with the weapon that had taken so many lives already. A shiver ran down her back at the promise of what was to come — finally, feeling somewhat alive once again — getting wet from the mere memories of the last time she had touched herself like so.

The blood of her previous victim still coating the blade as she pushed it deeper, breaking into her skin — just enough to draw blood and for her breathing to turn into whimpers.

Just enough to feel that same burn, that pain that turned into pleasure so quickly for her.

She had thought she had been subtle, that her time away wouldn't cause Astarion to come looking for her. Afterall, the kill had taken her mere seconds, she still had plenty of time to take care of herself and go back to her Master. She could always use the excuse that he had been a difficult target — either way, she’d come up with something.

Little did she know, he had felt it. 

Their connection was greater than with his regular spawns; he was able to feel any sensation she felt as well as accessing her mind at any time — not that she knew about the former — and the second that knife slid across her skin, Astarion had known.

The pain in the inside of her thigh, this familiar burn; one he recognized instantly.

Oh, and he ran to find her, expecting the worst, only to find her with her legs spread open, leaning against the wall of the hallway with a body at her feet, and the hilt of her knife sliding across her wet slit, with sinful moans escaping her luscious lips.

He couldn’t say he was surprised at the sight, this was Malva after all, the woman who took a malicious pleasure in the murders she committed — ones she never questioned. The same woman who smiled as she took each and every of his punishments.

And yet, that was the last thing he expected to see when he ran for her.

So here he stood, watching as she pleasured herself with the soiled weapon she had visibly used on the corpse lying nearby, her other hand holding back the fabric of her dress as leaned back against the wall, her chest heaving as her pleasure overtook her.

Worry aside, he was now fixated on her every move. Watching, learning, so he could use it on her later. This was just one more thing to add to his library of possibilities when it came to her.

What was unacceptable was how she took those liberties without involving him, how she so easily broke those chains, and dismissed his authority.

Not only that, but she had been cutting herself — cutting him. 

He only had himself to blame, after all he had never made her aware of this part of their connection, but now the consequences of his actions had caught up to him. The same cuts he remembered suffering, that made him bleed out to near unconsciousness years ago, and all because of their connection, he was reliving these moments all over again. 

No, no, this time was different — this time he was in control, he had a say in how this would go. If his consort wanted to play, he would play along.

He leaned back and away from her eyesight, a flicker of malice flashed in his ruby eyes as he opened his mind to reach out to hers.

“Enjoying yourself, pet?”

He smirked when he heard the clink of her dagger as it fell to the floor.

“Master?” She answered back through their connection. “I was just finishing up with this—”

“Oh no, dearest, you are far from done.” He cut her off. “Pick that dagger up, and cut through your other thigh, the same way you did the other.”

She briefly remained silent as she collected her thoughts, “How did you…”

“The dagger, pet.”

“Y– Yes, sir.”

He felt the ghost of the blade over his own thigh at the same time he heard her breathy moans echo in the hallway. 

He didn’t expect the vivid flashes of his past coming back to him, the burn of the scars in his back searing through his skin. He was all powerful now, this was long in the past, why was he still affected?

“Enough, pet.”

He needed to change his approach, no matter what, Malva was going to inflict this pain onto herself. He just needed to control it — make it feel good — for both of them.

He closed his eyes, banishing the remaining memories of his past to conjure the image of his consort instead.

“Take the hilt of your dagger and smear it with your blood.”

He imagined her in her long-sleeved black dress — the one he had picked for the night, with the embroidered red dragons partly covering her chest, matching his own ensemble — legs apart and cunt exposed with her dark blood slowly dripping from her thighs getting smeared over her skin as she ran the hilt of her weapon across it, coating it in her crimson.

“Now, guide it towards your slit, but don’t push it into you.” he paused, giving her time to follow his instructions, “And up to your clit. There, good girl. You’re gonna be rubbing yourself with it until I tell you to stop.”

He sensed a hint of doubt from her when she remained unmoving, “Do you not trust me, pet?”

“I… I simply didn't expect this from you.”

“Are you not glad I’m making the effort to keep your days exciting?”She bit her lip, remembering her dread of the previous dull days, “Yes, Sir.’

“Good, then close your eyes, and start rubbing that dagger over yourself.”

He heard her loud sigh before she finally let the bloody weapon touch her sensitive spot, allowing himself to feel her pleasure in his groin as she made it twirl and slide over it.

He let his head fall back against the wall as the sensation took place between his legs, only taking in the feeling temporarily before he shot his eyes open, ready to take the matter in his hands.

With her eyes still closed, Malva didn’t see Astarion approach her. She didn't feel the weight of his gaze as he stared her down like prey. But she did hear the pounding of his heartbeat against his chest as he grew closer, and her throat bobbed in anticipation between two raspy breaths, the movement between her legs relentlessly accelerating, her juices mixing with her blood as she neared her collapse.

“Tell me,” he purred down their connection. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Really good.”

“Don’t shy away from details now, I want to know exactly how you feel, dear.”

