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#it’s supposed to be ‘artisan’
lesbianrey · 1 year
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so are we ever gonna talk about how 75% of the stuff on etsy now are just aliexpress items sold at a 10x or more markup 😐
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sualne · 3 months
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ok so ive been dying to play the guild II for a decade or smth, finally got the game and ive no idea how to Anything. so im playing dynasty style and went to try to seduce one of my top pick girl(??), complimented her twice, then i turn around and she's bleeding on the floor i try to go help her but rob her instead?!! then all the guards run to attack me and fucking kills me. boy.
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@raebeecomix is introducing me to the world of DND, so here's a first draft design for my character!
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superconductivebean · 9 months
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#597
wright Before: well archaic or not nevertheless it was an interesting read i may improve my potion-making techniques this way ^^
wright After: OBSOLETE. who's talking OBSOLETE at my techniques, show me that ministry head and i'll cut it off, it isn't smart, it wants-- THEY'RE THE REASON WE CAN'T HAVE BLASTING CHARLIE'S SPARKLES ANYMORE OR ANY FUNKY THINGS ANY LONGER.
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prying-pandora666 · 2 months
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The Cast and Crew Don’t Deserve Your Hate
I know many of us feel hurt and betrayed by NATLA. I know this. I feel the same.
Please stop cursing Albert Kim and the production crew. The fact is, he inherited a huge mess that was already behind schedule. Studios nowadays want the fastest turn around possible and are willing to pour money into projects.
But not time.
I’ve said it before, but LOTR is the absolute gold standard for production. They took years of pre-production time to hand craft their costumes and props and wigs. They hired artisans to hand make tunics and chainmail by hand. They sourced and layered real human hair for their hair pieces. It was incredible.
GOT also attempted something similar though not nearly at the same scale.
That’s why both of these productions have such fantastic and realistic feeling costumes, wigs, and props.
Modern studios just want fast turn around. They’ll pour in money but they want it fast. That’s why the modern takes on LOTR and GOT (ROP and HOTD) look like mediocre cosplay by comparison. The stylists are doing their best, but there’s only so much you can do with so little time.
That’s exactly what’s happened here. You can tell in how awful all the wigs and beards look, even compared to the Shyamalan film of all things! It’s why you can see machine stitching and the fabrics aren’t thick enough to pass for animal pelts. It’s why Iroh’s beard looks like it’s going to fall off, and Yue’s hair looks like a Lego piece, and Azula’s bangs are visibly attached extensions of a completely different sort from the rest of the synthetic wig. It’s why Zuko’s scar looks like a birthmark and not a burn.
It’s why the bending, despite having impressive animation, doesn’t line up well with the actors’ movements and feels pasted on. Almost as if the artists and fight choreographers didn’t get to communicate and plan together.
It’s why the scripts are a poorly juggled mish mash of plots, with threads left to hang in the wind while others are so oversimplified that it feels like a playschool version of ATLA rather then the “adult” version it’s supposed to be.
And it’s why the the Chinese writing is grammatically a mess like they just ran it through Google translate.
I have nothing but respect for Albert Kim and the cast and crew that worked tirelessly to bring this disaster to life under these conditions.
I worry about the poor crew being put through some awful crunch time for this show…
Yes it’s bad. But it’s not only bad as a piece of media. It’s bad as an indicator of what studios prioritize now, and it’s neither audiences nor their own staff.
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starleska · 1 year
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i think ‘Big’ Jack Horner is Disney, and here’s why
many of us have had the pleasure of seeing the incredible Puss in Boots: The Last Wish by now, and were blown away by its clever writing, enchanting animation and emotional character arcs. yet there is one character who booted the trend of having a reason for his behaviour, and outright refused to experience any growth whatsoever.
let’s talk about ‘Big’ Jack Horner, and why i think he’s supposed to represent Disney:
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‘Big’ Jack Horner isn’t just an antagonist in The Last Wish - he’s a villain. a self-obsessed, exploitative, murderous, petty, cruel bastard of a man whose awful behaviour isn’t just motivated by personal slights or childhood trauma: he sincerely enjoys hurting other people. whether it’s cheating his goons (’The Serpent Sisters’) out of a fair payment for their services or being excited about shooting a puppy in the face, there’s no denying that Jack delights in causing others pain and suffering. but what does he have to do with Disney?
let’s answer that question with another question: do you think that Jack, when placed next to the other antagonists - Goldi, The Three Bears, even Death - sticks out like a sore, plum-coloured thumb?
of course he does! but why? well, let’s look at Jack on a surface level. Jack is a monolith of a human being. not only is he physically huge and intimidating, he is the inheritor of an enormous pastry fortune and operates in the manner of a mob boss, with countless resources and a whole variety of powerful magical items at his disposal. indeed, Jack employs a crack team of bakers/assassins called ‘The Baker’s Dozen’ to carry out many of his tasks. although Jack does harm others himself, it is because of these resources - including the people who work for him - that he is able to bypass many of the obstacles faced by our protagonists in an honest and character-developing way (e.g., the Pocket Full O’Posies in The Dark Forest). Jack doesn’t need to have a character arc the way the other characters do, because he is so wealthy and owns so much.
but Jack’s reason for owning so much and being obsessed with magic and magical items isn’t through intellectual curiosity, or a traumatic backstory where he needed to learn how to wield magic. do you know what Jack’s covert motivation for owning all of the magic in the world is?
it’s money.
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when we get the flashback of Jack’s childhood, dancing for the entertainment of an audience using his nursery rhyme, we see him becoming jealous of Pinocchio - and we see Gepetto in the back, absolutely raking in the cash. if we consider this flashback as that crucial moment within which Jack decided to become what he is today - and the presence of our off-brand Jiminy Cricket inclines us to think so - then we can understand that Jack decided that from that moment forward, he would own all of the magic. 
let’s go back to The Baker’s Dozen for a moment. this team of highly-competent, multidisciplinary artisans do everything for Jack, whether it’s baking the pies which make him rich, or laying down their lives at his service. we aren’t given an in-universe reason for why they do this. yes, Jack is feared, but he is still the subject of mockery due to his humble beginnings as a nursery rhyme character. it certainly isn’t due to being treated or paid well. however, if we view the Baker’s Dozen as a metaphor for overworked, exploited artists whose views are routinely dismissed by the money-hungry, powerful corporation who owns their craft...things start to add up, don’t they? considering historic allegations of worker abuse at the hands of Disney, having Jack Horner literally step on their spines and encourage them to flex takes on a whole different meaning. 
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it doesn’t end there. do you recognise the items that Jack pulls out of his Mary Poppins bag when his Baker’s Dozen are being destroyed by the Pocket Full O’Posies - the items that he calls ‘the big guns’? it’s the broomstick from Fantasia, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, the size snacks from Alice in Wonderland, and a knock-off Jiminy Cricket from Pinocchio - all references to some of Disney’s earliest and most famous films.
still don’t believe me? well, let’s recap more of the items Jack has in his repertoire:
a hook-hand (referencing Captain Hook in Peter Pan)
a trident (referencing King Triton in The Little Mermaid)
poison apple bombs (referencing The Evil Queen in Snow White)
a glass slipper (again referencing Cinderella)
remember what happens when the knock-off Jiminy Cricket (interesting that there are so many Pinocchio references specifically, huh?) is horrified that Jack is losing so many men? Jack says he isn’t worried about losing the manpower, because he has a bottomless bag full of magical weapons. Jack literally gets his power off of the backs of his workers. sounds a lot like a big company justifying worker layoffs and exploitation because they have so many properties and are too big to fail, doesn’t it? 
hell, Jack doesn’t even know what half of these items do! when he’s using the unicorn horns as ammo, he is surprised that they cause people to explode in a shower of confetti. viewing Jack through this lens, it’s difficult not to think about enormous corporations gobbling up properties and churning out content with little to no regard for their artists (looking back at The Baker’s Dozen - some of whom do perish in the fight with the unicorn horns) or what the properties are about. we haven’t even touched on Jack coveting the Wishing Star, a recurring motif in countless Disney movies as representing magic, dreams, and boundless creativity. 
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now, i hear you saying, ‘but Star! why would DreamWorks bother writing their bad guy as a metaphor for Disney?’ believe it or not, this isn’t the first time that DreamWorks have done this. in case you didn’t know, Lord Farquaad is a caricature of Michael Eisner, former chairman and CEO of The Walt Disney Company. the production of Shrek was actually quite troubled; animators who were perceived as having failed on other projects were ‘Shreked’, or sent to work on Shrek, instead of working on other (presumed to be more lucrative) films. of course, DreamWorks was co-founded by previous Disney CEO Jeffrey Katzenberg, hence the animosity towards Disney and its works evident in the Shrek franchise. this is what formed the story of Shrek: an ugly, crude outsider character taking on the clean-cut moralising of a dictator hell-bent on a so-called ‘perfect’ world, all created against the creative backdrop of a painful separation from Disney and a great deal of pent-up rage. 
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the irreverent, crass and sometimes adult humour of Shrek was a middle finger to Disney’s high-censorship control on animation. this is why Lord Farquaad (which you may have noticed sounds a bit like ‘Fuckwad’) is so obsessed with Duloc being ‘perfect’, and why he couldn’t stand the freedom of the fairy tale creatures who are the heroes of the first Shrek movie.
in fact, this kind of meta-commentary permeates the Shrek franchise: 
The Fairy Godmother from Shrek 2, despite being a fairy tale creature herself, is highly prejudiced against characters who break out of their perceived social norms: i.e., Shrek marrying Princess Fiona and getting his Happily Ever After. she is an expansion of the control left over by Lord Farquaad, and rich because of her monopolisation of fairy tale creatures and their stories. 
Prince Charming in Shrek the Third fails miserably to capitalise on these themes, but we’ll get back to him! 
Rumpelstiltskin from Shrek Forever After tackles the gluttony of franchise reboots, and how soulless and rooted in corporate greed attempts to reboot often are. whilst not necessarily Disney-specific, Shrek Forever After follows the box office bomb that was Shrek the Third: a movie which noticeably fails to write a compelling narrative approaching any of the themes of the previous two films. the writers learned from their mistakes and wrote a movie which satirised their own selling-out of the franchise, becoming hollow and unnecessary and ‘perfect’ - the very thing they were making fun of in the earlier Shrek films.
there is one more area i’d like to touch on: Jack Horner’s source material. we know that Little Jack Horner is quite obscure: an 18th-century English nursery rhyme involving a boy who pulls a plum out of a pie with his thumb, and congratulates himself for his fortitude. but did you know that from its earliest conception, Little Jack Horner was associated with foolishness and dishonesty?
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it’s true: the simple yet inexplicable nature of the poem was lambasted for being infantile, and quickly became the subject of revision, moralisation, and even political satire. it is no mistake that to ‘be under one’s thumb’ (as many of the characters in The Last Wish are to Jack, both literally and figuratively) means to be under one’s decisive control. the choice of Jack Horner for the villain of The Last Wish is a clever one, because we could easily have ended up with a sympathetic Jack, whose ostracisation as ‘not even a fairy tale’ may have led to a justifiable motive, even for his specific brand of cruelty. but instead, the writers of The Last Wish have gone one step further; they’ve transformed a source affiliated with idiocy and deception into a metaphor for a global multimedia conglomerate...all while portraying him as simultaneously terrifying, powerful, and ridiculous. 
it has been over a decade since Shrek Forever After was released, and Disney has changed dramatically in that time. a global giant, Disney now owns more enormous money-making properties than ever thought possible, and consistently capitalises on nostalgia for its early properties to make more money and accumulate power. since breaking out of its exclusive licensing agreement with Disney in 2016, DreamWorks has had no official connection to Disney, making the ground for mockery and satirisation of the company which spawned the studio all the more fertile. ‘Big’ Jack Horner is not just a glamorous return to form for the dreadful, unapologetically evil villain which Disney has eschewed in modern times - he’s a hulking, egocentric monster whose avarice rivals that only of the corporation he’s inspired by. 
