#then work on my ancient asks LOL...

[royalarms]

ok back to trying to respond to starters !!!!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Alrighty. I hate saying this, but. I'm probably going to delete the ship discourse asks in my inbox. Too many in there now and my mind is too clear to want to answer them

I think we've all been harsh with each other recently. Shouldn't have had to sleep on that, shouldn't have taken me longer than a few minutes to realize that, but idk. I went to bed last night and woke up this morning and... remembered how old I am and that I have better things to care about lol. But seriously, this recent update has really gotten to people's heads, mine included unfortunately, so I think we all need to take a step back and reevaluate ourselves

To try to explain (not excuse) myself personally. I, my friends and acquaintances, and our little fan community have gotten so much harassment for so long that now that the story is sort of tipping in our favor, I felt... vindicated. TOO vindicated this time around lol. For years and years now we have all been viciously mocked, shunned, called misogynists, called abuse apologists, we've been told to kill ourselves, we've been told bad things should happen to our loved ones. I couldn't help but feel smug when episodes 7 and 8 dropped, and then episodes 9 and 10 pushed me into being legitimately petty and mean. Like, all of this harassment was already pointless, now it's even more pointless because BxA is canon. Sore winner, "they hated Jesus because he told the truth" type shit lol

But... That's dumb. All of this is dumb. They're just video game characters. I'm an adult with adult responsibilities lol. None of this is worth getting bent out of shape about, on any side. Nothing wrong with respectful conversation and debate, but it hasn't really been that this time around. It's been gloating. Teabagging. And that's not cool. So I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry if I've upset anyone with anything I've said. I'm happy about Eternalberry but I've gotten TOO happy haha. I've regained mental clarity and thus the realization that I've started becoming part of the problem. I'm genuinely sorry for that. I want to go back to regular dork levels. Being spiteful and petty sucks, even if it's "justified"

Since I feel bad for leaving those asks awaiting deletion, A) mea culpa mea maxima culpa to those who sent them, nothing against any of you I just want to put the discourse to rest, and B) they all more or less say the same things so I'll just go ahead and bullet point my responses:

TikTok is perhaps the worst social media app ever created, it is an actual blight on society to almost biblical proportions, you are a fool if you listen to anything anyone has to say on there, your first mistake was going there in the first place, Tiktok Delenda Est

Twitter is definitely the worst social media app ever created, it is a blight on society that John meant to record in the Book of Revelation but didn't know how to describe it properly because the internet didn't exist 2000-ish years ago, you are a fool if you listen to anything anyone has to say on there, your first mistake was going there in the first place, Twitter Delenda Est, let's all point and laugh at the Trump-Musk divorce instead

Hero/villain ships are as old as human civilization and fandom nerds today have gotten really uptight about them, it's dumb and honestly really bizarre considering how prevalent it is in almost every piece of media, if someone doesn't like the trope that's perfectly fine it's not for everyone it does get pretty dark but a lot of people seem to put on gestapo uniforms when they're brought up now and it's a waste of time and energy. No one is holding a gun to your heads you guys, you don't need to do it to anyone yourselves

It's nice that I've apparently managed to convince some people to be more open-minded about BxA and hero/villain shipping as a whole, welcome to the club glad to have you, I'm sorry you've had to see some of us do our "obnoxious clown" routine recently, don't worry I'm washing my makeup off rn

I'm disappointed but unsurprised that BxA fans have been getting death threats in places, unfortunately that's how it's always been and it will continue to be that way even if all 5 pairs marry and have sex onscreen. No amount of canonizing in the narrative will change some people's minds. No amount of reasoning or olive branches will make them realize how ridiculous they are. Just have to accept it and ignore them

Cookie Run Kingdom is Baby's First Fandom for a lot of people, and a lot of them are actual, literal children, so all the black and white thinking and lack of understanding and respect makes sense, sadly. This is why I put my age in my blog description haha

Rule of thumb for me personally is to just block people who post hate in ship tags tbh. Spare us both the trouble. I've only responded to one post ever, and it was because the person was asking an honest question in a reasonable way so I thought it was fine to engage. I'd rather not engage people who want to attack and not actually talk. Blocking does us both a favor, I don't have to see meaningless hate on my dash and in tags I follow and they don't have to see content about ships they don't like from me. Win-win

Now, with all that said, I want to say some things I've said before, but would like to reiterate loudly and clearly one more time:

You do not have to like Beast x Ancient. It's perfectly fine and reasonable if you don't. It's not for everyone. Whatever your reasons are, I believe and accept them. I post about them a lot because I love them a lot, and I like talking about things I like. I do my best to tag properly so my weirdo babble is easier to filter out. My posts are more or less just preaching to the choir, I think lol. It's fine if you don't like that, it's fine if you don't like BurningCheese or Eternalberry, it's fine if you don't like Beast x Ancient. I am not your mortal enemy if you don't like them. I'm happy to talk to and be friends with people who don't. I already do so often haha

Furthermore, I want you all to know that no matter what I say about ships I don't like, I don't care if you do like them. I am not out to get you for liking things I don't. Which dolls you decide you like to make kiss is not my problem. I am not your mother, I am not your dictator, I am not God. My opinions are just that, no one is obligated to listen to me or take anything I say to heart. Yes, there are ships I legitimately hate with a passion, but I do not hate the people who like them. Not at all. That's a stupid thing to dislike someone for. I talk to and am friends with lots of people who like things I don't, both on here and irl. The world gets really lonely really fast if you refuse to engage with people who don't march lockstep with you. Especially with regards to fucking Cookie Run lol

Let's all give this nonsense a rest now. This is dumb. I'm dumb. We're all dumb. Let's stop being dumb. I'm happy to coexist peacefully with others. We'll all live happier lives focusing more on things we love than things we hate

[random2908]

Frustrating when a VC-funded company gets credit for being the "first" and the "leader," when they had a sub-component demo the same week we had a full-system demo. Like, we are easily 5-10 years ahead of them, it's ridiculous; their approach isn't even yet proven to work. But they get science youtubers talking about them.

Because they're VC-funded, they have a marketing/press department.

And because we're an employee-owned company working off of government contracts, well, most government contracts get slapped with an ITAR label (an old Cold-War-era law saying basically sharing scientific information counts as illegally selling arms/munitions). So if you want to publicize your work, including your company's products, you have to appeal that label. (Universities have specifically negotiated a blanket exemption, so if you spend your whole life in academic science you might never even know about this.)

(My previous employer filed those appeals several times a year in order to do press releases and publish journal articles and apply for patents. I think every single information-release appeal they filed went through, because there's no reason any of this stuff should be labeled as arms--it's literally the same stuff universities are doing. My current employer is afraid to, which I think is wrong-headed; at worst they'll just say no, and anyway, our non-restricted competitors are giving fucking lab tours to youtubers.)

[ohmaosama]

From torrey story about how he met "mage" for the first time :

is it them??? From the Mahoutsukai shihen inazuma jack to yousei jiken

But they also lived in the same timeline as the mahoyome chise elias tho...

But again changelings have long lives, so yeah it's probably them. Do you think they'll encounter each other someday? 👀

[somegrumpynerd]

Something about there being ask blogs on my dash again just makes me really happy

[bunni-v1]

your shadow milk cookie relationships headcanons are now my canon. like what the fuck how can a piece of literature be so accurate to established information we know about him!!!!!!! hejsjsdjejwje ur shadowmilk is so loving and so cute lowkey

if you don't mind, since your requests are open, could you elaborate more on some more aspects of the relationship pre-ep 8 and post-ep 8? (if u haven't finished this part then u can just ignore this hehe) you mentioned how smc naturally gets more and more devoted as time goes on and he opens up (THEY MAKE ME FEEL SO ILL) so i've also wondered how he would act like when there is a threat that legitimately puts his lover in danger, or at worst, sets the tone to losing them. he'd mald, i imagine...

feel free to answer, feel free to ignore—i adore your work and i think it's not strange at all for you to shift to cookie run after dabbling in mostly human-ish games like ZZZ and TWST. all in good fun, plus you're feeding a parched audience (i am audience, haha) have a good day!

🍓Okay so this ask kinda has three parts to it, so please excuse me if it seems a little... all over the place. I'll answer both the pre and post ep 8 things, and then I'll be touching on what he's like with the threat. I do hope you enjoy my love <3

Tw: Mentions of body horror (cookie body horror?); Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive and Possessive behaviors; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk x Reader; Fluff; Angst (lowkey tho); Pre and Post episode 8 SMC (spoilers ahead lol); Drabble/Headcannons(?)

Pre Episode 8

From how the story seems to be set up, the confrontation with SMC should happen last, they just released it now because of the anniversary knowing he'd be hella popular lol. So I'm functioning with the idea that Gingerbrave and Co. arrive around when the other Ancients are finishing up their own confrontation with their respective beasts, meaning there's a lot of time to work with hehe.

Anyway, pre-episode 8 Shadow Milk leans into the category of 'yandere' a lot more than post. He's very obsessive about you, again stalking and watching you, learning as much as he can about you before he even allows you to see him.

You're more often than not being monitored by him, and if you're not, he's probably with you. He gets annoyed when other cookies talk to you, and he isn't afraid to voice that. While he does give you a lot of freedom, he does subtly limit the things you do and the people you're around. It's harder when you're not with him in the spire, but he goes about messing with the environment to keep you where he wants you.

And, yes, he'll crumble cookies in your name if he needs to. Their lives are arbitrary in the grand scheme of things, especially so if they're causing you strife. He won't hurt any cookies you hold dear to you -- though he really may want to at times -- only cookies that are a threat to your emotional or physical well-being. If the death causes you too much terror, then he'll tone it down to just... making their lives a miserable hellscape. It's what the deserve for hurting you, of course!

When you do join him in the spire (because you will, it's just a matter of how long it takes him to nudge you in that direction), the behavior is a bit more obvious. He doesn't like you leaving the spire for literally anything, and if you do he knows and will pop up by your side the second you stray too far. He plays it up as cute worrying, but he's legitimately scared for your wellbeing, like terrified. You're never alone in the spire if he can help it (and he can).

Like I said he watches a lot. There are eyes all around the spire and they follow you shamelessly. They appear content to just watch you, sometimes even literally forming hearts, so they're no threat to your well-being. Again, he's just observing you, more excited now that you're actually in the spire and close to him.

There is a notable difference in the environment, though you likely don't notice it (because you've only ever seen post you moving in). The atmosphere surrounding the spire is lighter, more colorful, and happy. It reflects his excitement at having you around, a visual nod to his love for you, even though you're not exactly away of it.

Despite the negatives here, there are positives! He's incredibly doting, you'll want for nothing with him. Your greatest dreams will come true with a wave of his hand, even with only half his power. He does let you wander around, you just won't be alone when you do so. He's very aware of the dangerous environment on beast yeast, he's cause for it, so he won't be risking your safety.