“The cuts… they burn deliciously, Sir. I’ve— missed this feeling, ah—” She became increasingly sensitive as she rubbed her swollen bud ceaselessly. “How… my wounds feel as the blood rises to the surface. When the burn spreads through my thighs and between my legs, fuck—”

Her breath accelerated and her mind blanked out as she focused on the growing ache between her legs.

“I’m— I’m close,” she panted.

Astarion might have to learn more about his dark consort after tonight, but if there was one thing he knew without a doubt, it was the clear signs of her collapse. With her head thrown back, her body messily leaning against the wall as her legs quivered from the excessive stimulation, and her pace getting sloppier as she was reaching her climax, he knew exactly how long until she reached the edge. Some time, right about…

Now.

“Stop,” he finally spoke up as he stood in front of her.

“What?!” She exclaimed, shooting her eyes open as she lifted her head back up, staring right into his eyes.

“Drop the knife, now.”

Reluctantly, Malva plunged her blade into the luxurious carpet, grunting as she did so. 

“Still feeling good, my dear?”

She shot him a frowning glare, chest heaving and lips parted as she panted.

“What do you think?!” She shouted. “I was so damned close– fuck!”

He snickered, stepping forward to meet her stare, “So you truly believe you deserve this? That you deserve more than what I've already allowed you, when you’ve been touching yourself behind my back?”

She lifted her head and without breaking eye contact, retorted with a growl, “You wouldn’t grasp how to please me, even if I showed you precisely how.”

He wouldn’t usually accept this behaviour from her, but this time around, he wanted to see how far he could take it.

“Is that so?” He smiled as he closed the gap between them, his stance hovering over her. “In all the years we've spent together, have I not proved you wrong already?” 

She backed into the wall as he pushed her against it, one hand caging her beneath him, while the other reached for his waist to pull out his signature dagger, bringing it up and pushing Malva's head upwards as he pressed the tip right under her chin.

“Do I need to prove my point again?” 

Her frown softened, “You seem to have underestimated me, my Lord.” 

Their lips were but a whisper apart, the threat of the blade restraining Malva in this position, leaving Astarion in complete control once again. All his consort could do in this position was talk back, something she was annoyingly well versed into.

“I'll have you know that it'll take me more than a few spankings to be truly satiated.”

He chuckled, “My beautiful, dark consort. I should've known you grew from the thorniest vines.”

His vision dropped from her eyes to her lips, trailing the tip of his dagger along her jaw and down her neck, stopping right at the valley between her breasts.

“Is this what you want?” He leaned his head above the crook of her neck, whispering roughly in her ear. “For me to slice you open and bleed you out, right here, in the middle of this hallway with our guests still waiting in the main room?” 

As he slid the blade down, partly slicing open the front of her dress, a faint line of blood appeared in its wake. The knife travelled down her chest, just past her navel, where it paused, leaving the dress only partially cut through.

He brought the blade back up with the same agonising pace, resting it right over her breast, barely pushing against her to pierce the skin, “Answer me, pet.”

Malva was already lost in the feeling of the blade hovering right above her heart, the word barely slipping between her lips as she held in her breath, one she kept forgetting wasn’t necessary anymore.

“Yes.”

He pressed deeper into her, just enough for the blade to penetrate her supple skin, pushing a deeper moan out of her, “And do you think you deserve it?”

“Y– Yes, Master.”

“Mmh…” He let his knife slide back down where her pleasure had accumulated, pressing its flat side against her glistening cunt, just enough for her to believe in the promise of what would come… 

Only to remove it completely right after, licking her blood and juices off from his weapon before pushing himself off the wall.

Malva blinked as her breathing came back to her, watching as her Master walked away from her, leaving her in an even messier state than he found her in.

“Maybe next time I’ll believe you.” He made sure to pick up the blade she had thrown down earlier as well, “You'll have to use your powers to carry out your tasks from now on, I’m sure you’ll manage though. After all, I can't trust you to carry around a blade if you risk to hurt yourself, can I? It would be unwise on my part, I’m sure you understand.”

Without knowing it, his consort had opened up a whole world of possibilities for him, and it all started with her first, real, punishment.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated, I love reading your feedback! <3 (tag list will be in the comments moving forward!)

[moss-covered-thoughts]

An out of order list of things I'm debating for my BatPham fic. Pls pls pls feel free to drop your thoughts, I have too many ideas to sort thru

PS to ppl following No Questions Asked-- may or may not contain spoilers! I literally have no idea yet! Don't look if you don't wanna know what could happen

- older/time skip Danny: short or long hair? Or same? I was originally thinking an undercut but I keep seeing ponytail Danny

- Jason half-ghost au: fire core? Is that the consensus? I kinda wanna change it up and do wind core or electricity core. I like the idea of storm motifs for him

- can't decide if I like dead in main (Jason/Danny) or dead tired (Tim/Danny) better but I'm leaning towards Jason cuz red hood is my fav bat. I don't know as much about Tim. Maybe I should just not do ships??? Dunno if it'd be better to stick with platonic stuff

- Jason and Bruce: reconciled??? I like the idea of him still working out his shit with Bruce/ not having a fluid dynamic yet. Lotsa angst potential. But maybe too complicated for a BatPham au that's already angsty as hell?

