#that sublime bastard

[vertigoartgore]

2000's Vertigo Secret Files: Hellblazer #1 cover by artist Phil Hale.

[gowns]

SOMEone has to speak this truth. and i am willing to put myself out there and say it. yes. that millionaire british man... we are cut from the same cloth. in those photos specifically

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 9)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship.

-

You were paralyzed, uncomfortable in your own skin. Sweating and shivering without the most minimal control. Sukuna had caught you. The bastard had the nose of a bloodhound, without a doubt he had smelled Gojo sensei's saliva on you, you should never have let him eat your pussy that same morning, you should never have fallen asleep in his house- Your lips trembled as if you wanted to give an answer but felt utterly inadequate to find the right words to deceive the King of Liars.

Ryomen Sukuna stared at you with those sickeningly smug eyes, waiting patiently for you to answer his question. 

He knew he had hit the nail on the head, because Megumi's protests stopped the second, he spoke. Young Zenin was quiet now, his frame, maybe even tenser than yours and even though his forehead was smooth as silk, Sukuna could detect the negative feelings rushing out of him in waves. It was an interesting mix of betrayal, anger, jealousy and... hatred. The king of curses looked at him with something that resembled soft smugness, feeling more than pleasantly surprised at having find such a sublime mixture in the young Zenin’s aura. 

Undoubtedly, YOU are the key to reach out to him and make him do whatever he wanted; YOU were his ticket to the body he wanted.

"I asked you a question, girl." Sukuna stressed. He felt amused, depravedly amused, yet kept remarkably composed for how ruthlessly he actually wanted to burst out laughing, "if you don't answer me with the truth in the next..." he glanced at Megumi teasingly, "what will it be, Megumi, in the next sixty seconds?" 

Megumi just stared at him but did not make any judgment, his gaze blank, empty and lacking at the moment. The skin borrower ignored him with a snicker and continued his threat. 

".... I’ll kill you, pretty girl.” 

The king assured with a toothy, sharp grin stretching his lips, and just to put more pressure on you, slowly, more like sluggishly, caged you against the wall and his massive frame, pushing not only at your sanity by slowly moving his body closer and closer, until your back hit the wall and you could almost only see the tattoos marking his skin. 

“One more thing, I’ll know if you are lying.”

Your gazes met and soon, the wicked countdown began.

“One, two, three-” his smile was mocking, nothing good about those canine incisors peeking out lethally, crimson eyes narrowed as if waiting for you to give yourself away, “four, five, six….” He sang without caring, avidly more pressure, your chest rose and fell agitatedly, your pupils were dilated, and your face had turned pale, and it was not only because of the invasive closeness of the king of curses but also for the situation, he had pushed you into.

Meanwhile, Megumi just stared at you, it was like he couldn't move either, his body was tense, and you could see a vein popping in his neck, his eyes were the most expressive thing about him, the more striking. Almost begging you to deny Sukuna’s foul statement, almost dying for you to say that it was a vile lie, and that Sukuna was wrong, Megumi would believe you, you just had to say it—he would believe you. He would gladly avert all suspicion and turn a blind eye just for the good fortune of returning to his blind and delusional fantasy in which, he was courting you to become HIS girlfriend. He was willing to let it go for now- later when you married, he would force you to vanish his tutors from your entire life, but first he needed you to love HIM and realize how good he could be to you-…. just please, disprove Sukuna, even if it is just a vile and pathetic lie, he tells himself every night, be on his side just this time and tell this Demon that his claim it's not true— 

"Seven, eight, nine—" You didn't know what to do, could you lie to Sukuna... will it cost you your life to try?!

Sukuna smiled more evilly if that was even possible. His careless teasing made your stomach churn with horrible nausea; his voice so close felt even worse, everything spoken with his smirk seeped into it. You realized the very sound of Yuuji’s voice now would probably make you shiver in all the wrong ways after this, even in casual conversation.

Sparing you a moment, the king of curses glanced at his future body, Megumi, who did not move an inch, stiffer than a fucking rock, although the posture of his body spoke more than anything the boy could actually say… it was a clear afront to the King, screaming to him that if he dared to harm you, without a minute of delay, he would attack him. He would protect you even if it cost him his life. This handsome vessel, this Zenin boy was in love, madly in love with you... if a fight broke out, Sukuna would see himself forced to hurt him and that was the last thing he wanted to do, that body needed to be intact, perfect till the day he inhabite it—…. So, using his Machiavellian mind, the older spirit hatched a plan that would work best for his long-term goals.

“Seriously?” he huffed, staring at you in disbelief. "You certainly awaken many passions, girl." A glimpse of irritation twitched his brow but despite it, did not make a considerable split in his composure. He still could pretend to be aloof about this for much longer. 

Once his mind was made, Sukuna began to lean his forehead until it was pressed against your shoulder, a movement slow and harmless enough that Megumi didn't feel compelled to act on it, and once close to your ear, he whispered just to you.

“You obviously don't want Megumi to find out what a little skank you are,” The pathetic gasp he received in turn made him chuckle, nevertheless, made Megumi narrow his beautiful blue eyes suspiciously, “so I have something to propose to you, little girl—”

You gulped shakenly and listened to Sukuna using Yuuji's borrowed lips whispering atrocious things to you, your pretty eyes widened from one moment to the next and out of the sudden, Megumi had his full. 

“Stay away from her!”

A breathy, muffled snicker left Sukuna’s throat and then he went back down to whisper at your ear, filling your eardrums with far worse obscenities than he had previously. Straightening up, his dangerous gaze fell on you once again, and his knuckles caressed the blush painting your cheeks in a pretty pink before snicker a calm hiss and raise a hand in Megumi’s direction. 

“Calm down, Megumi, no one likes jealous boys. It’s not an attractive quality.”

A pitiful wail climbed its way up your throat as Megumi's cheeks painted amusingly red and you felt your skin crawl uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe; a tight gulp of air was caught in your lungs as his mere words thrashed against you wildly. 

“Please —” you begged, eyes clamped shut, face hot, body going rigid with the promise of his mercy. “Please Sukuna— ”

"Just choose, princess."

You blinked back the hot tears and stared him down with as much of a pout as that of a frown.

“So do we have a deal, sorceress?” He whispered once more only to you, and you just looked at him with the same doomed shock as at the beginning.

“—I would accept it if I were you,” Sukuna continued, “Megumi would hate you otherwise, you don't want that, do you?”

A tear that you didn't even know was ready to burst out of your eye rolled down your cheek and Sukuna's grin sharpened, watching it roll away to then calmly stop it in its tracks with a thumb, your eyes on him as he stuck that salty, wet thumb into his mouth with a loud sound of satisfaction.

“Come on, ain’t that of a big deal. We both know you're not new to that—”

Your lips pursed in annoyance and unable to keep looking at the monster that wear your friend’s skin, you nodded your head with a deep, remorseful frown.

Sukuna snorted before letting out a laugh and taking a couple of steps back, he glanced at you and then his eyes went to Megumi.

“A pleasure to see you as always, Megumi.”

And just like that, the tattoos on his body started to fade away, leaving behind a totally and irrefutable, confused Yuuji.

“—(Y/N)? Megumi? What happened?" 

You were too shocked to answer, and Megumi was as well, your stares meeting for a long minute before Megumi ended up breaking the awkward silence.

“You are finally back.” The raven-haired said in a monotonous voice. Yuuji grinned at him, and he responded with a certain determination but when he grinned at you, you didn't even see him, as if he were transparent. Making the goodhearted boy walk closer to you to wrap you in his strong arms, it was the warmth of that hug and the effusive aura of familiarity from him, that was so typical of Yuuji, that brought you back. Both young adults, sighing in relieve when you finally hugged him back.

“If Sukuna did something—” Yuuji asked worried and you denied your head, mutely.

Megumi remained silent, he wasn't stupid, but he refused to think badly of you, you certainly didn't make any deal with Sukuna, or anything like that—you certainly weren't desperate enough to do something so stupid—

“Megumi-” The boy in question glanced at him.

“—Was the curse even defeated?” Yuuji asked from the crook of your shoulder, “—is everyone okay?”

Megumi sensed the place and did not find the trace of cursed energy that there was before. So, he nodded once. 

Yuuji sighed awfully relieved. “Well, at least we achieve that.” His arms wrapping tighter around you.

Soon the three of you heard the recognizable voice of Nobara calling at the distance and you unwrapped yourself from Yuuji, who allowed it just after he planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, to then playfully bump the tip of your nose. “Whateva Sukuna did or say, I won’t let him hurt anyone, I promise, (Y/N).”

Your eyes teared and you agreed weakly. If you only knew.

Eventually, the three of you started to head towards Nobara’s voice with Yuuji guiding the retreat, you just followed in silence and at a calm pace, and that's when you felt it.

Megumi's hand latched strongly in yours, his body now walking alongside you, his eyes never sparing you even a glance, only steady on the path ahead while he almost pulled you to follow his lead. Your confusion, palpable and he could easily sense it, even feel it since your heartbeat was drumming against his palm.

“—I'm the most understanding boyfriend, don’t you agree?” He said all of the sudden, “but even I have my limits, (Y/N).”

Everything was like a soft murmur except the title which was supposed to still be under discussion.

“Wow, are you guys already a couple?” You heard Yuuji ask, glancing over his shoulder without stop walking, cheerfully.

Finally, Megumi's blue eyes landed on you, and you felt again out of breath, you didn't know what to say, you couldn't say no, but you couldn't say yes either... You didn't want to lose Megumi, you didn't want to lose Gojo and Geto, shit! Say something, you have to say something—

Your lips parted hesitantly and in a pitiful and ephemeral whisper you condemned yourself, because without a doubt, that answer would make you lose someone.

COMING SOON PART 10....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[apdreadful]

Something in the way he walks

Evan is leaning against the truck with Ravi and Lucy.

He glances up as Tommy walks out of the back of the garage wiping his hands on a shop towel as he chats with Eddie.

Evan can’t take his eyes off him. He feels the heat rise to his face because yeah he’s totally staring at his boyfriend. His incredibly hot sexy boyfriend. And when Tommy glances up and sees Buck, a grin splits his face and he winks.

He says something to Eddie, tosses the rag on a bench and starts toward him with that loose hipped swagger that makes Buck flush just watching him. He loves the way Tommy walks, slow and laconic and it reminds Buck of the way Tommy likes to fuck on the rare mornings they both don’t have a shift.

Morning sex, any sex, but especially morning sex, is sublime with Tommy. Because he likes to take his time and just dismantle Buck.

Tommy starts to pass him heading toward the hanger, when he gets right next to Buck he leans in and whispers “Evan” in that voice that makes Bucks skin tingle “If you’re going to keep eye fucking me. Be ready for the consequences.”

“If you want me to stop, you’re going to need to stop walking like a fucking wet dream then” Buck retorts softly.

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up followed by the wickedest damn gleam in his eye. “I didn’t say I wanted you to stop”

He ghosts his lips by Bucks ear “But I like that you dream about me”

And Buck feels an honest to god shiver run right down his back and straight to his dick.

Suddenly remembering Lucy and Ravi he turns to look at them.

Lucy’s eyes are wide “Holy shit Buckley. Im not going to lie. I find a man who looks at me like that and I’m climbing him like a tree right then and there”

“Yeah” Ravi chimes in “I’m straight, and even I’m feeling a little something”

Evan’s blush sets his face on fire. But he can’t keep the smile off his face. Because yeah. His boyfriend is hot as fuck.

“That man” Lucy says with awe in her voice “Is 100% into you. Like I think he made me spontaneously ovulate with the look he gave you”

Bucks phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out he sees a text from Tommy “So, let’s get outta here. I’d like to hear more about this dream..in detail, with props, and immersive details”

He knows his face is on fire as he stands up, putting his hands in his pockets to quickly and covertly adjust his erection saying “I’m going to head out. See you both later”

“Yeah. Go on you lucky bastard. Kiss him once for me”Lucy teases.

“Yeah. Not from me though” Ravi adds.

As he’s walking away he hears Lucy say “Ravi, you wanna go grab a drink?”

Bucks still grinning when he slides into the car with Tommy.

“What’s so funny?” Tommy leans over and gives Evan a quick kiss.

“Lucy just asked Ravi out”

“What prompted that?” Tommy asks.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it was the way you looked at me. Apparently, you’re so hot, you’re getting other men laid” Buck told him with a smile.

“Well tell Ravi, He’s welcome”

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/55983970"

Inspired by this gif..because reasons 🔥

[ashessonfire]

im going livid over civilian wife with kaz!!! i would love to read more of soft and domestic life with kaz, it doesnt have to be anything big just fluff crumbs^^

'Sunrise' - Kaz Brekker x Reader

Prompt : Kaz and his partner wish to take in the early morning sunrise at the local market. But can the pair escape the curiosity of the crows?