He's incredibly showy with his style of loving. Grand gifts and performances just to get you grinning and giggling. (He loves writing plays where the two of you are the main characters, falling in love in a million different ways, cutie he is.) He serenades you with syrupy sweet lyrics all about how much he adores all of you. Scoops you up in his arms and dances around with you. He's very touchy, like I said, always needing to have physical contact for whatever reason. (It's because he's scared you'll leave him too.)

He doesn't kiss you much if only to initiate more intimate activities. When he does, his intent is to fluster you nearly every time. Kissing is something that's hard for him, for whatever reason. It's more intimate than touches, and weirdly enough more intimate than sex in his mind. It makes him so vulnerable, so he tries to avoid it unless it's to get a reaction out of you.

Most of what he does is to get a reaction, actually. He likes seeing the way you express yourself, and regardless of what you do, he finds it cute. It's a little intimidating how much he stares, and he stares a lot. Very frequently you'll find him sitting around just... watching you. He won't stop even if you acknowledge it, just smiles all innocently until you go back to what you were doing.

That's sort of how it feels during this whole time, that he's just watching from the outside. There's a distance he keeps between you and him, the power dynamic is a lot more stark here. However, when you're not aware - be that you're sleeping or doing something where you can't see him - genuine affection comes out.

Floating around the spire in his arms as you rest, he whispers sweet nothings he could never bring himself to say to your face. He'll lead you around the winding halls of the spire with a path of your favorite flowers, aiding you in getting to where you want to go. He leaves gifts around, taking you on little treasure hunts just to reveal something sweet and heartfelt at the end. The spire itself shifts and changes around you to be more to your liking, and there are rooms within it dedicated to the hobbies you enjoy.

This gentleness is all hidden when you're together, though. Only showing itself when you can't look him in the eyes and reject him. He can't bring himself to let you in, he's scared of that rejection. He wants you to think he's powerful and amazing, so allowing you to see just how much he adores you would be terrible. What if you don't like him at his weakest? What if you realize that you could do better than him? What if you meet Pure Vanilla and you realize how much better he is? What if you leave him? Oh, it tears him apart.

So, he can't let you in. He'll put on a performance so dazzling it'll distract you from how much his heart aches when he sees you. He'll prove that he really does love you through flowery words and fantastical shows, anything to hide how much he adores you. Even when you try to get him to connect, he'll brush it off for fear of you not accepting him as he is. He can't handle you rejecting him, not after all he's done to keep you at his side, not after how hard he's fallen in love with you.

Post Episode 8

This is where we see Shadow Milk Cookie open up a lot more to you. After the so-called betrayal of Truthless Recluse, and his being incredibly emotionally vulnerable from Compassionate Pure Vanilla's offer for friendship, he's now forced with the problem of you knowing him. You saw that raw vulnerability, the loneliness that aches deep within his dough and infects his very being with a sickness he cannot cure.

No matter how much he puts on airs, he cannot avoid you knowing him now. He has nothing to hide behind anymore, you saw how much he craves connection and care, there's no going back from that. He briefly considers leaving you, but the idea of losing you sends shivers up his back, so he dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. He may actively avoid you for a little while, but if you are patient and kind to him, he won't be able to hide for long.

Showing him that you still feel the same way by continuing your regular shows of affection is a huge relief to him. He truly expects you to think less of him now that you've seen that side of him, but you don't. It's rather odd to a cookie like him, who spent his entire existence being worshiped, revered, and feared. He assumes when you see him weak you will despise him - that you were only there for all the grandiose gifts and displays. He doesn't consider the thought that you have fallen in love with him. That you consider him yours as much as he considers you his.

It takes him a bit, but he begins to pick up where you left off. This time, though, he's more... gentle about everything. You get to take the lead around this time, and as odd as it is for him, it's cathartic to be taken care of for once. He can let his walls down and relax while you stroke his hair and hold him close to your chest. You kiss across his face with reverence that not even the most loyal of his followers could ever begin to replicate.

You love him.

He becomes addicted to the feeling, your affections being something he craves with a hunger he'd never felt before. It takes a bit for him to come to you for it, so usually you'll have to initiate it, but he melts into your hands so easily. It's pathetic how much hold a little cookie like you had over a god like him, but when you're humming sweet words at him he can't bring himself to care too much. (He will huff and puff if any of the other beasts give him shit for it, telling them off like a angry child.)

All of those hidden affections of his become much more obvious to you as time goes on. He's a bit awkward with it because he's never really been so open with any cookie before, but it's charming the way he tries so hard to be genuine with you.

You get to hear those sweet words of love from him directly, earnestly said while he holds your hand in an iron-tight grip. He gives you those heartfelt gifts by hand, telling you all about how he worked so hard to get it for you and how much care went into it. He leads you around places himself, preferring to be by your side than guiding you from a safe distance. Even the way he holds you is different, much more adoring than before. It's a kind of care he hadn't really shown you before, more considerate of what you might want rather than what he believes you might want.

And, of course, he kisses you now. Very frequently. He still does do it to fluster you at times, but less than he did before. Now every kiss has a purpose behind it, a means of displaying his affection for you. They're soft and loving, full of emotion.

Something that carries over consistently is the watching. He keeps an eye on you at all times, regardless of where you're at. Since you're no longer in the spire, there's more risk so he wants to ensure your safety. Even if you're with another beast or with Black Sapphire or Candy Apple, he's watching you anxiously.

Now if you acknowledge the eyes, they'll react to you. Before they usually just continued watching, but now they'll squint and shift excitedly at your attention. Sometimes he'll even drop flowers or a little plushie at your feet while the eye seems to grin at you with glee. You can kiss them, if you'd like -- they're warm and soft but they don't feel like eyes. If you do so the pupil with dart around nervously, then it'll pop out of existence and arrange itself to another spot you can't easily fluster him at.

Still, though, they just watch you for the most part. Making sure you're safe and happy when he isn't around. He's a bit less obsessive about who you're spending your time with, though. He trusts that you won't leave him a lot more now, and no longer finds himself threatened by anyone (other than PV).

Bonus below

Now, as a mortal cookie in beast yeast, most things put you in danger. It's a tough environment to live in, and there are a lot of violent characters around that wouldn't care if you died or not. However, most cookies are aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's, shall we say, claim on you.

There are very few things that could actually threaten you, especially with Shadow Milk Cookie monitoring you so closely. He makes the environment around you safer, and he makes sure everyone knows that you are off-limits. Unfortunately he cannot control everything, though he really does try to.

If anything, anything ever puts you in actual danger, he is beside himself with worry and rage. Your soft and sweet dough is not made for battle and danger, regardless of what you might feel. It would take the witches themselves to stop him from tearing apart the lands to ensure your safety. And tear them apart he would. He would carve deep valleys into the ground for you, slice mountains to their base, and raze forests flat if it means you will be safe.

If it's a cookie? Some insignificant act or protest from a foolish mortal, deciding to use you to get his attention? Oh, they'll know hell.

Depending on how much damage they do the punishment will vary, but it won't be pleasant regardless. If they just take you away for a little while, he'll torture them. Ensuring the life they go back to is much harder for them to live through, but he won't kill them. They have to learn their lesson and live to tell the tale so no one is stupid enough to follow their example.

If they hurt you at all, they're dead. Shadow Milk normally makes a show out of any crumbling he does, but when you are involved? He doesn't waste time with any silly shows, they just crumble. No fanfare, no sparkle, just death. They don't deserve anything more than that, not when they've caused you hurt.

Ah, and if there is a threat to you -- silly or not -- he takes it very seriously. His monitoring will increase tenfold, and he does his best to keep you with him at all times. He will not take your safety lightly, not when he adores you so.

If there is a genuine threat to your life, he will do everything in his power to remove it. After the fact, he becomes much more obsessive of your safety. It's almost suffocating for a while, but if you express concern he'll ease up a bit. Though you can feel the anxiety in his body language and the way which he speaks.

[mahalachives]

Not sure if you’re still taking requests, but how about Az with a reader who has a tendency to hurt herself yet never realizes it until someone points it out?

I am constantly cutting myself and I never feel it - I swear the phrase “Are you okay? You’re bleeding!” Is one I hear at work weekly lol

Title: How to Alarm a Shadowsinger in Three Accidental Steps

pairing: azrial x human mate (fem!reader)

genre: flulf

The scent hit Azriel before he even entered the townhouse kitchen—blood. Your blood.

He was moving before he registered the thought, shadows whipping around him as he materialized in the doorway. His hazel eyes scanned the room with predatory precision, daggers already in hand.

What he found was you, humming contentedly while chopping vegetables for dinner, completely oblivious to the thin line of red trailing down your forearm.

"You're bleeding," he said, his deep voice so sudden in the quiet kitchen that you jumped, the knife clattering to the cutting board.

"Mother above, Az!" You pressed a hand to your chest. "Make some noise when you move, would you?"

He didn't smile, though the corners of his scarred hands tightened around Truth-Teller. "You're bleeding," he repeated, nodding toward your arm.

You glanced down, eyebrows rising in surprise. "Oh. Look at that." You examined the shallow cut with mild interest, as though observing a slightly unusual cloud formation. "Must've nicked myself with the knife."

Azriel's shadows retreated slightly as he realized there was no actual threat, but his concerned expression remained. With a silent sigh, he sheathed Truth-Teller and crossed to where you stood.

"This is the third time this week," he murmured, taking your wrist in his scarred hand. His touch was gentle—always so gentle with you—as he guided you to the sink.

"Is it really?" You tried to remember. "There was the thing with the book yesterday—"

"The paper cut that bled all over the library carpet," he confirmed, his deep voice tinged with exasperation as he ran cool water over your cut.

"And..."

"The splinter from the dock at the Sidra two days ago." Az's shadows curled around your joined hands, as though they too were concerned. "The one you didn't notice until Cassian pointed out you were leaving bloody footprints."

You had the decency to look embarrassed. "In my defense, we were having a very engaging conversation about battle tactics."

"And now this." He patted your arm dry with a clean towel, his movements methodical and practiced. It wasn't the first time he'd tended to your accidental wounds, and you both knew it wouldn't be the last.

"It doesn't even hurt," you protested.

"It never does, until later." Azriel guided you to sit at the kitchen table, where a small medical kit had appeared. You'd never seen him retrieve it. Shadows, probably.

As he began cleaning the cut with practiced efficiency, you noticed the tightness around his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw. Your shadowsinger was worried, though he'd never admit it.

"I'm not actually made of glass, you know," you said softly, hoping to ease that look from his face.

Az's hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours. "Glass would be better. Glass makes noise when it breaks."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "Did you just make a joke, spymaster?"

The barest hint of a smile touched his lips as he wrapped a bandage around your forearm. "It's not a joke when it's true, love."

"Well, lucky for me I have a shadowsinger who can smell a single drop of blood from across Velaris."

That earned you another almost-smile. "Apparently that's a necessary skill when you're involved."

His shadows curled closer, whispering something in his ear that made color touch his cheekbones. After five decades together, you still loved that you could make this ancient, deadly warrior blush.

"What are they saying now?" you asked, nodding toward the shadows.

Az finished securing your bandage, but didn't release your hand. "They're suggesting I assign one of them to follow you permanently, to alert me the moment you injure yourself."