- punk Danny vs soft Danny: love love love the punk Danny stuff I've seen buuuuut of he like, gets adopted by Bruce a literal billionaire uhhh can see that being conflicting ahah. The other option is soft Danny, sweaters and warm tea and finding peace where he can kinda deal. But also on the other hand, anarchy

Hmhmgmgmgm that's all I got for now. It's almost 4am and my brains like oh??? Oh???? DPxDC???

[panfluidme]

One shot request: (no death) Martin and Chris were like really far from the Tortuga and Martin gets injured (potentially fatal) and all Chris can do is to try and save him/protect him until they can get proper help. Martin also starts rambling about silly stuff while it's happening (examples: his favourite creature, what he'll get Chris for his birthday) also I love all your wild kratts angst fics 💗💗

I'm so sorry this has taken me for fucking ever, lol

I hope that you enjoy this. I kinda went off prompt

CAN'T THINK RIGHT

Martin was losing blood, quick. And Chris could see that. Him losing blood was absolutely terrifying; pulled right out of his nightmares. The color made him feel sick; why did it make him feel so sick?

Chris pressed his hands against Martin's side, trying so hard to keep himself as calm as he can be. This was a lot for the young man. His fear was strong, tears welled up in his chocolate brown eyes, but he needed to keep himself calm for Martin.

The older hummed softly. He stared at Chris as he blinked rapidly to in a vain attempt to get rid of the black dotting his vision. He let out a giggle, causing the younger to pause then look at his face.

"What are you giggling at?"

"Chris is so funny. He whined when it was purple martins or when he was blueeee."

The man in question blinked, confused. "Why do you bring it up?"

"I dunno. It's just funny. He whined lots over it. I do feel bad cause there's no animal that has Chris in the name." Martin let his head lull back.

"Deep breaths and stay awake, okay? I'm going to call Aviva here in a moment." Chris grabbed his Creature Pod with one hand and dialed Aviva.

"Hola," the inventor greeted cheerfully.

"Martin's hurt. A tiger bit him and cut up his legs."

"I'm on the way. Where are you?"

"I threw a sandwich and the tiger went after it. I found a ditch. We're hiding inside."

Aviva nodded and shouted at Jimmy to hurry. "I'll send a first aid kit over."

Chris nodded and looked at Martin, giggling to himself. "Avivaaaaa! I got Chris a blanketttt!"

"For?" she asked while searching.

"His birthday."

She chuckled. "Yeah?"

"It's a green lizard."

"I'm sure he'll love it." Aviva sent the first aid kit to them. She looked off screen and sighed. "I gotta go. Keep him awake and talking."

Chris nodded as he used the limited supplies to stabilize Martin for the time being. She hung up to tell Jimmy exactly where to go. Martin kept giggling and pointing out random things.

"Chrisssss!"

"Yes?"

"The sky's blue," he said so simply, Chris couldn't help but start laughing. "I like blue. I like green cause green makes you happy. I like when you're happy."

Chris stared at him then smiled softly. "Really?"

Martin nodded. "I don't like green more than I like blue, blue's better than green in lotsa ways, but it makes you soooooo happy, I can't not like it. You bein' happy always makes me happy, even if I'm upset with you for whatever reason. You're my favorite person," Martin's voice was getting a little weak.

"And you're my favorite person. So you gotta live for me, okay?"

"M'kay." He coughed a little then smiled at Chris. He poked Chris' cheek. "'Member when you learned how to ride a bike?"

"I do." Chris nodded.

"I'm sorry for getting you in trouble cause I accidentally wrecked the bike. I wanted to ride and I didn't have a bike. I was just too big for you baby bike. I did talk to mom an' dad to explain what happen, which is why your punishment disappeared."

Chris chuckled a little and put his forehead against Martin's cheek. He noticed that Martin's eyes were drooping. "Stay awake for me, okay?"

"I'm tryin'. It's hard."

"I'm sure it is."

The two could hear the Tortuga arrive.

[oscconfessions]