- Pairing :Kaz Brekker x Reader (gender neutral) - Warnings : Literally none just fluff, threatening Kaz? But he doesn't really mean it :))

A/N : Thank you for such a cute prompt! I hope I have done the idea justice, it took such a long time to put this together after months of studying and not writing at all... But I am so glad to be back and I am working through the requests I have right now! Please continue to send in requests, I love you all!! <333

click here for masterlist

click here for characters I write for

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A gentle breeze fluttered through the rippling curtains, parting them just enough to allow streams of early sunlight to illuminate your lover's features. Kaz's gentle breathing and almost peaceful expression sent a wave of warmth through your chest, directly into your heart. Who knew the deadliest criminal in Ketterdam could find solace in a cozy bed, surrounded by the melodies of bird song?

Shifting your gaze downwards, you noticed that during the night Kaz had intertwined your fingers with his own, holding them gentle prisoners within his hardened, calloused hands. Lightly brushing a stray ebony lock from his porcelain skin, your eyeline was drawn to the glittering colours now covering the walls of your shared bedroom. The sun was seemingly painting your pale home with hues of sunrise, leaving within you a deep sense of longing for more.

Tenderly brushing your free hand over Kaz's shoulder, you watched as his lashes began to flutter, before a pair of deep chestnut eyes caught your own. After many years of slowly lowering the walls that towered over his heart, you had watched the defence slip from him, with each day gradually healing the cracks.

After few moments of basking in eachother's presence, Kaz rose, gazing towards the sunrise you had previously been admiring. Taking in the sublime feeling the new day gave him, the fingers wrapped around your own tightened. "It's Sunday," a gravelly voice softly announced, "You must want to drag me to the market"

Smiling gingerly at his feigned annoyance, you placed a gentle kiss to his temple in reply, before slipping out of bed to ready yourself for the trip. Throughout most of Kaz's life, each day had brought new challenges, with the Barrel constantly presenting treacherous threats and difficulties, leaving little time for anything else but heightened apprehension.

Since meeting you however, Kaz had learned the importance of routine, as well as quiet. The ocean that usually drowned him with perilous swells transformed into a flow of gentle waves, lapping peacefully against a shore, rather than aiming to violently drag him under. Although hesitant at first, the bastard had learnt to adore your domestic routines, fetching fresh flowers for the vases on Monday's, having tea after a dreg meeting on Thursday's, and his discrete favourite of them all, the market every Sunday.

As you noted the list of items you were searching for, Kaz stood by the entrance to your home, gaze softening each time your brows furrowed as you attempted to decipher what you had missed off. Opening the door with a soft click, you grabbed onto his gloved hand as you practically dragged him out of the door, leaving Kaz with an amused but warm expression as he allowed you to sweep him away.

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"Where do you reckon he goes every week?" a voice mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes, barely audible as Nina continued to eat her breakfast. Collectively the crows shrugged and shared parallel voicings of uncertainty.

"What is there to do on a Sunday, I mean that's like the least exciting day of them all?" Jesper thought aloud, sprawling carelessly against the seat he and Wylan shared. After a short period of quiet discussion, a figure slid down the stairs, clutching a neatly folded note in one hand.

Emerging from the shadowed stairwell, Inej returned to the group, causing gasps and a dramatic jolt from Jesper, each one completely unaware that she had slipped away during their chatter. "Here," she announced, an amused tone evidently lacing her voice, with the mischievous twinkle in her eye not going unmissed by the group.

Snatching the note from Inej, Jesper hastily unfolded the paper, smoothing the creases with his slender fingers. The group watched in anticipation as Jesper's eyes scanned the words, visibly astounding the sharpshooter. As he concluded his reading, his eyes glimmered with the same playfulness as Inej, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk.

"Well?" Nina announced, shooting an expectant look at Jesper, "Are you going to tell the rest of us what's in there or not?"

Clearing his throat theatrically, Jesper tilted his head upwards, "It seems we know where our beloved boss disappears to every week," pausing to increase the apprehension.

"Hurry up," Wylan complained, trying desperately to peer into the note as Jesper clutched it to his chest. "Okay, okay! It turns out that Mr Brekker enjoys a spot of early morning shopping, and hopes to 'catch the rising sun' before he does so," the sharpshooter exclaims, quoting Kaz's letter, holding in his laughter.

"You're saying that Kaz Brekker spends his free time buying flowers and pastries, not scheming the deaths of everyone in Ketterdam?" Nina all but chokes out in shock, her breathing heavy as she fights the laughter that already wracks her shoulders.

Through a sheepish smile, Wylan softly adds, "How do we know that its true? I can't imagine Kaz ever doing, well, that."

"I mean, there's only one way to find out, right?" Jesper announces, rising to his feet with a mischievous grin plastered onto his features

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"Where would you like to go first?" Kaz's voice directed itself towards you, carrying over the bustle of the market, despite the orange hue still lingering over the city. "You know exactly where," you tease, tightening the grip on his little finger with your own, tethering you to him so neither of you were seperated

Leading you through the crowd with his towering frame, Kaz effortlessly guided you to the secluded section of the market, feet automatically taking him to your favourite fruit stall. "Morning Mr Brekker, the usual for you two?" called the welcoming voice of the owner, already selecting the ripest items for his most favoured customers.

The pair of you were beloved among the merchants, with your compassionate nature drawing everyone to you, and your boyfriend offering substantial tips to those you liked best. Although directly contrasting in character, you complemented each other's qualities deeply, creating a sincere connection between you.

Allowing the sea breeze to lightly brush his skin, he focused his entire attention on you, admiring the gentle flow of words that poured from your delicate lips. Kaz basked in the warmth you provided him, your mere presence grounding him, sheltering him from harm with your sentiment.

Your words transformed into a melody to his ears as your voice sung above the low noise of the market, directly into his chest, rendering him unable to look away from your angelic profile. You halted your steps as you looked out into the harbor, pretending to ignore the fact that Kaz could not take his admiring gaze from you.

In his eyes, you seemed ethereal in this moment, the sea-breeze wisping your hair around you, the sunrise's final pallete showering you in a rosy light, orange and pink dancing off of your features. Kaz ignored the thoughts that these observations were weak, or dangerous, instead reminding himself of your reassurance that he can remain the most deadly man in Ketterdam, as well as finding peace.

The edges of his mouth were just beginning to lightly tilt upwards, when a loud thump sounded behind them, seemingly a crate had just fallen. Returning to his content state, Kaz was just about to forget the sound until a familiar "Ow, that hurt!" whispered nearby.

Whipping his head round at an astounding rate, Kaz just caught the flash of an emerald jacket slipping behind a cluster of rotting oak barrels, the tip of a scuffed shoe protruding from the other end of the stack.

"Everything okay love," you inquired, resting your free hand on his arm as your gaze shifted to where Kaz's previously held. "I was just concerned that the bakers would run out of your favourite pastries, it's busy today," Kaz observed, his tone indicating his lie to you, however he gently began to tug you in the direction of the stall, and you gladly obliged.

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"Saints, that was a close one," Jesper breathed out, releasing the breath he had withheld since he knocked over the crate, directly onto Nina's foot. "He almost caught us thanks to you, we would all be dead by now if Inej hadn't pulled you back in time"

"Well, it seems as if the letter was right, Kaz really does spend his weekends shopping," Inej stated, amusement striking through her tone. "Have any of you ever seen him so calm? It's nice to know he has a human side to him too," Wylan pointed out, as they all began to discuss their findings.

"What do you think he would have done to us if he found us?" Jesper questioned, smirking proudly at the group's evasion of their leader, "It's Kaz so, I guess we would all be..."

"Dead," sounded a sharp voice from behind the group, a resounding thump following as hard metal struck the cobblestone street.

The group's hilarity quickly morphed into alarm, each crow swiftly turning to meet the unwavering threat in their boss' gaze. "It seems as if Inej is the only one of you with any sense," Kaz observed.

"What? She was the one who," Jesper began before sensing the absence of the Wraith beside him, not even the wind carrying a trace of her previous presence. Breathing out of a puff of exasperation, Jesper let out a defeated "Well then."

"Do any of you care to enlighten me as to why you are here? It seems as if you've been spying on me during my free time. I sincerely hope that I will stand corrected," Kaz demanded, a calm yet dangerous tone commanding his words.

Despite the thrum of conversation drifting through the market, a rigid silence settled between the group, each one glancing fearfully at each other in the hope that someone would get them out of this.

However unlikely that seemed.

"Well, I must be correct then," Kaz sliced through the growing tension, "I'm sure a detailed meeting this evening at the Crow Club is needed, however I will tell you this now," Kaz practically seethed, cane tightening beneath his grasp.

Taking a daunting stride towards them, his eyes narrowed, a snarl making its way to his features, a sight that was never usually reserved for his friends. However, the group highly doubted he would take this lightly.

"You are all going to go quietly, and immediately back to the slat. If I even sense you are still here, you will discover why so many people in this city are struck with terror at the thought of me. Understand?" Kaz warned, voice laced with threat, lowering with each syllable as he attempted to control his fury.

Hurried sounds of 'yes boss', 'of course', 'it won't happen again', overlapped with each other as the crows struggled to hastily comply with Kaz's command. They watched in complete stillness as their boss turned sharply, hastily limping back into the crowded streets, his black attire eventually lost to the waves of people.

Muffled laughter suddenly rang out behind the group, who turned in fright to find a rosy faced Inej, hand clasped tightly over her mouth in an attempt to stifle the giggles escaping from her. "Did you," Inej began before more laughter interrupted her speech, "Did you see his face? He was blushing, I never thought I would see the day. He was mortified!" She finished, breathless as her bright amusement continued.

"Blushing? Are you joking Inej, he literally threatened to kill us!" Jesper started incredulously, "Nobody else saw this supposed blush did they?"

"He did look a little red..." Wylan began, voice trembling, with nerves or laughter, not even he himself could tell. "Well, I think that's enough to satisfy our curiosity for one day," Jesper states, "Come on then, lets go before he finds we're still here. I don't even want to begin to imagine..." he trailed off, giving off an exaggerated shiver before heading in the direction they came from.

"Uhm, hello? Are you guys coming?" Jesper questioned, turning back to find the group staring back out through the crates, completely ignoring the pleas of the sharpshooter to leave.

"Look," Wylan whispered, softly grabbing the edge of Jesper's sleeve and pulling him towards himself. Glancing through the crooked panel of a barrel, Jesper's gaze led him to realize what had ensnared the attention of the crows. Standing close to where they were originally spotted, Kaz had regained his lover's company, as you stood with baked goods piled high in your grasp.

The crows observed in shock as Kaz slowly leaned down, placing a delicate kiss to your lips, capturing them in his own for a brief few moments. The embarrassment of being caught in such vulnerability by his friends had slipped away, his mind captured once again by your aura, allowing your tender smile to bathe him in warmth.

"Are you sure you're alright love?" you utter, lashes fluttering as you take in his lighthearted expression, allowing him to slip a few of your bags onto his free arm, relieving the weight you had previously been hauling. "I'm fine," he states, again not completely truthful, however his demeanor didn't indicate any true discomfort.

"I think we should go to the florists, the one over that way," Kaz offered, nodding his head in the opposite direction of your usual path. Kaz prayed you would go along with his plan, knowing doubtlessly that his crows were still lurking somewhere amongst the crowds.

"Okay, lets go," you chirped, flashing a radiant smile towards him before linking your arm with his, uncaring that your bags swung against each other's due to the close proximity. Now, Kaz was the enthusiastic one, pulling you hastily through the crowds to evade the observing eyes of his friends.

As Kaz once again drowned out everything but your melodious voice, he began to feel grateful his crows had seen the pair of you together. You truly were his greatest achievement, and his embarrassment melted into pride, knowing deep down that he was deserving of your love and affection, and that was all that mattered.

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Kaz Brekker tag list : @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @swhisperer @sleepynightchild @atlasiiae @kaiinohh @sannunah28 @at-the-chateau @withbeautyandragendrage @animalistic00 @whos6claire @any-corrie @daisydark @shara-ne @xxinvisiblexx @ldhpeter @viperinferno @kozbtchx (please comment if you would like to be added to the Kaz Brekker taglist)

[hitlikehammers]

a Valentine's-flavoured cuddly-loose-lipped-secret-spilling-hopped-up-on-cold-medicine!Eddie

(and his ever-devoted boyfriend Steve who he's been crushing on since high school but that part's a secret was a secret)

for @thoroughlycollected: featuring the (actually kind of horrible) way schools would sell carnations for $1 or something for Valentine's Day to anonymously deliver to your crush

It turns out that Eddie under the influence comes in a variety of flavors.

High Eddie is languid, touchier than he’s normally prone to which is fucking saying something, and weirdly philosophical. He talks about alternate universes beyond the Upside Down as a meta-something concept. He theorizes how maybe he died in another dimension but some weird particle-subversion-something-something-whatever couldn’t survive re-sublimation in the Right-Side-Up and honestly when the big-brain bullshit skirts the edges of Eddie’s mortality Steve is here for all of none of that part, because Eddie’s heart was beating under Steve’s hands the whole goddamn time, sometimes maybe coaxed by Steve’s hands but from the moment Steve found him and Dustin to the moment he let go at the hospital he didn’t not feel Eddie’s heart beating, and he knew that not least because he would have come apart at the seams if that’s happened, he would have crumbled entirely for losing, or almost-losing, or thinking even close to losing the potential, the promise between them they’d barely skirted but that’d rooted heavy and at home in Steve’s chest already and fuck, fuck—

When Eddie philosophizes in general usually Steve just hangs on his every word, mesmerized by the beauty of him top of bottom, inside and out: somehow all Steve’s. But when his philosophizing leans toward that Steve’s own heartbeat does some weird shit that the weed can’t claim whole credit for and he grabs Eddie hard every time and kisses him until he’s dizzy with it, until they both are, until Eddie’s reduced just to blinking for at least five whole minutes and by that point High Eddie’s on to another topic altogether.