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and those are my thoughts on ‘Big’ Jack Horner! of course this is by no means the definitive interpretation - we should all just have fun with the movie and come up with whatever theories we like 🥰💖 i’d love to hear your thoughts on him and The Last Wish in general - he’s definitely one of my favourite bad guys to be released in the past few years!
thanks so much for reading, and have yourselves a wonderful day 🥰
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kiame-sama · 9 months
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Omega Marechi (Yandere!Upper-Moons x Omega!Reader x Yandere!Muzan)
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Warnings; yandere, multiple yandere, stalking, mention of violence, mention of social imbalance, my abo au (less than 1000 omegas world wide and omegas are a commodity of sorts), omega reader, abo social ladder, abo societal structure, unfair situations, instinct manipulation, kidnapping, threat of murder, blood, violence, mention of human consumption, demons, female bodied reader, female reader pronouns (let me know if y'all want a male version).
(It's a personal headcannon of mine that omegas are short & chubby, so very soft and squishy)
(Also, let me know if y'all want a continuation of this, I have a certain idea involving stockades I have been interested in trying out)
~~~~~~~~
Deep within the winding surfaces and ever changing interior of a fortress wreathed in darkness, demons began to gather. Though they were few in number, each demon had their own impressive strengths and abilities that set them apart from the many other members of their brood. Even with their combined presence and strength, their master stood above them in every way possible.
The king of demons, he who sired every other demon, stood watching his upper ranked generals as they gathered beneath him. Short dark hair seemed to swallow all light in the inky abyssal color, bright red eyes glinting like lit lanterns on the darkest of nights. His fair skin unblemished and so smooth it could be mistaken for the marble of a true artisan's finest work. Truly a vision of a true apex alpha with the beauty of a divine being.
The six generals that gathered were supposed to be without company and solely focused on their sire, yet one was not alone. Next to the top general of the king's army was a large rectangular box shape that was draped in heavy fabrics to conceal what may be held within. The fabrics seemed to be soaked in a heavy perfume mixed with the hint of an unusually appealing scent that taunted the senses.
"What have you brought, Kokushibou?"
The deep and commanding voice of the demon king rumbled out with a tint of curiosity in his tone. Where he expected quite a bit from his upper moons, even he had to admit that the actions of his top general were odd. It was not often that the upper moons did something that surprised him- and usually was met with a swift reprimand- but his curiosity had been peaked by the abnormal behavior.
Without saying a word, Kokushibou gripped the heavy fabric and quickly pulled it away, revealing what had been concealed. Beneath the cloth lay an iron cage- much like what an exotic beast would be transported in- with blankets lining the bottom of the cage for cushion. The cage itself wasn't very interesting when compared to what lay within.
Laying bound in the iron cage was a woman, her (h/c) locks strewn around her head and her (s/c) flesh looked incredibly plush and no doubt was soft to the touch. A delicate and fine silk kimono wrapped around her bound form, even that which held her was made of the expensive materials. Her eyes were covered in a long silk ribbon, mouth held shut by an intricate golden muzzle, her arms cuffed together with similarly intricate cuffs in front of her and lower legs cuffed together.
A woman- no matter how decorated- wasn't much to crow about, but the pungent scent that had been smothered by the perfumes was now free and quickly reached those nearby. There was a visible change in the way the other upper moons stood, their nostrils flaring and eyes fixed on the soft woman as they contemplated what she was. The scent reached Muzan last, but he knew immediately what was being presented to him, though he could scantly believe what his senses were telling him.
"No," Douma started, his multi colored eyes wide in disbelief, "that's impossible. Omegas aren't real! It must be a trick."
"Looks real to me. Smells real too. Actually," Akaza sniffed, looking curiously at the bound female, "she smells like a marechi."
A soft whimper came from within the cage, the female inside moving and seemingly trying to pull away from her binds. The muzzle secured on her kept her from speaking and muffled her sounds as she responded to the voices around her. Blindly she turned her head towards the sound of Akaza speaking, seemingly trying to understand where she was and who she was with.
"She was being transported as cargo on a train. From her scent, it was made clear to me that she is an Omega and a marechi. She has no mating marks present on her body. The humans transporting her were on their way to deliver her to slayers, a gift from a small village of fools."
Muzan silently descended from where he had been standing above the upper moons, approaching the cage curiously. The other demons watched in interest as their sire crouched, observing the bound female that had been presented to him. He had not encountered an omega, even in his long life, so seeing such a rare and unusual being in a cage was surreal. Truly, he had thought omegas were just another myth created by humans.
He reached a finger between the bars, his sharp nail gently scraping over the exposed neck of the omega. Naturally, she responded with a fearful sound at the feeling of something sharp against her neck, trying to writhe away from the sensation. The obvious fear was accompanied by an intense scent that prodded at their minds to defend the soft woman from whatever may be causing her distress.
Muzan observed the struggling of the delicacy he had been presented with, red eyes gleaming and unwavering. After a moment of simply watching the omega struggle, he reached his hands forward to grip the cage bars. With one flex, the metal groaned beneath his hands, crumpling like sand and bending out of shape. One of his hands held the cage still as he ripped the bar off of the cage, pulling out several more until he could access the omega.
The loud sound of the metal bending and crushing had clearly upset the omega who let out a muffled scream into the muzzle, body twisting and writhing to escape the frightening sound and its source. Another scream escaped her as one of Muazan's hands gripped the back of the her kimono, dragging her out of the remnants of the cage. A sharp scent made him freeze, the taunting ambrosia of marechi blood filled his nostrils as he moved to examine the omega.
Sitting on her cheek was the smallest of cuts, blood slowly beading along the line of the slice. Within the second Muzan noticed the small injury, a greedy mouth formed along his hand. The elongated tongue quickly stretching out and slowly laving over the gathered blood with an apparent groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest from the taste.
His pleasured sound only seemed to frighten the omega more, whimpering out and beginning to cry from the terror. It was understandable, she had been in the cage for an unknown time and now was listening to the sound of an unknown assailant flavor her blood. With a quick motion the blindfold was pulled away, revealing (e/c) eyes that were filled with delicate tears and horror.
Her gaze became fixed on the bright red eyes of the predator in front of her, body falling completely still. Much like the way an injured fawn would freeze upon seeing the open jaws of a bear. The body of the soft omega seemed to curl in on itself, as if she were trying to seem as small as possible all without looking away.
He lifted his free hand towards her and gripped her ornate metal muzzle despite her frightened sounds and slow shaking of her head back and forth. She cringed and closed her eyes tightly as his hand gripped the clasp of the muzzle that held it on.
For a moment, things seemed to stand still in baited anticipation of what the demon king would do next. All upper moons keenly awaited their sire's next move as it would determine the fate of the omega they all were interested in. Wanting to get their hands on her if he allowed her to live, or wanting a piece of her if he chose to consume her.
A soft click of metal could be heard in the profound silence as the clasp of the muzzle was disconnected.
~~0~~
You warily watched the frightening man remove the muzzle you wore, seeing how hungrily he looked at you the entire time. He seemed to be contemplating you, much like many others would when first coming into contact with you. The man- or monster, would be more accurate- suddenly grinned, hand gripping your neck and slowly lifting you up.
Even with how you struggled, the man seemed to have no problem holding you until he was fully standing. His expression became more fierce as the veins in his face became more pronounced, tongue slowly dragging over his lips. After a moment he lowered you so your feet were on the ground, no longer holding you off the ground but still holding you in place.
"You are a truly unfortunate human. Luckily for you, I intend to keep you for the time being. You staying alive or not will be determined by your actions."
~~~~~~~~
You had been taken to a large ornate bed that no doubt belonged to the demonic alpha that broke your chains but left your cuffs. From the way he stared at you, you felt like you were being appraised much in the way one would appraise a meal. A yelp escaping your lips as you were thrown down on the soft surface.
In seconds you felt the silk that held your clothing together rip open, the ornate kimono falling open. Your body was completely left exposed to the intense gaze of the man, you had been dressed for meeting several new mates who were top members of the demon slayers. Instead it seemed the demons found you and decided to keep you for the time being.
Part of you was terrified to fight back as you didn't wish to anger the demon that took you to bed. Based off of his scent, you knew you were dealing with an alpha of great strength and willpower. The alpha himself seeming to be above other alphas that you had caught the scents of whenever one would pass through your village. He was clearly the one others answered to as they had gotten out of his way rather quickly when he decided to drag you to his chambers.
You tried to keep your thighs pressed together to give yourself some kind of protection, but the demon was quick to pry them open. His gaze was intense and you felt your body warm in response to how he stared at your exposed figure. A whimper from you seemed to break the trance he was in as his eyes flicked up to look at you for several seconds.
"And still, you are afraid. Tell me, Omega, did the humans you lived amongst even give you a name, or have you always been Omega?"
"My name," you struggled to keep the fear out of your voice as you answered the alpha demon, "it's (Y/n), (L/n)(Y/n)."
"(Y/n)? I am Kibutsuji Muzan, king of demons. You have gained my attention, (Y/n), quite dangerous indeed. I expect you to be an obedient omega, understand?"
"Ye-yes, I understand, Alpha."
"Good."
You whined softly as one of his hands came up to palm your soft chest as if appraising it like fruit. His bright red eyes gleaming in interest as he observed you trying to sit still for him and let him continue what he wanted. Clearly you were a high tier omega as you were so obedient and did exactly what the alpha told you to do.
The village you grew up in must have trained you to be a good omega, taking the word of an alpha as law. In any case, he was quite pleased to have such a treasure in his grasp. He vaguely considered keeping the omega for himself, but he knew the way the upper moons stared, even Akaza showed clear interest.
An omega would certainly be a unique reward and incentive to push the upper moons further. Beyond just that, using the unique human omega sent could throw off the slayers in such a way there would be no one left to stand against the demon king.
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runaeveena · 3 months
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Your dashboard if you were in a d&d fantasy world still involved in fictional erotica discourse part 2
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⛰️ berenicesblade Follow
now that the new Mountain Angel volume has come out can we please tag spoilers, some of us are still waiting for our pigeon mail
🦚 faeynadaughter Follow
you can access the volume in full on TomePlane!
🎭 bardcampistrash Follow
until TomePlane acknowledges that its interplanar storage is made possible by binding aboleths to the plane and killing them then we are going to continue not using that platform, thanks
🦚 faeynadaughter Follow
aboleths killed my cousin who was a royal cleric. ill never understand why theres a whole movement to protect abyssal creatures when theyve caused so much damage to our kingdoms. and disliking a pocket dimension which provides thousands of people access to books? your attitude reeks of anti literaturism and mal-aligned virtue signaling and im not sure which is worse
🫒 tenthday237 Follow
Aliizya gets pregnant on page 62
⛰️ berenicesblade Follow
banished
620 Notes
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🏰 finchtruther Follow
okay but the way that faelor finch writes every song that perfectly fits pennbiel liiike its giving closet fangirl
🧭 waywardwarlock
seriouslyy!! like what else is "give me your unmarked hand / in the shadowfell we won't be a secret" supposed to be about if not pennipher and corabiel
16 Notes
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🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow
yall please dont fill up the unseen servant tag with your super fucking weird smut posts im just looking for tips on how to find my unseen servant
🪡 scç-writer
the search function on tomeblr does need to be updated but we dont have to kinkshame :)
🌫️ cloudgiant-snailboy Follow
the site is being overrun by virgin degenerates
🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor
sounds like you need Wilam the Wizard with Wandering Hands to help you summon the unseen stick in your ass
290 Notes
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🗝️ crypt-princess Follow
so whose going to be the first to commission a painting of that scene with Aliizya and the beholder 👀
🍎 bloodmaledickening Follow
i already asked my local artisan he said he's gotten two other commissions for the same scene lmao
🐁 softbarbarian
girl i commissioned a tapestry
45 Notes
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🕯️ andersfirelight Follow
friendly reminder that devil deals are a real thing that a lot of people fall victim too and that demons are malicious and do destroy peoples lives if theyre not careful so please be careful when consuming works like Hellionfinity which romanticizes devil deals and fiendish soul contracts
🌾entangled-farmer Follow
imo any work of fiction that involves a romance between any type of fiend is not just problematic but harmful
🕯️ andersfirelight Follow
i used to be indifferent to books that had devil romance interests because like thats their whole thing theyre seducing people to get their souls and the mc overcomes it, but reading through the replies i see that Hellionfinity actually ends with the devil character as the main romantic lead which is super problematic in terms of power imbalance and the fact that he has a redemption arc is so out of touch especially since our military is finally recovering from the azgurian assault
🧚🏻‍♂️arms-of-faelor
helliofinity also has a scene where the main character uses a soul coin that an imprisoned mortal gave him and he uses it to bring the devil out of avernus so he doesnt fully die and no one in the book mentions it or talks about how messed up it is to use soul coins and we never see the now bound to hell prisoner ever again
🕯️ andersfirelight Follow
hellionfinity officially cancelled on my end!