"Oh, now that's just excessive—"

"I'm considering it."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the effect was ruined by your smile. "You wouldn't dare."

His scarred thumb traced gentle circles on your palm. "You cut yourself chopping carrots, love. Soft, yielding carrots."

"They were being very uncooperative carrots."

One shadow detached from the others, sliding up your newly bandaged arm to curl around your wrist like a bracelet. It was cool but not unpleasant, a familiar sensation after all these years.

"Az," you warned, though there was no heat in it.

"It's just until dinner," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll finish the chopping."

As he turned back to the cutting board, you heard him murmur to the shadow, "Alert me if she so much as touches anything sharper than a spoon."

"I can hear you, you know."

Azriel's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Good."

The shadow around your wrist squeezed gently, almost affectionately. You'd long ago stopped being unnerved by them; now they were simply extensions of Az himself—protective, vigilant, and surprisingly tender when it came to you.

"I don't need a babysitter," you said, but made no move to dislodge the shadow.

Az glanced over his shoulder, a rare full smile gracing his handsome face. "After fifty years, five hundred and twenty-three bandages, and one memorable incident with a teacup that somehow left you needing stitches, I think I'm entitled to a little caution."

"You've been counting?"

"Shadowsingers never reveal their methods." He resumed chopping with efficient grace.

You watched him work, this deadly warrior now wielding a kitchen knife with the same precision he showed on the battlefield. The shadow around your wrist pulsed gently in time with Az's heartbeat.

"I love you," you said suddenly, because sometimes the sight of him still took your breath away, even after all this time.

Az paused, his shoulders softening. Without turning, he replied, "I love you too. Please try not to bleed on dinner."

Your laughter filled the kitchen, bright against his shadows. The perfect balance, as always.

Later that night, when you somehow managed to cut your finger on a book while reading in bed, Azriel's exasperated sigh was followed by such a tender kiss to your palm that you almost—almost—felt bad for being so accident-prone.

Almost.

End.

[no1blacksapphirefan]

I'm gonna add another self aware ask to your box lol- based on what I'm doing rn lolol

How do you think the self aware cookies (I specifically have beasts/ancients in mind but do whoever you want lol) would react to a player who's literally nodding off while doing daily missions/tasks before bed? Or if they just straight up fall asleep with the game open.

I've done this like at least once when I was doing alliance lmao, fell asleep and woke up to my cookies cheering because it was the end, god they must've waited for so long cheering and waiting for me, poor guys </3

Pure Vanilla He notices it quickly, he tries his best to subtly urge you to sleep, changing his voicelines a bit to try and encourage you but it doesn't work...well mainly because you're too drowsy to sleep, it's no wonder you didn't realise his voicelines weren't correct.

When he does see you finally falling asleep, he's thankful. Finally...though he is a bit stuck until you notice, don't worry. He doesn't mind keeping an eye on you as you sleep.

White Lily She looks at you as you seem to stiffen in a yawn, needing her and a few others to fight a few cookies in arena, however after a while after beating the opponent she realised...you fell asleep. She wonders how tired you were during the day, my she's worried, especially if it's not even in bed you fell asleep.

She could hardly care less if she's stuck "celebrating" their win as she looks at your sleeping form. Wondering when you'll wake up, she knows you will but she's just worried what happened during the day when you were off. You may just be tired which she hopes is the case, she doesn't want you overworking yourself.

Dark Cacao He knows a look of tiredness when he sees it, he knows when someone overworks themselves to the very bone as well. He's willing to break the code in the game, to go against what most cookies have been doing and "break" the 4th just to make sure you get ample rest.

He can't have one of his favourite people working endlessly now can he? He knows you enjoy playing and perhaps want to play daily, and while he also enjoys just seeing your face everytime, he needs you to rest as well. No need to come see them if your body is telling you to rest.

Golden Cheese Similar to Dark Cacao, she isn't scared to break the 4th wall to tell you to sleep, besides. Perhaps you're too tired to realise your cookie "game" is talking to you. She cares a lot for your health, and while, sure sleeping when you're tired is fine.

Seeing you seemingly push yourself awake before inevitability falling asleep worries her. She doesn't mind if she's stuck wandering aimlessly around your kingdom, stuck being in her defeated or celebrating animation. Her main concern is you, oh she wishes she could tuck you into bed and put your phone away. She's heard from others that it seems to burn up your phone a lot...she'd rather you not wake up to a scorching phone.

Hollyberry doesn't release it quickly, she's continuing to celebrate, she thinks perhaps you went to quickly do something but when she looks at you she sees your peaceful sleeping face. Awe you look so cute, but didn't know know it wasn't a good idea to sleep next to your phone? Especially with it charging (let's hope it isn't)

She finds it sweet, thinking about how tired you must've been before falling into a slumber but still tapping on the game to finish up some things. You didn't need to do that, most cookies are fine without seeing you. You should've went to bed as soon as you yawned she thinks. She won't lecture you though, even if she could/wanted too. She may advise you to head to bed earlier though if you can. The more sleep you have, the more energy you'll have so this won't happen again.

Shadow Milk At first he doesn't notice, trying every trick in the book to get you to look and pay attention to him. Thankfully for him, he's one of the few cookies you "expect" to break the 4th wall, his attempts stop as he hears you snore.

Finally realising you fell asleep. At first he was a teeny bit offended, thinking you fell asleep during his shows until he remembered you don't even know they're real...wait how long ago did you sleep? Don't tell him he's been trying to get the attention of a sleeping person.

Gods now he looks like an insane person...at least that's what you seem to like about him. He continues watching you sleep for a bit, up till either the phone battery runs out or the phone naturally closes due to inactivity.

Or if it lets him continue watching he will, he finds you rather pretty when you sleep

Mystic Flour she notices the moment you fall asleep, the moment your eyes shut innocently to capture those Zs. She stares motionless at your sleeping form. Enjoying the sight, that does sound creepy but she claims it's to ensure you have a peaceful nap.

And if anyone nearby tries to make a loud sound, whether intentionally or not, she isn't afraid to stare daggers at them until they stop. You need your beauty rest after all, though if you ask her. She thinks any more would be overkill, she finds you rather ethereal afterall.

Burning Spice probably nearly woke you up, it isn't until the other beasts shush more. Mystic Flour glaring at him and Shadow Milk covering his mouth while pointing does he shut up about how boring it's been without activity and where you went.

Well at least he got his answer, now I feel he'd love to wake you up, he'll definetly find your shock rather entertaining (and shadow milk would be lying if he said he wasn't curious) but...damn you look peaceful as hell...maybe he'll be quiet.

Sure he's still bored as well waiting till you wake up, but if it's for you to get some much needed rest so you could cause more destruction in arena? So be it, he'd prefer not to do it again but...He supposes he wouldn't mind seeing your sleeping form again

[darkmatilda]

𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer just wants to have his quiet moment with a book and coffee in the morning, but the universe (or more specifically a certain someone) demands his heroics instead.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, ARACHNOPHOBIA! (talk about spiders but no real spiders lol)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.9k

𝐚/𝐧: request marathon masterlist

Spencer’s day started off very well.

He woke up feeling well-rested, so the coffee he grabbed on the way was more for the taste than for the guarantee he’d survive the next few hours. Even his step was somewhat lighter when he arrived at work among the first, only running into Derek and Rossi, who were engrossed in a discussion about cigars.

"JJ told me she might be a little late," he informed them, taking a seat nearby and placing a large white mug on the table.

His friend had indeed called him about fifteen minutes earlier, asking him to pass the message along. Henry had suddenly fallen ill, and she had to find someone to watch him at the last minute. The two he addressed didn’t even react, too deeply immersed in the universe of cigars to concern themselves with the outside world.

Rossi was just raising one hand and leaning forward slightly, as if about to deliver a piece of life wisdom recorded somewhere on ancient scrolls. Morgan, listening intently, barely blinked, as if he feared missing some secret hidden in Rossi’s every move.

Reid rolled his eyes.

If he tackled a crossword puzzle with that much dedication, he’d be greeted with a cheerful morning, nerd.

He decided to take advantage of having arrived early and bury his nose in a book for a while, but before he could pull it out of his bag, his phone rang.

He reached for it, briefly thinking it might be JJ again, calling to say she’d be even later. But the number flashing on the screen wasn’t hers — it wasn’t even saved in his contacts — yet he recognized it.In fact, very few numbers in his phone were saved, and when they were, it was formally, with full names. Most of them, though, he simply remembered.

Just like this one.

He looked at the phone and sighed.

There was a good chance that, right at that very moment, his good morning was coming to an end…

“Come here,” ranged out a sharp order, just as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“What?”

Had they agreed to meet and he’d forgotten? Maybe she’d told him she would pass him some results that day. Still, if it was work-related, there was no way he would have forgotten. Which left him more than confused.

“To my lab,” the woman said, her words coming out through clenched teeth. She let out a breath through her nose and, still with a strange tension in her voice, added, “You need to come here.”

He stayed silent for a moment, pushing his lips out in thought.The coffee and the book sitting in front of him were practically looking at him with puppy eyes, and who was he to abandon them for someone who was probably about to use him for something weird?

Maybe she actually needed a test subject.

Either way, he didn’t really feel like going anywhere just because she said so.

“S-sorry, can’t hear you, bad–conne-ction,” he muttered into the phone, cupping his hand slightly over his mouth to create that robotic, crackling effect. “S-ome interference…”

“You fucking asshole,” she hissed so sharply he felt a shiver run down his spine. “I want you here in five minutes. If I’m still alive by then. It’s an emergency, Reid.”

After those words, she simply hung up, leaving him staring at his phone. Emergency, she’d said. And she had sounded like something serious had actually happened.Spencer cast one last, longing look at his book and coffee, then rose from his seat.

Rossi and Morgan didn’t even notice.

On the way to her lab, he wondered what could have possibly happened so early in the morning. A few potential theories crossed his mind, but none of them seemed very likely.

Besides, if it had been something really dangerous, she probably wouldn’t have been able to reach for her phone. And even if she could, he would have been the last person she’d call. She’d rather be rescued by Strauss riding a white horse than by him.

He assumed she was lying to get him there. For some reason.

He pushed the door open with a sigh and...stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. His eyebrows raised. The woman shot him an angry look, suggesting she had expected him earlier. He might have been scared, if not for the fact that she was standing on the counter, both feet planted firmly, looking down at it as if it were her boat in a vast sea.

"Kill it,” she said.

Spencer, still confused, looked around. The lab was empty, and perfectly safe.

"IIs there a serial killer hiding here or something?”

“Worse,” she replied, shaking her head seriously. He continued to stare at her, more than skeptical, at which point she sighed in irritation. “Don’t look at me like I’ve lost my mind. I didn’t just jump on this damn table for sport.”

“Well, there are different kinds of hobbies. Not everyone has to hit the gym...”

"There’s a spider,” she interrupted, pointing at a spot on the floor. She took a breath as if preparing to recount a traumatic story. “I dropped something, I bent down to pick it up, and it ran across my hand.”