Which is for the best.

By comparison: Drunk Eddie is a lovelorn bastard, a little bit teary with it sometimes even, but always clingy and a touch extra possessive, sappier than he gets on even his most sappy days. One time he told Steve that no, he couldn’t let him go to take a piss because, and Steve remembers this word for word: there’s stardust in my body that’s in your body and that shit’s like magnets, Stevie, like magnets or whatever so my heart’s like pulled to your heart and if you go away without me ever you’ll rip my heart out—because like, a guy remembers that kind of declaration shouted into his ear over the music at a bar that’s safe enough that they’d get away with the excuse that Eddie was plastered, for the way he was hanging on Steve, but thank fuck the lighting was shitty enough that no one could see the flush on Steve’s cheeks, and thank fuck even more that no one could see his magnet-heart and how pounded something wild for the way Eddie draped over him and pressed full against his chest and nuzzled under his chin and made the kind of declarations that Steve had kinda been searching and hoping for all his life.

Drunk or not.

But then there’s another flavor, a specific one: and that’s medicated Eddie. And that Eddie, that cough-medicine-soaked-to-the-gills Eddie?

He’s an adorably giggly little fuck, is what he is.

“I’ll feel better by Saturday,” he lolls his head over to Steve’s shoulder where they sit beside one another, Eddie properly bundled in three blankets with a Sprite in hand. “Pinky-promise,” he slurs a little, but it might just be the stuffed-up nose doing the heavy lifting on garbling his words, and then fuck, of course the dipshit reaches up to seal the deal like the absolutely irresistible goofball he is, and always: snot-coated and all.

“Just rest up, babe,” Steve pulls him close with an arm around around his shoulder, dropping a firm kiss to his forehead: still warmer than Steve would like, in all honesty: “forget about Saturday,” and he means that with his whole chest, because fuck reservations and flowers and boxes of the chocolates Eddie likes best from the city—his boyfriend is sick, his boyfriend is hurting, and there is kinda not a single more important thing than that, than attending to that and making it hurt even the slightest bit less of he’s able, if it’s in his power.

“But we had,” Eddie sniffles heavily, loud and almost painful-sounding; “we had plans,” he whines, and turns toward Steve with overbright-eyes, far too watery:“our first,” he says it like it’s a heartbreak unto itself, bottom little quivering, and fuck.

Steve smiles though he hurts for Eddie right now so hard, want to take all the aching into himself it to spare this beautiful man for a fucking second, just he reaches and traces lilting patters around Eddie’s eyes, his browbone, his jaw, slow down to press soft at his lips:

“You not planning on having many more?” Steve asks soft, a little playful, a little leading: he likes to hear it, and often: that Eddie’s in this as deep and true and Steve is. For the long haul.

“All the more,” Eddie sing-songs sniffily, which is both pathetic and adorable, tugs at Steve’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips alike; “alllll of the more, Stevie-baby,” he draws out in promise, crosses his heart uncoordinated for feeling fuzzy with his cold and being fully cocooned in blankets and again: adorable and pathetic and perfect.

The man’s fucking perfect, even when he’s all stuffed-up and curled sick on the couch.

“Got you the best presents,” he adds on dreamily with a little chuckle, the high-pitched airy kind that float in the air between like bubbles; “so much better than all the other ones,” he adds kinda petulantly, pouts full around the words and maybe it’s the cough medicine, or the fuzziness Steve knows well comes with both the cold itself and the remedies to help alike; he brushes his lips against Eddie’s forehead just to be safe and Eddie giggles a little and leans full-bodied into Steve, unbalanced for the swaddling of most of his frame and that just makes him laugh all the more: he’s no more feverish than he had been, which was admittedly barely, just more than Steve liked, but: yeah.

Yeah, that’s…he kinda guesses it all could combine to have Eddie spewing kinda nonsense, and he probably should just smile and pull his boyfriend closer in his arms and cuddle him some more but he’s both curious and concerned, which turns out to be a potent mix, so:

“Other ones?”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums long and warm as he snuggles up to Steve a little closer, and Steve stretches an arm around him wholly, settles him flush to his chest: “but shh, don’t tell, okay?”

And Eddie sounds breathless, which piques Steve worry alongside the bright flush he finds on Eddie’s cheeks when he looks down: his eyes are fairly clear and…no, forehead’s still the same temperature, not clammy or anything, and Eddie’s just preening as he lazily tips his face up to receive more kisses, mostly unaware that Steve’s attentions serve any other purpose than loving on him.

And , well, no: they really don’t, it’s just the love’s multi-layered here, just now. It’s love, and it’s devotion, and it’s dedication to Eddie’s general wellbeing all wrapped into one. So: yeah.

“Swear,” Steve decides to play along, hoping for clues as to just how loopy Eddie’s ended up for one end of the sick-stick or the other; “what’s up, baby?” he draws circles over the harsh jut of Eddie’s clavicle, little massages that Eddie eats up with a dimpley grin as he sighs, back to the dreamy-tone again:

“Flowers.”

Steve buries a little smile into Eddie’s tangly tresses, because like…

“You got me flowers?”

No one’s ever really gotten Steve flowers.

“Noooo,” Eddie giggles and shakes his head under Steve’s chin as he buries closer into Steve’s chest, stretches Steve’s already mostly unbuttoned shirt out to damn well nuzzle the fuzz of curls beneath, and he makes this fucking…soft little half-whine that’s almost a purr, that vibrates straight through Steve’s ribs and his heart goddamn flutters, fucking hell—

“But that’s a great idea, can you remind Eddie tomorrow?” he pulls back with those fucking button eyes so big, as he talks about himself like he’s another person with such innocence then chuckles, burrowing against in Steve’s chest:

“I’d love to buy you good flowers, the nice kind, not the ones in a ten-gallon bucket sitting getting brown,” and his voice is all frown but…adorable, fuck, he’s such a fucking adorable drugged-up sicko, Steve can’t really handle this shit.

“And it was so sad,” he sniffles against Steve’s chest, and hell if Steve knows if it’s congestion or something like…mounting? Because he’s so sad? “The white ones, because they got brown so fast and, and,” and his words get caught up as his lungs rebel, as he sneezes, shakes from his core and Steve’s hands grab for him, tighten around him fiercely and Eddie gives into that protective instinct in Steve like clockwork, magnetic and automatic and Steve loves him so goddamn fucking much.

He presses his lips to Eddie’s temple as Eddie catches his breath and groans a little; kisses his over-warm skin just because.

“Carnations,” Eddie sniffles once he gets his bearings back enough; “are symbolssss,” he draws out long like a sloppy hiss; “of devohhh,” and he coughs a little, and pouts at being interrupted so he huffs heavier on the last syllable: “shun.”

De…devotion? Fucking…carnations?

Shit, Steve hasn’t seen a carnation, at least not knowingly; not since—

“And white ones mean pure,” Eddie rambles, all nasally but indignant anyhow, somehow; “so white carnations would be pure devotion,” and Eddie untucks himself from Steve’s chest for a second to look at him straight on with a little wobbly grin.

“You didn’t even notice, did you,” Eddie says, and there’s no sadness in it; but fuck, Steve…

Steve might fucking, like, start fucking crying.

Because he knows exactly what Eddie’s talking about, now.

“I noticed,” because it was the fucking carnations, the last time he thought about them: Hawkins High School, where they decided to hold up the horrible preteen tradition of anonymous flowers delivered for Valentine’s Day, so three people could be reminded they were the top of the fucking food chain with a pile of crushed flowers still dripping from their buckets of water, the little colored-paper tags soggy with the writing unreadable, while the rest of the school got to feel less-than when they got nothing, and Steve got more than his share even in the years after he toppled from on high in the social hierarchy, but they’d never mattered to him, they’d kinda made him feel uncomfortable. Except—and he could never explain it, but it was predictable, it happened every fucking year—in the collection of reds and pinks there was always one that stood out, all on it’s own.

A white one; Steve never even caught that they’d gone brown at the edges.

“Every year I noticed,” he exhales, and breathes Eddie in from the top of his head because, because—

Every year? Meant…meant every year. Freshman on up.

“My heart used to do this thing,” Steve murmurs against Eddie’s scalp, kinda; and yeah, it’s basically doing the same goddamn thing right now, a little trippy and dizzy and just…it’d scared him a little.

He recognizes now it’s how his chest feels when what he’s doing, where he is, who he’s with, who he holds inside tight close with him: it’s how his chest feels when what he’s doing is right.

“When I saw the white ones,” Steve whispers, and kisses against Eddie’s hair again, and again, because god; “only one person ever sent those.”

“Sometimes I’d have to run, like, hide in the gym showers so no one would know it was me,” Eddie matches his whisper, almost conspiratorial as he reaches out for Steve hand and Steve’s more than happy to meet him, to grasp tight, so tight; “hated gym, did you know that?”

“Oh, I had no idea,” Steve deadpans as he nuzzles Eddie’s hair, while Eddie goes back to nuzzles his chest, and Eddie’s breathing starts to even out and Steve thinks maybe he’s asleep, but then—

“Stevie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve wraps his arm around Eddie a little tighter.

“You’ll remind me about the flowers?” he asks, so goddamn soft; “wanna buy the best white carnations you’ve ever seen in your whole life.”

And Steve promises, yeah, of course—except: he kinda thinks maybe he already got the best ones years ago, again, and again.

He won’t discourage more of the very best, though, so long as Eddie’s the one next to him, handing them to him face to face, no hiding anywhere, just: them.

Pure devotion.

✨ ao3 link here

permanent tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[nalyra-dreaming]

Comments on 2x08!!! Well… spoilers, obviously:)

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Being buried like that is my absolute worst fear holy shit

Armand painting himself as the poor little victim makes me livid lol

Louis thinking about what he could havw changed and always arriving at kissing Lestat?!!! 😭😭😭😭

Armand reviving Louis but letting him tonrise by himself *insert middle finger emoji*

Louis going a bit mad - holy shit. sooooooo creepy I love it. And him preparing and getting their asses!!! Sublime!

Thank god Louis takes her diaries and dress 😭

Calling “Francis“ LMAO and with Come To Me toooooo 🙌😈😈

That sliver of light separating Louis and Armand… and Armand just continues to lie….

Sorry not believing the dungeon scene. Lestat just… sitting there? Contemplating and citing Magnus??? Mhhhh. Louis… threatening him and then… passionate kiss and leaving with Armand? That’s…. another Armand fanfic. Sorry, but … lol. No. No way. OR it’s edited and Louis bargained for Lestat‘s life there. As for Claudia’s back then. For example Louis could have burned Lestat there and that is why he was so apprehensive and fearful in SF. But this??? Nahhhhhhh - but: We‘ll see. In s3 apparently ^^ I could also see Louis burning him there or in the theater in a rage, but we’ll see. Anyways: this??? Nope. :)

Also, that blood of Akasha nod is very weird

Ah yes - the disassembly has started 😈

Get him Daniel!!!!!

There goes the broadcasting theory 🤓

And the soldiers!!!!! Yesssss

Not believing the rehearsing btw

LESTAT SAVED LOUISSSSSSSSSS Yesssss baby 🙌 I KNEW IT

Look at them bleeding ears 🥹 (also Armand (supposedly) would have let Louis die. Right. We‘re alllll clear on that, right.)

77 YEARS BASED ON A SEISMIC LIE (ooof!!!!)

Oof Louis is maddddd

Yes get his ass. Also him threatening Armand 👀

Hurricane Odetta! 2021!!!! The crime tour was funny. And then… Moss house. Implied fledgling but… no way

Yeah. Rip my heart out while you’re at it. JAM just have the energy for them. And god… Lestat breaking on remembering Claudia burn 😭 and the embrace on him calling himself her father.

Lestat looks like healing from burns still 👀 (also him using Siri?!!!)

Louis apologizing for making Lestat miserable

Because he didn’t know it was a gift 😭😭😭😭

That embrace. The looks. It’s just raw 😭😭😭

And to leave us like that the BASTARDS!!!!

Daniel!!!! Sweety!!!! Love the sass!!!Look at your eyes!!!! But yeah no, Armand did not turn you out of spite lol

But - calling it: contested NOLA meeting (OR Lestat is in Dubai either Louis)

Louis (supposedly) returning to Dubai alone… I get it. Louis needs to find himself. And honestly?? After Claudia asking him who he is outside of Claudia and Lestat? To say: “I own the night“????? ROCKS. 🙌🙌🙌

Also: Louis challenging the other vampires to come and get him - well - with the s3 announcement??? - HERE COMES THE VAMPIRE LESTAT!!!