88 Notes
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☘️ celest-ial Follow
moment of silence for all the customers waiting on drink orders while the tavern wench gets her back blown out by a new guy every night ✊😔
🦁 king-killa Follow
the gods work hard but Girthy Gladys gets worked harder
57,022 Notes
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🎲 beholdersbeholdingme
paladin and warlock romances are OUT! cleric and necromancer romances are IN!
🪭 royalcoinpurse Follow
the only thing a cleric should do to a necromancer is beat him to death so she can revive him and kill him again
🎲 beholdersbeholdingme
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❇️ arch-dryad Follow
i think we need to analyze why we're so quick to place women in categories of devious seductress or healer in romance novels as if that hasnt been the pervasive trope that holds magic-touched women back in our actual society
🍯 treebarkhookhandwagondoor
why do you assume these fictional tropes are mf couples only? can a gay cleric not beat his gay necromancer boyfriend to death?
🎲 beholdersbeholdingme
and off! beat him off cmon guys
5,275 Notes
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🧀 weremouse Follow
yall ever be talking or whatnot and feel like no one understands you
🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow
ᛄᚠ ᛡᚢ ᚳᚪᚾ ᚱᛁᛞ ᚦᛄᛋ ᛡᚢ ᚺᚪᚠ ᛏᚢ ᚱᛁᛒᛚᚪᚷ ᚦᛄᛋ
🧀 weremouse Follow
say that shit fr (<- looking around clueless)
🪨 sebrenenogdon Follow
ᛋᛁᚱᛁᚪᛋᛚᛁ
60 Notes
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🌠 crownofstars
remember when that person made a call out post for the author of ilairepeler for using a ghost writer and it turned out the author was an actual ghost. writing. like a literal ghost writer. like.
🍄gnomestool Follow
arent you the dwarf that fucked a slaad
🌠 crownofstars
how would you like to become a ghost so you can write more witty comments like this for eternity
301 Notes
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tarjapearce · 7 months
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Can we get a little story or something of how would Miguel take care of pregnant mama? Like I KNOW he would do the most and go the extra mile. But can we get it in your words?
Pregnancy Cares With Miguel ~ ✨
Warning: Pure fluff and a mild squeeze of nsfw.
Let's meet this weekend. MJ and I found this new place. And the hamburgers? God. 🤌🏻🤌🏻. They have these amazing artisanal beer.
You pouted at the screen. You wanted to go for a burger, but for some reason, you retched at the smell of beef. It was a big no for you. Plus you couldn't drink, for obvious reasons.
I need an outing so badly. Need a drink, work is getting so stressful. This weekend or the next one?
Jessica replied as MJ sent a ':) ' emoji on the group chat.
Can't go :(
What? Why tf no? You've been telling me you need a break. 😐
🤰
Miguel had sent the emoji and you rolled your eyes
I WAS SUPPOSED TO TELL THEM MIGUEL!!!
Wait... Fr?! 😱
OMG ❤️
MJ texted as the rest appeared as typing.
OMG Imma be an auntie!!?? 😳
Boy or Girl?
We don't know yet
You don't know 👀
Stop. Playing.
🤭🤭
SPILL OUT THE BEANS 🙄
Peter had sent a nervous gif and you cackled.
You'll find out tomorrow 😊
I swear if you don't tell
😏😏 What's gonna happen?
Guys... Im pretty sure these sort of things got you in the current situation you're in, can you not do this in the chat please?
FR
MJ just sent a 🤭 emoji.
Fine, woosies. It's a girl. ❤️❤️💖
SHUT UP 🥹🥹
MJ sent another gif exploding in hearts
Congrats on both 🎉🎉
Miguel remained quiet. You pouted.
What you didn't know is that when he came home, he'd get you a lovely bouquet of tulips and some pickles. He'd just pulled your grumpy self into a tight loving hug as he kissed your temple repeatedly until your mood vanished.
"A girl? Really? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Cause the doctor just sent me the results! And you ruined the surprise. I wanted to tell them in a different way!"
"Yeah, yeah. It's a girl! You know what that means?"
"That I'm gonna get so fat?"
"No, mensa. And even if you did, I'd still hit that." (Dummy)
"Not funny" Your cheeks flushed softly as he chuckled.
"Means that we can finally paint her room"
Your eyes swelled up in tears upon hearing him speak so softly and lovingly. He was excited. You could tell by the little flush in his ears.
"Shopping day tomorrow?"
"Ps obvio" (Obviously )
You giggled.
.----
Ever since you told Miguel you both were expecting a girl, it was like a switch turned in him.
He'd cuddle you with such care, he'd think you'd break. Wich was annoying to you since you missed sleeping ontop of him.
And when the cravings started? Dios mío.
"M-Miguel" You'd whimper as you wiped your eyes. He'd startle and instantly go in alert mode.
"¿Qué pasó? ¿Tas bien?" (What's wrong? You ok?)
You hiccuped and weeped "We have no pickles."
He'd stare at you, trying to process the correct emotion to feel in this situation.
"You're crying cause we don't... have pickles"
"Don't be mean!"
You'd hit him softly with a pillow and curled back to your bed.
"Ok, ok, Don't cry? I'll go to the... the store. Be right back."
"Can I have Nutella too?"
"Uh, sure."
Drowsy eyes looked at the clock. 2 am. On another time, he'd surely would ignore the senseless petition and talk to go back to sleep. But how could he do that when you were pregnant? He was an ass sometimes, but with a pregnant you? Never.
He went to the store, to his dismay there was only two small pickle jars, and they were inside a lady's basket.
... Puta madre...
Why was everyone suddenly in the crave for pickles?
He didn't have to elaborate much and explained the lady. She just laughed it off and kindly surrendered them to him.
"Cravings? Oh boy. You better buy her the three jar packs. And avoid wearing too strong colognes infront of her! It might get her queasy."
"Thanks" With a polite smile he paid for the pickles and went home.
You were waiting for him, teary eyed and pouty. He opened the jar of pickles for you and stared at you with awe and a mild disgust as you dipped one of the pickles inside the Nutella and scarfed the veggie down with such hunger it made you cry again.
"Its so good."
His shoulders slumped with a sigh and wiped your chin.
"You're such a weirdo."
"Want some?"
"No, thanks. Keep eating"
"But I'll get fat"
"It's normal to gain weight during pregnancy."
"You'd love me if I was chubbier right?"
"Yes. I would. Eat your... thing."
He'd chuckle watch you eat until you were satisfied. three pickles in total with half the bottle of Nutella.
The next day he got you a small pack of pickles and two big bottles of that sweet spread to then rub your feet.
---
As time went on and your belly grew, the doctor appointments never got skipped or missed. He was there making sure everything was in order. His big hand hugging yours in a secure embrace as you got your ultrasounds. Everything was going perfectly.
The most dangerous months had passed and he allowed to breathe a bit more.
He had refused when you told him you wanted to work from home. Even if it was home office.
"No. It can lead you to stress out. And that will stress the baby out. Something can happen and no. Let me handle it."
"Stop being paranoid, I'll be fine! I just... don't like sitting all day or sleeping. I need to do something. And you didn't let me do much in the baby's room either!"
"Mi amor. You need to rest. I know you don't like it. But you need to."
"Could you at least get me an exercise ball?"
"Sure. Just don't-"
"Ay ya, Miguel! Ni que fuera a romperme!" (Stop it. I'm not gonna break!)
you whined
"I worry, mi reina."
"I know, and I appreciate it, but I gotta do something around!"
"Just promise me you'll go easy, ok?"
"Fine."
You kissed his cheek and cuddled him, the heat he provided felt heavenly against your back. You had started to waddle and to your dismay a new nickname was born. You were his Pingüinita. (Little penguin)
On the six month mark, you'd toss and turn on bed, feeling either too hot or cold. One moment you were snuggled against him, for the next to remove your clothes and lay naked next to him.
One particular night you felt suffocating. Summer was rampant and you woke up in tears at the oppressing heat.
He'd wake up no long after and filled in the bathtub with the right kind of water. Sweat and hormones raging on your body. Despite sleepiness clinging to him, he'd help you to the tub and bathe you.
Big and gentle hands massaged your wet scalp to then massage your shoulders and lower back. He splashed your body with water and kissed your temple carefully.
"Feel better? "
"Great, thank you, mi amor."
He'd smile lazily and remained there with you, almost falling asleep again in the bathroom until you were ready to leave to sleep.
- - -
He'd buy you long and cotton nightgowns. They were breathable and made everything a bit more comfortable for you, along some essential vitamins. And a hammock for the porch. He'd find you sleeping often in there.
Whenever you went out with the rest he'd make sure that none ordered meat. You still were sensitive to the smell, despite Peter longing for a burger.
Miguel would bathe with you to help you wash your back. But it was just an excuse to touch you and feel you. He'd be as gentle as he could with you. It turned him on to see you swelling with his child. Even brought out things he didn't know was into. Like, a lactation kink. And eat you out despite your protests of not being able to see him.
He was absolutely moonstruck with you. And when the time for you to deliver his baby finally came. He tried to remain strong and collected, despite his hands trembling like an earthquake. He kept an eye on you like a hawk, always looming around you.
He couldn't help but melt when Gabriella's cries echoed loud and healthy on the room.
He kissed you with such pride in his eyes that you'd think he was about to cry.
He knew his life with you had just started, and he was glad he had chosen you. Happy and grateful even. You just made him a dad of a wonderful little girl that instantly quieted down when he held her in his arms. One of the nurses snapped a picture of him holding and cooing Gabi as you got a well deserved nap.
Despite him not being a texter, he sent the picture of Gabi to the group chat.
OMG! Congratulations! she's so beautiful! 😊
I wanna cry so badly right now. She's gorgeous 🎉🎉
I'm an uncle now. :') So proud of you, Miguel.
Thanks
When can we see her?
Lemme ask Pingüinita and I'll let you know.
🐧?
695 notes · View notes
aphroditelovesu · 4 months
Note
Hello. Can you write yandere husband Jaehaerys i Targaryen ?
❝ 🔥 — lady l: I got a little carried away, I'm not going to lie. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💚
❝tw: none, just fluff and soft!yandere.
❝🔥pairing: yandere!jaehaerys i targaryen x female!reader.
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Jaehaerys married you before he became King. He had known you for a long time and your house was noble enough that he could marry you without any problems or many complaints and he did so as soon as you were both old enough to do so. He couldn't wait any longer to have you for himself.
Normally he should marry his sister, but he didn't want to. He wanted you. You had known each other since childhood and Jaehaerys knew that he could not marry any other woman but you. Not when he already loved you from that time. And you were perfect for him, not only was your lineage noble and good but you were good for him.
Jaehaerys had made all the right preparations. He had checked your background and was always meticulous about you. He loved you, but he would be King one day and he needed to be careful about his marriage and his future Queen.