Watching her shudder, Spencer nodded in understanding, giving her exactly six seconds of silence for her dramatic performance.

He then snorted.

“And this is the emergency you called me for?” he asked with pity.

She crossed her arms over her chest, which, in its own way, looked impressive but mostly funny, considering she was still standing on the counter. Her posture remained perfectly straight and proud; he had to give her credit for that.

“Yes, this is the emergency because this…pest is preventing me from doing my job. And my job is connected to your job. You know, for your own benefit, just kill it.”

They stared at each other in prolonged silence. She, clearly frustrated by his lack of response. Reid… unexpectedly finding a source of amusement in the whole situation. After all, it was rare for him to be the one on the mocking side of their interactions. What a wonderful feeling.

So he decided to have a little more fun, standing in a relaxed, unhurried posture.

"How big was it?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

She rolled her eyes upward, at the ceiling not that far from her head.

“It’s important that it was there. Not important how big.” After these words, her thoughts wandered for a moment, blinking. “Probably the only time anyone has said that seriously, actually meaning it.”

Spencer couldn't understand why anyone would have never said something like that about spiders before. He shrugged, continuing.

"What color was it?”

"For heaven's sake…”

"Black, brown, gray…”

“Black!”

“Was its abdomen more round or elongated?”

“WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING—”

“I’m trying to identify what species it is,” he spread his arms. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

She took in a deep breath, frustrated.

“Why are you acting like catching a spider is harder than catching an unsub?”

“Unsubs are usually a little bigger,” he pointed out, using two fingers to indicate the size of a typical spider that sometimes makes its way into a house. “It’s easier to, you know, notice them…”

“Oh, why did I have to call you?” she asked, burying her hands in her hair in regret over that decision, her voice dripping with exhaustion from the situation.

Unable to stop a satisfied grin, Spencer shrugged.

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” he admitted.

She stood there for a moment, hands furiously on her hips, her eyes gleaming with the question of whether he was ever actually going to do anything. He held her fiery gaze for a second, before sighing in surrender. His coffee and book were still waiting for him, and since he'd decided to take on this side quest, he might as well deal with it quickly.

Feeling her watchful eyes on him, he moved toward the spot she had pointed to as the monster's lair. He leaned over, trying to spot it in the shadow cast by one of the cabinets. After a moment of analysis… he scoffed.

He picked up the black, hairy thing and turned toward her.

At the sight, she instinctively took a step back, nearly falling off the counter. She spread her arms out to the sides to keep her balance.

"How can you touch that…”

“It’s not a spider,” he interrupted, holding out his open hand. His eyebrows were raised with a mix of genuine amusement and sarcastic mockery. “It’s an eyelash.”

He took a step toward the counter where she stood so she could take a look. With an unreadable expression, but her jaw slightly clenched, she leaned in to get a closer look, still not coming down from the counter. She did it slowly and carefully, as if suspecting he might be joking and actually holding a spider.

Her jaw tightened further as she realized.

“It’s an eyelash,” she confirmed with a barely noticeable nod. “A fake eyelash. It must have fallen out of one of my team members.”

She avoided his gaze, which Spencer deeply regretted. After a minute of silence, without a word, he extended his hand toward her, offering to finally help her down to the ground. Only then did she catch his eye — and he deliberately hid his smirk for a moment. Slowly, she accepted his offer, placing her hand in his, and grabbed onto his elbow as her other foot touched down, still seeking her full balance.

Before she could say anything, Spencer tilted his head slightly to the side.

"So the fake eyelash ran across your hand?” he asked.

She yanked her hand out of his grip.

“Oh, fuck you.”

“What an irrefutable argument.”

"That was the last time I ever asked you for help with anything. The real spider probably escaped while you were interrogating me about what it had for dinner!”

He actually gaped at her, impressed she still managed to turn this whole situation against him. At that, the corners of her mouth curled up smugly.

He shook his head.

“Fine. And that was the last time I saved you from a spider.”

"Fine!”

"Fine!”

"Your fine was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m not giving you the last word.”

“Oh, babe, how could you give back something you never had?”

Her scoff sounded louder in his ears than it should have, and combined with the mischievous glint in her eyes—and the fact that her face wasn't exactly far from his—it made swallowing feel like a real task by the time he finally turned to leave.

"You’re even later than I am,” JJ noted when he finally returned, eyeing him with surprise.

It pulled him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t caught all of what she said, but he figured she was commenting on the fact that he’d been the lastto show up — the rest of the team was already there.

He scratched at his forehead, fighting off a small, traitorous smile that had decided to creep onto his mouth without asking for permission. Or consent. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I had a…minor emergency.”

He grabbed his abandoned coffee cup. His smile disappeared as fast as it had come. The coffee was stone cold.

[changbunnies]

Devourance (18+)

♡ Pairing: Dracula / Nosferatu!Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: vampire au, dracula / nosferatu au, 1800s au, human / vampire relationship, horror themes, reincarnation, soulmates, smut

♡ Word Count: 3.9k

♡ Summary: Hyunjin has crossed oceans of time to find you– the one who's blood calls to him, who beckons for him in the dead of night, who yearns for his touch against all conceptions of what one must and must not desire. The ancient Vampyr has an appetite for you; an appetite that won't ever be sated.

♡ General Warnings: reader has depression (referred to as melancholy), reader is a lucid dreamer, usage of vampire abilities (invading dreams, shapeshifting, heightened senses), hyun's true form is very Creature Vampire so. still sexy if ur a monster fucker like me but some of y'all may not like that lmao

♡ Smut Warnings: does having sex with someone inside their dream count as somnophilia? idk !!, outdoor sex (kind of; it's a dream so they're not really outside lol), wet dreams, pet names (my love, my heart), referenced biting and blood drinking, unprotected piv, creampie

♡ Notes: originally, when i was planning my late kinktober fics, this was strictly a dracula au (as i love the 1992 movie and have a beautiful copy of the book sitting in my horror novel collection <3) but i saw the nosferatu remake in theaters and it rotted my fucking brain lmao so this became a blend of both ! i hope you enjoy it, cause i had a blast writing it <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

It starts as a dream; a waking one, so vivid and lucid that the line between conscious reality and imagination blurs, all perception of time and space bending and warping to what your subconscious mind feels most safe and familiar.

Your hands clasped together, a deep breath before you close your teary eyes, your souls desires laid out in a whispered prayer– "Come to me."

Who are you asking for? Who will heed your call? A friend you wish to have, but have yet to obtain? An imaginary prince charming who will right all the wrongs of your life with his presence alone? God himself? Death?

You do not know– all you know is that you are desperate for an escape from the melancholy that permeates your life, seeping its way into every crack of your porcelain heart, as thick and murky black as tar. It sticks to you, wraps itself around every cell, clinging to you in a loveless embrace.

Even in your dreams you cannot escape it; so often you hear tale of joyous dreams. Dreams in which you stand upon the altar, waiting to be wed to the love of your life, dreams in which you share a dinner with one you admire, or dreams in which you have coveted all that you desire.

You are regaled with recollections of dreams full of simple pleasures; warm and nostalgic, dreams of playing in the front yard as a child, with your mother's freshly baked bread wafting to you from the open window. Dreams of early school days, where one's only worry in the world was what they'd play when they got back home.

For some, dreams are entirely nonsensical; there is often no clear purpose, nor story, nor concrete feeling– but it is pleasant in its own right, and entertaining to recall the absurdities in which you found yourself in the middle of.

You do not experience such simple pleasures.

While for others, dreams are a pleasant escape from everyday life, a blissful end to an arduous day of work, your dreams are an extension of your reality. They offer no comfort, nor joy, nor escape from your bleak, mundane existence. You are ever as aware of yourself whilst asleep as you are while conscious, feeling every emotion just as strongly as you do in the light of day.

You wish you could say you have adapted to life with your melancholy, or learned to be at peace with it, or that you don't mind having no escape. But the truth of the matter is that your dreams being not a safe haven as they should be tolls on you, made worse by the fact that even in the sanctuary that should be your mind, you are utterly alone and miserable.

So there you stand in your waking dream, wishing for a change. A mirror of your reality, your status within your dream reflects the state you were in before falling to sleep. You are in your bedroom, as pitch dark as you left it when blowing out the candles, the only illumination coming from the moon shining through your balcony doors.

You stand in the middle of the room, hands clasped and eyes closed as you whisper your prayers, the same lily-white chemise you wore to bed draping your body. So perfect a recreation of your surroundings, that were it not for the fact that you so vividly remember adhering to your sleep routine and laying your head against the pillows, you might not even be able to say that this was a dream at all.

And though it is just the confines of your mind, and you are certain no one but God can hear you (if he will listen, and hasn't yet turned his back on you), you plead. 

"Come to me. A guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, a spirit of any celestial sphere– anyone, anything. Please, hear my call."

There is naught in the room but silence when you are finished; you are as alone with your thoughts as you ever are. You take a breath, blink away building tears, readying yourself to try again– and then, to your greatest surprise, there is a response.

For the first time in all your many dreams, a voice answers you– soft, an indistinct whisper akin to your own, but you hear it echo in the silence of your bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips as you look around the room.

Slowly, you lower your hands, taking an unconscious step forward, closer to where the voice calls to you from your balcony. You cannot yet discern what the voice is saying, nor can you see their figure, but you watch breathlessly as the lock on your balcony doors seems to unlatch itself, a sudden gust of wind pushing it open.

The air is cooler than you'd expect for a late spring's breeze, but you do not shiver or shrink away from the sudden chill; instead, you tentatively take another step, following the unfamiliar, beckoning voice. The voice becomes clearer the closer you step to the balcony, and though you see nothing out of the ordinary before you, you feel them.

No, to say you do not see them is not right– invisible in your mortal gaze, yes, but the moon casts their shadow on your wall, your curtains billowing with the steady breeze capturing their inhuman silhouette. And surely it is merely a trick of shadow that makes the figure appear so inhuman– because how else can you grapple with so foreign a creature standing before you?

You rationalize the impossibly tall silhouette as the moon elongating their shadow, the sharp and pointy length of their nails having simply become exaggerated, the unnatural point of their ears the result of a penumbra trick. Their figure vanishes with each fall of your curtains, reappearing with each rise; but their shadow ever lingers, eerie black against your ivory walls.

Their shadow serves as a reminder, you think– that even when you cannot see them, they will be there. Watching, beckoning, waiting; the voice, once so indistinct and otherworldly, is now crystal clear in your ears. Soft but luminous, it calls you as you take another cautious step closer.

"You," the voice starts, and though soft, it is an aching rasp– reminiscent, you think, of when one has fallen ill, or of times when one's throat has grown stiff from disuse. You have no further time to ponder if this is the man's– creature's?– natural inflection; for in just a few more careful utterances, their tone smooths, the soft voice becoming silken.

"You," the male voice repeats, smooth as satin and utterly mesmerizing, "I have heard you. And I answer in turn– come to me."