I‘m not crying and grinning happily, you are…

*sniffs*

Episode Insider:

Jacob texting that pic - LMAO

Assad: All lf the facade […] has been shown to be a complete lie

Jacob: Lestat would have saved Claudia if he‘d had the energy 😭

Jacob: There’s things said at the end that nobody will ever know other than me and Sam. RIP ME 💀

OKAY. I‘m … good. Happy. Satisfied. Season 3 - here we fucking come!!!!

[pursuitseternal]

Introducing “Our Blood is Thicker:” Enemies to Lovers Astarion x Tav (OC female)

Astarion x Tav (female OC) | E | 4.8 K Chapter

Summary: He can’t remember anything, but she does. The betrothed she believed dead, the source of all her centuries of grief and heartache now in the middle of her path after the Nautiloid crash. He might look mostly the same as the one who stole her heart, but something is different about him. Dark. Changed. Something hidden. But her own centuries of becoming battle-hardened haven taught her wisdom and insight beyond her own elvish abilities. He is a monster she can tame, a challenge she will have to face. No matter the heartache.

CW: angst, heartbreak, enemies, sexual tension you can cut with a dagger, vampire trauma-induced memory loss, calculating manipulation (Astarion), Spoilers for the gameplay

A/N: Prompt fill, 3rd Person POV, female Tav OC, headcanon Astarion as Star elf ✨, our Little Star

Read on AO3 if you prefer

Chapter 1: Wondering

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“Shh shh shh shh,” that sweetened, mellifluous voice whispered in her ear so softly. Lips nearly pressing against her sensitive, pointed ear. Something about it reached into the dark recesses of her memory. Jarring almost more than the danger he posed.

It was a sharp contrast. So caressing in tone. Strange, compared to the way he used every bit of his wiry, lean, overwhelming strength to push that dagger towards her neck.

“Not another sound… not if you want to keep that… darling… neck of yours….”

Shivers, colder than ice, colder than death ran down her spine at his words. Recognition shot right through her. It was a voice that once haunted her thoughts, one she once craved. But that craving had turned sour, that longing had long ago twisted into spite.

That silver hair, those piercing eyes and dangerous smile.

Even the way his arm cradled around her back, bracing her into him as he tried to threaten and destroy her.

But she had been here before.

Destroyed by him once.

Over a hundred years of loathing, resentment, anger, it all came rushing up, pouring out from her. Her hands swift and strong, she grabbed his body where she could, smashing her head right into the bridge of his beautiful, aquiline nose.

His howl of pain as he rolled away made her heart sing.

Her companions watched, mouths open as they stood in a line, some in surprise, some in delight. Karlach’s laughter was especially reassuring to her ear. Making her go just a hint faster as she scrambled for her own elegant blade.

But it was a struggle to keep her stance, to keep up. Maybe that fucking parasite is making me slow, she cursed inwardly, or maybe he’s just become quicker. Faster. But equally mean and threatening as before.

A ghost from her past, just as much of a… threat… as he once was.

Already at his feet, he clutched his dagger in hand, lips pressed in suspicion and cold, calculating spite. “I saw you on the ship…” he hissed.

She squared her shoulders, spinning her own blade expertly in hand. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch me, Astarion Ancunín,” she hissed back.

She saw it, giving her a sublime dark and twisted joy. His shock and doubt the moment she gave his name. A flicker over his face as his concentration, his intense charm and swagger, shattered. He eased on his toes, weapon lowering. Looking for answers, maybe for peaceful conversation. But it was too late for her, swallowing down the bile that had risen to speak his name again.

No backing down now, she sneered. And besides, she wasn’t alone this time. Her party stood behind her, their anxiety palpable as they watched. Waiting for her to choose: attack or speak.

And for every scar on her heart that bastard made, she longed to attack, but her own, ancient elvish sensibilities prevented her.

She couldn’t just kill one of her own. Not when there were already so few Star Elves to begin with.

“I take it, we’ve met before,” he replied. Cold, so cold in his tone. And cautious, as if he weighed every word before he let it out from those sneering lips. Same old Astarion. “At least before you crawled around the Mindflayer’s ship doing gods know what…”

That was it. She snapped inwardly. It was hard to control it, her need to pummel his pale face. “Don’t remember?” She forced a charming smile, narrowing her sharp, silver eyes at him. “Of course not, over a century of chasing your own ambitions and leaving your people behind…” She swallowed the need to mention herself… how he left you behind, her mind hissed at her with all the venom she had tried to bury.

He said nothing, but she could see how his mind was racing, scanning her up and down and all over with those… crimson… eyes.

She paused. Where were those deep violet ones? The ones she would once lose herself in, deep like the night sky she had stared into, abandoning all reason, forgetting her own self in, during those long and lonely years, wishing she wasn’t alone in her bed at night….

Rapidly, she shook her head.

It pulled him back into the tension, the pale elf hardened his form again, back on the offense, a second dagger in his fist now. “Tell me what you know about these parasites, or I’ll decorate the ground with your innards, darling…”

That’s when something pulsed in your mind, the parasite swimming, throbbing as their minds smashed together.

She saw through foreign eyes… crouching in the darkness, the tang of old blood… locked behind walls away from the stars, the sky, forsaking the sun… her stomach burned with a hunger she had never known. And slowly her mind raced, trying to cling to the memories of faces and names and the feeling of grass under her feet and wind on her face.

She wished she had chosen death as the blood on her back began to dry, as the pain of his knife still cut your senses and deadened her mind. She tried to remember anything, but it all faded into the dark…

Her eyes shot open, the glaring sun a relief to her heart as she gasped. As if she had been suffocated by that dank dark prison herself.

Astarion glared at her, so intense and angry as those crimson pools narrowed. “They took you too, I saw it during… whatever that was,” he scowled at her. Confusion, mistrust, wrinkling his porcelain brow. “It seems we have a common goal, darling, even though I could feel your hatred for me clear as… day.”

“Another gift from the Ilithids, it seems,” she scoffed, “glad I didn’t have to waste my breath telling you.” Her lithe fingers resheathed her dagger, turning on her heel to face her new found companions. But they didn’t budge even as she approached with all the confidence of a seasoned commander.

“That's it?” The elf called, voice sharp as he followed in her steps. “You’re going to just… leave me? Even though I am stuck with the same fate as all of you?” He sounded desperate, an edge of true fear flickering in his mellifluous voice.

She scoffed, tossing her shining red hair over her shoulder with a glare. “I seem to remember you always preferred to go your own way,” she jeered over your shoulder, feeling the tips of her own pointed ears growing hot with rage.

“Look, if I remembered anything, I’m sure I would have centuries to apologize for, but as it is…” he cleared his throat. She turned fully at the noise of discomfort, reassured by the closeness of the others beside her. She watched as he put on a well-practiced smile, making his arms soften as he flexed them at his sides. “I… I don’t, I can’t remember much other than my name, and little of my past.” His eyes scanned your company: wizard, cleric, tiefling… begging and pleading with their wide wetness in every way that matched his supplicant tone. “Please, I know you’re trying to find an expert, a solution…” he placed a hand on his heart, smile softening, forcing sincerity, “I’d like to, too.”

The wizard shifted beside her, leaning closer so his voice reached her ear. “It would be.. most extreme to just… ignore someone thrown into our path and bound to the same fate,” Gale’s calm and soothing lilt seemed to only aggravate her.

“We know nothing about him,” she snapped between gritted teeth. Hissing, her mind corrected those furious words: you know nothing about him.

“Do you know anything about any of us?” Shadowheart added, eyes so soft and sparkling, tone so damnably calm too.

Her nostrils flared, her temper beating in her head. Made things difficult to think past all feelings that swirled in her stomach and befuddled her mind. But she forced herself to take a breath, closing her eyes as she turned to face that unsought phantom from her past. “Fine,” she gave a relenting hiss, “for the good of the group, I will allow you to come.”

His brow quirked. Too attractively, too seductively for her own good. “Thank you,” he crooned in reply, catching her fist where it balled at her side and pressing his lips on her fingers.

His mouth was cold, but so was the air, she shook the observations from her head. Trying to keep everything he did at a distance. Hard to do as he smirked down at her, as rakish and roguish as once plagued her dreams. “I always enjoy being allowed to come,” he purred, quietly enough for her ears alone.

“Don’t,” she rasped through her tightly clenching jaw. “Don’t make me regret this spike of altruism on your behalf…” Finally ripping her hand from his chilled hold upon her. “Not that you would know the word at any rate.”

He stiffened, caught off guard again as she mentioned his past… who he was. “For as much as you think I should know you, darling, I don’t…” he squared his frame, rigid and defensive. “And for as much as you think you may know me, of what I once was, I assure you…” he seemed to sneer bitterly, his teeth flashing in the sun, “…you do not.”

Provoking him was fun, she decided. Maybe, making him pay would be a pleasant distraction from the fear of these damned parasites. She made her lips smile, giving her fiery, burnished red hair a toss. Cool and collected. “Then it seems we will have much time to get to know one another, Astarion.”

There it was again, that outward show of being polite, his feral nature just simmering beneath. “Of course,” he bowed his head, closing in so close, she had to push past him.

But the moment she cleared ahead, he was right there again, and this time, she couldn’t fight the aggravated sigh in her throat as he fell in step behind her. His body so close, she could feel the brush of his sleeve—richly colored, decadentally embroidered—with every fucking step. That’s when his sultry voice leaned too close to her ear so as to fill it. “So, since you’re so cunning and sneaky and beautiful, I’m sure you know about these parasites…”

“Certainly,” she threw him her most annoyed and caustic look. “I know enough to tell you they’ll turn you into a Mindflayer,” she snapped her reply. Quick and to the point.

“A…” he stopped frozen in his tracks, shaking his head as he scoffed with bitter laughter. “Of course,” he sneered with disdain, “it’ll turn me into a monster. What did I expect?” he commented, quietly, under that icy breath, almost to himself.

She sniffed, her own irascible, twitching grimace on her smooth face, letting out all the barbs that had piled up as he looked at her, that aloof veneer just… pissing her off. “You were always a bit of a monster, Astarion,” she teased, malice in her words. “Shouldn’t be much of a change for you.”

That did it. That broke into his ice-cold defenses. He roared, hands clawing into her upper arms, his massive strength shoving her little, flexible frame against the closest tree. He’s so close. His breath chilling. His teeth bared in her face, but all she could see was the feral, unchecked wilderness in the shocking red of his eyes. “Look,” he growled, voice barely more than a rumble as he pinned her into that unyielding tree. “I don’t know what you remember, or who you remember. But I don’t know you… I don’t recall your name, your face, your annoying, rash, irritating presence…”

“Funny,” she kept her face relaxed, pleasantly smiling softly, strangely calm as all the bile began to draw from the dark recesses of her soul. At last, her mouth spewed the words that had tightened in her chest since she recognized him. “I can recall everything. An elf’s memory is their curse, you know. I remember the depth of colors in your violet eyes, I remember the way your giggle would turn every head to give you the attention you longed for, even as a youth.”

His pinning frame eased, but he kept them on her body. Still heavy and strong as he pressed over every inch.

She wished he wouldn’t.

But it only kept the poison flowing. “I remember the taste of your tongue in my mouth, the heat of your hands as you caressed me through my gowns… I remember the way your voice cracked with feeling when you gave me your word we would be wed, my betrothed for every age… every lifetime…”

Now it was her silky voice that cracked. And she watched the shadows draw over his pale face. The lines around his eyes crinkling as he winced, as if her words were sucking a venom from sealed wounds.

“I remember that same untamable need for power, for ambition, the same that made you leave your people under the stars, in the woods, to go to Baldur’s Gate for your studies. For you to find a way to take power from society, exploiting the law… becoming a Magistrate so you could discover true power and freedom…”

Those dark red eyes shut completely. His lips drawing slowly in a pained sneer. But now the words just couldn’t stop. Not now.

She inhaled, shakily and deeply. The pain almost overwhelmed her. “I recall every second of waiting during those years, waiting for your letters… for your return to me… to make me your bride but…”

He gave a rattling breath from his chest. “But I never did…” his hands swept down her arms, lingering for a moment before he released her completely. “I couldn’t return…”

She gave a derisive huff, a laugh of pure ire and disbelief. “I know. Well, I thought I did. I went looking for you, Astarion. I found your… grave.” She almost shouted the last word. The full extent of her pain, her betrayal coating her voice, coloring her vision in pure, red rage. “I sought after how you died. Murdered in the streets. Like the traitor you were to me.” Her breath was rough and ragged. “I let you go from that moment, Astarion. So forgive me if stumbling upon you very much… not dead… is a bit painful.”

“I assure you,” he spoke through his perfectly white, gritted teeth, “it might not be as painful as the truth.”

“Well,” she sniffed in scorn, “once you deign to share it, then I’ll stop assuming you faked your own death, just to get away from me. What a sense of humor the gods must have to throw you back in my path now.”

