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sunderingstars · 3 days

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ AHA SPLASH ART ANALYSIS ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: honkai: star rail, interpretative analysis, mainly aha!sampo, emanator!sampo sprinkled in for funsies

— word count: 1.4k

— overview: (as of 2.2) a look at aha’s splash art, what it might mean, and the potential clues it leaves for the identity of a physical avatar.

note: this is my own interpretative opinion — it’s fine if you don’t agree! i know a lot of people don’t subscribe to elation!sampo theories, just as a lot of people do. this is an analysis i’m doing for fun and i understand there are many different & valid interpretations people can have about this. thanks! 🪐

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First, let’s look at the splash art itself:

Our eyes are immediately drawn front-and-center to two masks reminiscent of the comedy and tragedy masks from greek theater — however, instead of one smiling and one frowning, both appear to be laughing.

The other masks, which lay in the shadowed background, are the ones frowning. Note how the spotlights and coloring draw our attention to not just the laughing masks, but the masks themselves (more on this later).

A popular image of this splash art is one cropped down to only the laughing masks, showing that most people’s idea of Aha’s “face” is, in fact, centered around the front-facing masks:

However, upon closer look, we can see a variety of other objects at play, including the frowning masks:

The one on the right is specifically interesting because it also seems to have a spotlight on it. Despite not being front-and-center, its frown is still illuminated, perhaps suggesting a “multi-faceted” appearance or personality (even performative sadness or pain).

Other notable objects include: confetti, flowers with eyes, a coin purse in the shape of a mouth, eyeball-shaped candy, a toybox moon with a face, an owl-cat perched on a circus ball, a strange white bird with human legs and a top hat, the aforementioned frowning masks in the background, and, most notably, several playing cards.

The playing cards indicate a red 5 with an upside-down laughing face, a red heart with a frowning face, a black H with a frowning face, a potentially black 7, and a black pi (which might be a roman numeral 2, but since the 5 was not in roman numerals, my bet is on pi) with a smiling face.

While I do think most of these objects are supposed to be fun little trinkets for the sake of being fun little trinkets — like the circus balls and confetti — the playing cards, coin purse, and shadowed masks stand out to me as potential links between Aha and a physical avatar.

The playing cards have connotations to gambling, money, and deceit, with their unconventional markings tying into Aha’s multiple “masks” and ever-changing persona.

The coin purse signals further associations with gambling and money, with the mouth adding a layer of consumptive desire.

The shadowed masks, as somewhat mentioned before, heavily imply the existence of contradictory emotion behind Aha’s “facade” — a pain or sadness hidden by the flashy lights and faces.

Additionally, and perhaps most importantly, behind all of this gaudy glamor is a silhouette, easily missed for the bright colors of the smiling masks’ spotlight:

This silhouette is the most widely-circulated clue I’ve seen as to Aha having a physical, humanoid form.

While it may be difficult to make out at first glance, the shape of a human is undoubtedly there, complete with a jawline, neck muscles, biceps, and hands with the palms facing up.

To bring back the detail mentioned earlier, something important to note is that the spotlights draw our focus to the masks rather than the silhouette, manipulating us into only seeing the front-facing objects rather than the person beneath.

This diversion could very well speak to a more literal diversion in Aha’s form — a misdirection where They don’t want others to know Their true identity, so They throw the spotlight on others while They operate under the radar, away from prying eyes.

So, how does Sampo factor into all of this? Beyond the fact that a shady, somewhat pathetic underworld merchant on a remote snow planet is a great alias for “operating under the radar” in terms of the wider universe, let’s start with the silhouette itself, which bears a striking resemblance to Sampo’s E6:

As you can see, they seem to have similar jawlines, collarbones, and shoulder lengths. To me, it very much looks like an inverted version of the E6.

Additionally, the silhouette proper seems to have a broad upper body that tapers near the hips, which fits Sampo’s build. However, this connection alone isn’t enough to make a solid theory, so let’s continue.

I mentioned several key objects earlier, like the coin purse, masks, and playing cards. While these individual marks could apply to other characters (i.e. Aventurine & coins, Sparkle & masks), Sampo is the one that checks every box combined.

Who has an obsession with money (cash ➜ coins)? Sampo. Who is always smiling and hiding his true feelings (putting on a mask)? Sampo. Who is always playing a master game of disguise and manipulation to get what he wants, even if it seems he is “losing” at times (cards)? Sampo.

While I do admit Aventurine could also fit most of this criteria, it is important to note that Sampo is the only one to check these boxes while also being directly affiliated with the Masked Fools, a faction that worships Aha the Elation.

Additionally, we have already received a pretty intensive exploration of Aventurine’s backstory in canon, so I think it’s safe to say he walks the path of Preservation and is mostly affiliated with the IPC.

Sampo, however, walks the Path of Nihility, which in my mind has a lot of overlap with Elation. (I tend to see “Nihility” and “Elation” as existing on two separate ends of the “presentation of meaninglessness” spectrum, with Nihility as pure existential stagnation and Elation as pure existential chaos. As such, it’s easy for me to think of someone potentially going back and forth between Nihility and Elation since both Paths can place heavy emphasis on similar ideas.) Nihility is also the Path often associated with those who have something to obfuscate about their identity (ex. Welt & his past, Acheron & her memory, Kafka & “destiny”).

Overall, I think Sampo checks the most boxes if we are operating under the assumption that Aha has a physical avatar.

This isn’t even touching on the conversation between Sampo and Sparkle during the 2.0 Trailblaze Mission where he refers to himself as an “old timer,” or any other clues like his voicelines (looking at you, “everyone has a colorful past, wouldn’t you say?”) and fourth-wall breaking.

However, it is also possible that all these pieces of evidence can be used for the Emanator!Sampo theory — the different masks and coins in this case could resemble Aha’s Emanators, or a kind of shared or split consciousness that uses parts to make the whole. If we’re going based on that, my money is on this mask in the background being the one to represent Sampo, since the eyes/eyebrows are an expression he often makes:

This could break into several other theories, but the two that first come to mind are A. Sampo & the other Emanators are Aha’s “collection” of what They consider to be practical jokes or props, or B. These separate objects represent different parts of Aha’s consciousness or being — i.e. the parts that make the whole.