He wanted to establish a bond with you, something emotional so that your marriage didn't depend solely on politics. Jaehaerys used to send you letters, telling you stories about the Targaryens and about him. And in return, you were give him letters about yourself and stories that you read in books.
Once the arrangements were made, he was very satisfied. You could become his wife and he your husband. He was eager for you to officially become his. He couldn't wait to start having children with you.
The wedding was grand, as expected of a future King and you looked absolutely stunning. As a future Queen should be.
Handmade, your dress was made with lush fabrics and intricate details, it exuded an aura of romance and tradition. Delicate embroidery adorned your bodice, reminiscent of the patience and skill of dedicated artisans. Your skirt flowed like a dream, with layers of tulle and lace that danced in the wind, while your train dragged along the floor, leaving a trail of stories of eternal love wherever you went.
The wedding night had been good and pleasant for both parties. Jaehaerys delighted in taking you as his wife, in touching you and giving you pleasure while also hoping to impregnate you. The way his kisses were sweet and his fingers touched you left you breathless.
The marriage with Jaehaerys was pleasant and you learned to love your husband despite his possessive and protective behavior. You assumed this was how a husband who loved his wife was supposed to behave, so you didn't mind. You were happy and your husband seemed perfect.
So kind and passionate, there wasn't a day that went by where he wasn't looking at you with heart eyes, his purple eyes sparkling when you caught him looking at you. He loved it even more when your face was red, not knowing what to do with the looks of your husband. So innocent and so his.
You were spoiled and pampered to no end, he doesn't have any kind of financial care to spoil you, you were his wife, nothing more fair than fulfilling all your desires and whims. Everyone must obey your orders without blinking or they will have to deal with Jaehaerys.
Once he became King and you officially received the title Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, you played a large role in his politics. You presided over his council and gave your opinion, to the chagrin of some lords and the delight of your husband who trusted you completely.
You were not only his wife, someone who was only supposed to bear him children, but also an advisor, a Queen, valued by Jaehaerys, collaborating with him in matters of state and being a shrewd mind behind the important decisions of the realm.
Jaehaerys showed his affection in subtle ways sometimes, such as leaving little surprises for you at unexpected times, like flowers in your chambers or gifts made especially for you, showing his affection in subtle and discreet ways.
You took time to travel together, exploring the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, strengthening your bond not only with each other, but with the other Lords, and creating precious memories outside of royal compromises.
Jaeherys was your perfect husband, he put you above everything else and did whatever you wanted. He loves you deeply and just wants you to be happy. He trusts you like no one else and you have all the power over him. Even more so when you get pregnant with your first child.
You have the King on his knees for you whenever you want. He is yours and you are his. He was always yours.
501 notes · View notes
chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months
Note
Hello! I really enjoyed your fic with the Tav who couldn’t see well. It was really sweet! If you’re still accepting requests, may I request a similar one where the reader needs glasses to see and during a battle they break or get lost. Now they can’t see well and they’re trying not to panic while there’s threats everywhere, but thankfully Astarion notices something’s wrong and helps them. Thank you!
Admiring from Afar (GN! AFAB Reader x Astarion) Part 1- MDNI 18+ ONLY
Part Title is inspired by the song “She” by Dodie (I feel like it reflects Astarion’s POV/feelings towards Tav in this story)
This was not originally supposed to be as long as it is, but the concept started taking on a life of it's own. I hope you enjoy! I will hopefully be positing Part 2 within the next few days!
  CW: Angst (?), violence, jealousy, fluffy (hopefully very? But who knows), smut because apparently I’m in a giving mood (I’m sorry I had to make the joke.), MDNI 18+ only, dom/sub sexual relationship.
Note- this is Unascended Astarion x GN! reader
*This has been proof read one time. It is 2:04 am and I have work in 6 hours LMFAO
Gif belongs to- ibacchante from Tumblr!
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    The campfire crackles in the distance and you think you even hear the faint sound of music.  You desperately yearn to be near the warmth of the fire talking to or watching one of your companions give a dramatic retelling of their experiences in battle.
  The warmth of your companions made places like the Shadow-Curse Land feel a lot less scary and foreign- they provide some normalcy in this strange journey. 
Unfortunately, you are hunched over in your cold tent with nothing but a light cantrip and your will power. You squint as you etch details into the oxen bone, taking the time to add the touches of silvery white dye to add an ethereal effect. Your hands cramp as you work to keep the paint within the designs you carved into the bone.
You have been painstakingly working on this necklace for a little over a month- maybe two? You have lost count at this point, but the calluses on your fingers tell you it’s been a while now since you started this project.
  You polish the bone with your cloth, wiping away the debris from your knife. You admire your handiwork; a perfect carving of the Elven Rune- Cadaith. You were able to create a loop at the top of the necklace for the long, thin, black leather strip you had been holding onto since the day after the Tiefling party- the same day you decided to take on this hand numbing project.
  You and your crew of oddballs had come through for the locals and obliterated the Goblin Camp Leaders- the tieflings had come to your camp and had decided to celebrate.
  It wasn’t that you were opposed to parties, but you’re not the most social person despite your profession as an Artisan. You miss the calm, quiet group of Druids you used to travel with- you even miss the hardwood floor of the Caravans and how much of a pain in the ass they were to fix. You miss not having to spend every waking moment and all of your strength on battling and the art of deception. You miss your tools and the landscapes you use to find your resources. You love to make crafts out of anything in the wild.
 Back to the rowdy tiefling party- again, you aren’t necessarily against parties, but they are overwhelming.
And the men! They are entirely too vulgar after a couple drinks. Silvanus help you if you had another drunk man stumble up to you and ask if he can, “fuck your brains out.” 
 Another man had begun to make his way towards you when you felt a cold hand grab you by the elbow and haul you off into the forest. It had been Astarion- who you had agreed to share a bed with that night. You had shared a bed before- after a camp party to celebrate killing Auntie Ethel, but nothing could have prepared you for the second time and how mind-blowing it would be (you had been excruciatingly awkward as it was your first time ever- he was pretty understanding thank Gods).
  “Astarion-”
  “Yes Darling?”
   He stops and looks at you- you look around and realize you are far from camp. You fiddle with your hands nervously- picking at your nails. 
“I um-” you clear your throat, “I really appreciate you- well- um… coming to my rescue, but I really don’t want to be a bother to you- you don’t need to stay wit-”
 You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before he was gently kissing you. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your glasses are entirely foggy from your breathing and you smile at him coyly as he pulls away. He gives you a genuine, real laugh before taking your glasses off and wiping them clean for you. You put them on, your eyes back in focus as you avoid his eyes.
He leans in and begins kissing along your neck, along your jawline, and back to your lips. He kisses you roughly, his tongue flicking across your lower lip, asking for access. He lifts you up from under your thighs before backing you into a tree. 
  He grinds up into you- his erection pressed against the burning heat in your core. He pulls at your shirt strings and gives you a look as if to ask if he can continue. You grab his face in your hands and kiss him as an answer to his question. 
  He discards your shirt and makes quick work of your trousers and under garments- all while kissing you so deeply the world is spinning and your entire body feels numb. 
  Suddenly he has you on your back as he smiles down at you mischievously. You look away, embarrassed as he takes in the sight of your body; a breathy chuckle leaves his lips as he gets up and makes quick work of his own clothes.
 You feel the space between your legs grow warmer and needier as you watch him stroke himself before he settles himself between your legs. He presses soft kisses all over your face as he inserts a finger between your folds and begins to toy with your clit. You whimper and moan as he pumps his finger in and out of you.
  “Good girl,” he growls into your ear and inserts another finger, picking up the pace.
  A soft, gasp escapes your lips as your walls stretch to fit around his other finger- getting to the point of borderline tears as you feel your orgasm get closer and closer. Astarion watches you use a stream of profanities, your hands gripping the grass so hard it's ripping. He kisses you on your forehead then- he stops. 
 You keen in protest from the emptiness between your thighs, but your words die on your lips as he pushes himself all the way between your folds, all the way to the hilt. You claw at his back, a pleased whimper escaping your mouth. He begins to kiss your jaw before you capture his lips with yours- he’s still not moving inside of you as you kiss him feverishly- your hands entangling themselves in his hair. He groans against your lips, holding you down by your waist and not allowing you to move. When you attempt to move your hips upward, desperate to get some friction, he groans in your mouth before pulling out completely and then thrusting himself roughly back into you. You look at him in anticipation as he gets off of you, still inside you as he adjusts your left leg so that he can get more access and he begins to massage your sore, neglected nipples with his fingers. 
You are desperate for any movement from him and you can tell he knows it- even in your drunken haze. 
 “Please.”
“Please what, my dear?”
 He says before pulling out to thrust into you completely again. You cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look away from him, trying not to let him have the satisfaction.. 
  He hums as he roughly grabs your jaw, making you look him in the eyes.
 “Tell me, Darling,” a sly, teasing smile on his beautiful face, “do you want me to fuck your brains out?”
You nod and he pinches your nipples roughly- you arch your back and you feel him lift your hips up before spanking you hard.
"You don't get anything until you answer my question," he goads, his hand snaking it's way around your throat, "so tell me, do you want me to fuck your brains out?"
"Y-es. Yes I want you to fuck me ple-" he cuts you off with a snap of his hips.
He grabs your jaw roughly with his hands, "You know that's not what I asked you."
He begins to slowly move in and out of you, teasing you mercilessly. You groan in frustration- he knows he’s the only person who can say this to you and demand you to say it back to him.
"Please Astarion," you say tearfully, your need for pleasure taking over, "please fuck my brains out."
He smiles at you widely, "it would be my pleasure."
You whine and he pulls out of you, rolling you over onto your hands and knees. He comes up behind you and his hands find purchase in your hair as he begins to pound into your mercilessly. You lose yourself in pleasure- surely alerting everyone and their mothers to your activites- and if it's not the vulgar moans, it's the filthy sound of your bodies colliding.
He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, switching to putting his hand around the upper part of your throat, and puts his fangs to your neck, teasing the skin as he fucks up into you. You have one of your hands wrapped around his arm as he chokes you and the other is touching your clit- the coil of pleasure building up in your stomach as you whisper your consent between moans for Astarion to drink from you. He gives you a pleased hum in response.
The moment his fangs are piercing your neck is the same moment your orgasm rips through you and you have to fight not to slump against him. You feel his strong arms hold you up as he keeps fucking your sensitive mound, chasing his own orgasm. He stops sucking from the bite marks on your neck, lapping up the blood that begins to slowly trickle down towards your shoulders and chest. He let’s go of his grip on your throat and pushes you back onto your belly before roughly inserting himself inside you again.
"You are such a good girl," he grunts, "you are taking me so fucking well."
You begin to feel lightheaded when he finally cums inside you. Good thing you have a potion for that.
You both get your clothes on and he whisks you away to his tent- where you cuddled and talked for almost the entire night.
  The sex, as noted, is amazing, but you also enjoy so much more of him than just his body. You know Astarion struggles to believe you find anything about him interesting outside of sex, so you make a point of reminding him about all the other wonderful parts of him and you don't ever ask for sex or sexual favors. That ball is in his playing field as far as you are concerned.
You find yourself gravitating back to Astarion’s tent every night to listen about a new book he is reading or just to let him shower you with (arguably) questionable knowledge about the higher ups in Badlur's Gate . Sometimes you just talk about your lives, tangled in each other’s embraces, and falling asleep that way.
You had begun sleeping in the same tent shortly after he drank from you for the first time. You had been scared during a storm one night and he had heard you sniffling in your tent. You missed the safety of your Caravan during those first two weeks. 
  He had quickly dragged you over to his tent- griping about his hair, how “I told you that you needed better camping equipment”, and “really darling? Why are you wearing clothes with holes in them? No wonder you’re scared.”
    You have had an incredibly close bond ever since and you speak very freely with one another. You still become closed off every now and then (mostly from being socially and emotionally exhausted) but he was content to sit in the silence and just be in each other’s company. If he's in a grouchy mood, you sit with him in silence or let him just talk at you, and you support him when he wakes up from a particularly grueling nightmare. You rarely, if ever, go to your tent or stay in your tent anymore.