The shadow moves along your wall then, creeping closer to you; it feels as if it envelops you, embracing you with a blissful warmth you've never before felt. It clings to you with each step, but it does not feel like the melancholic tar you are accustomed to; it is a gentle ribbon, guiding you further with promises of sweetness you have so long craved.

Holding now to the railing of your balcony, you look to the gardens below. There you see him, standing amongst the tall, twisting trees and blooming lilacs. He gazes up at you, eyes black as a void, and yet they still shine in the light of the moon.

And just as a void promises to, his look swallows you whole. You lose yourself in the dark, hypnotic pool of his eyes, stumbling forward almost blindly, with one simple thought– you must go to him.

You are before him in an instant, though you have no recollection or understanding as to how. Did you walk off the balcony and fall below? Did you turn back and trek through the house to make it to the gardens? Is this the absurdity of dreams that normally eludes you, or is a greater power at work?

The answer seems of little importance; bewitched by the man standing before you, you find that logic and rationality hold no value. He is here, perfection and beauty embodied wholly– the answer to your prayers; that is all you care to know.

Your hand trembles, your utmost desire now to reach out and feel him beneath your fingertips, to confirm that he is not just a figment of your dream– that there really was someone in this world who could hear you from beyond, and cared enough to respond to your call.

Hair as black as his eyes, a few long strands falling over his perfect cheekbones, while the rest is tucked behind his normal, and not at all pointed, ears. He has full, plush lips shaded in an enchanting, muted red, with a little mole under his left eye and utterly flawless, pristine skin.

He is ethereal, and radiant, and he is here for you– and while his eyes hold a darkness you have never before seen, his smile is impossibly tender. He takes your trembling hand in his own, and you can feel his nails poke your skin as he closes it around you.

They are long, yes, but not as long and pointed as his shadow would've led you to believe them to be. There is a part of you that decides you were correct to think his features were simply exaggerated and warped by shadow, though the deep recesses of your heart and mind know this isn't true.

Whatever he is, whoever he may be– he is not of this world, you know that for certain. For who else in the world could hear you? Who would have the power to meet you in your mind? A trickster, an angel, a devil? It matters not, you decide; for perhaps, in some ways, you are not of this world either.

Perhaps you have always felt melancholic, twisted, and odd, because your destiny did not reside with your fellow man– perhaps it lied here, with this creature who wears the mask of the beautiful sort of prince charming you've yearned for.

His shadow was the truth of his being, you innately know, and yet it gives you no fear. He squeezes your hand, a reassurance, while the other rises to cup your cheek in his palm, a tender rub of his thumb along the skin where he holds you. His gentle touch is ice cold, but it spreads warmth through your body regardless– because oh, how you've longed for the companionship of another.

"You are for me," he whispers as he inches closer, your noses on the precipice of touching, "and I, you. Do you believe in destiny?" He stares at you, observing you closely as he awaits your answer. You swallow, heart quickening as you hold his gaze.

"Yes," you utter softly; for in the depths of your soul, you feel it– the immutable pull that tells you this is where you must be. Beside him, in his arms, at his side for all eternity– and he will love you, this you know true; because even down to the very marrow of your bones, your body says it is so.

He has searched for you for an age; not someone like you, no. You. Only you. And his delight to finally have heard his beloved's call, and to answer– it is an unparalleled joy, one that he expects you to share. For even in your mortal life, your blood sings for him just the same as it did those many, long centuries ago.

You were promised to him then, as you are now– and he will have you, just as he did then. First in sleep, as you are now, but someday soon he will find you in the physical world once more. He will hold you in his arms, your reunion as joyous as it is profane. Rejoice, as you join him back to your true home; the castle, your castle, where every moment was spent in unholy exuberance.

"Do you remember?" he asks, voice honey-sweet, "remember how we once were?"

You do not, not really– your mind has no recollection of the man before you. But your soul remembers, has carried the weight of centuries of love and longing with it all this time, waiting for the moment all the feelings harbored within could finally be unearthed.

"I know you," you answer, truthfully; because while this is your first meeting in this life, you recognize him all the same. In the deepest recesses of your memory, he is there, gazing upon you with the same reverence he does now. He holds you close, kisses you tender, his touch along your skin slow and gentle, his name a whispered prayer on your lips.

Hyunjin.

His eyes light up when you call his name, a smile growing on his perfect lips. Hyunjin would know you anywhere, and there was never any doubt you were his love– but all the same, it is a great relief to hear his name fall from your lips again after so many years spent longing for it.

He kisses you then, doing his utmost to relay the depths of his passion, while also holding the carnality he feels for you at bay– the last thing he wishes to do is overwhelm you with his appetite too soon. You are his affliction, his every desire, he must have you; and he can only pray that you will not deny him, or yourself, the pleasure– but only when the time is right.

"You will be mine once more," he says; a statement, not a question, between kisses to your lips, "as I am eternally yours." Your nerves tingle, blood alight as you return his affections, meeting his lips with urgency.

"I will have you," he continues, almost breathless as his lips begin to trail down your neck, "Will you swear it? That again, we are for no one but each other?" His breath tickles your skin, the points of two sharp teeth touching the sensitive pulse point. You shiver as his fangs linger there, closing your eyes as your heart thunders in your chest.

Hyunjin can not truly drink from you here, not in the confines of your dream, but his teeth against your neck serve as a reminder– that your blood is his greatest temptation. Should you promise yourself to him once more, he won't be able to resist you– as there is no taste sweeter than the blood of his beloved.

"I swear," you whisper your promise; for you will never fear him, nor can you deny the ecstasy that comes when he drinks from you. “ever-eternally, I am yours.” 

He is a beast of nightmares, a plague set upon the world, a ruinous omen of death, your immortal Vampyr; and you are safe in his hold. For he loves you and needs you too greatly to cause you any harm– an affection that contradicts his nature, but what a welcome contradiction it is. 

When you meet his gaze once more, his eyes burn with desire; it has been an agony, truly, to have such carnal desire for you all these centuries. And he could do naught with his desires but wait– wait for the day you would return to this world, and pray that your body and soul would still sing for him the way it once had. 

Hyunjin could have taken concubines, could’ve shared his castle with any great number of men or women– but they would not have been you. None can sate him the way you can, none can spread such flames of passion through his icy veins, none can make his eternally still heart feel as if it beats. It is not a vain promise when he says you are the only one for him– he means it with every fiber of his immortal being.

Your heart and soul, now free from their sepulchre, burn with need. He can hear the erratic thump of your heart, the blood rushing through your veins, can smell the arousal pooling between your legs. You desire him, just as he desires you– and he decides then that the time is right; there is no need to be cautious and careful with his affections.

You want him, and he wants you– and you will have each other, now and forever.

Hyunjin kisses you once more, hungry and urgent. He pulls your body flush to his own, holds you tightly as the wind rolls quickly past you. You realize, when you pull away to catch a breath, that your surroundings have shifted. Now in the center of the estate’s hedge maze, he lies you down on the stone bench beneath the grand statue of Mnemosyne.

You shiver against the cold stone, but he warms you with another kiss. His tongue meets your lips as his hand dances around the bottom of your chemise, lifting it up just enough to expose your lower half. His hands find your thighs, the points of his nails digging at the soft flesh as he squeezes you in his palms. 

It elicits a needy sound from deep within, one that you almost don’t recognize as your own. You feel the sharp points of his teeth with your tongue, while he spreads your legs apart to make more room for himself between them. He tugs your panties away with haste, and there is no shyness to be had when he separates to look at the way you glisten under the moonlight for him. 

He takes a moment to stare, licks his lips before looking back up to meet your eyes. You hold his gaze as he frees his cock from his trousers, swallowing as you look down for just a moment, and then back up to him. You are both eager, it is clear– and he will have neither of you wait any longer; you have both waited long enough. 

“I will have you,” Hyunjin repeats as he grabs your hips, lifting your bottom up from the stone bench and aligning you with himself. His thighs support you, while his feet stay firmly planted on the grass and stone below. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he removes one of his hands from your hips, using it to find leverage on the stone as he leans over you. 

You can feel his cock pulsing against you, excitement and anticipation building exponentially in your gut. “Mine again,” he whispers as he captures your lips in another kiss, “You are mine, my love.” 

He presses inside you as slowly as he can manage to, and you gasp, hands reaching out to cling to his arms. Thick and full, you let out a shuddering moan when his cock is sheathed fully inside your wet heat. He moans with you, the centuries of building need finally melting into the pure bliss he’d been longing for. 

But he refuses to rush– his thrusts are slow and fluid, precise and calculated, searching for the spot he knows will bring you utmost euphoria. You let out a high-pitched moan, followed by a curse, when he succeeds; and he smiles before he grits his teeth, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure.

“Hyunjin, oh, please–” you whimper, nails digging into the fabric of his sleeves as he picks up his pace. He wanted to drag it out longer, truly, he did; but the mind is a powerful thing, and even whilst in a dream, the pleasure that you both feel is entirely real. 

And how much longer can one who has held centuries of lust and yearning hold back? Especially when the object of his every desire is moaning and begging for him so sweetly?

He could never resist you– not then, and especially not now. And long has he craved to hear his name spill from your lips like this again; so much so that the sound of it sends him into a frenzy. 

“Again,” he utters, equal parts desperate plea and urgent demand, “call to me, say my name.” You oblige easily, his name falling from your lips in a tantalizing mantra; and you feel his cock throb violently with each salacious whimper, his every thrust laced with desire and urgency.

He releases his grip on your hip, moving his hand to your center and pressing his thumb on your clit. Your breath catches, eyes rolling back as he rubs your clit in steady, practiced circles.

“Cum for me, my love,” Hyunjin urges; he is on the precipice of release himself, and he needs you to fall apart with him– it is the only way he can truly be satisfied. Your thighs tremble, whimpers broken by harsh breaths; and you let go of his arms, reach up to his face and pull him down into a desperate, needy kiss. 

He moans, and if his flesh were mortal, he is sure that goosebumps would’ve risen over every inch of his body. His thrusts lose their fluidity, becoming quick and choppy as he chases the high your body promises him. You clench tighter, toes curling and body quivering as you finally cum, your every moan of pleasure captured by his lips. 

His hips still as his own high takes him, his cock fully pressed inside, his cum spurting in long, sticky spurts. Your kisses are breathless, impassioned, but no longer urgent– they are soft promises of love, of eternity together in bliss.

You smile at him when he pulls away, and he looks at you just as tenderly as he had before, stroking your cheek and indulging in the heat it offers his thumb. You’ve never felt so relaxed, happy and at peace– but just then, you feel a sudden jolt.

It is a sign that your consciousness is returning to reality, and you will soon find yourself back in your bed, with the morning light shining on you from your balcony. Hyunjin, an invader in your mind, feels himself being pushed out– for he can not stay by your side beyond the bounds of your dream just yet. 

There is fear and uncertainty that peaks within you as you fight to stay asleep just a moment longer– but he is quick to calm you, kissing you one last time before you the sun’s rays shine down on you.

“I will find you again in the waking world, my heart,” he says, squeezing your hand in his before he starts to fade once more into shadow, “this, I promise.”