(Side Note: In this case, I would attribute Doll!Sampo to the coin purse, as it lines up with the Aha Stuffed Toy occurrence and Sampo’s name as a reference to Finnish mythology! Who knows, maybe he’s both?)

Additionally, there is always the chance of a divide between the silhouette and masks, with the potential of a silhouetted Sampo being a “background” entity occupying a different form than the “full” masks of Aeon Aha. (There can even be places of overlap between Aha! and Emanator!Sampo, so the two are not mutually exclusive!)

Whatever the case, I think there are many strong leads in the Elation!Sampo theory, especially including the ones in the splash art described here. Even though so many possibilities are open at this point, I think Sampo’s identity being closely intertwined with the Elation is a plausible interpretation of canon. However, these are still unconfirmed theories, so that doesn’t mean they’re 100% guaranteed (though I think they have a good chance!).

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𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ anyways, that’s the end of my analysis. let me know if there’s anything else you want me to talk about, since there’s a lot of stuff i didn’t touch on here!

also, thanks for reading this far if you did, i’m a bit of a nerd about this theory and i hope all of this made sense! if you want to add anything else to the splash art theory, please let me know, i’d love to hear any details i may have missed! thanks 🪐

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#⌞ ✎ sunder.writes ⌝#⌞ ✧ super.nova ⌝#⌞ 🎭 ⌝#aha!sampo #sampo #sampo koski #aha the elation #hsr theory #honkai star rail theory #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai: star rail #sampo hsr #sampo honkai #hsr sampo #honkai star rail sampo

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cat-scarr · 7 months

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Does anyone else have a favorite character that's become something completely separate from their source material to you? Not like they're divergent from canon necessarily. They are just, to you, not what they are to everyone else.

#did this make any sense #my fave has been in my life for 10+ years so there's that #but it's...deeper somehow #I feel like this is something I can only explain through drawing #but even then perhaps only I can see it in my own art #I better stfu cause I sound so fucking high rn lmaooo #text files #fictional character #fictional characters #f/o #fictional others #f/ovember

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sucktacular · 5 months

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Shower good. 👍👍👍

In bed now. Considering making a hot bowl of instant noodles ...

#sucktacular sucks #man i wish i had chicken wings so bad...#id go comatose for realsies after tho and ive got stuff to do later jfjsnfn #also listening to my angsty teen music and just mm 💕💕#RED i know youre singing about Jesus and stuff but Not To Me youre not. 💕💕💕#christian rock didnt need to go so hard #but they did and its so hopeless romantic my existence is nothing without you -core #my only regret in life is i never did a Beyond Birthday x L Lawliet slide show/amv yo any RED music #or even The Birthday Massacre #and thats really sad #i failed myself #(<- saying jokingly)#but if i ever do make a new video i def wanna do one for RED or TBM or even Breaking Benjamin #one day perhaps #i dont think ill use fan art unless its painstakingly sourced and i ask the artists permission #but i can def see myself trying to do some kind of still image slide show with my own art #but id have to story board that out and draw it all and thats. so much...#but man i was really inspired by reggi's collab #anyway

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jksoftii · 1 year

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☆♡ JUNGKOOK FIC RECS ♡☆

this is a list of my favorite jungkook fics! most of these contain smut so no minors allowed. please show your love to all these amazing authors :) !!

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

SERIES

Birds by @missbickerbocker a f s strangers to lovers au (Doctor!Jungkook x TravelBlogger!Reader)

Summary - In Jungkook's world stability is key. He knows what exactly is expected of him as head doctor of Seoul's ER Unit. But when an unfortunate collision lands him at your bedside in his own ER unit, his stable world starts to shift. — the angst, the sexual tension, everything about this is just perfect!! doctor jk 😭🙌🏻

Gradation by @shina913 a f s bestfriend to lovers au fwb slow burn (Bestfriend!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your wedding day your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from embarrassment and heartbreak, your bestfriend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal. — i remember coming back to this fic again and again because the entire storyline in itself was so comforting, everyone around oc was so caring and jungkook especially made my heart burst in this one!

Friday nights and takeout by @ahundredtimesover a f s strangers to friends to lovers (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he — i love love love cute happy endings. there was a lot of scolding eachother but their dynamic itself was just endearing 🤧💖 @ahundredtimesover 's other works are also wonderful! you won't be disappointed checking them out!

Lost Stars by @yoongiofmine a f s strangers to friends to lovers au slow burn (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. — i read this in one sitting because it was so interesting! the twists in this story kept me engaged, i felt like i was in a movie.

Coquet by @shina913 a f s fake dating au strangers to lovers (Escort!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous. — another one by @shina913 because i can't get enough of their writing! the angst, fluff, smut everything was balanced so well. top notch literally. sexy escort jungkook made me get on my knees no joke 🙌🏻🤧

Once You Realize by @kooala a f s friends to lovers idol au (Idol!Jungkook x Idol!Reader)

Summary - Seeing your friend regularly turned out to be difficult because of your colliding schedules, but seeing him again after a couple of months something about the way you thought about Jungkook seemed to have shifted. If only you wouldn’t have started getting close with someone else before you had realized how you felt about your best friend — this indeed is the cutest falling in love story! it's a slowburn but not overwhelming. sjdhjsjs it's just adorable 🥲

ONESHOTS

In which drabble series by @onlyswan a f s established relationship au (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - this is the cutest collection drabbles of boyfriend jungkook!! i recommend all of the installments, the writing is perfect, it's packed with perfectly illustrated details and vivid emotions and you can feel the love radiate from them 🥹 Art is by far my favorite writer on here 🙌🏻 these are a few of my personal favs from the installments -

in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak f wc: 2.6k

— no because drunk jk is a menace and we all know it. this was so chaotic and fluffy it made me want to scream!!!

in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes f wc: 2.8k

— jungkook with glasses. my weakness. but this was so cute and fluffy! it's his little journey figuring out how to handle his glasses with oc!

in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give a f s wc: 8.3k

— this is actually a angsty one but it shows their ups and downs as a couple and gives more insight into their relationship!