“The gods have nothing to do with it,” he twisted his head, and she could see every muscle in his neck clenching and throbbing. “You’ll learn the truth, I’m sure. Maybe it’ll even come to you in the night…”

Brows furrowed, making her face screw in contempt, too irritated to be confused. “Maybe,” she snipped, “might be faster than waiting on you to do anything.”

He grinned, brows canting, those eyes gazed at her with that same amused stare that once made her thighs wet with need. And dammit, if she didn’t start to feel it again. Especially as that smirk started to twist more rakishly. Her heart skipped a beat. The wind in his hair, tousling those same silver locks, the scent of his skin, citrus and spice, she hated the way it still tugged at her body.

“Fuck,” she cursed, jutting her chin up at him, trying to look composed and undeterred. And unaroused. “I just hope you’re as good of a fighter as you once were,” she taunted, eyes scanning the daggers at each side of his narrow waist. “Seems your body remembers that even if you don’t remember anything important.”

“I would dare to say, darling, I’m even more dangerous now than I ever was,” he preened. Proud. Insufferable. “If you ever felt yourself in danger around me before, perhaps you may wish to watch your back… and your neck.” His eyes raked down her body, that same ancient heat in his eyes even if he didn’t remember it from… from before.

That was enough. She huffed and stalked on up the trail, trying to put as much distance and as many other bodies between her and him.

That’s when she saw it… where the rest of her party had already gathered. Something about the rocks ahead, the massive door in the wall, something inside her wanted to see what’s inside… and without another thought, she shoved on the big, wood planks.

“Locked,” she proclaimed, looking at her sweet Wizard, giving him a soft, pleading look for any help he and his magic could offer.

“Well, I do suppose…” Gale smiled, “anything to help our fearless leader, even if it’s just the gentlemanly thing of holding a door open…”

“Done!” Astarion crowed, his lockpick in one hand, the other gesticulating dramatically as he bowed. The thick door did, in fact, groan on its hinges as it opened into the mountain. “Who needs magic when you have a fine tool to shove in tiny holes, hmm?”

His eyes fixated right on her. Gods, her mind raced at the way he looked at her as if she was bared to the sun. Is he remembering?

“Well, Astarion,” the cleric taunted as she drew closer, “no one is accusing you of gentlemanly behavior.”

“I should certainly hope not,” his eyes shifted that heated, flirtatious stare on Shadowheart. “Gentlemen aren’t known for having as much fun as I tend to… enjoy.”

“Ugh,” that groan came from her, through, totally unplanned. She pushed between them to enter into the dark. But what she tried to ignore, try to distract herself from, was how her stomach knotted, how her blood boiled at the image that was now burned in her mind. Of how he was just… smirking at her…the cleric… undressing with his eyes… throwing those honeyed barbs…. And all he has for you is just anger and blades and pain, her thoughts scratched at those old, heartsick wounds.

As she entered into the dark adventure ahead, she didn’t know what was worse. The enemies in her path, or the traitorous ghost that haunted her with envy within her heart.

With a sigh, she could only hope he was as brutal a fighter as he seemed to think he was. External enemies he could slay, but she doubted he would help, could help, that bitterness and jealousy that had taken root inside her.

___________________

Hells below, she moaned, she made it to the night. Alive and in one piece. And… as she surveyed her companions that fate had shoved into her path, it was thanks to all of them. Even… she groaned inwardly… Astarion. He was indeed vicious. Worse than she remembered. He loved the bloodshed. He thrived in the chaos of battle. He became one with the shadows to sneak up on the enemy.

It was…. Gods forbid… impressive.

She mindlessly sorted through the food that everyone had pilfered on the journey today, every companion busied now piecing together sleeping places. Some of the more ambitious, entitled, conceited companions had begun to construct tents.

Like Astarion.

A heavy sigh, she tried to ignore how he was bouncing on his toes, fairly giddy to make a little abode under the night sky. Rolling her eyes painfully far back in her skull, she settled for a comfy, if austere, bedroll that she settled by the fire.

She looked at her hands as she fluffed her pillow, shifting the thick blanket to cover the leather of its back. So dry, so scarred. Calluses on both her fingers from holding sword and dagger. Seeing Astarion… it made it hard not to remember the days before. The days when pricking her fingers with a needle and thread were the worst she could do… days when she touched the finest silks, softer than starlight, that shimmered just as brightly and just as…

“Shame you can’t fashion yourself a little retreat away for yourself… a little place for privacy, secrecy,” that irritating and silken voice snapped her from her sweet memories, thrusting her right back into the agony of his presence. The reminder of all she lost. And he towered over her, looming above where she crouched.

Turning a look of pure spite up at him, she glared from over her shoulder, unable to miss how his legs stood so close to her rear. Nearly touching her with his body.

“What need would I have of secrecy, Astarion?” She taunted as she stood, carefully putting more room between them as she did so.

“Given how little I do recall about you, I’m sure I have no idea,” he purred, crossing his arms.

Exasperation. It had been a long day, ending it with more of him wasn’t ideal. She needed to… put something to rest. Anything.

“Okay, I get it,” she huffed, crossing her arms too, jutting her chin up as she met his sultry stare of indifference, “I remember much more than you. For whatever reason, I don’t know. And I know after all this time, I doubt I deserve any form of explanation. But my memory is all I have….”

She swallowed, the words you were all I had burning a hole in her throat as she fought them back down.

“But what I do know is that… someday… I would like to know what happened,” she blinked her sharp silver eyes, turning away hurriedly to hide the harsh sting of tears that began to burn. “When you’re ready… if you even remember enough to share that.”

Breathless, she waited for some snarky reply. For some witty rejoinder. But it never came. She turned. He was just… standing there. The light of the setting sun seemed to glow around him, almost making those soft, silver curls on his head incandescent.

Gods, she knew how it was she fell in love with him so easily, so long ago. A lifetime ago. Shadows darkened his eyes, and she saw it then, how he had let his guard down for a split second. Nothing but purest pain on his face.

“Astarion,” she breathed, those long forgotten feelings creeping back up. Timeless affection, boundless attachment, undying devotion.

“I will tell you… but,” he swallowed, giving a heavy, saddened sigh. “Gods, I wish I remembered more, remembered… you.” He looked at her then, really and truly. No squinting or leering or smirking. “You seem so, nice… when you want to be. You sound like you really, truly cared for me.”

“I did,” came her reply. I do, her heart screamed through the cage of spite that she had built.

“I am… sorry,” he kept his eyes fixed on her, so wide and soft. “I… must have cared for you too, I… I can almost feel it too.”

Her lungs burn. No, no. She was past this, for almost two centuries, she had buried herself in serving her people, defending them from enemies, seeking victories on the battlefield. Alone. Prowess with the blade. Feats few of her race have ever attained. No marriage or love to soften her.

And yet…except for his eyes, this was her love… her… gods, she swallowed the words… her betrothed.

“It’s alright, Astarion,” she shrugged, shoving down all that saccharine sentiment, “even if you did feel the same way as you did once, there is still the pain of losing you for such a long time.” Her head hung down, her eyes looking down the front of her well-worn linen shirt, as if she couldn’t examine the creases in her sleeves hard enough.

Then she felt him drawing closer.

“I… didn't fake anything,” he whispered. Standing right before her. Not touching, but staring back in the fading light. “I didn’t fake my death.”

She let out a quiet scoff. “So what, then if you didn’t fake it, you really died?” She couldn’t help the slight mocking edge to her voice as he dragged up all that pain she fought to still keep locked up tight.

He gave a single, loud, bitter laugh in return. Then, his face instantly lost all that softness, becoming all slanted angles, clenching muscles, and spiteful glare. “I was captured,” he hissed, “kept as a slave to a… monster.”

“Astarion,” his name was a sob in her voice, her body unable to stop her hand from reaching out to rest on his arm as it clenched at his side.

“No, I don’t want pity,” he snapped his teeth in rage, “I don’t want your pity. What I want is revenge. Freedom. These tadpoles have obviously affected us, in more ways than I think anyone can simply observe. There is a power here.” He trembled under her featherlight touch, but he hadn’t shaken it off. “And I would like to use it to its benefit for me, for once.”

“Sounds like even with… everything you endured, you haven’t changed all that much,” she tried to smile. Despite his pain and rage on his beautiful face. Despite her heavy heart.

“You have no idea what you are speaking of,” his voice was exacting, enraged, and sharp.

Her head nodded, the soft red waves of her hair falling gently as she did. “No, no I don’t. You’re right.”

And instantly something shifted in his frame. His gaze felt… different on her face. Even though she didn’t look up. Not yet.

“And I would want those things for you too, even once upon a time,” she added, “Freedom. Revenge.” She trained her eyes on the ground between them, feeling his stare’s intensity more than seeing it.

And still, he allowed her hand to rest on his arm.

“When we… once were… together, I would never have said such a thing. But I have changed in these centuries too. Fought enough battles, looted enough corpses to lose the softness of my hand and the gentility of my voice.” She struggled to breathe again. Something around her heart releasing at last. “Maybe it’s best that you don’t remember me.” She gave the hard sinews of his arm a gentle squeeze. “Maybe we just get to know each other as we are now?”

“I kind of like the sound of that,” he hummed. Then he cast that well-practiced smile, the only warning before his other hand came to cover hers arresting it from his body in his soft fingers.

His touch was still so… cold.

“I do still wish I could remember more of you,” his voice dipped low, soft and sweet and tickling in her ear as he seemed to draw closer. “Maybe you can think of some things to… trigger my memory?”

“I could certainly try,” she managed to reply, and as he began to crowd her.

“I’d be open to some ideas of yours, darling,” his hand raised her to his lips, placing a polite kiss on her twitching fingertips. “I also have some… suggestions that you might find… intriguing.” His eyes flashed as she looked into his face, as she felt his breath on her hand where he kept it pressed close to his mouth. “Especially since you say we were betrothed…”

Nope. She gave him a disapproving frown, a bitter chuckle. “If you can’t remember if we have coupled yet, then I am not about to tell you either way, Astarion,” she smirked at him. “If we are getting to know one another again, it seems only fair you should earn such a privilege again as well.”

He shrugged those strapping, broad shoulders. “Can’t blame a man for trying,” he purred. “Not with how… delectable… you smell.”

Her breath burned in her lungs, his hand turning hers slowly, running a thumb over that sensitive skin inside her wrist just once. Pressing it against his nose. Smelling her flesh. Even more painstakingly slowly, his lips caressed it, trailing a few more over those tingling nerves he was igniting on fire now. Then he released her just as quickly as he had stolen her hand to press to his lips.

Similar, but so, so much more daring. Devious. Desirous. Gods, kissing her fingers was one thing, but this. Oh, she felt molten inside, barely noticing just how cold he still was to the touch. Finally he released her. “You should rest, my dear. Tell the others, I will take the first watch to show you all I’m on my best behavior.”

She watched him turn and take two steps towards his tent.

Then he stoped, casting a smirk over his shoulder. Catching her in the glint of his crimson eye. “Sweet dreams… Cordehlia.”

Hells… her name. Her gut stabbed in on itself. Her legs gave out slightly, as she hoped he wouldn't notice.

No one had said it… her name… not within his hearing. How… did he…?

As he crept his way to the treeline, Cordehlia watched him as he stalked away. Wondering just how much he might remember.

Wondering at how much he had changed…

Wondering… why was he so cold, and why were his eyes so red…

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

Want more? Check out my Masterlist 🩸✨

[tyran-the-tyranical]

That one line from Raphael's Second Diary will never cease to get me 🥺 LIKE MIGHT I ADD- these are his private thoughts, separate from his manipulation attempts and so he, with his full chest, admits so much in his second diary, like when he says "never have I been so attracted to mortals as I am to those infested by the tadpole." AHH, (my delusions are so real, trust)

BUT WHEN HE SAYS "They gestured to the melting hooks, suddenly glanced my way, and in their face I saw they had the best of me." look, I get the subtext behind all these quotes, but a girl can just ignore all that media literacy and take it for face value, OK? 💅 but also reading into it, he does admire Tav to a certain extent, and I have to wonder, why? Tav isn't an origin character and Tav's actions and character basically changes with every playthrough (Same with Durge, as they can change too) So I have to wonder if it's because Tav is controlled by the player, since, Raphael does end up breaking the fourth wall in his epilogue speech, so perhaps that's what he sees.

Another way to look at it is, either way, no matter what the playthrough, he sees something in Tav, something that makes them stand out much brighter than their companions (For some reason???)

To further that statement, what is the best of Raphael? I mean, if its an evil playthrough, that would be obvious, but if you're playing a good playthrough, what then? perhaps what he sees is someone he can finally use to get the crown, that's also very likely. Still though that's a very to the point (IMO) not as interesting of a reading since it's literally just his end goal for us, BUT STILL A VALID ONE, because, it is true, that's what he wants from us the most.