You rise with a start, blinking rapidly and lingering, unshed tears falling from your eyes as you raise your hand to your heart. Just as expected, it is morning now– the late spring sun is bright and warm, and birds chirp in delight as they welcome the dawn of a new day.

You frown, feeling the erratic thumb of your heart beneath your fingertips as the melancholy claws its way back around you, reminding you that it has not left. Your inner thighs are sticky and wet, you realize a short moment later, and for the first time, you blush.

And then you giggle– and the melancholy, though ever present, now has a weaker grasp. You wonder, as you rise from the bed and prepare for your day, how long it will take for Hyunjin to find you. Days, weeks, months? 

You hope it is soon– but if it is not, you know what you will do. Every night, when you blow out the candles and fall asleep, you will call to him. You’ll invite him back into your mind, greet him with a soft kiss, and revel in his tender touch.

You will make love, you will smile, and you will talk of the future with greater enthusiasm than you have ever known– for he is your destiny, your truest love, your one and only immortal Vampyr. Ever-eternally.

[postmoe]

So, I'm getting around to doing Amphoreus and... we're at the bath house... and there is a special bath house for heroes.... can you imagine being taken in there without anyone else knowing just to be banged senselessly?

With Mydei and Phainon x Reader

girl we on the same wave length. I just added a bit to something i had going but didn't like it enough for the story i wanted lol.

non-con, helplessness, a bit of choking, bathhouse, ambrosia, master/servant dynamicish

Translations off google so (I went the Ancient Greek route)... Dominus - Master. He philtatē - dearest love. (feminine).

.

Amphoreus is full of many heroes, and though they are all strong and worthy of their titles, there are some that put true unease in others.

Like Mydei. Even with Phainon right next to him, trying to lighten the mood in the room, people still fear his sharp looks and dominating muscles. Everyone has seen what these two heroes can do, and no one wants to be on the wrong side of them.

Not to mention how protective they are of each other. Back and forth arguments seem like nothing when their anger is truly displayed, especially at people who speak ill of their partner.

And then there's you, their precious, priceless darling. A warning isn't good enough if you were to be picked on, broken bones, lost jobs, people are still debating whether or not the person who moved lands is dead or still alive.

So, when you're dragged from your station, or told to meet them somewhere, everyone drops everything to make sure you comply. Which is why, even if people did see you be hauled into the heroes bathhouse, you know calling for help would do nothing good.

That's why you stand there, sweat soaking through your white road, nipples poking into wet, sheer fabric, face stoic and hands holding a large jug of wine like it were any other client. They seem entertained enough by each other, hopefully today they will just leave you alone.

However, as Mydei pulls away from the heated kiss, grinning drunkenly your way and leaning his head against the edge of the in ground bath, you know there is no such luck. "He philtatē, come drink ambrosia with us," he practically moans, Phainon grinding his naked body in his lap, kissing and lapping up the sweat of his lovers neck.

You make a point to keep your eyes facing forward, not wanting to give them the thought that you're indulging in their actions, "No, thank you, dominus. I am working right now." That's not to say you would if you weren't on shift, but, it's as good an excuse as any other.

Phainon finally frees his mouth from the other's body, sculling the rest of his drink, red ambrosia trickling over his lips, down the cleft of his neck, and over the pecs of his chest before mixing with the bath water and disappearing. His eyes are hooded, cheeks dusted red with the effects of alcohol and lust, "Why the sudden harsh treatment, He philtatē, you were never this reserved when we first met."

With a bow of your head, avoiding his gaze, you say, "Kindess is part of the job. I welcomed you in, my job is done."

"Boo~" Phainon whines, rolling off of Mydei and sitting next to him in the water. "You're not like this after work or with your colleagues," he mutters, now holding out his empty cup, "Refill, please!"

You're not even going to ask how he knows what you're like when they're not around, already having the sneaking suspicion they've been following you and paying someone to tail you when they're gone. You crouch down to aim the jug into the goblet, only for Mydei to snatch the wine from your hands which makes you cry out a, "Hey!"

Within moments, you're being dragged into the water by a laughing Phainon. You thrash and splash the water as you're manhandled, thick fingers pulling your clinging robe over your head, leaving you in thin panties and the gold chains around your torso to help support your breasts. You're held tightly against his chest, coddled like a sweet pet until you stop moving so violently. Once you calm down enough, Mydei hands a cup to Phainon, who then promptly presses the rim to your tightly sealed lips, "Ambrosia~ Ambrosia for He philtatē~"

His other hand is roughly grabbing your jaw, the ache forcing your mouth to part enough for the liquid to slip through. You grunt, swallowing the sweet drink, a lot of it falling down your front, until the cup is empty. His hand is swaying in front of your face, the motion annoying you so you backhand the goblet, it flying and dunking in the water. He's so out of it that it takes him a minute to realise what you've done, the man laughing and messily petting your head in a playful manner.

Mydei exhales, sinking further into the bath to relax his muscles, "The whole trip he wouldn't shut up about you. 'When can we see (Y/n) again?' 'How much longer until we leave for (Y/n)?' 'Do you think if I send a letter, it'll reach her before we get back?' Couldn't even focus on fighting."

Phainon cheekily pinches your cheek, directing your attention back to him, "Funny he says that. Just whose name do you think he was calling every night we fucked?" You grab at his wrists once they start to slip to your cunt, fingers brushing your clit while your strength did nothing to hold him back. He didn't even acknowledge it, choosing instead to ask, "We have those new heroes, too. Should we introduce them to our private hole?" A wince escapes you as he slips a finger in, your pussy clenching from the intrusion. He swirls his digit around before adding another, "And what of Anaxa? Where is he?"

"Anaxa is still busy, he won't be back for another month," Mydei steps from the tiled ledge and stands in front of you, his large hands stroking over your shoulders, cupping your breasts in his palms and grazing the nipples with his thumbs. His eyes follow every move with a predatory gaze, "They certainly have proved their worth..."

You zone out as they talk about you like some object. Gritting your teeth, frustrated tears mix with the sweat on your face as you silently cry. What sort of a God or Titan or Deity would allow something such as this to happen to one of their subjects? It just proves how lost your soul really is from everyone else's. Everyone was right, you were abandoned by the titans the moment you were conceived.

Mydei pushes himself against your front, sandwiching you between him and Phainon so he can easily kiss your tears away, "Now look what you've done, you made her cry."

Phainon coos against your hair, his fingers hooking inside you to get a jerking reacting out of you, your hips trapped between the two, "It's okay, He philtatē, we won't share you if you don't want to. It actually makes me happy to see your heart is ours alone."

That's absolutely not true.

"Just be good for us tonight or else we might have to get them to 'help' hold you down," Mydei chuckles drunkenly as if his joke was actually something worth laughing at.

It pissed you off how he could just say something like that and get away with it. You pushed a sturdy hand against his chest, halting him from your boldness. (E/c) eyes look to the door, longing for anyone to enter and stop this madness. Your voice is quiet, moisture inside your mouth gone from the alcohol, bath heat and sexual actions of these men, "One day... One day someone will stop you."

The amused rumble from Phainon's chest made your heart sink. Then, when Mydei's fierce eyes sharped as his grin showed too many teeth to bring an intense foreboding to flood your veins, you shrank back into Phainon as he suddenly seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Mydei scoffed and gripped the base of your neck, your chin tilted up on the curve of his thumb and index as he held you just hard enough to make you wheeze and meet his eyes, "That day won't be a day you're alive."

When he finally let go, the world around you went white and your head couldn't tell which way gravity was holding you. Thankfully, you had your two heroes to keep you safe.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

I need Danny weirdly being

The infinite Realms version of Persephone

Where Clockwork has managed just like people into believing that his poor favorite son Danny gets taken away 6 months out of the year by Valerie aka the red huntress

And how she even changed phantom's name to Danny up on the surface just like Persephone's name in the underworld is Persephone top of world it's Kore

Clockwork is really out here with you on the fact that he wants his son back and promises not to attack and Danny's over here like we broke up years ago back in high school by ancient stop telling people that

The reason Danny keeps disappearing is because of college so he's absolutely confused in the background

~{…So here me out Male Wife X Girl boss }~

•Phantom or Danny•

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Clockwork was drinking some nightshade tea in his clock tower, when he heard the distinctive sound of a outer-world door slamming open in his clock tower shortly followed by the clicking of heels he was very familiar with.

“FATHER-IN-LAW”

Yelled a very pissed off Valerie Gray who is married to his Ghostling, Who surprisingly was not in her hero get up as she usually is when she comes to visit the realms even when she was with Clockworks ghosting.

“Ah Mrs.Gray what can I help you with?” Clockwork like a good Father-in-Law asked innocently before having one of the ecto-blasters that Valerie always keeps that her hips shoved into his face.

While Clockwork could have easily just destroyed her very existence in every timeline and made it so it would be like she never existed in the first place, but the only unfortunate part of being the Ghostly Father of Danny is that he would remember her and he would hate to make his ghosting cry.

“Don’t try to pull that ‘I don’t know anything about this’ bullshit with me” Valerie yelled after a moment.

“But I truly do not know what your talking about Mrs.G-” Clockwork almost finished responses before he was so rudely interrupted by Valerie who was yelling so much it was a surprise that she hadn’t her voice yet.

“Stop telling people I kidnapped Danny!, I have to keep fighting back other supernaturals who keep trying to kidnap Danny back into the ghost zone while beating off the supernatural hero’s who think I kidnapped my wife!” Valerie said much quieter but you could still hear the fire of her rage that the edges of her voice and after a brief pause she continued with

“Now you better stop or I will find a way to kill your ass permanently” and with that she left as soon as she showed up unannounced.

Clockwork just sat in silence for a moment

“I’m a keep doing it”

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Things•

•Valerie is the husband and Danny the wife in this and no you can not change my mind :)

•Val only calls Clockwork “Father-In-Law” is because of her respect and love for Danny as her wife

•Danny calls Clockwork “Patér”

•Danny is completely cool with being called Val’s Wife and calling her his husband, if anything he likes it

•Val is sick and tired of supernatural entities/ supernatural hero’s trying to kidnap Danny back to the realms or trying to fight for his hand in marriage, Not that any of that worked but she’s getting real sick of it

~{ Will add on too later if I feel like it }~

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearance•

Danny

Ghost Zone

With a shit ton of black and silver jewelry [+ and pants version!]

Val

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

~{And that’s it! Hope you gremlins like it sorry if it’s worded weirdly I am running on caffeine but this is a very funny idea lol, anyway until next time byeeeeee}~

[goooofy-goooober1121]

Twst Ethnicity/Nationality Headcanons (bc I can)

Also my asks are open so please send some in!!!!

Read my most recent work here!

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

British (I hc the Kingdom of Roses as the sort of UK version of TWST)

is this even a question

Standard British Accent for sure

"Unbuhrthday pahty"

he's a crumpet eater what can i say

Trey Clover

Vietnamese idc

that is an east asian man like idk he just has the vibes

but if he were to have like an accent I'm thinking a Yorkshire-y accent

Cater Diamond

he's a ginger so he's Irish /j

Also a British white boy

But not like Standard British accent

MLE London accent!!!!