The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts a f s wc: 52.9k strangers to fwb to lovers au (Idol!Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader)

Summary - you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? — this has a LOT of angst, i won't lie i cried a few times reading this too. the character growth in this was just so phenomenonal. i go back a lot to this and read it again and again just to re-live the story. and ofc the smut is an amazing add on toooo 😭🙌🏻

My babysitters a quarterback by @ohpretty-baby a f wc: 30k enemies to lovers high-school au (Quarterback/Babysitter!Jungkook x Cheerleader!Reader)

Summary - after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age. — i love this so much oh my goshhhhh this is one of the fics which will make you laugh and cry at the same time. it's fluffy and their dynamic is absolutely adorable. it's sooooo beautifully written!! :))

Spring will come again by @baepsaesbae a f s wc: 10.9k strangers to lovers au (Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!Reader)

Summary - Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever? — everything in this just feels so warm and comforting and jk is so sweet and so precious in here. there's angst but a very cute happy ending. the writing was so well done and so well articulated!! <333

Safety Net by @pradaksj (TWO-SHOT) a f s enemies to friends to lovers roommates au (Boxer!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. — this is one of my favorite fics ever. it's hilarious and emotional at the same time. both are literally the definition of dumb and dumber 😭 @pradaksj did a lovely job at illustrating their relationship progression. boxer jk just has my entire heart 😵‍💫🙌🏻

Be-Ghoul-Ment by @dokyeomin f wc: 10.1k idiots to lovers university au (Blonde!Jungkook × Reader)

Summary - [beguilement (noun): an entertainment that provokes pleased interest and distracts you from worries and vexations] --- You hate haunted houses more than you’ve ever hated anything. You don’t understand the appeal. But this Halloween, you decide you might hate Kim Taehyung even more. — the cutest fic ever! jk and oc both being a nervous wreck in this was so relatable 😭, and I loved the side friendships with Taehyung and Hobi. It was so sweetly crafted and left me feeling happy inside.

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azullumi · 2 months

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“i wanna be yours” ; aventurine

premise — but this is what friends do, right? they slow dance together in the living room while saying sweet nothings ; inspired by this ask (though i never really followed the entire idea, my hands has minds of its own)

pairing — aventurine (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff (with a little bit of angst at the end), friends but wanting more type of relationship, all written in reader’s pov, not proofread, 1.2k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs (hi boo)

note — i keep on comparing aventurine to the sun i dont even know why i do it. 9 DAYS LEFT UNTIL HIS BANNER

“care to dance?” the languid, lazy silence draws itself away as the honey-haired man spoke, offering you his hand as he did. the light humming of the music in the background keeps the night awake and alive, the softness of the notes intertwined in the air that settles in your home.

you stare at his hand for a moment, admiring the glistening bracelet on his wrist before you answer, tone meek and hesitant: “i don’t know how to dance.” you expected him to laugh at you for not knowing a simple and common concept; dancing was a form of art known to many and yet, you are unfamiliar with it.

but aventurine simply smiles at you and takes your hand to hold on his own, gently pulling you up from your seat and making you stumble on your feet—however, he catches you and doesn’t let you fall to the ground. you are only met with the warmth of his body and the feeling of his unoccupied hand resting on the small of your back.

“you could have warned me before you did that.” you huffed, although you weren’t exactly reprimanding him.

“i still caught you, didn’t i?” the man answers in a gentle tone as he begins to sway you to the rhythm of the song (the melody wraps itself around your form like the cradle of a warm blanket), a familiar tune that plays in your living room and now you are listening to it as you—no, as he dances and guides your movements. you try to follow him albeit like a clumsy child and silence trailed behind your steps as none of you spoke, only wallowing in this moment between you and him.

(his hand is warm against yours, fingers lacing with each other like two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. you have never known how gentle he can be, have never known the warmth of his hands and the softness of his palms up until this moment. maybe it’s the feeling of his touch that’s making you drunk and aeons, you’ve never thought of yourself as a selfish person but something in the way he’s holding you makes you crave for more.)

“focus,” he whispers to your ear, catching you completely off-guard when his breath tickles your skin, “you’re supposed to look at me, not at the ground.”

you compose yourself, bringing your gaze to his face instead of the marble floors that seem to spin as you move, “i was watching my feet so i won’t accidentally step on you.”

“i don’t mind if you do, all i wish is for you to look at me and me only.” he speaks so gently, so delicately as if something akin to despair hangs on the tangled threads of his words. you study his face, looking at the lines on his features and trying to look for the gap of his expression—you could never tell what he was thinking, could never decipher the meaning he skillfully weaves to the words that he utters (you wish you had the ability to look into minds, perhaps you would have known him).

he notices your silence and smiles, “can’t a poor man have their own wishes?”

you take a moment once more to answer, “i didn’t say that.” well, in fact, you weren’t saying anything. the sound of laughter slips past his lips and perhaps, if you didn’t see the way his eyes formed into a crescent and his expression contorts one into amusement, you would have mistook the sound as part of the song.

“you should see the way you look right now.”

you raised your eyebrow at him, confusion evident in your face, “what do you mean? is there dirt on my face?”

aventurine pulled you closer to him, movements coming to a stop as you two stood still. his face is leaning down to yours, lips merely inches away from each other, and your thoughts are in a jumble as if your mind was a library of cluttered and disorganized bookshelves.

“no, i’m saying you look lovely tonight.” he whispers—and you swear, you see his eyes look down to your lips for a moment—, his voice low as if you’re the only one who’s supposed to hear and not the moon that casts its curious glow on his skin, not the stars that watched your every move, but you and just you.