  However, your current passion project was not to be seen by his eyes until it was completely finished- hence the reason why you are in your freezing, semi abandoned tent. You enchant the amulet with “Invisibility” and after a test, you can proudly say your necklace for Astarion is ready.
  Shortly after the fight with the Goblins, Astarion had been complaining to you about how Gale “ate” the last necklace of Invisibility that they had found. 
  “He did call finders-keepers.”
 “Finders-keepers my ass, Darling. If he really believed that rule he wouldn’t have inhaled it the way he did right after finding it.”
  “It was rather unbecoming of him, wasn’t it?”
 “Cazador has done a lot of horrible, vile things to me over the last two centuries,” he scoffs, “but, Gale eating a perfectly good Amulet of Invisibility has somehow landed in the top 20 of worst things to happen to me.” 
  After that, you began your work on the Amulet and now that it’s finished- you get to give it to him.
 The idea makes your stomach turn. 
  What if he hates it?
  It’s not really his style, but you don’t make gaudy jewelry and you tried your best to make it look like it shimmers (you succeeded FYI, Nat 20 all the way). You hope he appreciates it on principle alone and doesn’t criticize you too harshly if he dislikes it. When you ran the idea by Karlach and showed her your sketch, she was immediately convinced that he would adore your gift.
“Don’t worry about a thing Soldier,” she said cheerily, “Fangs is going to adore it as much as he adores you!”
  You wrap the necklace in the nice, silk handkerchief and stuff it into the little leather bag. You take one final deep breath before pushing through the tent flap. You look around camp and see that mostly everyone is in their tent- Astarion included- but Wyll is by the fire dancing. You remember joking about him giving a demonstration for the camp. As you begin to walk towards Astarion’s tent- Wyll calls out to you.
 “Tav,” he says brightly, “join me for a dance?”
 Another thing you love about Astarion- he is very good at telling people ‘no’ for you. Yes, you should be sticking up for yourself and setting boundaries on your own. You are so wired to make everyone else happy that it impedes your ability to say no. Astarion is helping you learn and supports you when you freeze up, but Astarion is not here in this moment and if he hears what Wyll has said to you- he has made no indication of it.
  You smile tightly and put the pouch in your pocket before taking his hand. You are basically robotic as you go through the motions and yet- for some Gods forsaken reason Wyll plants a kiss right on your lips. As he pulls back and sees your look of absolute horror- he begins to apologize profusely. 
 “Honestly Wyll,” you awkwardly squeak out,”it’s totally fine. I just- um- well… I really like Astarion and I’m not looking elsewhere.”
 “I understand and as disappointed as I am- I am grateful for your forgiveness and I hope we can remain friends.”
 You smile brightly, “Thank you Wyll and of course. Good night.”
 He bids you farewell and you walk with extra pep in your step. You set a boundary and you are over the moon excited to share with Astarion. 
  Except when you get inside the tent- all of your stuff is right in the entryway. Astarion has his back facing you and is pretending to be interested in a book. You frown.
 “Star?”
 “Oh don’t worry Darling- I figured I would save you the uncomfortable conversation,” he says with apathy in his voice, “we both know those aren’t your strong suite.”
  You flinch at his cold, blank tone and the harshness of his words. You feel yourself becoming consumed with confusion and hurt. Your hand is clutching onto the pouch in your pocket. He looks at you and he looks far away despite the smile on his face.
 “Well go along now, I’m sure your new lover is waiting for you. I’m happy for you honestly,” he pauses, giving you a cold, malicious grin, “pretending to be invested in this connection has really been bothersome these last couple weeks.”
  Logically, a part of you knows he is just jealous and is lashing out. You should stay and try to explain what happened- reassure him even? 
  Emotionally? You feel like you just got stabbed over and over again. Oh and then someone came up to you and used a shocking grasp. You try to open your mouth, the tears welling in your eyes as you look at him. 
  He just looks at you coldly, “Well, leave.”
  You wordlessly nod, dropping the leather pouch back into your pocket and you grab your things and numbly head back over to your tent. You roll out your bed roll and stare up at the dark tarp above your head; you let the tears stream down your face as silent sobs wrack your body. You already miss him.
 _________________________________________________
  You didn’t sleep well that night- you woke up with puffy eyes and a sore throat. You had spent the majority of the night freezing and jumping at every noise. You would get the occasional thirty minutes of sleep here and there, but if you weren’t scared awake, your bruised, broken heart woke you up. Your heart thumped unevenly all night- worried the bumps in the night were Astarion packing up his things and leaving. 
  Your chest aches as you get ready to leave and you are grateful that the Shadow-Cursed Lands are so poorly lit because it allows you to hide the rough night you have. You are also grateful to see Astarion is still here.
You, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Wyll set out to explore more of the Shadowlands. Karlach told Astarion he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to- you were too tired to say anything in response to his complaints and you suppose Karlach became fed up. He’s quiet after that, so quiet you think he might have left. Except you hear him chatting with Wyll during a short rest.
  Shadowheart walks happily next to you- chittering about Dark Justiciars and how she can feel Shar or whatever. You are just trying to focus on her and stop thinking about him. You have been successful in avoiding him and not looking at him for the entirety of the morning and you need to keep it that way. 
  _________________________________________________
   Astarion can’t place where in the conversation he went wrong, but the fight with Malus Thorm has been nothing short of a disaster. The Sisters are ruthless and Malus is much stronger than any of them anticipated at first glance.
  Astarion usually fights right at your side, but he assumes that your new lover will be keeping you safe. He suppresses the bile and tears that threaten to come up. He has your protection still and he knows that because Wyll would have thrown him out of camp otherwise. He was never meant to end up with you- you were always meant to be a means to an end.
If anything, he should be thrilled for you. Wyll is a good, decent man and much worthier of your affections than Astarion could ever be.
 So why does it hurt so fucking much? And why did he want to kick Wyll over a ravine when he kissed you?
He shakes the thought as he strikes down two more Sisters. He steals a glance in Wyll’s direction (to check on you) and immediately notices that you are nowhere in the premises and the Blade of Frontiers was battling with Karlach. Astarion scans the room in a frenzy of panic.
   He turns around just in time to see Malus lift you up by your neck and fling you into a column. Your glasses fell to the ground as your back makes contact with the stone and the sound of shattering bones echoes through the room as the Sisters begin to move forward.
 Astarion watches in horror as you are struggling to pop up and begin touching the floor around you , but by the time you seem to realize finding your glasses is a moot effort- the Sisters descend on you as Malus turns his attention to Wyll and Karlach.
  Wyll acknowledges what just happened, but doesn’t go to help you. Anger rips through Astarion like a wildfire as Wyll turns and tells Shadowheart you need help. He’s about to help Malus take out Wyll- until another scream for help pierces the air as you throw random cantrips at your attackers.
 Astarion rushes forward, cutting his way through the remaining Sisters in the middle of the room. He really could give a shit less at this time if it pisses Wyll off that he was the one who protected you- in fact, he’s probably going to be stabbing Wyll when you all get back to camp. 
  Astarion destroys the Sisters surrounding you in a flurry of gore and steel. He ignores his other companions as he searches for you frantically. 
  You had disappeared by the time he came to your aid. Astarion knows that you have a tendency to slip into your Cat form when you are particularly scared and can’t see- using the animal’s powerful nose to guide you away from danger. 
 Astarion goes near the beds and crouches down- a sigh escaping his lips. 
  All 8 pounds of you and your black fluff is crouched under the bed and you hiss in surprise when he clicks his tongue at you. You squint your eyes at him before sniffing the air. You cautiously walk forward and sniff his outreached hand. You begin to purr loudly and rub your head against his knuckles.
 He laughs with a mix of hysteria and joy as the realization that you are okay settles into his bones.
 “It’s okay Little Love, the Sisters are dead,” he says softly, “I’m so sorry, I should have been next to you. I just assumed a beast with such prowess as yourself would be able to fend for themselves.”
 You meow in indignation as you climb on top of him to bite the tip of his nose and he can’t help but laugh. 
“Does your ego hurt less now, Little Love?”
You give him an amused look that makes him bust out laughing again.
He had asked you once why you were just a Black domestic cat instead of a Panther. You had argued that you are just as ferocious as a Panther in that form. Not to mention, you would have a better chance of shooting an arrow straight than turning into a Panther, but you weren’t about to admit that (even though he knows). 
   Astarion scoops you up in his arms and pauses- the smell of your blood floods his senses. He grabs you by your scruff and you yelp as he inspects you for injuries. 
  You scratch at his hand and he drops you. You yowl in pain and leer at him as you begin to change back into your humanoid form. 
If Astarion was capable of feinting, this would have been that moment. He drops to his knees beside you and begins trying to find a healing potion to take the edge off.
  You have a compound fracture where your shin was and it’s bleeding heavily. Your right shoulder is out of place, your left wrist is twisted in an atypical fashion, and your left cheek is blooming with an angry, purple bruise. He winces when you inhale a sharp breath as you try to breathe in, clutching at your rib cage. 
He doesn’t catch the choked gasp that climbs up his throat in time- your eyes search for him in the dark before finally settling on him.
“Your beautiful eyes are really helpful when it’s blurry.”
Your voice is so tired and he can hear the pain in your voice.
“How come?”
“I can actually find you,” you pause, “you make me feel safe.”
  You look at him, your eyes glassy with shock. You smile brightly at him and he smiles brightly back at you. He never thought anyone would associate him with protection, safety. Your words echo in his brain.
You’re make me feel safe.
You go to say something again before you look at him with wide, scared eyes and promptly lose consciousness. The scream that comes out of his mouth is foreign to his own ears. It sounds fearful, angry- heartbroken. Astarion tries to shake you awake, yelling your name over and over.
 “Please wake up Darling- you’re safe,” he whispers through choked sobs, “come back to me please.” 
Nothing. He can barely tell if you are breathing still as your heart thuds softly in your chest. He calls for Shadowheart two, three, four more times.
"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want to have to be without you forever- I can't be."
  The weight of his words hits him like a train- his plan had well and truly failed. Under normal, non- life threatening emergency situations, he would probably panic about the strength of his emotions. Instead, he sits here begging for the chance to be able to tell you how he really feels. He wants to move so badly, to drag Shadowheart over here to heal you, but he can't bare to leave you in your vulnerable state. He keeps calling for Shadowheart- his voice begins to crack.
Astarion feels the worst of his anxieties vanish as you suddenly start taking long, ragged, tired breaths. He grabs a healing potion out of his pocket and tilts your head as he pours it into your mouth. You swallow the fluid gingerly. Your eyes are barely open when he hears you communicate through the tadpole.
Thank you for saving me. Again.
Astarion slowly strokes the side of your face, brushing the flyaway hairs out of your eyes.
"I saved you for my own selfish reasons," he whispers, while taking your right hand gently, "close your eyes and rest- I will keep you safe. Shadowheart is coming."
You nod lazily before closing your eyes, your hand in his still. Astarion sighs in relief when your breathing gets stronger, but he is no healer. Where the hells is that damn Cleric!?
 “Shadowheart!!!!”
577 notes · View notes
alta1red · 3 months
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—Hazbin Hotel: IMAGINE . " / The Darling Artisan from the Clouds .
Sypnosis : [ NAME. ] is an artist from Heaven, desperate to get away from her admirers —Sadly, plans don't always go accordingly, and Heaven's feathers are quite ruffled up by your sudden disappearance...
↺——————————「 ✭  ✝  ✭ 」——————————↻
「  Imagine reader, [ NAME. ]. Being one of the most prized possession's of Heaven itself —Bringing, Soul and the Arts to it as every peacefully ( boring ) day goes by, even gaining the title "Heaven's sweet Artisan." Nice ! She also garnered the loving attention of the citizens of Heaven.. Nice ! Many people adore her.. Nice ! Many people don't realize it's not love, it's obsession... Nice?