Also his third diary where he just straight up admits that he's being so honest with us so he can manipulate us, love that for him, "I am master here. A prince of bargains cloaked like scarlet satin. All that hidden under sublimely obvious truths that cannot be discounted." Which also makes me wonder, is Raphael actually an honest person? I mean, Korilla thinks he's at least decent, but honest? outside of helping us, if we look at Yurgir, he really fucked him over lol. Obviously, Raphael isn't what he seems, even if he's honest with us, to what extent? he says it himself, he's honest about "...sublimely obvious truths..." but what about when he says he's grown quite fond of us in his own way, HMMMM?

I wish this man got a proper story arc in the game, outside of the whole deal for the hammer and House of Hope, that's all plot related for the hammer, but a storyline about Raphael as a character? I mean yea, maybe that would whisk away some of his mystery, his intrigue, but I'm sorry- you cant just end it with him fucking himself (poorly) and trying to break Hope (making her a metaphorical symbol of hope anyway, I think....) AND LEAVE IT THERE?!?!? at the same time, I do like the ambiguity of his character, you could think of him as a cruel bastard after seeing what he's done in the House Of Hope to his debtors and Hope herself or perhaps just a Pathetic lil guy who's shit in bed lol, or maybe even soft, if you go off Korillas words and what he does for us in game he can come across as quite nice, especially after we've interacted with Mizora who's is the only other Cambion example we can go off of.

I also just think it's interesting that he sees anything in Tav/Durge at all. Ofc he says he sees the best of him (Always gotta relate back to himself lol) but that especially a mortal is what he could see himself, the best of himself, but then again he does see potential and ambition as admirable (?) or just something he appreciates, you can see that with Mol and Gortash to some extent anyway, But what ambitions does Tav have outside of just trying to survive? Like, the obvious answer is he wants us to give him the crown and we're the underdog in the story but then why does he refer to Tav so differently then? I fear this has turned into another rant again, lol.

Just a final thought here, but, if he did ever get a story arc, similar to the companions, would they give you multiple directions to take his character? i mean with Shadowheart for example, you could help her break from shar or have her fully convert into shars chosen, but even then, if you free her from shar theres the point of saving her family or freeing her from Shars (curse?) there's multiple ways for her story to end. Though, Raphael isnt a companion, so would he have something similar to idk a minor companion like Halsin or Minthara, who don't really have that much of a diversion (I think) in their endings, they don't really have the option, only really if the player decides to be evil or not, they kinda just follow them either way, it doesn't really impact their own stories. Obviously, I would prefer something with nuance but also, HE ISN'T A COMPANION 😭 and pressingly some of the companions need more work done than he does atm lol. Maybe that's me just projecting lol, once again, me wanting to have my cake and eat it too, anyway, that's me done... for now lol

[rockingrobin69]

Could I please also pick trick? 🥺🙏🎃

You're a star for doing this, thank you! 💙

Hello darling, here's a nice little M-rated fic for you! D/s elements and alcohol mentioned.

Irresistible

“There, good boy.” Harry watched as the words ran through Draco, a highly visible path: from his flushing cheeks, to his sudden gulp, the hand previously tapping the armrest suddenly gone still.

“Begging pardon,” he said, not quite a question. Harry peered at him from the edge of his nose.

“All right,” with a smile. “I think I might like it even better if you begged.”

Draco’s rosy cheeks went flame-red. “P-Potter!” he inched closer on his seat, tongue darting out to wet his lips, a tiny, unintentional movement. Harry wanted to take his face in both hands, leave him panting and messy and barely coherent and yeah, why not, begging too: Harry, who dreamed of this moment for far too long, sat still. Played with the ice cube on his tongue. Waited.

“You’re a terrible tease,” Draco eventually said with a slightly hysterical wave. He’d left his robes on the desk, sitting there in his tight shirt, in those crisp trousers Harry particularly liked, that he knew, god damn him, made his thighs look fucking edible. Harry wondered if that’s what their students see when they look up at him: someone outrageously, destructively handsome. Someone so clearly Harry’s and who needed to be told that, repeatedly, for days and days on end and maybe for always.  

With a sigh he put the whiskey aside. Far more intoxicating, the look in Draco’s eyes. “I’ll never tease you,” he said, as gently as the rasp in his voice allowed, “Not unless you absolutely begged me to.”

The way Draco’s throat tightened on a swallow—sublime. “Potter,” he murmured, a little pleadingly. Harry took pity, then took his chin.

“Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be good for me, yes? And I’ll make sure you’re well and truly satisfied.”

Draco looked down, suddenly shy and unbearably sweet. “I—I want—” Harry waited patiently. When nothing more came:

“Yes, sweetheart? Tell me. What do you want?”

“Hmm?” in all fairness, the way Harry’s thumb kept tracing Draco’s bottom lip might have been slightly distracting. “Potter, I—”

It was mostly an accident, that the thumb slipped past those pink lips and now rested on Draco’s tongue. The gasp, and then the aborted moan, and Draco’s jaw going all slack—also not intentional, and liquid fire in his blood.

“Don’t worry,” Harry made himself say, and lightly pet right behind Draco’s ear, “we’ll go very slowly. We’ll only do what you—”

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco mumbled, only half-forming the words and then, with his eyes closed, sucked Harry’s brains out through his thumb.

“What?”

It went out with a slick pop. “Stop horsing around,” Draco panted, tilting his head to level Harry the most scorching look, “and make me beg already.”

“Oh,” Harry managed, then, “oh, right,” laughing with a combination of relief and affection, so potent it nearly threw him off the chair. “My good boy,” with emphasis he hoped wasn’t detectable on the first word, but Draco shook his head and fell to his knees on the rug.

“Yours,” he said, and crawled right between Harry’s thighs, “Come on, you bastard, just—”

Harry did the only possible thing: took his face with both hands and kissed him, kissed him, kissed him. With every intention of leaving him panting and messy and barely coherent, making him his.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 2

How d'ya like your fluff in the morning?

Thank you for reading so far, hope you're liking soft River!

CH 1

Masterlist

Chapter 2

“I want to apologise, dear.” David said uncertainly the next morning as Seren walked with him into the village. “I’ve been abominable the last few weeks and you didn’t deserve it at all.” She let him speak without interruption. “I’ve never been the easiest person to deal with. At work, or since. River bears the brunt of it most of the time. They used to call me the Old Bastard, you know.” She smiled as they ambled slowly along the edges of the open fields.

“I would never expect you to change your entire personality, Mr Cartwright. I’ve looked after prickly characters before, and I will again. I appreciate the challenge, and a bit of verbal sparring keeps your mind active and engaged.” Seren shrugged. “The only reason I put up with you the last few weeks is because you both seemed… well,” she paused, not wanting to undo the progress they’d made in the last 24 hours, “desperate, really.” Fortunately he laughed. A deep chuckle she was immediately grateful she was hearing for the first time, and she was the cause. She pressed on, “every single evening I doubted whether to keep coming over, whether to keep trying to win you over, and every single evening, the same thing would happen.”

“What’s that then?” He offered a hand to help her over the stile they’d reached, and on the opposite side, she did the same thing, taking careful note of his physical capabilities. Was he too frail to have come this way? Should she have taken the road route instead? He took the step down from the wooden step with ease and she relaxed. She looked around the semi rural surroundings, spotting a dog walker back in the field behind them. 

“River would call me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. How was I? How were you? How was our day? Did I need anything? He cares so much for you.”

“He’s a good boy.” David said softly, “a good man. He tries. And that won you over for another day, did it?”

“Like I said, he sounded desperate. And I was not always the nicest to him when he called.” Seren laughed, David harrumphed. 

“He said you called him yesterday from the bathroom.”

“I did. I wasn't sure what else to do. I was so scared you'd hurt yourself. Once everything had calmed down and he arrived, I realised I didn’t want him to confront you as soon as he got there. I didn't want to upset you further.”

“I appreciate that. We spoke later, after you’d gone. He told me I was very close to losing your much valued help.” 

“I'm glad you do see the value of it. This kind of help, it's the best way that River can help you stay in your own home for as long as possible. You're not the kind of man to take up life in the local nursing home.”

“I'd rather you take me out back and shoot me.” He grimaced. 

“Exactly. So,” she began, cautiously, “Do we have an agreement? That you need my help?” They walked in silence for a short time, reaching the outskirts of the village.

“Hmm. After yesterday’s performance I can hardly deny that the help isn’t a good idea, can I?”

“I mean, you could try… but I don’t think it would work.” She offered. 

“Indeed. So it seems I have no choice but to agree.”

“We all have a choice. I’m not here to babysit you Mr Cartwright, I’d like to enjoy our time together and I hope you will too.”

“You’d better start calling me David then, hadn’t you, dear? You did yesterday.”

“Hmm. Seemed like the best way to try and… reach you? Felt like ‘Mr Cartwright’ would have ended up with someone getting hurt. And you’d better start calling me Seren, instead of girl.” She pushed open the door to the bakery and held it for him while he followed with a smile.

*

River was confused to say the least. The situation had gone from the ridiculous to the sublime. Or was it the other way around? He quickly realised how tense and unsettled Seren had been with the situation for the past six weeks because in the weeks since, she’d transformed entirely. His calls to check in each evening were no longer filled with drawn out silences and sighs, but with bubbling accounts of her day with his grandfather and even laughter. The Slow Horses had had a very busy few weeks which had meant that he’d been able to visit a lot less frequently and later in the day, so he’d hardly seen Seren in person. With her improved relationship with David, he also didn’t feel like she was depending on him visiting for her own sanity, or that he had to keep tabs on them both. He realised as he drove through the village that it had been too long since he’d seen her, and that he’d missed her. He couldn’t ignore the anticipation when he saw her car still parked next to David’s, happy that she hadn't left for the day. The house was filled with music. It was classical, which he expected, but it was louder than usual and seemed to travel through every room. He followed the sounds of laughter to the sitting room where Seren was being led, in fits of giggles, through what he could only assume was a terrible interpretation of a waltz. She had one hand in David's and the other on his shoulder, while he had a hand on her waist.

“And, one, two, three, one, two, three… right leg back, that's the way.” River leaned in the doorway watching. There was pure concentration on Seren's face as she kept her head down, watching their feet. “Head up, dear, don't look at your feet.”

“It's the only way I know I won't stand on yours.” She sighed. “I am awful at this. They make it look much easier on Strictly.” She faded to a grumble.

“One, two, three, head up.” David lifted her chin and out the corner of her eye, she caught sight of River in the doorway. He winked. 

“Oh, shit,” she stumbled. David righted her and they continued to glide in a circle around the sitting room. “One, two, three, one, two, three, I'm doing it!” She beamed, eyes wide with happiness. 

“And the grand finale,” David said, twirling her under his arm and letting her go with a slight bow, she responded in kind. River brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled before giving them a round of applause. 

“Very good, very good! Ahh, I haven't danced a waltz in years.” David smiled. ‘River, don't loiter in doorways, make yourself useful and make some drinks.” 

“I'm not sure I'd call that a waltz, old man.” He teased.

“If it was bad, it's my fault entirely.” Seren flushed. 

“Bollocks, you were wonderful.” David chimed in from his armchair. River remained in the doorway, his height and broad shoulders filling the space, blocking her exit. “I should go,” she hesitated in front of him, something in her eyes he couldn't quite interpret. He created a gap for her, but not big enough to stop her body from brushing against his as she made her way past. He followed her to the kitchen. 

“Nice dancing. Good day?” He asked, retrieving a bottle of red wine from the rack. 

“Yeah, he's had a couple of really good days. There was a few minutes yesterday after he'd had a sleep that he didn't know me. He got pretty angry, but it passed quickly. He's enjoyed being able to read a bit, do some crosswords.” River smiled.

“That's great. I uhh, I actually meant you though?”

“Me?” Seren looked at him, a deer in the headlights. He stepped closer, holding out a glass of wine. She shook her head, “no thank you, I should go.” She said again. He noted her eyes flick to his mouth and back up to meet his gaze. She was nervous. That was the look he hadn't been able to interpret straight away. Now though, he could see it as clear as day. It seemed he wasn't the only one with butterflies. He took a small step closer again, closing the space between them. 

“Sure I can't tempt you?” He asked, boldly. His heart pounded, being carried by bravado and bluster alone. Her eyes moved to his mouth again, this time for a little longer. She looked like she was bracing herself. 

“No. I need to go.” She replied, confidently but quietly. He took a step back.

“Ok. Maybe next time.” He murmured. “Thank you.” He added sincerely. 

“What for?”

“I don't think I've heard him laugh like that for years.” 

“It was fun. And to answer your question, I've had a good day too. Definitely picked up towards the end.” She smiled shyly then called out a goodbye to David and left. 

*

Seren wondered if the giddiness she felt was permanent. It felt like it. It felt like it had lasted months. She knew he'd noticed the way she'd looked at him. His ego had grown tenfold as soon as he'd clocked that glance at his mouth. She'd spent the couple of weeks since willing herself to forget him, to pretend she wasn't affected by his presence. It was easily done when he wasn't around, but when he was there he consumed her thoughts. She tried a new tact. If he was there, she'd leave. Either for the day if she wasn't going to be needed later, or to refill the cupboards or tackle various bits of cleaning if she was going to be needed. She encouraged as much as possible that they had time alone together. 

“Have you started the crossword yet, Seren?” David asked. 