Deuce Spade

hmm I'm having trouble with him ngl

Kinda leaning towards Argentinian for him

Latino king !!

Yeah now that i think about it Argentinian Deuce is real

But he's also from the Queendom of Roses so I think he's got a Cockney accent lol

Ace Trappola

Ginger so he's Irish /hj

Maybe not about the ginger part but like idk he's giving Irish

Specifically South Dublin

I'm thinking Korean-Irish I don't make the rules

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar

Kenyan

Have you seen that one event card? I did a lil research and apparently it was based majorly on Kenyan clothing

So yeah that mf is Kenyan I don't make the rules

Ruggie Bucchi

BRAZILIAN.

sorry idc he's Brazilian

LATINO KING #2

See the thing about Brazil is that it's extremely diverse so like genetically he could be anything

But I'm thinking Indigenous/Lebanese/African mix mostly! (Brazil has an INSANE amount of Lebanese people bro)

If I had to name a specific state it would either be São Paulo (going back on the Lebanese thing, São Paulo has the largest Lebanese population out of all Brazilian states) or Minas Gerais

Jack Howl

Grrr this is hard because he isn't like based off an actual character yk so I don't have a point of reference

But then again I pulled Brazilian Ruggie out my ass (and also because I'm Brazilian and am biased)

He's from the Shaftlands, so I'm getting Hungarian vibes from him

Also works because grey wolves are found in mainly Central European areas

fuck it he's ethnically Brazilian too, Bahia

Brazilian mom and Hungarian dad

Mixed Indigenous/African/Hungarian (in that order)

They're all Latino. Every one of them.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

"Azul" means blue in Spanish and Portuguese

I'm thinking he's Spanish and Italian

Ethpañol

(sorry i had to bring up the 'say 'th' instead of 's' dialect pattern in Spain Spanish)

Jade Leech

'Jade' as a word has its origins in Spanish

Moray eels are most commonly found in tropical, warm waters and coral reefs

"The green moray is found in the western Atlantic Ocean, from New Jersey to Bermuda, and the northern Gulf of Mexico southward to Brazil" - Google

BRAZIL MENTIONED

Yeah he's Puerto Rican/Brazilian

LMFAO what if i make the Leech twins Floridians

OK OK he's Puerto Rican/Brazilian but him and Floyd are Florida residents

Floyd Leech

As mentioned before he's also Puerto Rican/Brazilian

90% of all Florida Man headlines are because of him

Bilingual and randomly breaks into Portuñol to fuck with Azul

"Me gusta comer pedras e tambem tenho vontade de morder a la gente, mano"

Puerto Rican mom and Brazilian dad

Glares at Azul whenever he hears "Ethpaña" instead of "España"

'speaks Spanish with a th' Azul vs. 'no S at the end of words' Floyd

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim

Okay so I'm referencing the Qasr Sultan card to build my hc

I'm mainly looking at his turban, lots of anthropologists think those originated in Ancient Persia (modern-day Iran) but of course cultural dispersion is a thing and they are also commonly found in Indian records of rulers

But the word 'Sultan' is Arabic, not Persian

There's a description about the Scalding Sands that says "tea is considered a customary with every meal"

Considering this tradition and the clothing items, I'm led to believe he is Arab-- but that's a pretty big generalization considering "Arab" is a broad term for people living in a specific part of the Middle East

Therefore he's Omani i think!

The climate matches the description of the Scalding Sands (dry and arid, subtropical); tea is also their national beverage and from my understanding is widely served with meals

Jamil Viper

Pakistani/Bangladesh/Omani mix

Nationality is Omani (would have been born there if we follow the canon)

Oman has a majority Arab population but it also has a large South Asian population

Idk how to describe it he just has Pakistan/Bangladesh vibes

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit

Take one look at that last name and tell me he isn't German

Definitely also speaks French

Maybe he's German/French, German dad and French mom

The first film screening, fun fact, was in Berlin in 1894, but the first commercial public screening was in Paris 1895!

Kinda fits with his movie star status

Slays the house boots down

Rook Hunt

South African and French

I can't with his fuckass bob I'm sorry

Ethnically cooked by his barber

Generationally chopped

Lord Farquad ass

Dora the explorer ass

Edna mode ass

PLEASE let him grow out his hair again IM BEGGING YOU

Cute freckles tho :3

Epel Felmier

My boy Apple Farmer is Finnish

Harveston is apparently based on Finnish architecture so like

I'm thinking there's some German in there too, because "Felmier" is the German word for farmer

CORRECTION from someone who reblogged (ty pookie for letting me know) Felmier probably comes from the German surname Feldmier which is the job title (and a German surname) for someone who manages open fields for nobility (the actual word for farmer in German is Bauer)

Thank you reblogger I repent for my mistake

so manly

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

Greek are we even debating this?

The guy based on the Greek god Hades? Hmm he's gotta be from Russia

No bro

Greek man from Macedonia

The irl Mount Olympus is located on the border between Macedonia and Thessaly so I figured if he's gonna be based an Olympian it would be only fair to place him around that area

Ortho Shroud

Macedonian like Idia!

Silly little guy

He's my baby

Little Greek dude

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia

Hmm okay so I'm thinking Chinese/French

Sleeping Beauty is set in France and Briar Valley does seem to have European architecture

old French architecture also does incorporate lots of gargoyles, and we all know he's a gargoyle fiend

And there are some vignette lines that hint at Chinese influences/heritage such as in his Halloween card

I think ethnically/racially Chinese but nationality-wise he's French

Lillia Vanrouge

The "van-" prefix in surnames can be traced back to the Netherlands

Like Vincent Van Gogh

Lilia as a name has Spanish origins

I think he's Dutch/Spanish mix

He also gives me Japanese vibes so let's also add that

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek as a name is a version of Sobek, an Egyptian crocodile deity

Since his mom is a fae from Briar Valley, I'm thinking 50% Egyptian (mom) and 50% French (dad)

but 100% unable to stfu why is he always yelling bro

I love him tho

Silver Vanrouge

Swedish

Don't ask me why

I just look at him and see Swedish

One more white boy to add to my collection

----

A/N: I'm so tired bro it's midnight and I'm out here making fictional men Latino and/or French

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: Pregnancy back-seater, WOTC-brand poppers and humanoid feet.

It's been a while since I last took a good dive into my inbox!

Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to message in, whether it be questions, prompts, or words of support and encouragement! I unfortunately cannot get to everybody, but I do my best while trying not to be spammy with the reply posts 😅

I actually have plans to do just that and an ANCIENT short comic idea that I still really like, so you can look forward to having your wish granted eventually ;)

Though, to be clear, Orin is older than DU drow, so she might not look that much younger. I do want to have a little more fun with hers and Sarevok's design however (also to just draw more young DU drow overall).

There are pros and cons to either, but I think he probably enjoys having a penis more. Not only is he already used to that anatomy, but it likely suits their very versatile dynamic most. If we're talking gender alone, I think Astarion would be truly indifferent 🤷

Oh he would be insufferable. Attentive and loving to a fault. If the partner in question happened to enjoy luxuriating and doing nothing all day, it would work out wonderfully - but if they have any desire for independence and self-sufficiency while pregnant, that might pose a problem. He also might have some trouble empathizing with the shittier parts of carrying - being so enamored with the idea that he can't fathom the downsides being so bad that some tender love and care can't fix them.

DU drow would be similarly whimsied during birth and definitely be very involved.

Somewhat surprisingly, however, I don't think anything could ever convince him to put the baby's life above his partner's. If at any point that was a decision that had to be made, he would, without hesitation.

He must have 2 or 3 long suffering pairs that look pretty similar. Very much the kind of guy to wear clothes until they completely fall apart.

LOL, THANK YOU. Were it not for the occasional glass of wine, the guy would probably be some sort of murderous straight-edge weirdo 😂EXTREMELY self-righteous about it, of course.

Except for poppers. I don't know what poppers look like in Faerun, but whatever that would be - he had a drawer full of them.

So, on one hand, you are completely right. It does suit him very well.

On the other hand, I am DYING to know why you think so, because that's the first I'm ever thinking about it myself and have no answer beyond "he looks like a foot man".

He definitely "fell in" by "accident" 😏

I will NOT accept this sort of slander, he would only do that if he really disliked them.

I don't know about the ears but he can def' make the girls hop.

I'm sure there's a lot of little things you could isolate that we have in common, that tends to be the case for most people (in that we can easily relate to fictional characters in general) - but we are largely opposites. I guess we both like animals, though even in that we part when it comes to our attitude towards house pets and the likes - I'm taking my cat to the orthopedist tomorrow. Somehow that doesn't sound like something he would do.

I guess that depends on what your definition of fem dressing is! I have put him in lingerie before and the guy DOES sport low-cut shirts and tight, tight pants all the time. I don't think dresses would really suit his figure, but he wouldn't be opposed to something frilly in the bedroom if it gave Astarion a laugh.

In every day life, I just don't think he would enjoy the flowyness and pomp one might associate with more (fantasy genre) feminine dress. He's a practical guy! Hence why his wardrobe looks like a lesbian's.

It is only humanoid feet, sorry anon, LOL.

Either dead or on that Vampire Ascendant grind, no in-between.

Probably large felines! But he keeps that to himself to avoid the Drizzt jokes.

I have had a couple of friends that remind me of Astarion, I think we could have been fine-weather buddies when I was in my early twenties and then inevitably stop talking to each other and not really miss one another very much 😂 same thing if I existed in the universe of BG3 - no matter what, I just wouldn't be wanting to get involved with whatever they're doing.

I could never be friends with DU drow but we would get along at the pub. I'm fairly confident they would both find me horrifically boring, be nice to my face, and make fun of me behind my back.

[kaitlyn-imagines]

Hey hey, so I saw ur requests were open and that you write for LOTR so I was hoping to get a fem!reader x Legolas fic!

I’ve seen a few stories play with the idea of braids being like, intimate or romantic in elf culture and the reader accidentally confessing to Legolas by braiding his hair? Like, reader braids his hair without knowing the significance and Legolas thinks they’re confessing, real sweet misunderstanding type stuff!!

I think it would be real fun, however, to get a fanfic where the reader braids his hair as a confession but Legolas assumes she doesn’t know what it means cause she’s human! Like, the reader knows the significance of braiding to elves but Legolas doesn’t know that she knows, so she’s trying to figure out why it’s not working while Legolas is trying not to make things awkward by confronting her!