Although, you could suppose it's well.. better than most conditions —It just felt awfully suffocating, that's all ! You weren't trying to be ungrateful right ? Right.
But as each day go by, the same routine is what you were always face to face with —It felt robotic to you in a sense, in a sense of you trying not to lose what little sanity and patience you had left that is. And while, yes. You did try, key word in 'try.' to explain it to probably every higher up in Heaven, they all brushed you off saying it was a trick of the mind, it's Heaven after all ! Nothing's bad.
And maybe.. maybe you got a spark of inspiration, from a certain tale —to go down.. and maybe..
.
.
.
So, after taking precautions you were in Hell —Nice ! The color scheme here was much more harsh and violent than the one you were used to.. But it's a change of scenery, and a change of people !
How down hill can things go?
It's chaos in Heaven,
A certain Seraphim Angel tried to keep the citizens of Heaven under high hopes that their precious Artist was just out and about, although —with the Archangel's not being able to find her..
T̸̰̹̟̦̳̰̿̿̀̿h̴̢̼͚̝̯̓͐̄̈́͂̓̽̑͑ͅì̷̧͇̭̫̆̈́s̵̨̛̹̤͆̆̌̾̒̕͘ ̸̹̩̦̞͍̖͊̂ỉ̴̢͎̦͚̻̱͒͆s̵͇͍͎̙͖̪̯̜̝̝̒̀̎̈́͛̽̅̈̒ ̵͕̟̫̣̹͇͖̅̃̾̇͊͋̅̅̍͠w̷͙̪̣̹̐̇̕h̷̡͍̪̩̘͓̤͇̮͒̊à̸͇͔̣̹̱̣͖͔̳̱̊͌̔̀͗t̷̙̥͓̼̩͗̊̌͗̂ ̸̖͊͊̂̓͛̚͠͠y̴̼̼̱̮̹͙̦̥̕o̵̟̝̲͉͚͎̩̗̔̔̄́̋͐̏͐́ư̷̢̰̖̩̲̞̭̘̲̩̈́̑͒͌͋̉̋̀͠ ̴̡̦̞̃̊͗̐w̴̤̙̳̽̌͌̿͒̀̾̒á̵̟̫̩͓̦̠̭͊̅̓́̒̐͑͝͝n̴̖̹̯̯͊̾̐̾̔t̸̯͖͉̺̑̿̈́̏̈͜e̷̳̓̌̚̕d̵̩̜͐̃̀̇̎͐̚,̸̺͍͍̄͋̑̈́ ̸̧̧̥͍͔͚̣̭͔͗̔͑͋͝í̵̛̥̙̬͚͙̗̺̈́̏ș̶͍̝͍̳͎̈́̑̈́̅ņ̷͓͈̟̮͇̣̠͉̿̓̄̌'̸̟͓͐̍̈́̉̿̈́̚ţ̶̖̟̱̜͚͕̰̮̍́̾͝ ̴̣͉̦̫̣̠̼̥̰͈̾̀̐ì̸̗̗̦̟̞͍̠̟̋̃̚͜t̷͓̗̰̥͙̭̻̥̅̌̔̀̒͊̎͋̿͋͜͜ ̸̜͇͂̄̑͒̀͂̐͘͝[̵̨̡͖̥̻̣͙̈́͘̕͜ ̵̛̲̃̓͘N̶̟͈̫̙̈́͌A̷̦͎̘͎̙͕̎͌͆͝M̸̛̭͙̮̳͘Ě̷̫̰͆̍̋̀.̷̮̺͙̖̞̻̃́́ ̷̥̲̉]̴͕̗̳̘̜͚̔͌ ̷̨̺̼̗̻͛͛͝?̸͇͚̅̓̿̔͋̅̉ ̵͔̩̼̒͐͐̉̐̓́͆̚Ā̴̳̞͈̤̺̺̀̄̎̄̏̃̓̇l̵̲͖̒̀̌̀̿̕͝w̷͎͂̓̎̓̀̒̅̊͘͠ͅã̸̛̟͙͈̤̗̱͐͊̿̿̈́͂͆̈́ý̴͚̹̪̝s̴̗̼͇̾̆́̾̑͆ ̶̭̪̲͇̺̔̀̍̅̋̂͗͝ͅs̷̠̜̙̎͊͋͊̉̔̀̽̕͠o̸̜͐̆ ̷̞̘̝̺͚͂̃́̃̓̔̂̊́̔r̵͈̱̤͕̀͛̒͂͊̂ͅe̴̼͚͗̐̽̏̚͝b̴̮̜̎͗̒̿͜ȩ̵̖͐̌l̶̨̡̧͎̜͙͑̌̊̽̕l̸̨͎̞̞̈́̚i̸̛̼̭̮̔͐̃̆̚ͅo̸̱̖͕̐͐̀u̵͓̖̭͉̟̱̙̲͕͆̔s̴̖̜̻̥̩̏̈́̀͂̑ ̸̛̝̞͚̫̌̚͜i̴͓̬͓̱͔͓̥͊͆̓̆ņ̵̧̧̫̫̺̥̈́̌̓́͗̎̐͊̚ ̷̨̙̞̩̻̺̱͛̊̒͆̐̔y̴̮̼̬̗͇͎̻̒̏͒ͅỡ̵̗͠ų̶̻͎̭̈́̑̑r̵̼̺̬̮̆͊͘ ̵͕̤͖̱͇̟̪͚̈̔̃͘͝͝ͅs̸̖̮̣̯͙͍̻̙̈́̿́͗͌̚̕͜c̶̨̢̘͚̩̩̉̇͊͜ẖ̴̨̥̻̳̘̩̬̥́͒̓̍͆͘͝ẹ̴̛̳͈͚̈́̇͜m̵͓̻̩͎̤̞̻̂̆͐ȩ̵̛̻̈̂̐̃̍͆̈́͝s̷̞̮͔̼̞̮͎̻̲̀̋̽̌͘,̶̡͓͇͙͋͒̋̾̉̕̕ ̴̬͓̼̆͆̉̓̆́͝ẏ̴̡̢̛̱̮̉̈́ǫ̵̝̜̺͖̦̮̿̈́̎͋͝ŭ̷̘̺̞͋̇͂̓̓'̶̝̙̓̔̽̈̋̍̉̀͘l̷͚̦̥̠̞̭̙͉̫̎͌̎̓͆̕ĺ̵̞͚̳͑̌̄̎ͅ ̵̡͇̋̍͑͂̅b̴̹͓̞̹͔̦̯̣̆͊̃̂̓̾e̵̢̛͓͇̬͖̺̜̺͗̎̌͐̕ ̴̫͊͂̀̇̓͐̓̂p̶͚̤̘̲͝u̴̜̹̟̥͑̈́͌̽̋̀͝͠͝ṅ̴̠̘̻̑̽͆į̵̧̘͕͚̣̖̼̟̮͒̊̓s̶̞̰͚͛̒̔̌̈́h̸̛͔͈̱͚̝̱̱̼̞͙͝͠e̴̡̳͔̦̝͖̊̉͗̊̾̄͘d̸̨̰̺͍̓͌͒̔̔͌͠ ̴̛̗̫̈́̅́͋͒̏̾̚a̴͎̹̮͔̮͕̩͊̃c̶̮̻̉̈́̀̓̈́̕͝ͅc̶̜̣͇͋̐͜ọ̸̥̽̊͑̌͋̎̔̾̑̚r̴̫̰͉͇̺͉̺̐ḋ̸̲̭̙̤̝̗͇͂̄͌͌̊́̓͒͠i̷̼̗̠̣̳̓ň̶̨͔͚̦̱̳̱̟͎͌͌́̓̔͝ͅg̸̛̖̔̀̋͐͒͛̓̚͝ḻ̴̨̡͙̣̹̻̄ỳ̷̞̺̖̑͊̎̀̉̑̚͠ ̸̼͉̱̱̲̱̮̓̒͜ō̵̼̤̜̈́̕͝͠n̵̢̛͛͗͛̓̏̀̂͌̕c̸̛͕̟͉̹̝̩̹̙̓e̵͐̅̐͜ ̵̩̼̩̹͖̀̀̽͆͜y̵̗̮̼̱͉͌͜ͅͅo̶̢͖̽͒ͅǘ̶͕̦̲̣͒͂̋̅̅͛̎ ̶̛͕̬̻̹̤̄͛g̴̨̈́͒̏́̊́ẽ̶̝͇̆͠͝t̷̹̺͎͕̙̳̜̣̫̎̽̋̓̎ͅ ̷̨̞̯̺̔͆b̵̢̟͔̬̓́̉́̓̚͝a̶̡͓̰̥̓͗͂͆̾̍̒̈́͝ĉ̸͕k̵̮͙̙͈̗̤̝̙̏̈̅͋̿̈́̿̚̚ ̴͍̘̮͒̒́͌̽͌̆̍̋̚—̸̖͈̄̔͋̔̕͜à̵̱̐̆̏̉͌͝n̵̜̠̆͐̈̌d̵̰͙̦͍͕̖͎͍̣̜̋̑͝ ̶͉̼̱̝̝̥̾͛̌̏̏̂́̆͊͊͜d̶̢̪̹͇͐͆̅̍̀̃͋̀̓o̷̤̠̞̻̍n̵̛͎̜̤̾͆̈̓̑͝'̴̘̯̱͍́̉̐̽̇͝͠t̸̡̗̖̎ ̷̹͓̬̮̏̒̈́̒͐̆̑͠͝y̴̡̗̯̞͗̇̍̚ͅo̷̪̰̔̓͛̀̍͌͝͝u̵͐��͉̹ ̸̭̬͕̩͈͉̭̑̌̈́͛̔ͅt̶̬̭̪̎̿͆̾̌̌h̵̡͙͉̳̝̤̣́͑̐̎̈́̇͋̽͝͝i̷̛͍̼͚̟̳̪̣̟̯͌̄̀̎̿͂͝͠͝n̸̬͇͍̆̑͘k̵̩̝̜͎̭̼̆̈́̀̉̀̕ ̶͉̒̍̀͆̋͝͠ÿ̴̧̢̲̱͇̥̪͓́̆͝o̵̞̲̗̘̾͑̉̃͋̃͐͐u̴̻̙̤̞͙͎̘͚̝̾̄̎́̈́̕ ̴̡̞͉̙̮͚͂͆̓̉͛̃̐͑̈́̕ͅĉ̶̢̱̺͕̀̅̃̋̓a̶͉̽͆̉̌̍̉̈ͅn̴͖͇̩͍̉̓͊̉ ̶̧̭̲̼͓͙̈́̄̽̂͜ͅe̵̡̧̤̗̗̳̞̥̼̼͠s̷̨̗͈̺̫͔̾͋̒c̷̨̛̯̣̳̠̜̻̈́̀̀̂̆̋͘͜͝a̶̛̼̰̜̬̝͔̤͑͒̈̿ͅp̴̟͉̬͔͈̝̞̮̻͑̌̍͛̓́͗͂̓̚ȩ̴̭̥̺̼̭̇̔̿͐̌ ̸͓̋̏͂t̶̗̃̓͐̑̀̽̈̄̾͝h̴̨̲̮̖͇͓͍̖̓͌͊̏̈́̃̾̕͜͜͝ȋ̶̛̪̼̤̊̔̽̕ş̶̟̙̞̈̈̐͠ ̵̢͍̹̖̤̼̚ẗ̸͔̣̳̈̒i̸̝͉̬̪͈̔͋͊̓̍̓̎͜m̷̗̰̥͔̬̮̙͎͂e̸̮͍̳̭̱̱̫̔̊̃͌͛̀̾́̅.̷̻̮͖̝̜̹͓̰̊̔̃̓̂͝ͅ ̸̼̜̻̯̞͐̈́̿̐͌̾̂̌͝͝
The possibility of her going somewhere.. South, seems very probable.
Please.. come back [ NAME. ]
Fin.