(you’re left with nothing but silence and warmth in your cheeks, not knowing where to focus or even think about—the strong scent of his perfume or his words that repeatedly echoed inside your head.)

the golden-haired man doesn’t speak any further, continuing his slow dance with you in the comfort of your living room as he hums along to the melody. the night is heavy against your shoulders as the silver moonlight laid on the ground like spilled milk.

“it is quite simple, isn’t it? look, you’re able to follow.”

“aven, you’re doing all of the work.”

he slowly spins you around—the world looks slow and messy for you for a moment—before he answers, “barely.” he comes face to face with you and you don’t fail to notice the affection in his eyes when he meets your gaze.

“don’t look at me like that.” you wished he wouldn’t look at you in that way; something tugs at your heart and suffocates you.

“like what?”

“i don’t know.” hesitation follows your tone, broken and unsure, seemingly lost in an empty field full of directions. “like…” like you wanted me like a lover, you keep the words at your throat knowing you’ll choke on it one day. you don’t know how to say it, you don’t even know if you can say it. it was as if the ability to speak has been taken away from you.

the song came to its end and so was the dance.

“you should go to sleep, don’t stay up too much.” aventurine says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss on your forehead. he lets you go as soon as he parts his lips, stepping back to the distance the both of you once had before all of this happened, as if nothing occurred between you two, as if the words whispered against each other, the closeness, the intimacy were all just some silly imagination.

“are you leaving already?” you ask, your hand reaching out to tug at his sleeve as if you didn’t want him to go. you don’t even know what made you hold on to him, what made you want him to not want to leave.

the man who had the universe in his wake answers with warmth in his tone, “i can’t stay any longer.” he holds your hand and ushers you to remove your grasp on his sleeve. everything felt so different now, your thoughts were all so loud but you couldn’t dare to speak nor say something as you watched him turn away and leave—the sound of the door closing echoed throughout the corners of your home and you were left alone, in silence and in the cold.

but the comfort and warmth of his touch lingered on your skin—and you’ll remember it all; it will haunt you, follow your shadow everywhere you go, pulling on the hem of your shirt with the desperation of a dying man and you don’t know how to live knowing the way he held you on this night. how are you supposed to deal with the fact that his hands were as soft and warm as summer?

#honkai aventurine #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai fluff #honkai imagines #honkai #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #star rail aventurine #aventurine x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr #azul.writes

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milkloafy · 11 days

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YOUR SAVING GRACE — WRIOTHESLEY

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which you run into some trouble and wriothesley saves you, getting himself hurt in the process. [modern au; suggestive content] ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.4k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: inspired by the wriothesley art where his face is a little bloodied and he’s smiling like that and hmmngfh i want to hold him so bad !! also the title is kind of a pun do u get it ha ha okay pls enjoy :>

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Wriothesley chucked, wincing as the corner of his mouth lifted upwards. “Fancy way of saying thank you.”

With a sigh, you dampened a washcloth with warm water from under the sink. You wrung out the excess before gently guiding it up to Wriothesley’s face and dabbing at the cut on his lip. You frowned. His split lower lip wasn’t even the worst of it—he had a bleeding gash on the right side of his temple.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, fingers brushing against the high points of his cheekbone. Such a beautiful face did not deserve to be marred in such a way; he had already been through enough growing up.

“Of course I had to,” he said, your face so close to his that you felt his hot breath fan your nose. “The alternative would have been to let them harm you.”

You discarded the dirty cloth and grabbed a fresh one from the drawer. As you wiped the blood off his forehead, your mind wandered to the memory of the past few hours. It wasn’t exactly a good one, to put it lightly.

You had only recently moved back to your hometown in Fontaine after spending time abroad in Inazuma, but you quickly found that all the friends you once knew now had lives of their own. Except your childhood friend Wriothesley, of course. Still, you didn’t let that stop you from going out on your own and trying to meet new people, especially now that you were back in Fontaine to stay.

Perhaps, however, heading face first into the night scene wasn’t the way to go.

You shivered at the memory. The moment you realized you didn’t feel safe being out dancing alone, you tried to make your way home, only to find out you were being followed by some men from the venue. Your only saving grace was that of Wriothesley, who happened to be on a late night tea run.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said sincerely, though you knew that wasn’t enough to display your gratitude. Who knows what could have happened had he not intervened. “I just hate that you got hurt because of it.”

Wriothesley laughed, patting your head affectionately—as if the two of you never drifted apart when you moved away. “I would do it again, even if the outcome was worse. Besides, did you see what I did to the other guys?”

That earned a smile out of you. “There were three of them! And you still kicked all their asses.”

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “Now, if you look at my injuries in comparison, it’s really nothing.”

Though the mood was slightly lifted, you still hated to see Wriothesley in any pain. The least you could do was make sure his wound were thoroughly cleaned and wrapped.

“You don’t have to go through this trouble,” said Wriothesley as you disinfected the cut on his temple and placed a bandage over it. “You must be tired from your long night. You should get some rest. I can always have Sigewinne help.”

You shook your head fervently, almost offended by his suggestion. “You’re in this mess because of me and you think I could just leave you to get it taken care of elsewhere?” you huffed, squishing his non-injured cheek with your fingertips. “What kind of friend would I be then?”

“I’m not in this mess because of you—it’s because of those lowlives who take pleasure in trying to harass an innocent person,” he corrected sternly. “It’s not your fault, and I’m sorry you had to go through that yourself.”

Once you finished cleaning and patching him up, you became overwhelmingly aware of the fact that you were standing in between his legs as he sat on the bathroom counter. You were leaning against one of his thighs as support to steady your hand while you wiped his wounds, but now that you were finished, you straightened back up, swallowing harshly at your now dry throat.

How focused must you have been to not notice the feeling of sculpted muscles through his pants? You were glad to know you had some priorities, at least.

Feeling warm, you tried to step away. “Well, thank you again for…you know, beating those guys up for me! But if you’re okay now I guess that means it’s time for me to go.”