“I have. You're going to love 3 across.” He settled at the kitchen table and pulled the paper towards him and chuckled reading the clue. 

“River's on his way.” He told her, scribbling down some answers to the crossword. Seren hummed in response and focused on the flowers she was cutting down for a vase. They soon heard the scratch of River's car on the gravel outside. “Do you think 2 down is cuddle?” David asked, going to add it to the grid. Seren peered down over his shoulder as the back door opened. 

“Nope, it's caress,” she took the pen, “see, this one is stamp. It's the first S in caress.”

“So it is.” He muttered, stealing the pen back and filling it in. “Good morning grandson.”

“Morning old man, Seren.”

“Perfect timing. You're on crossword duty, he cheats. I need to go and pick up some shopping.” 

“I do not cheat young lady.” 

Seren scoffed. “Yeah you do.” She and River scolded him in unison. 

“Anyway, I'll be back in a bit.” Seren smiled. She was almost at the safety of her car when River ducked out of the house. 

“You're avoiding me.” He stated, opening the car door for her and holding onto it. 

“Course I'm not.”

“You are,” he smirked, “you can admit it.”

“I don't need to admit anything. You call me nearly every night, how can I be avoiding you?”

“In person, when I'm here.” He stepped closer but kept the door between them. She laughed. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Every time I show up here, you make yourself scarce. Hiding away upstairs, or going out to the village?” She bit her lip and looked away from him, over his shoulder to the house.

“I'm doing my job.” She muttered lamely. He didn't respond and the silence stretched on. She itched to fill it. “It's important not to confuse David.” One eyebrow arched up but he still didn't respond as she dug deeper. “Not that I intend to confuse him at all. Look, I need to get some food in, otherwise your poor grandfather is going to be stuck with cheese on toast.” Still he didn't reply. “Ugh, fine” She threw up her hands, disgusted with how quickly she'd caved in. “Yes I'm avoiding you. Every chance I get.”

“Was that so hard?” He asked at last, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth which she was trying desperately not to stare at. “We'll talk when you get back. You can tell me about how you're confusing the old bastard and why you're avoiding me.” He teased, gesturing for her to get in the car. 

“No chance.” She scowled at him and jumped into the driver's seat, loud 00s pop music filled the air as the car started. 

“What is that shit you're listening to?” He laughed, closing the door for her. 

“Goodbye, River.” She called through the open window. He watched her drive away, the odd feeling that someone was watching crept over him. He shook it off, the old bastard was rubbing off on him. He went back to the house to check in with David. 

*

He heard her back in the kitchen before he saw her. Leaving David napping on his armchair, River put down the book he'd been reading and found her unpacking the shopping bags and singing quietly and dancing along to whatever had been on the radio in the car. Her hips swayed in time with her singing, she was totally unguarded. 

“Coffee?” He asked, making his presence known. She immediately stopped dancing. He found himself wishing he hadn't spoken up so soon.

“That's fab, thank you. David OK?”

“Having a sleep.”

“Good, he said he didn't sleep very well last night. Why on earth does he think someone's watching him?” She asked curiously. 

“Probably just paranoid.” River brushed off. “You've not seen anything weird?”

“Weird?” She laughed. “The village isn't exactly Midsomer. No, nothing weird except the perv in the butchers.”

“The butcher has a perv?” He asked with a grin.

She finished filling the fridge and turned back to the bag next to River. They stood elbow to elbow while he made coffee. 

“Honestly, every time I go in there he's… staring. Gives me the heebies.” She shivered. “It's a bit League of Gentlemen sometimes. I think the countryside always feels a bit like there's someone right behind you. It's so quiet, it's just unsettling, but then some bloody big dog appears out of nowhere and you realise you're just being an idiot.” He nodded in agreement. 

“Let me know if you have any more problems with the perv though, yeah? How's it going now the old bugger isn't being a knob?”

“Oh, he has his moments. But we're definitely getting along a lot better than we were.”

“You're good with him.”

“When he's with it… god, River he's sharp as a pin. His knowledge is incredible,” she sounded almost proud. “It makes it sadder when he's… not quite here.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. He was always the smartest in the room. He used to terrify people at work. It's so weird to see him like this now.” She covered his hand with her own and gave a little squeeze. 

“He said they used to call him the Old Bastard,” She smiled. “He's still in there.” She reassured him. He nodded gratefully. 

“Yeah, I know. I know I need to do this for him. Look after him like he did me. Anyway, tell me more about avoiding me?” He said, clearing his throat. Seren whined, leaving his mind to wander to places where he could get her to make the same sound again. 

“Can we not?” She turned to lean against the sink, her hands covering her face. He laughed.

“You brought it up, not me.”

“You brought it up, I just admitted it. Under coercion, I would like to add.”

“I don't think it's coercion when you're willing.” 

“And what gives you the impression that I'm willing?” She demanded. He shifted to put a hand either side of her on the counter. 

“Just… intuition.” Seren arched an eyebrow.

“Intuition?” She scoffed. “Doubt it.” He watched her face carefully, clocking each expression as she studiously looked anywhere except at him. He could tell that she was keeping her body as still as possible, but he could also see her mind racing. Finally she met his gaze. Her eyes fluttered shut as his nose grazed her cheek almost experimentally, her breath shaking almost as much as her hands. She felt a tiny kiss behind her ear, her body betraying her with a whimper she was certain he'd heard. His other hand came to rest on her hip, and it set her whole body alight. He held her hip with the most imperceptible grip, giving her exactly enough space to move away but silently begging her not to. She let his hand turn her slightly on the spot so she could face him better. She kept her eyes closed, felt his kiss on her jaw and her cheek before he paused. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand coming to the nape of her neck while the other stayed on her hip. She could hear only their shared breath and she could tell he was giving her enough time and space to say no. She finally opened her eyes. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling back the tiniest amount. He saw a longing and an intensity he'd never seen before and he took his chance, capturing her mouth with his own again. The hard edge of the counter burned against her back while she could feel River's cock hardening against her hip bone. The analogy of being caught between a rock and a hard place was not lost on her. She slipped a hand just under the edge of his t-shirt. The warm skin of his stomach under her hand pulled her back to reality.

“This should not be happening.” She muttered through the kiss, tearing herself away. 

“Why not?”

“What about David? I don't want him to be confused. I don't want him to think I have an ulterior motive for being here.”

River frowned. “Why would he think that?”

“I don't know,” she sighed. Her hands shook with the effort of staying under her control. She felt the warmth of his body as he stood before her, it radiated from him. She leaned in, just a little, her body moving of its own volition. “I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I can't do this.” He squeezed her hip lightly and nodded, pulling back further. In the hallway, came the sounds of David's footsteps making his way from the sitting room to the kitchen and River sprang back away from her without taking his eyes off her. 

“Ahh, do I smell coffee?”

“You do, old man, fancy one?” River quickly busied himself with another cup. Seren turned on her heel and plunged her hands into the cold washing up water. He watched her from the corner of his eye, the blush in her cheeks and the slight breathlessness. They were grateful that David hadn't seemed to notice the tension in the room.

“Lovely, shall we sit outside?” David suggested, the sunny afternoon catching his eye. 

“I'll bring it out.”

“Excellent, I can tell you what I want to do out there next time you're here.” He said with a chuckle, River rolled his eyes. As soon as David was out of earshot, Seren turned to River. 

“I really am sorry.” She said sadly. He held up his hands.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just a misunderstanding.” He took up the tray, and went out into the garden.

[twinyolk-chicken]

SCOTT CAWTHON'S THE DESOLATE HOPE'S CHARACTER DESIGNS ARE REALLY GOOD: A BRIEF CONTEMPLATION

PREFACE: i was going to make this all properly punctuated and grammatically correct but in the heat of passion i forgot to do so and i am NOT going through to fix it now. whatever left my mouth when i wrote this approximately twelve hours ago is exactly what you're getting pal

first, coffee:

his simplicity is breathtaking. coffee (that's his name) is often framed against cluttered environments, creating a super sublime vibe akin to watching a tiny spaceship meander through the endless void of space. according to the game's lore, coffee's AI is much simpler than most - which is communicated brilliantly through his design, especially when compared to his complex coevals!

the liquid physics of his pot's coffee are really fun, as is his silly little bouncy antenna. the slight motion blur on his walk animations adds so much to his overall vibe. i really like his robot eyelashes, too! what a cutie 10/10

(look at him! tiny! so simple and out of place!)

(especially when compared to some of the game's other characters. is that visual communication or WHAT?)

(speaking of other characters........)

most of this game's other character designs are so visually detailed it's genuinely nauseating when they move sometimes (this is a good thing). lots of lasers and wires and metal with really delicious texturing. these designs are what stuck most with me after playing this game, and they're still some of my favorites out of any media i've ever consumed!

the enemy NPCs, the ones you actually fight, are supposed to be your character's limited AI's attempts at interpreting a mutating supervirus. i'm obsessed with the concept of subjective visual interpretation in video games, i think it's the most intruiging thing in the world, and GOD do the designs we see deliver! say what you will about scott cawthon but he sure knows how to make a death robot!!! sorry but fnaf animatronics do not hold a candle to the desolate series. PULSAR could beat freddy's mammalian ass

while visually striking, the awesomeness doesn't end there - all of these bots have such incredibly distinct personalities and thought processes, and YOU as the player get to explore them! the main four tertiary characters are these ginormous computers almost appearing overgrown with their own wiring, rotting away in their little rooms - canonically no longer able to move as they once did. how cool is that? rotting megacomputers, damned by their own machinery and its unavoidable obsoleteness? the memory of human fallibility embedded in their every bolt and screw?? and BECAUSE they've all got such distinct personalities and motivations, you can't help but feel so so sorry for the poor bastards. the game does let you bring them gifts which is swell :)

they're all hot too which is an automatic 99999/10 from me

[spectrayus]

My self-criticism of my drawings.

Which in reality isn't "self-criticism", (well a little), just my comments that come out.xd

I'm going to make some comments on some of my drawings from the recent "Toxic Booigi ship content." from TikTok. Why? Just because YES.

The first thing, appreciating Luigi's great beauty, I mean... LOOK AT HIM!! APPRECIATE IT!! HE'S SO CUUUUUUUTE!!!!! >w<

--------------------------------------------------

I'm also going to be mentioning "Headcanons of mine", and it's one of them:

We can know Luigi isn't able to see him directly, or at least maybe only out of the corner of his eye. It can be easily assumed that it's because of his fear for him, despite defeating him, the plumber green still terrified of him.

YET, there is another reason....

Just look at this picture!! His eyes!! It seems that in his pupils has his own dimension or he wants to absorb your soul. Without a doubt, it's terrifying to see him...

(On TikTok it only lasted a few seconds, but I'll give it a chance to put it up so it can be appreciated more.)

--------------------------------------------------

In this I just want to say, I love Luigi's pissed off face, saying something like... "Get away, you fucking bastard". xd

--------------------------------------------------

In the last comment, and I know what you think. This scene didn't appear on TikTok. I was thinking of putting it, but... unfortunately it was discarded.

Why?

Well basically because TikTok restricted me because of the "copyright", because of the musical tone of the ending where that scene was. And putting the scene, without the music, I honestly didn't like the idea, I felt it wouldn't be the same. So in the end I discarded it.

I left the link where I posted on youtube:

where that scene appears with music, it would have been better, but... that's the way it's. 🤷

And commenting about the drawing, it's simply SUBLIME, MAGNIFIC, apart from being cute, he can be sensual... Oh my... He's so perfect!!!!! ✨❤️❣️💕🥰😍

---------------------------------

AND IT WOULD BE EVERYTHING!! Obviously that doesn't mean that those are my favorites, I love all the drawings I've made and my favorites!! I just... wouldn't comment much on some.

Anyway! I'll continue doing this type of blogs!! me criticizing myself or making comments xd

[allmyocsarebritish]

Kiss, maime, kill: Chapter 3 - My soul is yours

Pairing: Alastor X killer! Fem reader

Warnings!!!: Reader and Alastor are serial killers, Reader actually becomes self aware for once in this chapter, drug mentions, angst and fluff, love confessions, the warning list is getting quite long

Word count: 1k

1930

Louisiana, New Orleans

The sound of twigs snapping beneath your feet as you sprinted echoed through the empty woods. Alastor ran a few paces ahead, prompting you to push on, in order to match his stride. Uncontrollable laughter slowed you both down, as did the rather heavy knife he was carrying. Thankfully, it had been two years since you had ditched the shovel for the majority of your killings.

Any ordinary person would assume that the two of you were trying to get caught, the thrill of the chase. And, whilst that added additional excitement to you, it wasn't the main reason for your carelessness. Yes, you wanted your bodies to be found, but not for you to be exposed as the murderer. No, your main motive was to be feared.

The charismatic radio host and his dearest friend could surely never be suspect to such a vile crime. The town was shaken to it's roots by fear of the Louisiana Butcher, never knowing what kind of sick bastard was lurking in the woods at night. The utter dismay every time another person was added to the list of those who had gone missing in the past 3 years was entertainment for you and Alastor. It was so captivating.