Objectified sucks! I mean - he has artstyle and some interesting details. BUT THATS ALL I GUESS. BECAUSE - 1) Its suppose to be a apocalypse comic, where is objects against parasites. But we get a freaking "gayass love drama" in all characters arcs, a killers/murders characters. Seriously fans of some characters (Citrus, Dynamite, Razor) - they defend them by justifying this. And also disgusting to see when this fans say all the time - "well, they are cuties, hot, wuggie-huggie pookies uuu, look at my girl/boy, how you cant like them uwu" - SCREW YOU 2) As i said - its love-drama (but actually comedy, that not funny) - HELLO! THERE IS DAMN APOCALYPSE, I NEED LORE ABOUT HOW THIS THINGS KILL OBJECTS! Only Painkiller and Fossil has something of that and probably new chapter with Comet. But not enough! 3) Turtleshell book - its not bad, its really well done fanfic but here is question - WHY DO I NEED THIS? Its not about Objectified, its another story! And for what? Only to know that Razor dad is giant ass Warhammer? woah! (clapping fast). 4) Citrus and Wagyu - the worst characters ever. First just a disgusting lier and also abuser, who killed probably hundred innocents! He is damn murder, how FAQ he has FANbase?! but at the same time boring as hell FATASS. Wagyu - the most idiotic and useless. Only his super ass power to being infested and being ded 2000. BUT EVEN THIS NOT WELL DONE WRITE! HE STILL BORING... 5) Objectified fanbase abuse a CiderAmese - cause thought that if Objectified has a object-monster (aka animals), thats mean this is a original of all object-monsters When CiderAmese steal this. NO - CiderAmese draw object-monster before, even before the creator of Obj join in OSC.... speaking about Obj creator - 6) As i saw and read, he actually not so good person and did a lotsa bad things. Thats why he delete all his social medias and hide. But i think he learn a lesson, and when QA that he and his team planned one day publish (as i think, not sure about this sorry) - there is will be (I HOPE) explains, or just official apologies.

This comic has a potential, but i can see only love-salty drama. Stupid characters and absolutely zero about Parasite and object conflict. Oh and Spool is British... the most scariest thing ever!!!

.

[busiest-bee]

Splatoon salmonid rambles

Hi ok so big run (grand run?) just passed like yesterday or something and I had the most sickening idea for splatoon 4

I want the story mode to give salmonid lore. I want them to be treated like people. They are a society. They are conscious. They ARE people. But in the games they’re literally just “kill as many of those guys as u can and give me their eggs pls 🐻” which is fine I guess but…they canonically are people. They have culture and beliefs and traditions and music (the music that plays during Salmon Run is made by an in universe band called omega-3 (except the word “omega” is a symbol, probably the Omega symbol but I’m stupid so I wouldn’t know) like they are literally People.

And u might be asking urself “bee wtf does this have to do with a potential story mode for splatoon 4” and to that I say

The total amount of golden eggs gathered during this past Big Run was

1,535,611,351

(For anyone who struggles figuring out how much a big number actually Is, it’s Over one billion and a half. Lotsa eggs)

And I’m very proud of the community for getting that many! That’s really incredibly impressive!! Especially considering how the original quota was 700,000,000 (seven hundred million, also a very big number, but considerably smaller.)

What I want from the story mode of splatoon 4 is the ramifications of this. I want the salmonids to be allies. I want to see their societies, learn about them. I want them to be CHARACTERS, not just ENEMIES.

I think an interesting way to do this would be to have Grizzco be at the center of the evil happenings..again. But this time under the iron fist (paw) of Lil’ Judd. Because if u pay attention to detail, there are some things that possibly imply that Lil’ Judd is running Grizzco while Mr.Grizz is in space. Maybe Lil’ Judd, fueled by his superiority complex, tries to do what Mr.Grizz couldn’t, or maybe something even worse. Maybe Lil’ Judd doesn’t even care about mammals and inkfish and salmonids, he just wants to rule everything, have everlasting control. He doesn’t want to keep living in Judd’s shadow.

Anyways yeah I’ll stop rambling now. Sorry if this makes no sense lmao

[leeknowsintrusivethots]

Marked By Him

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Pairings: Vampire!Lee Know/OC, Vampire!Bangchan/OC (suprise!!!!) Summary: Vampyres dominate the entertainment world with their otherworldly beauty and talent. It’s a world you must be born into, but a few lucky ones are Marked. Stripped from her home and everything she knows, Minji’s Marking means that she has to rely on the Devil himself, Lee Minho, to be her mentor. He’s cute and sweet to the public, but behind closed doors the monster comes out to play. Content: Angst, Slow burn, lotsa plot, eventual smut, vampires, dark themes, original characters, first person perspective, general 18+ content, alternate idol universe, asshole Lee Know, surprise love triangle, discussion of blood, discussions of death, depictions of violence, sexual tension, petnames/kitten, WC: 3164 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites, this includes translations. Notes: Mother, may I trust the government? No. Never. Always question authority.

My heart was set on drastic action. If there was some Earth shattering plot going on with the Association at the detriment of Marks, it would be in my interest in self preservation to jump ship. I had to get out before the ship capsized and the captains revealed themselves and their true colors.

But what was I even running from?

Every person in my life who could help me seemed intent on letting me sink or find out how to swim on my own. Maeri was human. Our conversations consisted of talks about schedules, food, our hometowns, and what idols we hoped to one day interact with. Yoojin was more connected, but she never spoke of the Association. I knew it was a part of the front she put up to protect my feelings, but she never even seemed to take notice I was Marked. I was usually grateful for it, but the only other two people in my life who were connected enough to inform me were brick walls with secrets encased in cement. 

My lack of insight was only compounded by facts of science. As a Mark, I was reliant on the same people who seemed to endanger me for survival. Without the contact of a fully fledged Vampyre, I would die. 