“Leaving so soon?” Wriothesley half-heartedly locked his leg behind your back with a grin, preventing you from taking another step back. “Have you checked under my shirt yet? Perhaps I have some injuries there.”

“Wriothesley!” you yelped, feeling your face grow warm despite knowing he was only joking. “You said so yourself— You have Sigewinne for that!”

He let out a chuckle, as he released you from his gentle hold. “So my dear friend will help with the wounds on my face, but nothing lower?”

Your mouth dropped, incredulous, yet you felt yourself taking the bait. After all, if your handsome friend with a hot body were to dangle the offer of seeing them shirtless right front of your face, who were you to deny it?

“Fine, let me check for you,” you said hastily.

Moving his tie aside, you grabbed at the buttons lining the front of his shirt. The black longsleeve was tight-fitted, and the moment you felt his abdomen, you knew there were muscles underneath his clothes. As your fingers began maneuvering around the round, little button, you felt Wriothesley begin to stir.

“Y/N,” his voice was gruff, “I was only teasing.”

Your brows shot up in surprise at his tone. He sounded strained and his eyes darkened with every button you undid. Your pinky finger accidentally brushed against his exposed pectoral muscles as you slowly parted the top-half of his shirt. At the touch of his warm body, you jolted in shock.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to appear unfazed. “Well, sometimes your actions have consequences.”

“I must say, this is quite a positive consequence.”

“You’re one of the lucky ones this time.”

Wriothesley laughed, shaking his head. All of a sudden, he grasped your hand that was trailing down his shirt, stopping you from moving. You held your breath.

“Careful not to go any lower,” he warned, the slightest hint of a growl in his voice.

“And if I do?”

“If you want our friendship to stay as is, then I suggest you don’t.” He stared into your eyes, his gray ones appearing almost black. “Before this leads to something you might regret.”

“I wouldn’t regret if this lead to anything,” you admitted, voice quiet. Gone was the playful teasing, traded for something much more sincere. “Would you?”

“Of course not.”

You raised a brow and broke your hand free from his gentle grasp, placing your palm against the heat of his bare skin. Your fingertips danced against the curve of his chest as you pushed the shirt back, just to check if he had any injuries there, of course.

Wriothesley shook his head and groaned, running a hand through his hair as he shut his eyes. “You’re making this difficult, darling.”

You giggled, letting your hand fall to your side and giving him a cheeky smile. “Fine, I’ll stop for now. You don’t have any injuries there anyway. I checked for you.”

He had a conflicted look on his face—as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be relieved or disappointed.

You grinned at his reaction. “Perhaps you want me to look again?”

Wriothesley choked out a noise of both surprise and amusement before collecting himself. “I believe your initial examination was thorough enough, but after you have a good night’s rest, then we can revisit this topic.”

Though you were disappointed the two of you didn’t take it further yourself, you knew he was probably right. You did feel rather tired after the draining night you had.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you conceded, offering him a hand as he got off the countertop. Even standing, he was significantly taller than you. You pursed your lips, if only you weren’t so exhausted, then maybe… You shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts. “Then, once I’m fully rested, I can properly thank you for your help today.”

Wriothesley smiled, understanding the not-so subtle implications of your words and welcoming it with open arms.

“Great,” he said after a moment’s thought. “I look forward to it.”

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin x you #genshin fluff #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley genshin

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mooshywrites · 5 months

Text

Making It Our Own

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Female!Tav

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Kinda a continuation of my last fluff, slice of life kind of affair

Word Count - 3.1K

Warnings - NSFW, MDNI, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, fluff/soft dom Astarion, aftercare if you squint, multiple orgasms, biting because thats practically required with this man, overall straight degeneracy

─── ⋆⋅��⋅⋆ ───

“How else will we make this place our own, my darling?”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Why in all the god’s names, would they have the staircase here?” Astarion wondered, exasperated.

You smiled softly, looking over the slightly rickety stairs before him. They were a little in the foreground of the room, awkwardly jutting out beside the selling desk.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, my love.” You responded, kissing his cheek sweetly.

”With the amount of hard-earned gold I spent on this place, you would think someone would have at least dusted before we moved in.” He complained, dragging a finger across the desk, holding up the collection of caked dirt.

You fought the urge to scoff at the thought of Astarion actually earning any amount of money, but you contained yourself knowing he did put a fair amount of effort into having this small shop be his own.

For the entire idea of Astarion running a shop starting as a halfhearted tease, you could hardly believe you were actually standing in the place now. It had taken a few months of odd jobs, even odder quests, and… well… yes, there was some thievery involved in getting enough coin to buy the little shop on the corner of the quietest part of Baldur’s Gate. It must have been a bakery, or perhaps a tiny bed and breakfast before the two of you, because it sported a surprisingly large kitchen in the back along with four midsize rooms upstairs. Of course, if it were any of those things, it must have long long not been occupied.

“I’m sure it won’t take long to make the place exactly what you want, Astarion.” You murmured, trying to be optimistic. You looked up at your pale elf, seeing his mouth in a tight line. His eyes peering accusingly at the grime and disrepair on the first floor. Luckily, from your investigating, the upstairs level seemed to fair a bit better.

”Darling, it will take half of a century to even make it look clean” Astarion chuckled, turning his attention back down onto you. “It may be a disaster, but I do suppose it is our disaster.”

”That’s the spirit.” You grinned up at him. “Where should we start then?”

Astarion shook her head decisively, “You can start upstairs. I won’t have your pretty little hands working yourself to the bone on this mess. Or dirtying your new dress.”

Your hands idly smoothed your skirt, fingers running over the delicate gold flowers expertly embroidered across the fabric. Astarion insisted he began practicing his sewing in preparation for the shop and your clothes, of course, were his first choice of material. The simple green gown you were wearing today was covered in dainty flowering vines.

“Perhaps you’re right,” you sighed. “I can think of much better ways to ruin one of your projects than covering it in dirt.” You added, gesturing to the dress.