I hope I explained my idea well, I tend to struggle with describing things. If you’re not fully sure what I mean you can also just go with the first accidental confession concept as well!! It’s still real cute

Also, sorry for making this a tad long!! I just wanted to rly make sure to properly communicate my thoughts

Hope you’re having a good day/night :))

This is such a cute idea! Very rom-com haha. Congrats on being my first official LOTR fic, its lowkey intimidating with all the lore and history in canon buuut we persevere for hot men hehe

Legolas Greenleaf x Human!Reader

Warnings: Love confessions, mild spice at the end I don’t speak Sindarin/Silvan so sorry if these are poor translations lol

Words: 1494

The air felt cool and comfortable, and the sound of mellifluous, layered birdsong carried on the wind as it weaved through the branches of the Mirkwood trees. Small patches of dappled sunlight managed to break past the thick canopy above, illuminating your book as you sat cross-legged atop a monstrously large tree root. The root itself was nearly your twice your height in diameter, and appeared more like a bridge as it stretched across a trickling creek just eight feet below.

You hummed softly to yourself, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you studied the current page of your book. The book itself was written in Sindarin on ancient yellowed paper, though this did not serve as a hinderance to you.

You were a renowned scholar, hailing from the human kingdom of Gondor, with your primary discipline of study being Elven history and culture. As such, you’ve spent the past two years on sabbatical, immersing yourself in the region of Northern Mirkwood.

During your time in the Woodland Realm, you were pleased to have earned the honor to be considered part of the elvellyn, or elf-friends. Nearly more-so, you were pleased to also have formed a strong friendship with the prince of Mirkwood, who sat before you now.

You traced the illustration in your book, following the patterns of braids with your eyes before lifting them to where Legolas had his back to you. He was a perfect example of stillness. Your hands held the strands of his long hair gingerly, and you twisted one of the pieces over the other in the same fashion as your book displayed.

Your hands were slow and methodical, determined to braid his hair as authentically as possible to the source material. After all, different Elven braids held cultural significance, and you wanted to ensure you got your meaning across successfully.

Often, the act of braiding one’s hair was a sign of emotional intimacy—certain braid patterns were used amongst soldiers to garner good luck before a battle, while others were purely reserved for the bond between mother and child. The current pattern you were practicing on Legolas, however, was neither of these. It was a symbol of romantic affection—a confession, so to speak.

When you’d first asked Legolas to let you braid his hair, he gave you little to no reaction. He simply agreed to help you practice, and sat with you now in a companionable silence. Certainly not the reaction you had expected, especially considering the significance of the braid you had selected to do.

Were you doing it wrong? You glanced down at the book again, double checking your work thus far, but as expected, you had weaved the blonde strands in a flawless imitation. You bit the inside of your cheek, and were grateful his back was turned to you so he did not see your confuddled expression.

Meanwhile, Legolas was holding his breath as he sat before you. Your graceful fingers played with his hair with all the tenderness in the world. His skin pebbled as your nails scratched gently along his scalp, and he bit back the pleased sigh threatening to escape his lips.

He remained deathly still, trying with all his might not to overreact to the situation. The braid you’d selected to practice was particularly intimate, reserved for lovers and admirers. But you were a human, simply here to study his culture…there was no way you would have asked to braid his hair in such a manner if you knew what it meant.

And yet, as he told himself this over and over in his mind, he could not deny the contentment he felt as you braided his hair. The privacy of the forest, the morning sunlight kissing the earth where it shined through the leaves…it was all so intimate. He had to remind himself to inhale and exhale normally. You were oblivious to the situation you’d put him in. He would not make a fool of himself by reading into the situation and confronting you about it.

You finished up the last few knots of the braid, tying it off with a small band of woven string. As you gazed at your handiwork, comparing it once more to the reference material, you felt yourself release a satisfied sigh. “There we are,” you breathed. “I reckon it’s a good first attempt, wouldn’t you say?”

Legolas reached a hand up behind his head to trace the braid now cascading down his back, a deep hum reverberating in his throat. “I can not disagree,” he conceded, and turned to face you finally. As always, you felt breathless at the sight of him. He was beautiful even by Elven standards, his cool blue-grey eyes akin to an early morning dew.

You watched with bated breath for his reaction, carefully searching his expression for any trace of understanding. He had agreed that your execution had been well-done, and yet…he did not acknowledge the message that should have been blaringly obvious.

He looked as cool and composed as ever, though his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he seemed to catch something shift in your expression. “Are you displeased?” he asked, and you quickly turned your face from him to your book once more.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself, flipping back and forth between the pages. “I followed the steps perfectly…did I miss something?”

Legolas watched as you murmured to yourself, mildly concerned by the change. He reached forward and placed his hand atop of yours to still you. Your face immediately lifted to look at him, confusion and misunderstanding swimming in your eyes.

“Why are you disconcerted?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together. “As far as I can tell, you have managed to execute a perfectly decent Silvan braid. Considering you yourself are not of the race, should this not be pleasing to you?”

Your own expression matched his, the both of you confused by—what you felt—was the other’s lack of an appropriate reaction.

“That’s the thing,” you sighed, closing the book. “It didn’t…work.”

Legolas blinked at your admission, trying to make sense of what you were saying. There was no way you understood the social significance of the braid…did you?

But seeing you now, looking away as if you were self-conscious, he began to second-guess his previously held assumptions. In that moment, he decided to take the risk.

Legolas lifted his slender hand towards your cheek. He curved his thumb around the underside of your chin, raising it so you were looking at him. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, and the feeling of your mortal heartbeat quickened in your chest.

In his steely eyes was an intensity that had not been there before. It was as if the dim embers there had been dowsed in an accelerant, leaving behind a burning inferno of blue flame. A sensation of warmth began to tingle the apples of your cheeks. Legolas’ eyes darted down to your lips briefly, and he swallowed before forcing his them back up to yours.

“Do you know what you do to me, melethel?” his voice came out breathy and strained. “The delicate touch of your hands upon me—nay, the very vision of you threatens to destroy the remaining semblance of my self-control.”

You felt the heat on your cheeks begin to creep lower towards your neck, and his eyes seemed to follow the color down. His voice was husky as he spoke to you in his native tongue, “Le melin, a lín naid nín ú-barthatha. Aníron na dharthol na nin, sui galad vi dû.”

The confession was poetic and only slightly painful in its formality, but it was this noble restraint that drew you even closer to him. You felt your lips twitch upwards in amusement. Full of affection, you exhaled a small, “gi melin.” The informal, intimate ‘gi’ of your response seemed to shatter the last bit of his restraint, and within seconds he had leaned forward, and pressed his lips to yours.

Book long forgotten, your hands released it in favor of fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your lips broke apart as you felt yourself fall backwards, your back pressing into the firm woody texture of the root you’d been perched on.

Legolas naturally slotted himself above you, and the braid you’d woven draped down over his shoulder and hung between you. You both panted, mere inches separating you as your breath mingled. His pupils were dilated more so than usual, but you didn’t have more than a few seconds to notice before you crashed together in another, searing kiss.

Bodies intertwined, you pulled apart and came together like the natural push and pull of the tide. You melded together in a collision of whispered endearments, scalding touches of skin, and the pure, unadulterated desire for the other.

You spent the remainder of that perfect afternoon upon the tree root, enjoying one another’s company as new lovers are known to do.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ 

Translation Guide:

Elvellyn – Elf-friends, (plural for elvellon), denotes the upgraded status of honored men who are considered friendly to Elven kind.

Melethel – A pet-name, such as darling or sweetheart

Le melin, a lín naid nín ú-barthatha. Aníron na dharthol na nin, sui galad vi dû. – I love you (formal), and your deeds will not be forgotten by me. I wish for you to stay with me, like light in shadow.

Gi melin – I love you (informal, used between close friends and lovers)

[smallestapplin]

Hiii :3 I have a fluffy request, lol. So randomly, my nerdy self learnee how to write ancient autobot, right? I can do it from memory now, and decepticon graffiti is next for me to learn.

Can there be a scenario where some of the bots/cons find little cute notes left around only to find out their s/o wrote them? I'd think it'd be cute :)

~SPADE♤🐈‍⬛️

Holy shit that’s so cool :0! I hope you don’t mind I went with Hound and Thundercracker

-

-

Hound knew you were studying something but you never told or showed him what, you begged him to let it be a surprise knowing how observant he can be, honestly he’d be able to tell if you gave him a second to see, but you wanted this to he a surprise for him! And he’s not about to go against his sweetspark’s wishes.

So imagine his surprise when he finds a peice of paper in his glove box after dropping you off at your house. the hand writing is a little sloppy, but it’s in cybertronian autobot dialect and signed off by you.

‘I hope you have a good day, and be safe! I love you.’

- your love’

You learned cybertronian for him? You went out of your way to study his home language, just to surprise him with little notes for him? This was the surprise you wanted to keep for him until you learned it perfectly? He’s paused in the middle of the road just staring at it, he can feel his optics stinging and a smile just overtaking him.

Hound is driving right back to your home, waiting until the garage door closed before transforming to knock on the door. He sits down on the concrete waiting for you to open, though he knows it’ll be a moment as you’re getting out of your work clothes.

When you open the door in your cozy clothes, you are yoinked swiftly into his servos pulled close to his face plate and getting kisses littered across your face. You can’t help but laugh as his dermas tickle your skin, with each kiss being paired with an exaggerated ‘mwah!’

“Not that I’m not happy, but what is this all about? Or did you miss me that much, lover boy?” Your smile just makes Hound melt, and finally pressing his dermas to your lips.

You place your hands on his metal cheeks, holding him in this embrace just a few moments longer before he pulls away to let you breathe.

“I found your note. Did you really learn my home language just for that?”

“I wanted to leave you little notes so you could read them when we aren’t together.”

Hound lets out a pained wheeizng sound like an arrow just struck his spark, before your being smothered in his kisses once more.

-

-

Thundercracker doesn’t ask much, he’s a ‘you’ll tell me when you want’ type of con especially to you, his little human. He does what he can to keep you safe and entertained while he works, he barely bats an optics when you ask him for books or files on cybertron. True, a part of him is happy you want to know about where he came from, but he doubts you’ll have much luck reading it without his help.

Which he did offer, but you denied him. He’s just happy you’re here with him so it doesn’t matter to him.

Until he’s going through the computer in his habsuite and notices a tab open that wasn’t there before, opening it shows him a little messily written message by you, clearly nips use to how big the controls were.

‘I left you some rust sticks in my side of the habsuite. I won’t be gone long but I’ll miss you! Love you!’

- kisses!’

He is suddenly regretting taking you to your friends house, he wants you here now he wants to hold you and kiss you for being far too sweet, far too good for him! You learned to read decepticon code for him?

He barely notices his habsuite door opens as he crumples to the floor groaning.

“Dude, you good?’ Skywarp leans over his friend, poking the blue seeker who just isn’t moving anymore.

“Ugh, you and that damn fleshie again, this is so gross.” Starscream rolls his optics as he notes the message on the computer, and totally isn’t jealous Thundercracker has a loving relationship.

When it’s time to pick you up, you best believe you aren’t leaving his habsuite fot a while, as he drowns you in so many kisses and refuses to stop cuddling you.

It’ll happen everytime he finds another note somewhere, so much so he starts going on the hunt for them checking everywhere he can just because he wants to read what you wrote, to have a physical copy of your love for him. You love him so much you do this for him, and he’s expected to not kiss you?