↺——————————「 ✭  ✝  ✭ 」——————————↻
— The Hazbin Hotel franchise belongs to Viziepop, this is just a turn from canon ♡
259 notes · View notes
plzfeedmebread · 1 year
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Hold My Hand and Never Let Go
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word count: 3360
Pairing: Jake Sully x Female! Omatikaya! Reader Tags/Warnings: adults only, smut, sex, mating, bonding Summary: Older sister of Neytiri, younger to Sylwanin. After Jake successfully becomes one of the people, you take him to visit the Tree of Voices. All the while battling your feelings for him.
Author's note: The scene in Chainsaw Man where Makima and Denji lewdly hold hands inspired me to write this. Was originally gonna be reader and Lo'ak but I wanted to make it lewd, so Jake it is! This is not proof read so apologies for any mistakes! I'll fix em up later~
When Neytiri first brought Jake Sully before the clan, like everyone else you were shocked beyond belief. You offered to cut him down where he stood, had she forgotten the sins of Demons and the Sky People? What they did to Sylwanin?
But by Eywa’s Will he is granted sanctuary amongst the clan. And much to your dismay, your mother, the Tsahik, puts you in charge of training this would be warrior.
Many moon cycles you spend together. It became excruciatingly clear how difficult the path ahead would be. But you persevered, powered by sheer determination and spite; Tsu’tey’s constant dismissal and antagonizing being the driving force.
Though he was future Olo'eyktan, and you future Tsahik, the two of you were not to be a mated pair. It was an unusual situation, but not entirely unheard of. Your parents knew all too well how much the two of you butted heads, always getting on each other’s nerves one way or another.
A compromise then; he would be mated to your younger sister Neytiri. She accepted, noting that he was a great warrior and a promising future leader; Sylwanin always spoke so highly of him.
You put him to the back of your mind, your only focus being Jake and his lessons. Slow at first, especially with the language, he eventually finds his rhythm.
And when he passed his Iknimaya, you were overjoyed beyond words. It filled you with such pride watching him fly his ikran as though he was a natural born Na’vi. Eywa must have truly blessed this man. The two of you giggled like fools as you flew side by side, teasing each other with fake collisions.
Neytiri laughed at your antics, while Tsu’tey merely rolled his eyes, deeming you two a bunch of children.
You couldn’t stop smiling as you painted him in white intricate swirls. And when father declared him one of the people, you smiled brighter than you thought possible. Watching everyone gather around to join hands upon hands, excepting him, you weren’t ashamed of the tears in your eyes. Your gaze briefly met Graces’, the two of you letting out soft laughs noticing each other’s tears.
The day was filled with merriment and celebration. Every artisan of the clan wanted his attention now, showing him their workings, honed by years of trade. Then day bled to evening, filled with feast, song and drink. And when evening bled into night, you stealthily pulled Jake away from the clan, wanting some alone time.
---
Hurriedly you pull him along, your footsteps leaving light trails in the earth. This was your most favourite time, the night, when Eywa was at her most beautiful. Even when the sun eclipsed, She never left her people in the dark; lighting the world in a brilliance of colour.
You giggle when you feel Jake playfully tug on your tail as you arrive at your destination; the Tree of Voices. The grove is awash in soft violet and pink hues, almost romantic in a way.
“This is a place for prayers to be heard, and sometimes answered.” You explain as you grab some of the tree. You connect your kuru and smile softly.
“We call these trees, Utral Aymokriyä, The Tree of Voices. The voices of our ancestors.” You watch as Jake connects to the tree, his pupils dilating for a brief moment.
“I can hear them…” He looks shocked, almost like a babe connecting to Eywa for the first time. You suppose that perhaps that was true in his case.
“When our energy is returned, we live on within Eywa.” He nods and disconnects himself. You touch your hands to his broad chest.
“You are Omatikaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree…” You hesitate for but a moment, turning from him you hold your hand out to an atokirina.
“…And you may choose a woman. Or man.” You smirk over your shoulder at him. You giggled at the disgruntled face he makes.
“Woman. Definitely woman…You’re unmated too, right? Can I ask, how come you never chose anyone? You must’ve completed your iknimaya long before I came around…”
He is of course right. There is a pang in your chest as you think on it. Once upon a time you would have been mated to Tsu’tey; but your clashing personalities made such a pairing disastrous. So by your own hand, you sabotaged your own future.
You could have chosen another man, but the fallout with Tsu’tey left you with such a strong impression, you couldn’t bare the thought of Eywa rejecting another union; least of all if it were to be your fault.
You curse yourself then, for the feelings burning inside you. As you stare into Jake’s golden eyes, you know with utter certainty, that you desire him. Your heart yearns for him, aches for his touch. He makes you feel comfortable, safe. Like you can express yourself in ways you wouldn’t to others, and he wouldn’t judge you for it.
You explain to him then, the falling out you had with Tsu’tey, and how it made you feel thereafter. Your heart beats fast in your chest, anxiously you search his gaze for anything close to disgust, almost waiting for an upturned sneer.
But it never comes. He simply smiles down at you, something akin to adoration in those eyes. It fills you with renewed confidence.
“And now…I think I am ready to choose a mate once again…But, he must also choose me.” You grab a hold of his hand, holding it to your face as you stare up at him once more. You watch as realisation slowly takes over, his eyes widening in shock.
“Me?”
You nod, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.
“Yes you…” You whisper into his palm. When you open your eyes once more, you don’t expect to see his face drenched in conflict.
“Jake…?”
“[Y/N]…Of course I choose you, but…”
Oh Eywa no, here comes the rejection. You curse yourself once more, you should have known better, should have kept quiet.
But he doesn’t say anything more. You notice he is looking at his own hands, once pinching the palm of the other. He’s grimacing, lost in his own thoughts.
“The people accepted me, and I’m grateful, really I mean that, I couldn’t be happier…But a part of me still feels, because of my demon blood, can I really be true Na’vi? And, what if something happens to this body? Or, or what if something happens to the link bed I’m lying in? Are you sure you wanna risk being with someone who could drop dead at any second?”
You heart breaks. You had no idea he had been harbouring such thoughts, such insecurities. You grab his face in both your hands, pulling him to meet your eyes once more.
“You are more Na’vi than you give yourself credit for. Eywa saved you in that forest from my sister, and it is by Her Will, that you stand before me. Do not ever doubt yourself like this, you hear me? The man I see before me is not his past, but the future he needs only to reach out and grab with both hands.”
Jake’s lips quiver slightly, but he swallows his would be tears and instead smiles down at you. It feels like the sun kissing your skin. He hands move to grab your face in turn. He says nothing, but slowly leans forward. You tilt your head as you lean closer to him. He stops just shy of touching you, as if to give you one last chance to back away.
Not a fucking chance.
You close the gap without a moment of hesitation.
When your lips meet, you can’t help but inhale sharply. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, it is as though something burst inside you; flooding you with a calming warmth. It seeps into your very bones, bringing an unexpected relief, and a sense of Home.
Tentatively, he moves his mouth against yours. Each move slow and meaningful. His thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. You press yourself harder, deepening the kiss. He moans into your mouth when you do, and he feels you smirk against him.
Cheeky.
He licks your bottom lip, and when you squeak in surprise, he wastes no time invading you with his long thick wet tongue. Your legs feel weak as he explores every part of your mouth, from the tips of your fangs, to the slick of your own tongue. The two of you tangle in each other, tasting, lapping up each other, until the need to breath becomes too much.
Slowly you pull away, laboured breath mixing with one another. He rests his forehead against you, his eyes search yours, though you know not for what. You kiss him lightly on the nose, giving him the reassurance he so desperately seeks.
You take a step back, grabbing his hand in yours as you lower yourself to the ground. When the two of you are knelt before one another, you hold his hand up to yours.
“When Na’vi mate…It is a life long bond. We connect our kuru, our queues together. Through it, you will feel what I feel, and I you…Na’vi are taught from a very young age, how sacred this bond is. It is the most spiritual way you will connect with someone, other than Eywa herself. So it cannot happen, until you find your one true mate…It is also, very, very erotic…Or so I’m told,” you can’t help the blush that adorns your face.
You notice though, that Jake doesn’t seem to be shy at all. He looks at you with such reverence. But there is also something behind his gaze, you dare say, almost predatory. As you he would devour you given the chance. The thought alone excites you, a spark igniting a warmth deep within your loins.
“So you tellin’ me young Na’vi teenagers don’t fool around?” You let out a short laugh at his question.
“Some do. But not always. The urges of the body can take over, but tsaheylu will always be sacred. And for some, they would rather share their first time with their mate.” He nods at your explanation.
“So have you ever…?” You shake your head in response.
“Have…you?”
“…In my Sky People body, yeah…” You nod in understanding; the revelation doesn’t surprise you. His people had different cultures from yours, and you mostly chose to remain untouched due to your own fear of rejection.
“Are you nervous?” He asks and you nod.
“But…It’s something I’ve thought about for a very long time…” Your fingers graze his palm, before you slide your fingers between his and gently hold his hand.
“I believe, mating, having sex, the better you understand the other person, the better it feels…I often wondered what my mate would look like…How long, would his fingers be?” Up and down your lithe fingers stroke the space between his own.
“Would his palm be warm, or cold?” You gently grasp his hand, bringing it to cup your face.
“How would it feel, to have him caress my ears?” You press his fingers around the tip of your ear. You bring his other hand to your mouth, gently taking his thumb between your teeth.
“How would it feel, to have him in my mouth? Taste him on my tongue?” Slowly, you let your tongue glide over his digit, sucking him into your mouth. Jake audibly gasps as you, you hear his tail swish behind him excitedly.
You remove his thumb slowly, pressing a kiss to the tip before you move his hand back down. He gulps audibly.
“You, sure you haven’t done this before?” His voice is anxious, and you revel in that fact.
“I am sure…Now, come. Let us mate before Eywa, ma Jake.” You move your queue to the space between you to, and he mirrors your actions.
You watch with baited breath as the pink tendrils seek each other, slowly entwining in brilliant white.
The feeling that floods you is near indescribable; a euphoria done little to know justice from words alone. It is as though you have lived your life as but a portion of a whole being, suddenly made whole through the bond. You feel his heart beating fast in his own chest, but also reverence he holds for you; as though you were the one to paint the stars in the sky, or hold moonlight in your hands.
He pulls you to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He bites and licks at the sensitive flesh, eliciting soft moans from you. The unexpected pleasure he feels through the bond pulls a low moan from the back of his throat.
His hands are on you, exploring you, every inch of skin set alight as his fingers glide over you. His mouth trails kisses down to your chest. He gives your nipple a teasing lick, before taking the bud into his mouth. He sucks and licks until it perks, then moves to do the same to the other. Your fingers thread through his hair as he does, short gasps leaving you as he does.
The pleasure travels down into your loins, the warmth slicking your walls.
Once he’s satisfied, he sits up to press his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. He is far less gentle this time, mouth dominating your own for control, tongue lapping and invading your mouth without warning.
His hand travels down to your sex, gently cupping you through your loin cloth. You moan shamelessly into his mouth as you feel him gently stroke you.
The pleasure is soft and gentle, with a promise of something grand in the distance. But this friction is not enough. You whine when he grazes your clothed clit, and it’s all the indication he needs. He tugs at the hem and you hurriedly undo the seams.
His hand his on you again, fingers gently prying into your aching core. When he feels the wetness of you, he moans and breaks the kiss.
“This all for me baby? You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you,” he nips at your lip. You gasp as he coats himself in your juices, then gently start stroking your clit.
“J-Jake…” His name feels like a prayer from your lips.
Slowly he moves into you, pressing one finger into your throbbing pussy. He moves his thumb to rub your clit, all the while he pumps that singular long digit in and out of you.
Your cunt sings with a pleasure you never thought possible, your walls becoming wetter with each deft stroke. The pleasure spreads to every inch of you, ecstasy dancing on every nerve. The pleasure only grows when he inserts a second finger. The coil inside you tightening, the promise of orgasm growing ever closer.