Astarion leaned back on the desk casually, his eyebrows raising, “What possible ways could you be talking about, pet?” He asked, his voice too sickly sweet and innocent to be anything other than a thinly veiled tease.

Well… two could play that game. You gave him a small smile, stepping forward to place your hands on his chest. You didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened slightly at the movement.

“I just mean that if your hard work is to be dirtied, it better be worth it.” You shrugged.

Astarion couldn’t help but smirk, knowing your innocent attitude was as much of an act as his own. His face inched closer, voice only above a whisper now, “I can think of a few ways that would be more worth your time, love.”

“And those would be?” You almost didn’t recognize your own voice, practically breathless even with only the hint of his words.

”Oh, pet. I think you already know.” He practically purred. “How else will we make this place our own?”

You barely had time to respond before the words were swallowed by Astarion’s searing kiss. His lips molded against your own, coaxing a small muffled moan from your chest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Your own arms wound around his neck, fingertips coming up to lace their way into his curly white locks.

”I’m afraid your beautiful dress may be sullied, yet,” Astarion murmured, pulling back for a moment, “There isn’t a surface here that is suitable enough for you to lay upon.”

”’Lay upon?’ Why would I need to do that?” You whispered, feigning ignorance.

Astarion’s hands fell to just below your butt before suddenly hooking your legs up and around him. You don’t even have time to chastise him before you’re spun around and placed on the dust covered desk.

”Astarion, my dress-!” You squeaked.

His eyes rolled in response, his hands sliding up the sides of your dress. “For god’s sake, darling, I’ll make you a new one.”

He leaned in once more, this time, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw, effectively silencing your argument. You tilted your head back, giving him better access to the crook of your neck. You sucked in a shaky breath as you felt the points of his fangs grazing feather light across the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin and heat settling in your lower stomach. You could practically feel him smile against you at your reaction, always proud to make you putty between his hands.

His lips and teeth continued to dance down your neck, pausing for a moment on the sweet spot just above your collarbone. The movement completely distracts you from how his hands continue to sneak their way up your legs.

That is, until, you felt his fingertips drag slowly against the clothed heat between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes meeting Astarion’s as he lifted his gaze, smirking. ”Why darling,” he purred. “Whatever did I do to deserve this silence?”

You threw him a half-hearted glare, not trusting your voice to deliver a retort in case it proved the point he was already trying to make. Instead, you pulled his face towards your own, locking him into a passionate kiss. You earned a particularly delicious groan as you gently dragged your tongue along his lower lip, silently prodding for access.

He graciously allowed your tongue in, exploring with his own. His fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, tracing feather light figure eights, seeming to be avoiding where you needed him most purposefully.

You whined into the kiss, causing the vampire to chuckle darkly, “What’s the matter, pet? Pained are we?” He teased.

”Just… touch me.” You begged, not at all embarrassed at how quickly you became desperate for him.

Luckily, the plea’s seemed to have the desired effect, a content sigh escaping you as cold finger moved your panties aside and pressed against your cunt.

”My, my.” He whispered, lips moving to catch the shell of your ear in a gentle bite. “It didn’t take long at all for you to be practically weeping for me.”

All you could do was whine as his middle finger dipped shallowly into your heat. He was right, of course, it took practically no time for him to bring you to tears with his fingers, your core clenching at just the thought of what he could do with those sinful hands.

You leaned back just enough to get a better view of him, his hair a mess from your own hands, his lips plump from your bruising kiss, his pointed gaze a shade darker than usual as he eyed you hungrily. Your chest rose and fell shakily, taking in the sight before you.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” You whispered, barely even aware the words had escaped your own thoughts.

His eyes blinked in surprise before a warm smile fell across his face, leaning in to press a surprisingly innocent kiss upon your nose. “Aren’t I just?”

You could have guessed that would have been his reaction, your elf hiding behind a veil of humor anytime he was uncomfortable with a compliment or praise. I mean, showing emotions is difficult, isn’t it? Someday, you would have to find a way to make him take the compliment. But how? Bondage? A maid outfit? Constant teasing?

Your slightly crazed wandering thoughts were harshly interrupted as you felt Astarion’s finger sank deeper within you, his thumb brushing across the sensitive nub right above. Your yelp quickly transformed into a moan as his thumb began dancing in simple short circles, igniting the flame in your stomach to burn even brighter.

”Darling, you know how it hurts me so when you aren’t paying attention to me,” He prodded, voice thick with need and his ever present pout. “What could you be thinking about other than how well your dripping cunt takes my fingers.”

”N-Nothing,” you started, a moan interrupting your sentence as his finger began to pull in and out teasingly slow. “I was thinking about how to keep you from letting compliments roll off of you. Maybe it will take this-“

You brought up your hand to trace a fingertip along the ever growing bulge in his pants. Though he tried to hide it, you were very aware of how his brows drew forward, the way his mouth parted in a heavy breath.

“I assure you, it will take much more than that to entertain any of your praise.” He retorted.

“And how much more would that be?” You replied confidentially, riding the high of the reaction you were able to pull from him.

”Hmm,” he pondered, even having the audacity to look to the side as if in thought, all while his fingers continued their magic below him. His act gave way to a devilish smile as his focus returned to you.

”One orgasm, one compliment.”

”W-what?“ You squeaked, feeling your cheeks begin to redden immediately.

His finger curled deliciously forward, pressing against a point that had your mind quickly fogging over with lust. “You heard me, darling. For every orgasm I drag out of you, I will graciously accept one compliment.”

You couldn’t even begin to come up with a retort, your cunt giving every thought away as it squeezed hungrily around the pale elf’s single finger.

”Ill take that as a resounding yes.” He murmured, clearly proud of himself.

He slipped another finger in, expertly pumping them into you. His other hand reached up, pulling the top of your dress down in a quick tug. The cold air and the desire in the air had them hardening almost painfully. The man before you didn’t miss this development at all, mouth coming forward to nip at your breast playfully. His lips then closed around the hardened nipple, tongue swirling around it slowly. You could’ve drawn blood from how hard you were biting your lip, trying not to let your moans fill the small room.