Ordinary Vampyres existed. They were regular citizens working run-of-the-mill jobs with families and taxes to pay. They rarely advertised that they were Vampyres in the yellow pages. Tracking one down would be a feat of modern communications technology, but getting one to take in stray Mark would be a battle of life and death. It was not plausible, and it was potentially more dangerous than simply accepting my fate at JYP. 

Maybe it was the Vampyric hormones running rampant in my system, but the battle of wits and instinct was taking a toll. I didn’t know whether I was scared, sad, or angry. A small part of what rational thought was left told me I was probably overreacting, regardless. The only proof I had of anything was based on my own wild speculation and the cryptic hints of two near strangers. They were beautiful strangers, but strangers still. I didn’t really know them, so why should I trust anything they said when they weren’t even saying much?

My brain was simmering with sudden anger. 

Bangchan was forgivable. He owed me nothing. He was not tied to me nor obliged to help me. He was kind, but I had no right to even expect that from him.

Lee Minho was a different beast. I didn’t know how he was assigned to be my Mentor. He could have volunteered or been randomly drafted by the company for all I knew, but it didn’t change the fact that he was my Mentor. 

The stupid informational packets the Association handed out to new Marks and their families made Mentors out to be the angelic saviors of poor young adults thrown into an unfamiliar and scary world. They were supposed to be wise leaders who could teach and guide Marks to have a more comfortable adjustment into Vampyrism: the Dumbledores of the Vampyric world. The pamphlets had even stated the bond between Mark and Mentor was something so special that it went beyond the roles of student and teacher. It could even transcend typical human relations such as friendship and family.

Instead of a guiding angel, I had gotten a trickster demon with a penchant for confusion and misery. He had no intention of helping me - he didn’t even seem to care if I lived or died. Thoughts of his apathy spurred my fury. It was a blind rage, but one with intent. 

One second I was simmering in anger at the countertop where Bangchan had left me, and the next I was boiling in vitriol at my usual seat in Conference Room Zero. I hardly remembered my angry walk and elevator ride, but the wait will forever be burned into my memory. The magical looking baubles and books that normally occupied my wait didn’t even register on my radar. I felt like I was feeling everything and nothing at the same time. My mind flashed with images of violence and terror that should be reserved for nightmares. 

The subject of every single image: Lee Minho. 

One second he was looming above my bloody and desecrated corpse with a grin of manic evil. The next we had switched places and I became the murderer. Then his mouth was at my neck, draining me of my life’s essence with ecstasy all over his face. Then I was draining him in pure, blissful rapture. It was a brutal back and forth between predator and prey.

It was a confusing, twisted, endless barrage that fueled the primal rage coursing through my veins and mixing with adrenaline. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want fate to make me another unknown statistic in a long list of Marks that didn’t make the Change. 

Become the predator. It was a thought. It was unbidden, and unfamiliar. It had my adrenaline in overdrive. 

When the conference room door opened, all I saw was red. 

I spent my life hearing about tragedies that happened to others in the news. They often spoke of out-of-body experiences: they knew what was happening but it didn’t feel as if it were happening to them. I never thought to experience the phenomenon myself, but I knew what I was doing. I could see my body lunge from the cushiony chair with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of. I could see Lee Minho’s beautiful face turn from mild annoyance to shock. I couldn’t feel him, but I could see my body collide with his, slamming the heavy door shut as we collided. 

I was out of control, and I didn’t know how to stop it. 

“Minji!” Lee Minho called out. It wasn’t his usual sardonic, laissez-faire tone. It was authoritative. It had my mind compelling my body to stop with fervor. I was internally begging. I didn’t want whatever was happening to happen, but I was not a master of myself at that moment. 

Violence. Rage. Aggression. 

Devour him. Tear into his pretty neck. Feed. Murder. 

“Dammit, Minji,” Minho grunted from below me. I was straddling him, my knees to either side of his waist and my head bending to the smooth crook that gracefully fell off to his shoulders. It was so beautiful, clear, and pristine. Vampyres had heartbeats, contrary to common belief. They were simply much more faint than humans, but I could see his. It was all I could see. It was the source of his life, and the monster inside of me wanted to claim it.

There was a scuffle. Limbs twisting, entangling. His hands were on me, fighting back against my instincts even as I was helpless to control them. I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to. I had one clear, and singular goal: to taste, consume, and destroy. 

Instincts were often at odds with logic. I was a new Mark, and Minho was a full, grown Vampyre. He was stronger. Had I been capable of thought, I would have known that. I would have never attacked him in the first place, and I would have certainly stopped when he switched our positions. I was on my back, chest heaving under him and body still fighting despite the odds not being in my favor. My hands clawed at him, scraping against the fabric of the shirt covering his chest. He was quick to incapacitate them, clasping both in each of his own and holding them above my head as his face hovered inches from mine. 

I still struggled against his hold - the fight coursing through me like an addictive drug. Nothing could stop it - stop me - until the length of one of his thighs pushed between mine to better pin me to the ground. The sound that escaped my mouth was animalistic. Want replaced rage. 

“Minho-” I started. I didn’t know what I would say. I didn’t even know who I was. Everything was a mess of emotion - all in shades of red. It was the first and only lesson Lee Minho had taught me: rage and desire were two sides of the same coin. 