Your hands wrap around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. You can’t help but grind yourself against his hand, your body demanding more friction.
“Yes, yes, yes ma Jake!” Your voice sings his praises and he quickens his pace.
“That’s is baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Cum on your mate’s fingers,” He moves his mouth to your ear and bites down gently. With one final pump of his fingers you cry out loud as your orgasm hits you. Your walls clentch tightly to his fingers, all the while his thumb gently strokes you as you ride out your pleasure.
When the sensation becomes overwhelming, you whine and tap in on the shoulder. Thankfully he relents, and slowly removes himself from your core.
But the night’s not over yet, and you feel as though that was but a taste of the whole meal.
You can feel his hardened cock aching through the bond.
Instinctively you lay on your back, pulling him with you. You spread your legs as wide as you can, and he nestles between. He removes himself from the constraints of his clothes.
Slowly he rubs his member up and down your slit, lubricating himself as he pumps his hand up and down.
His eyes find yours. Your hand rests beside your face, and he threads his fingers with yours. He squeezes and you squeeze back, nodding your head.
Slowly he starts pushing himself inside you. The feeling is strange and unfamiliar, perhaps even a little uncomfortable. He takes his time though, and you feel the strain of his willpower to move at such a pace. Once he is buried to the hilt, he lets out a shaky breath, resting his head beside you. His laboured breath tickles your ear.
He’s waiting for you to get used to the feeling, giving your body a moment to adjust to the stretch. The uncomfortable feeling from before doesn’t take long to subside, and is instead replaced with a soft pleasant feeling.
You kiss his check, and gently grind yourself against him, encouraging him to move. He groans into your ear, the deep guttural sound of his voice tickling your stomach.
He slowly removes himself, just before the tip, before slamming right back into you. The pleasure that hits you is so sudden you can’t help the loud moan it rips from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time.
With reckless abandon he’s pounding into you, his cock moulding itself into your throbbing walls of your needy pussy. Each thrust makes the most lewd squelch of wetness and flesh you have ever heard. It arouses you even more.
Faster he fucks you, the coil of pleasure tightening once again, threatening to snap at a moments notice. His moans are low and breathless, curse words sprinkled in between as he rides his pleasure within your centre.
Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing his dick to hit a place even deeper than before. Your eyes shut tight as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. You feel his other hand cup your face, the other still holding your hand tight.
“Open your eyes, [Y/N], please. I wanna see you when you cum.”
With some effort, you open your eyes to lock your gaze with his. The feeling in your heart explodes a million times over as you feel his love for you through the bond, and the joining of your sex. It brings tears to your eyes.
“I love you Jake—my mate—my Jake—forever! I’m so close! Please! Don’t stop!”
He presses a kiss to your forehead.
“I love you too [Y/N]…Cum for me again baby, let me feel you one more time.”
The cord snaps and your orgasm hits you hard. The moan from your lips burgeoning on a scream. Your cunt squeezes his cock for all it’s worth. The pleasure burns pleasantly from your clit to the tip of your kuru.
Jake continues his brutal pace while you ride out your orgasm. The sensations that flood him through the bond are enough to bring him to his own release.
“[Y/N]!” With your name on his lips, it only takes a few more thrusts before his burying himself as deep as he can, your pelvis bone aching, as he paints your walls with his seed.
He gives you a few more hard thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.
Finally he collapses on top of you, both of you well spent.
He rolls himself onto his back, pulling you with him. He doesn’t remove himself from you, nor does the bond release.
You lay on top of him then, head reasting on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart; it fills you again with the feeling of home.
Your hand idly traces the glowing stars on his chest. You are both warm and sweaty. Sticky from your exertions. The air is thick with the scent of mating. But neither of you mind.
One arm wraps around you, securing you to him. He brings his other hand to yours, entwining your fingers in a tight embrace.
“I love you, [Y/N]…”
“I love you too, ma Jake. Hold my hand, and never let go.”
You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.
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mrs-nanami · 2 months
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Women have many belongings. It used to vex Nanami. But it doesn’t anymore.
The first thing to migrate to his home, was your face lotion. He has a face lotion, a perfectly serviceable one, but you insisted on bringing your own. Your routine was important to you, you had told him, and Nanami understood. Routines, rules, structure – these are all things he has always respected, found meaning in. And so, in his bathroom, his drugstore razor, toothbrush, and facewash sat together, lined up like toy soldiers, right next to a luxurious indigo jar of face cream.
The rest of your routine follows shortly: the lilac bottle of mist that smells like aloe, the golden serum that smells like summertime, and the periwinkle tube of your green tea face wash. Your bergamot and sandalwood soap linger on his pillow, and when he can’t smell you on his sheets anymore, longing sits heavy and sticky in his throat.
Your clothes are next. Amidst his practical navy, gray, and blacks, appear pops of warm lilac, royal blue, and torched orange. He doesn’t mind it in the least – it would be entirely unreasonable for him to demand that you stop bringing such colorful clothes in his home, especially when he never really wants you to leave.
When the two of you finally just bite the bullet and put your name on the lease, Nanami imagines that his life will certainly become more colorful. But he doesn’t have the first idea of how many more things will be in his house.
All his life, Nanami has lived quietly, abstemiously. He is a jujutsu sorcerer – while his non-sorcerer peers were learning trigonometry, he was learning how to kill curses and how to die as a soldier dies: with resolve and bravery, to the bitterest end. His life has been fat trimmed from steak, practical solid color towels, plastic storage bins with plenty of clearing near the edge, never packed to capacity. A man who walks on the very edge of life and death doesn’t require more than the necessities. The very few things he indulges in are sensible: good whiskey, grade A rice, custom leather shoes (no broguing) built to take a beating.
You bring in your life to his, and it is completely different. You’re striped linens, fresh flowers, scented candles on every corner. Baby blue drinking glasses shaped like beer cans, artisanal ceramicware made by friends locally. Your life is marked by comfort, simple pleasure, and (dare he say it) the sweetest, most innocent frivolity. He supposes it’s really what he loves most about you, honestly. He’s always tended drawn closer to brighter, bolder personalities: earnest and warm, like Haibara and Itadori, not bombastic and irreverent, like Gojo or Tsukumo. You belong in the same shades of sunlight as Haibara and Itadori, but…tender. Like the dream-like throw of warm, rose tipped dawn that thaws the chill of his lonely apartment.
Now, in the mornings, he doesn’t wake to the desolate silence of a man alone. He wakes to the sound of your fluffy slippers in the kitchen, the smell of dark roast coffee, the sight of your toiletries sitting side by side in the bathroom, cozy and couple-like.
Somewhere between your checker print tea kettle, and the warmth of your body on the sheets, Nanami falls so in love with you that he looks back on his life and wonders how he ever lived, starved of the sun that is you, for so long.
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henrioo · 5 months
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°•*⁀➷ TWO AGAINST ONE: PORTGAS D. ACE
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : "Ace makes the mistake of eating one of your pregnant husband's sweets, you, now he needs to somehow earn her forgiveness. However, it seems that in this dispute, your son has already chosen who his favorite father will be."
꒰ WARNINGS ꒱ : TRANS MALE READER, FTM READER, TRANS MASC READER, PREGNANT MALE READER, MEN PREGNANT, BIOLOGICAL PREGNANCY, GAY RELATIONSHIP, Reader is a little dramatic, pregnancy dramas, unnamed baby but is a boy, Ace and you are married, Ace is a golden retriever and you're mean to him (just a little), Ace is a perfect dad and husband
꒰ WC ꒱ : 917
꒰ NOTES ꒱ : Wow, more babies! Hahah who would have thought... Okay I wanted to say that it's the last baby story but it's not, At least next time I'll try to post another topic or you'd start to think I'm weird. The post was supposed to be yesterday and it was also supposed to be a late ask, but the ask is 7k words long and I'm having a serious problem translating it, so I'm going to post this other story today so I can have more time, enjoy!
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"Love, honey, my husband, my man, my sweet, forgive me." Your husband, Ace, whimpered beside you as you lay on the reclining sofa, covered in pillows and with a soft blanket over your huge belly. You had an irritated expression and crossed arms, purposely ignoring him and pretending to pay attention to the television.
"I'm not talking to you," you snorted irritably, and if your feet weren't swollen and your legs weren't aching, you would have kicked his ass out of the house.
"I swear, I didn't know it was your chocolate! I thought it was mine... I'm sorry, my love," he was kneeling on the sofa next to you, his hands clasped together begging for forgiveness, and his puppy eyes were so sad that anyone would have accepted his apologies.
Anyone, except you. No, no, you were a pregnant man dealing with a very active baby and hormones so out of whack that you seemed like a ticking time bomb. You definitely wouldn't forgive your husband for eating the last of your chocolate stash. Especially because it was Sunday! The store that sold your favorite, expensive, artisanal chocolate only opened on Tuesdays. You would have to go two days without your chocolate because of your husband's stupidity in not checking who the chocolate belonged to before swallowing it!
Okay, you weren't exactly craving chocolate in the past few days, and that one had been stored for a long time... But that doesn't change the fact that he shouldn't have eaten it!
"I swear I'll buy the whole store for you to forgive me! Please, don't pout at me like that," he whined again as he lovingly rubbed your arm. Ace hated hurting you, no matter how small the reason. Now that you were pregnant, he tried his best to make you live in paradise, as he was extremely worried when he found out that stress could cause serious complications in pregnancy. Although Marco and Law tried to explain that it had to be an absurd amount of stress, he practically didn't listen and accepted as an absolute truth that even the smallest amount of stress was a deadly risk for you and the baby!
"I hate you," you murmured irritably, and your frustrated pout grew. You didn't like arguing with Ace and usually didn't care so much about something like this, but those damn hormones made you go crazy. One moment you were crying, and the next you were trying to set the house on fire with Ace inside. Then, you would go back to normal as if everything were fine. You could only think that this was Ace's punishment for taking so long to propose to you.
"What can I do to make you forgive me, my king?" he sighed and sat closer to you, kissing your arm and then trying to kiss your cheek, which resulted in you moving away. "You're breaking your poor husband's heart."
"I'll ask for a divorce if you keep annoying me," you said, trying to stay strong, although you were almost giving up on arguing and just getting lost in Ace's warm embrace.
"Ouch... So cruel," he whimpered and carefully laid on your belly, then gently stroked it, giving kisses on the shirt you were wearing. "Come on, little guy, help your old man make peace with your daddy. He'll put me to sleep on the couch if he stays like this," he whimpered, trying to get help from his unborn child.
Before you could reprimand Ace again, a kick was felt by both of you... Your baby had just kicked exactly where Ace's head was, making him startle and jump from the slight blow he received, causing both of you to widen your eyes in shock.
"Our son just kicked me?" he asked, confused and incredulous about the situation.
"Humph, looks like it's two against one now," you smiled triumphantly as you caressed your belly. "Our son is smart, he knows that this daddy here is the only one whose right," you continued teasing Ace, already feeling your mood improve and the anger dissipating.
"This is unfair! The two men in my life are ganging up against me!" he crossed his arms with a pouting expression.
"Think twice before eating my sweets next time," you shrugged. "You heard the baby, today Daddy Ace sleeps on the couch," you laughed, feeling some gentle kicks from your baby, as if he really agreed with you.
"This little rascal will have to deal with me when he's born... Stealing my husband, I was here before you," he muttered childishly as he glared at your belly. "And you, mister grumpy husband, I'm going to squeeze and kiss you until you're forced to forgive me! And if you try to kick me out of our room, I'll cry at the door like a stray dog," Ace made his threat, and before you could disagree, he threw himself on top of you, covering your face with kisses as he hugged you tightly. All you could do was laugh, feeling ticklish from his kisses. You didn't usually get mad at your husband so often, but if it meant having him as a repentant little puppy trying to win your forgiveness through affection and love... Maybe you would start getting mad more often, especially if your son would help you.
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