It didn't take long for the vampire to return the affection to the other, his hand kneading the soft skin his mouth had just left. With his hands, his mouth, the slick sounds your own body was making, the coil below your stomach already felt wound too tight.

You felt the white hot burn at your lower breast, the pain of Astarion’s teeth mixing deliciously with the way the rough pad of his thumb presses hard against your clit. “Gods, Astarion.” You managed to get out, your hips beginning to rock helplessly against his hand.

”Too much, pet?” He replied simply against your skin, licking at the pinpricks of blood left behind by his teeth.

You shook your head furiously, the burn in your stomach becoming more demanding, your breaths uneven and strained. “P-please… please more.”

Astarion growled darkly, his hand moving faster, his mouth returning to your skin. The coil winds tighter, your moans falling into incoherent begs and whines. Astarion, sensing your oncoming high, deftly slips another finger into your folds.

Your vision pales as you cry out, muscles tensing while your orgasm crashes into you. Heat courses through your veins, arousal riding its course as the pale elf’s sinful mouth eases you through it. By the time you’ve regained your perception of which way is up, Astarion is smirking at you, accomplished haughtiness written across his face.

”I believe you’ve earned one compliment, my dearest. Make it count.”

”That was… You are,” You responded breathlessly, thoughts not quite forming correctly in your orgasm ridden brain. “You are amazing, Astarion.”

The man left out a soft chuckle, landing a kiss on your forehead. “Not the most impressive compliment I’ve ever received, but a deal is is a deal. Thank you, my pet.”

Realization crashed onto you. Did I just use my compliment to say something as useless as… that?

”No! No, that wasn’t my compliment, I deserve another go.” You pouted.

”Aht aht ah, we said ‘one orgasm,one compliment’. You can’t expect me to bend the rules for such a clearly made deal.”

“You can’t be serious! You know you can’t hold me to anything I say after coming down from something like that!.” You argued, not feeling ready to give up the fight quite yet.

”Honestly, darling, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss! There’s a simple way to remedy this.” He said, a knowing smile adorning him.

”And what is that?” You replied, blankly.

Before you could guess his movements. His hands deftly ripped the thin fabric of your panties and reached to pull you flush against his bulge. ”You have another orgasm, of course. What was it you wanted? ‘another go’?”

The desire you had just released from your body hit you again, tenfold. Your own fingers began to work at the ties of his breeches.

”Slowly, darling.” Astarion chastises half heartedly. “We have all the time in the world.”

You knew his words were empty, you could tell by the way his jaw was clenched, pupils blown out with lust that he was as desperate for this as you were. You finally loosen the tie enough to pull the fabric down, releasing his erection to hit his stomach with a small slap.

Astarion let out a strained groan as you wrapped your hand around the length, your thumb swiping across the bead of precome leaking from the delicate slit. You looked up at him, taking in his reactions, greedily. His breaths came in labored heaves, hands gripping your sides as if it were his only anchor to reality.

”Now, now, no teasing, pet.” He tried to retain the cool and confident tone in his voice, but his words were rasped, an octave lower than usual.

You gave him an innocent smile, placing a quick kiss before whispering against his lips, “Then take me, love.”

It’s as if you have broken some sort of invisible chain holding him back. He kisses you harshly, teeth catching at your bottom lip. He adjusts your sitting position, hands pushing your thighs apart to give you access.

He pulls away, looking down at you bared before him, though he could never put the thoughts into words in this moment, you look absolutely ethereal. The ripped clothes, messy hair, big doe eyes looking up at him; he was absolutely undone.

His hips pushed forward, his member dragging through the wetness in between your legs. A strained groan erupts from his parted lips, eyebrows drawing close together, “Gods, darling… you’re perfect.”

You let out your own whine, hips greedily pushing forward, desperate for the friction or Astarion’s cock against your clit. He leans forehead to rest against your own, finally, finally, pushing into your awaiting cunt.

It finds no resistance as it thrusts to the hilt, the dew from your previous orgasm aiding its path. The room is almost completely silent, the both of you reveling in the feeling of the delightful stretch his body imposes upon you.

After a few moments, his darkened voice cuts through, “Please, darling. I must move.”

You nod wordlessly, craving the movement as much as he did. A low grunt was all the warning that you got.

Astarion’s hips snapped forward, setting a brutal pace of thrusts. Your moans fall over your lips with short breaths, hips trying to hold themselves up against the man.

Astarion’s hand reaches down further, holding some of your weight by gripping your ass, his other holding up his weight as he leans forward. His hot breath fans against your neck, head resting against you as if all of his energy is spent on roughly taking you.

Every drag of his heavy cock drives you higher and higher, sickly sinful slaps echoing amongst your embarrassingly loud moans.

“Gods above, pet.” Astarion manages, every word sounding like it took immense effort on his part. You felt his hips start to stutter, your own core beginning to clench hopelessly.

”Astarion, please! I- I…” You start, the pleasure rendering you mute.

”Come undone,” Astarion growls lowly, “Come undone with me.”

Your mouth opens to a silent scream, your cunt clenching hard around the thick member. Your hips jerk desperately, your nails digging into the pale elf’s arms. Astarion follows quickly behind you, pained grunts whispering out of his lips as he pushes deeply into your heat. You feel him twitch, warmth blooming through your lower stomach.

It’s a moment or two before the two of you touch back down to earth, both panting and clinging tightly to one another. When his head finally tilts up to meet your gaze, his eyes are full of affection, smiling softly.

You return him an affectionate smile, hands coming up to trace circles into his hair. ”So did I earn another compliment then?” You teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, gently lowering you back down, “I suppose you do. Please make this one better than the last.”

You thought for a moment, wondering what would encapsulate your feelings the best. What would mean the most? After another beat or two, you realized there was no hope at a long and drawn out proclamation of love. It would have to start with something simple.

”I am so very lucky to be beginning a life like this with you.” You say sweetly, gesturing to the messy shop around you.