“It’s happening sooner than we thought,” he mused. He said it out loud, but he didn’t appear to be speaking to me. His focus was on the Mark above my eyes. 

“Minho,” I whined his name again as he shifted obliviously above me. The movement had his thigh pressing further into my clothed sex. The excitement from the fight had transferred easily into a much different excitement, but I was slowly regaining control of myself and mortification and horror were becoming prominent. 

It took him all but a second to catch on. His eyes trailed down to mine, then to my lips, and further until he took stock of the way our bodies pressed together. I could feel him shift again, and I gasped in response. With brain and body mostly in unison again, I resisted the powerful urge to move my hips against him, seeking more of the delicious pressure he was teasing me with. 

“You’re doing it on purpose now,” I grunted in annoyance.

“Doing what?” He asked with wide, innocent eyes. 

“Please,” I whimpered when he did it again. My hands were still trapped by his - my entire body held captive by him. I was begging, but I didn’t know if it was for release or pleasure. 

“I think I like you better like this. You’re much sweeter,” he mocked with his familiar smirk curving his soft lips. I hated it, but I still felt it all the way to the tips of my toes. 

“You’re an asshole,” I grunted in frustration.

“I’m an asshole? You just attacked me,” he stated calmly. 

At the reminder of my inexplicable actions, my mood sobered. Something was happening to me. I didn’t understand it, and I could not control it. “Why? Why did I do that?”

The world was turning upside down again. Lee Minho’s expression softened. The teasing light in his eyes extinguished. The smirk on his lips fell flat. There was pity written all over his face - pity aimed in my direction. 

“Don’t do that,” I snapped at his change in demeanor. “I don’t want your sympathy. Just explain. Help me learn to control whatever is happening.”

“You can’t.” He was moving, climbing off me and freeing me from him. He stood above me, almost hesitant, before dropping into his usual chair with a concerning lack of his normal grace. I scrambled to my feet on my own, but I didn’t sit. I was too emotional. If I sat, I was afraid I would crumble. 

“Why not?” I demanded. I could feel myself working into a frenzy, spinning out of control all over again. Is this what life would be like from now on? “I can’t handle it, Minho. I came here with intent, but not to murder. I just wanted answers: that’s all. I swear it, but-”

“But then emotion took over, and you became its slave,” he helpfully supplied. He was studying me intently. Watching my reaction to his statement like it was the most important thing in the world. “You wanted to kill me, drain me.”

“Yes. How did you-”

“That's how -” he cut me off before halting himself. He weighed his next words before continuing. “That’s how I’ve heard it described: like a monster lurking in your subconscious.”

“It doesn’t happen to full Vampyres?” I asked curiously. 

“Sort of. You feel the urges: feed, kill, fuck,” he spoke softly despite the crassness of his statement. I would be lying if I said such dirty words coming from such a beautiful face didn’t affect me, but I fought against it. This was the most information he had offered yet, and I would not waste the opportunity. “It’s in our nature, but not to that extent. Marks feel it more.”

“It’s not my nature. I’m not violent. I cry when characters die in shows, even the supporting cast!” I insisted with a strange desire to prove my morals to myself. 

“Whatever you were before, forget it. Trying to fight it only makes it worse. It's instinct - it can be misguided, but it’s not usually wrong.” His words felt like ice water being dumped over my head. It was uncomfortable, and chilling.

“Minho!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “I just tried to kill you.”

“But you didn’t,” he replied easily. Maybe a complete lack of care for the sanctity of life was a staple of his personality. He shrugged off a murder attempt on his life with barely a thought given to it. 

“But I tried! How is that not wrong? What if I try to murder someone who isn’t as strong as you?” I asked in horror. Maeri came to mind - her face bright and sweet. What if I lost control during one of our spats and tried to murder her? She didn’t have Vampyric strength. I would succeed. 

“Why did you try to kill me, Minji?” Minho broke into my panic. He leveled me with his intense stare again. 

“I was confused. There’s so much I don’t know, and you won’t tell me anything. It made me angry, and admittedly scared.”

“Anger. Fear. Self preservation. These are not negative things. One day, they may even save your life,” he guided gently. His sudden willingness to help me had me reeling with conflict yet again. He was cold - sometimes even mean - but he held a certain softness that he tried to hide. I had only gotten brief glimpses, but I could see it. Maybe his beautiful but cruel face was a mask after all. 

“Would killing you save me?” I asked. My voice was dripping with sarcasm, almost venomous. That in of itself was instinct - self preservation. Cold Minho would kill me. Soft Minho would unravel my entire world before ending in homicide. 

“No. Your demise might be a bit more abrupt without me around.” He stood as he spoke, never letting his gaze drop mine. I was becoming accustomed to his searching and often condescending looks, but as he got closer, I became increasingly more frustrated. He was intent, focused. I might have daydreamed many times about him looking at me like that but under very different circumstances. 