Your thoughts raced as you caught up to Al, trying to keep some form of lid on your laughter. But the smiles present on both of your faces was enough to portray the pleasure this brought you.

"I really hope there's no brutal killers in these woods." You giggled, twirling the knife around your fingers.

"I suppose you had better start running now then, Cher." Al smiled, a dangerous glint sparking in his eye.

"Oh no, whatever will I do?" You stared at him with huge doe eyes, faking a fearful expression before taking off, dodging between trees. Alastor was hot on your tail, barely allowing you a moment's head start before giving chase. The hunt was exhilarating, and you felt a familiar excitement take control of you. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug, and your addiction was becoming more and more lethal each passing second.

Unfortunately, your game was cut short by a raised tree root tripping you as you dared to throw a fleeting glance over your shoulder at your pursuer. You landed very ungracefully on your ass with a thud, somehow managing, in your infinite clumsiness, to bring Alastor down with you.

Your face flushed as you realised the position you were both in. Alastor was all but on top of you, his hands supporting himself either side of your head. His rather long fringe (bangs) flopped over his forehead, and his glasses had begun to slide down his perfect nose. You reached out a hand and pushed them back up, his face softening into a gentler smile.

"Got you." He smirked.

"Guess I should stick to being the hunter, huh?" Overwhelmed with embarrassment and flustered beyond belief, you tried to cover your face with your arm, but Alastor pulled it away.

"Don't be so sure about that, my dear. I'm quite addicted to the feeling of the chase."

"And the attack?" You questioned, confidence and excitement rising.

"Just sublime." Alastor leaned in gradually, giving you plenty of time to escape. After all, he may have been a serial killer but he was still a gentleman, letting you establish your comfort zone.

You met him in the middle, all of the adrenaline, thrill chasing and emotions rising to the front of your mind.This. This was your new addiction. Passion. Danger. Sadism. Pleasure. All blended into that first kiss.

"Your presence has impacted me so much my dear, that, even when I'm not alone, i feel something is missing should you not be by my side" he pulled back slightly, voice low and quiet despite the solitude offered by the oh-so-feared woods.

"Where they see a merciless killer in your eyes, I see my future." You responded, relishing in the moment. Being overwhelmed by emotions was nothing new to you of course, but this feeling was foreign. You liked it. Craved it. "I hope you stay with me forever."

"Of course, Cher." He rolled off you, so that the two of you were lying on your backs, side by side, and staring up at the onyx sky. The stars reflected the lights of heaven above, a stark juxtaposition to the sins and atrocities you committed beneath. Brightness in the dark, like Alastor's presence in your life.

You turned your head, facing Al and taking in the moment. He looked serene, gazing at the night sky, and strangely normal. Perhaps in another life he was, just a charming radio host, nothing more nothing less. In that life would you still be at his side? Would you still have met? Surely if fate desired, but why should you receive suck a blessing after all the suffering you caused?

What the fuck? Never in your whole career had you given a second thought to ending someone's life. But reflecting, your morals had gone more than wayward. Though regardless if how remorseful you felt, it didn't change a thing. The past was the past, and addiction had already sank its claws into your unsuspecting flesh.

"Al?" You began tentatively, worried he'd grow distant if you were turning soft.

He hummed in acknowledgement, small smile still playing in his lips as he continued to gaze towards heaven. A paradise you would never see.

"I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you." Your voice began to waver. This was not a good rush of emotion.

"Look who's becoming self aware." Alastor turned on his side, now laying facing you. He gently caressed the side of your face, hand pausing over your cheek. "Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway. I want to love you without you having to hide the parts of you that you deem unlovable."

Your gaze met his, and you felt a high overtake you once more. "I adore you, Al. With my whole heart. And I'm sorry I created.. complexities."

"And I do not care how complicated this gets. I still want you. I always will, Cher."

He opened his arm to you, and you slotted underneath, basking in his warm embrace.

"I love with my soul instead of my heart or mind, in case my mind forgets or my heart stops. But my soul will forever be yours, Mon cœur."

Part 4!

[princess-of-purple-prose]

HIII writing prompt “monster” and 7? 💕

Giggling the teensiest bit, I love you <3 No, really, I love you, because 7 was, amusingly, the wildcard number, so randomly picking landed me on TIM STOKER, and I don’t think I’ve ever written in his pov before but this CONSUMED ME?? I haven’t written this much in one go in weeks, forget this fast?? This also, uh, turned into full-out jontim, which was a complete accident because this was SUPPOSED to be a meditation on him mid-Research era. Aha. Enjoy!!!!

“—and that,” Jon declares, “is why it’s so vital to continue establishing Hope Spots, not just in spots ripe for ecotourism, but across the world.” He takes what must be his first breath in ten full minutes, and it’s only then that he seems to register Tim and Sasha’s twin gleeful expressions. His own expression goes a little funny. “Tim, Sasha, please tell me you weren’t—”

Sasha is already stabbing at her phone, fumbling a little before she actually hits the right button. “Twelve minutes and forty-six seconds! A new record!”

“The man’s a monster!” Tim toasts Jon with a whoop, and Jon—there’s really no other word for it: he fully pouts at Tim, wrinkling his nose so primly it makes Tim want to bear-hug him right then and there. He sublimates the urge by being even more over-the-top, trying to see if he can make Jon’s nose scrunch up even more. “Attenborough who! I want all my documentaries voiced by this man!” Opposite him, Sasha dissolves into tiny giggles, sweet and delicate as a spray of mayflowers.

“Sasha missed the ‘stop’ button about five times, you can’t call that—” Jon snorts, but his cheeks have turned the rich cherry of his desk back at Research, so he can’t be that mad about their subpar timekeeping of his latest incredibly disorganized, incredibly endearing overview of the last documentary he watched.

“Jonnnnnn, take the win!” Tim cries, and he gives in and slings an arm around Jon’s shoulder like it belongs there. God, the man’s teeny, they need to make sure he gets some carbs in him. On that note— “Take some chips, too, you’re built like a bird!”

“And you’re built like,” Jon grumps, “a—a—” He scowls and takes a chip, presumably only to cover the fact that he’s too drunk to come up with a simile. Contrary little bastard, he is. “Get off me, you arse.”

Tim makes a complaining sound even as he immediately pulls away—only for Jon to jolt and then practically butt up into Tim’s hovering arm, far more housecat than bird. Tim freezes, not putting any pressure against Jon even though they’re skin-to-cardigan again.

“Jon…?”

Oh, there it is, there’s that wrinkled nose. Tim loses his breath, a little bit. “I didn’t mean it,” Jon says, scowling even harder than he’d been before and refusing to look Tim’s way. “It’s—It’s cold in here, alright?”

As a matter of fact, it is a comfortable degree of stifling in here, and Jon is in a cardigan that’s more than enough to ward off the mild autumnal chill and drunk besides. Jon seems well aware of this, or maybe not aware at all, because as Tim settles tentatively against him again, he grabs for his long-forgotten glass and downs the rest of it. Tim gives Sasha a wide-eyed look, only for her—traitor! Disloyal turncoat!— to smirk back, propping her chin up with a hand and arching her perfect eyebrows at him.

“Oh, shut up,” he snips, cheeks warming, just as Jon sets down his now-empty glass. Jon turns to him curiously, having entirely missed the exchange, and Tim turns his brightest beam on him and coos, “Not you, you’re a delight and I’m glad you’re sitting next to me and not”—he aims another scowl her way, and Sasha sticks her tongue out at him—“Sasha over there, because she gives me a hard enough time without you there to egg her on worse.”

Sasha smirks harder. Tim wishes he could kick her under the table without Jon noticing.

“I’m perfectly capable of siding with her even while sitting practically on top of you,” Jon sniffs, drier than anyone should be capable of being with that quantity of liquor in them, and Tim gapes in outrage even as delight fills him up to the tips of his ears to match Jon’s still-red cheeks.

“That’s what I like to hear, Jon!” Sasha cheers, raising her own empty glass to him. Jon quirks a wicked little grin and does the same.

Tim emits a high-pitched squawk of disbelief. “With friends like you, who needs enemies?” He sags dramatically against Jon, relishing in his little grumble of annoyance as he gets crushed. “What’s a guy to do?”

“Buy us more drinks?” Sasha suggests innocently to the tune of Jon’s sniggering, and Tim groans theatrically even as he flags down the waiter for another round. Monsters, the both of them! he laments to himself. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[artwithoutblood]

now i feel like a fraud because, like neil gaiman, i too have a dream that just wants to die. this is awkward.

Nooo! I'm sorry, I am the awkward one, getting all overexcited about a theory and forgetting that it can be really rude to compare. (Even accidentally.) That was just trying to spitball what the demon rules for dealing with Silas could be! 

Dream gods are just Like That anyway, they're a bunch of sad emo bastards. Too much time spent in their own other people's heads. It's the natural way of things - Dreams die.

Hive minding happens.

The characters are also quite different in personality, character arc, genre... Morpheus tried to clean up his act and in doing so brought about his own death indirectly. Silas is not contrite, went full serial killer and is completely unable to die despite actively seeking it. Plus under the horrific elements Sandman was a classic Greek tragedy with heaps of specific nods to Shakespeare and theatre, and Silas' story is more like cosmic, supernatural or psychological horror. It’s fine!

samir's domain is sand. all sand. little hideaways underneath, where he spends his days drawing and weaving. i could see him keeping silas in a coffin, buried deep, deep in the sand. should silas awaken, he will be drowned by the weight. perhaps adonis can trap his soul in a photograph and take him away. demons don't have souls.you get it. or, perhaps, his body must be forced into the erotic ritual of giving a human demonhood. take over another's aspect. let the former body rot.

👁️ 👁️ 🍿

Lore drop

That's pretty cool. The deserts bring to mind Africa, 'the cradle of humanity''. Or the Middle East, where important theories/inventions around math and astronomy emerged - showing people the workings of reality.

The drawing and weaving are the mind's images, creating narratives, constructing realities. Spinning a yarn. An unbroken thread passing through human lives, an extant tapestry recording experiences that cannot be forgotten.

The desert tunnels also recall the primordial caves. Ancient mankind. The dark. The unknown. The earliest recorded depictions of history and human lives.

Nightmares are as old as humanity and developed alongside them to deal with the horrors. Samir delves deep, down into the suppressed, the hidden back corners and labyrinths of your mind. Samir gets to the hidden reasons, the mysteries. While it's mostly around remembering and managing danger - Samir gives the tools and understanding to engage with, make sense of, and gain mastery of the world you live in.

So that's a really good idea...

By breaking Silas down to his building blocks (physically and/or metaphorically) and understanding his workings he could be stripped of his power by integrating him into, suppressing him under, or extinguishing him with another consciousness.

From a deadly figurative nightmare he could become a weaker literal nightmare. A powerless figment that is terrifying but loses its grip quickly, lurking in the subconscious like an attenuated virus, helping to deal with real fears and predators. A boogeyman suppressed under conscious awareness and weighted down by the sifting sands of Time. No longer real. Passing into myth, into collective memory, now only marked by a constellation.

Samir can also do the opposite. A horrific, primal and subliminal force can be given a different symbolic form. Processed, relived, released, ultimately taking a more acceptable expression.

*points at Silas* Get sublimated idiot.

I also like Adonis trapping him in a photograph. Silas doesn't have a soul but he is an idea, a concept that can be fictionalized into a grim old fairy tale. Like the opposite of those Victorian girls with their paper fairy hoax, people will gasp at the clever photography effects and the tide of scepticism could weaken his grip on humanity.

And perhaps he can even be trapped temporally in a photograph. Frozen forever in time.

“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” ― Susan Sontag

I'm not actually smart, I don't know who Susan Sontag is. Tumblr dash just shows me random quotes and this one was on the nose for Aeron and Adonis

it's alright! i meant it in the way where 3 years before the film was released, i wrote the plot of guardians of the galaxy 2 beat by beat for one of my ocs. and then i realized it's ok that i didn't flesh out that storyline because gotg2 was bad. i now have to be like "DAMN!! I CANT DO THIS, GAIMAN ALREADY DID"

samir keeps to himself. he's probably, actually, the most kind, gentle person in the universe thus far. he speaks like the morning dawn. he keeps the cave drawings. makes textiles, makes cloth. plays pretty strings, beautiful instruments. watches nightmares from afar. i know that we must suffer to grow. that doesn't mean i like it.

sometimes, he can make a nightmare just an hourglass. the sand falls on your face. he watches. he has acknowledged you. if he was finally able to find silas and drag him back home by the hair, he'd put his body in a coffin and bury it deep. perhaps, he'd force the essence out of silas and into a younger body. a pretty girl with the fluff of the clouds, eyes of the stars, she should be the one to represent dreams. children have dreams. she could play with toys in the dreamscape.

he is there in your first nightmare. he is the comfort of waking up. he is the comfort in knowing that you can overcome the fear of the nightmare. but he is also the repeating nightmare that haunts you, reminds you of your sins.

there are, perhaps, parallels between samir's solitude in his own caverns and kayn, crawling around in the cold of a dead culture.

because of your asks involving samir, here he is, in his glory.