“Come here,” he crooned as he took my hands into his colder ones. Without giving me a chance to protest, he tugged me along until we stood in front of an old, standing mirror. He stood behind me, nudging my attention to my reflection with the command, “Look.”

I didn’t need his guidance to find out what he wanted me to look at. It was obvious, and it chilled me to the depths of my soul. The outline of a crescent moon that had once graced the skin of my forehead was no more. The shape was still there, but it was filled with a dark purple that was even more ostentatious than before. Surrounding it were fainter, more delicate lines that swirled from the core of the moon to my temples. 

“What the fuck,” I gasped in shock.

“Don’t worry,” Minho cajoled from behind me. His hand had dropped mine only for him to grip my waist lightly with both. He stared at me in the mirror, watching my reflection with curious eyes over my shoulder. “It’s supposed to do that. It’s actually a good thing.”

“Why is it good?”

“I didn’t think it would happen so fast, but it’s a sign of the Change advancing. Your chances of death have decreased by…” He trailed off, squinting his eyes in exaggerated thought. “Two percent?”

“Joy,” I grumbled out, earning the rumble of a chuckle that I could feel at my back. 

“The Change itself can kill you, Minji. It’s fairly common, actually. Your book covers it briefly, but the Mark expanding is a sign that your body is adjusting,” he informed me. 

“Just another ugly truth that the Association doesn’t want to share?”

“Good, Kitten,” he praised, using the infamous pet name he called me at our first meeting. I felt my toes curl in my sneakers. The Change was a confusing beast, but Lee Minho was worse. “You’re finally catching on.”

“Minho,” I called to him suddenly, seriously. I held his gaze in the mirror feeling bolder and more brave with the glass acting as a barrier. “Is the Association a threat?”

“Government entities are always a threat when absolute power is placed in their hands.”

“You’re being vague again. I want a proper answer.” My words were hard, unfaltering. I was determined to know. I couldn’t protect myself if I didn’t know what I was protecting myself from. 

“That was a proper answer. The Association has absolute power in the Vampryic world and close ties with human governments,” he supplied. 

“That doesn’t explain how they are a threat to Marks - to me,” I insisted. 

I saw it before it happened. His face closed off, his mocking grin marring his features as his eyes hardened to dark crystals. Then his hands left me as he stepped out of my range. Lee Minho had put his mask back on. 

“I never said they were,” he refuted nonchalantly. “Our time is up for tonight.”

“You-”

“A last word of advice,” he called as he headed for the door. He turned back around to face me with his lithe fingers on the knob. His words were more ice water being dumped over me, drowning me in cold and misery. “All of us, you included, have a part to play. It’s how the system works. They say dance, and we do. They want us to sing and look pretty, so we do that too. Sometimes the strings break.”

His gaze dropped mine for just a fraction of a second. He was faltering, and for that moment, I saw it: uncertainty, maybe even fear. Why would Lee Minho be scared of anything? Before I could ponder it, he was continuing. 

“When they break, we marionettes get a moment of reprieve to think. Just a moment, because if you stop dancing for too long they will notice. What do you think happens if we ruin the performance?”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t even sure I knew how to. He was back to his cryptic warnings - confusing and tormenting me all in one. 

“Dance, Kitten. Know your place and dance within the lines they’ve defined or you will be dealt with.”

“What is my place?” I all but screamed. I was getting frustrated again, the anger building back up to mix with fear. If I had learned anything from the night, it was that those two emotions were a dangerous combination that could combust with devastating consequences. 

All I got in response was a mocking smirk as Lee Minho left me without proper answers once again. 

[forgottenrian]

OOC | Rían & Edmund

so edmund is at least technically a local lord thanks to the whole riverbend thing so!! like i was saying [ in cassimir's comment ], he's looking to cultivate positive working relationships w local lords for a couple reasons!! but obv, given some of his hopes, his relationship w edmund is by its v nature a lil different from his relationship w cassimir hahaha so here's what he'd like from edmund:

he hopes that edmund will rec/approve of him as a potential stewart of astaira when roderick inevitably rushes off to conquest

he hopes that edmund will approve of him as a good brother and recommend him for the role of guinevere's husband to roderick

he hopes to have a good working relationship w him to get things done at lorcan in the mean time etc

now, parts 1&2 also tie into other hopes to which edmund will likely be diametrically opposed, since rian hopes to use his marriage (either to aine w native astairan support, or to guin w varmont support) to help propel him to power in astaira, at least, if not the empire (so that he can rule astaira ngl he does not really care abt the rest of it but he'll take it if that's what is required to rule astaira lakjsdfkljsdfkj and YES he quite literally is like 'ill rule the whole world if that's what it takes to rule this one (1) country alkjsdfjkdf but anyway!! lakjsdfkjlsdf)

anyway!! obv if becoming emperor becomes the path he follows, edmund probs won't be on board!! lakjsdfkjsdf so i def feel like he ~also wants to be prepared to backstab him and godfrey (with whom he's ~also tryna walk this tightrope situation, being a local lord and potential future enemy etc etc) bc rian is another guy whose eyes wide open abt the coming varmont civil war and honestly that's part of why he wants to get involved, to hopefully protect astaira from the undoubtledly terrible effects that'll inevitably sweep all across the empire!!! and anyway i deffff think this is misguided bc its probs more likely to put a target on astaira's back essentially but anyway here we are!!!

i can potentially see, however, where rian might potentially change his tune if/when he starts hearing more about how edmund's so pro-astaira and i feel like he might look, then, to strike a deal w edmund where basically he'll support his bide for emperor if edmund will make rian king to astaira who pays edmund tribute and all ~that sort of thing basically lajsdfkljdf but obv he'd have to have lotsa support to throw behind edmund in exchange for such demands and lbr idk if he'll ~ever have that except maybe if he uses the bargaining chip of basically maneuvering guin's faction to throw in w edmund but lbr!! roderick will noT think rian is a fit hubby for his eldest!!!! alksjdfkljdsf so yeah idk if this'll ever matter save that its what rian's currently thinking about alkjsfkjsf so yeah!!! here we are!!!!!

[lxverrings]

Omggggg I just read my req 😭❤❤

Te amo te amo te amo te amo TE AMOOOO!!

I'm actually from Spain 👀

I honestly loved it like all your other works lol ❤❤

I also have another req if you don't mind 💀

Miguel O'hara with reader that is a spiderwoman with the same traits as him (fangs, claws, organic webs) but it was against her will (aka human experimentation) and has a hard time trusting others because of that.

Just some angst / confort

- Spanish anon 💫

One In the Same.

A Miguel O’hara drabbleish

Warnings: anger issues. Lotsa... Yelling </3 lashing out, angst with a comfort-ish ending. GN! Reader!!!

Summary: Miguel forgets how easily he can break with someone that acts and is like him.

A/N: I forgot Spain. How the FUCK did I do that. Still my favorite Nonnie, También te amo, Cielito <3 —I’mma keep you at Solecito ; anyway!!! I did some research on Miguel’s powers— why does he have telekinesis. Well, that’s in the quirked up ginger comics, so I just took the overall ATSV things! I wasn’t sure about the red eyes, so I gave reader pink eyes to differentiate text! Enjoy!!!

Again, he didn’t know what he was doing when he recruited you and your bright spinel colored eyes, sunken into themselves with clear exhaustion burning in your eyes. Wearing the sunglasses he also tended to wear when he was outside more than not, getting empanadas or conchas de chocolate.* He didn’t expect anything as abnormal yet.

Yet he... Hated it.

Look at you, the same powers. Some potential variant of him or whatever?

But...

Pero... *

He lacked social skills already, hell, Miguel’s sorry ass coops up in his own little Man Cave and only LYLA glitches in unexpectedly

(Alfred and Batman?)

Well.

That didn’t matter. You would rarely talk at meetings. He didn’t have to worry about you... But why?

Why didn’t he?

He had to worry about everything going intricately perfect already! Why not one more thing?

The hard truth was... You didn’t trust him. And Miguel realized this when he tried to reason with you on going to a mission.

“Apúrate. No tenemos todo el pinche día.”

He heard your sigh and suddenly jerked his head as you spoke.

“Can’t I do this alone?”

“What the shock are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

He could almost hear his blood pressure rising in an instant, anger fueling him without much effort.

Embarrassing, really.

“I did. Ahora, cállate*. I don’t want to hear it.”

“I don’t want you to come.”

“Too shocking bad.”

Well that fueled your agitation. “I don’t... Want you there, coño!*”

“What did you just shocking call me?”

The argument got more heated, so heated in fact, that he got too close— that it made you flinch and smack him square across the face.

“I— um...”

“Fuera.*”

You complied.

Rushing home, through your portal as the adrenaline wore down. Once it did, you saw him clearly. The version of your boyfriend that brought you against your will. You were pretty for him. He took off your walls and focused on himself selfishly, calling you pretty like a mantra, bruising your skin senselessly until it bled, and even then, his sorry ass just called you pretty as a habit.

Never once beautiful.

And that was enough for him to throw you to his uncle who experimented on you to his heart’s delight.

Tears flooded down your face, in your civilian clothes, and that faithful watch heard your distress.

Every fucking night.

And Miguel was catching on too...

One week later, he found himself looking for your dimension.

“Shock me... Pinche reloj culero.*”

And eventually, your not-so-romantic knight in shining armor appeared.

Even Miguel could tell something was wrong as the orange portal lit up. Not that you could see it.

Awkwardly, he patted your back, making you flinch.

“Shock— look. I’m sorry, I—”

“Yo soy la qué debería pedir perdón.”

Miguel just sighed and awkwardly sat next to you. It was awkward sitting next to you like this.

It had been a while since Miguel had done anything similar. So he just quietly wrapped a single arm around you...

And let you cry there.

Translations:

Conchas de Chocolate is a type of bread, can’t accurately translate because that’s like saying Baguette but translated

But...

Hurry up. We don’t have the whole damn day.

Now, shut up.

Asshole.

Get out.

Dumb useless watch.

I’m the one that should be saying sorry.