Astarion’s cheeks redden, still slightly unsure on how to go about accepting such loving words. “Well, ahem…” He cleared his throat looking around the room. “As am I.” He narrowed his eyes again at the layer of dust you sat upon. “After it’s clean of course. A task we should be getting back to.”

”Couldn’t agree more.” You sighed, pausing. “But there is one thing you have to do first.”

Astarion looked back at you, his voice lacking any usual tease, simply full of affection, “Anything you desire, darling.”

You giggle, giving him the sweetest smile you can manage.

”You have to pull out first.”

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cuubism · 4 months

Text

i went to physical therapy for my stupid broken arm so as is my legal obligation i HAD to make ship content about it. everything is ship content that's how it is

cw injury, referenced abusive relationships

Hob's had plenty of clients come to physical therapy who clearly don't want to be there. Plenty of others who are reasonably frustrated by the work and time involved in regaining functioning after an injury. But this is the first time he's just had someone be... quiet. Resigned.

Dream sits with his hand cradled to his chest, barely speaking, only answering when Hob asks a direct question. He's reluctant to give Hob his hand when Hob asks if he can look at it, like he thinks Hob's grip is a bear trap that will snap down and crush the bones like whatever had done so the first time. Hob still doesn't know what that was. All he knows is the bones have been realigned and healed over but the dexterity in his hand still isn't right. That was what Dream had said, in the first spark of passion Hob had heard from him. It's not right.

But he does eventually give his hand over. His bones are so fine and delicate, and each movement hesitant. Cautious. Hob tests the flexibility. The strength. Dream is right, it's not where it should be. He still doesn't know what happened.

"I won't make you tell me if you really don't want to," Hob says gently. "But it is important to know how it happened to make sure we rehab it the right way. Did you get it caught in something? I've seen guys come in with machine injuries like that."

Nothing about Dream suggests "person who works with heavy machinery." But who knows. Hob will try not to stereotype.

"No," Dream says quietly, looking down and away from his hand like he can't bear to see it. "I. I am an artist. My ex... he felt that I cared more about my art than about him. Perhaps I did. And he was... frustrated. I suppose."

Hob can put the rest of the pieces together in his mind. "Jesus," he breathes, and Dream flinches.

"I have an unfortunate ability to involve myself with such people," he says.

"No, it's not your fault," Hob says automatically.

Dream narrows his eyes. "You presume to know that?"

Hob raises his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I won't pry." He's not Dream's therapist. His job is to help him with his hand, not... whatever else is going on in his life.

He takes Dream's hand carefully between both of his own again. Presses down lightly on his knuckles. "So. Crushed. Like that?"

Dream nods. Hob still doesn't know all the details, but he's imagining a boot going down hard on the top of Dream's hand. The thought is sickening.

"Can you fix it?" Dream asks, like he doesn't dare to hope.

"Well, you already had it repaired surgically, yeah?" Hob says. This strikes him as a bit of good luck--hand fractures are not simple--but he doesn't want to undercut Dream's confidence even further by saying so. He's usually pretty good at reading his clients, and he's already sensing that Dream is holding onto his determination to be here at all by the barest thread. Best to build him up as much as possible. "So it's just a matter of strengthening the muscles again."

He's fairly confident he can get him back to a usual level of functioning with it. The question is whether he can return him to the specific level of dexterity he needs for his art. He doesn't say that. Not yet.

Finally, he gets the tiniest of smiles out of Dream. He's really lovely when he smiles.

(He's pretty when he doesn't smile, too. Hob would have to be blind not to notice it.)

"So," Hob says. "Let's look at the current range of motion, yeah?"

Dream tilts his head. "Did you not already do so?"

"For regular motion, yeah. But I want to see where it's impacting your drawing."

Dream draws his hand back, looking uncertain.

"Come on." Hob hands him a pen and paper. "Show me. I promise I know nothing about art. If it's not up to your usual standards, I'm not going to be able to tell."

Finally, Dream takes the pen, and starts sketching.

Hob watches, noting the way his hand trembles, his uneven grip on the pen. Notes how quickly he gets demoralized when it doesn't turn out the way he wants. Hob can make out what he's written and drawn, but it's clear from Dream's expression that it's far from how it's supposed to be.

"This is just a starting point," Hob reminds him. He has a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of those sorts of reminders with Dream; he does not seem to find optimism easy.

Then again, if someone who supposedly loved him had hurt him like that, Hob would probably find optimism a bit difficult, too.

Finally, Dream drops the pen, clearly frustrated. "I have tried to paint at home, too. It has not turned out any better. You should throw those away." He gestures to the sketches. "They are terrible."

"Nah, I'm gonna keep them," Hob says, and puts them in his folder. "For comparison later." It could also partially be because he finds Dream's drawings of cats, imperfect as they are, charming. Sue him.

"As you insist," Dream says.

Hob gives him documentation on some other exercises he can do at home. Tries to think through what might make him feel better with his art. It feels, somehow, so important to make him feel better.

"At home, go easy on trying to use a pen, or paintbrush or whatever, it's hard on your hand," he finally says. "But you probably want to get back to your art, so-- okay, don't make fun of me if this is stupid."

Dream just raises an eyebrow, waiting.

Maybe Hob should try to learn more about art before he gives advice. Nevertheless, he forges on. "Holding a pen is tough, but if you wanted to like, finger paint or something? That would probably be fine. Might be good for flexibility, even."

"Finger paint," Dream repeats, enunciating each word.

"I told you not to make fun of me if it was stupid."

Dream smiles, just a small thing, like he finds Hob ridiculous but in a charming way. Good enough, Hob figures.

"Very well," Dream says at last. "I will take your advice."

Dream simply walking out had felt like a distinct possibility, so Hob will take this as a win.

"Hey," he says later, catching Dream for a moment as he's checking him out. "It's going to get better, yeah? Trust me. Don't worry too hard, just give it time."

He really shouldn't make promises like that. But he can't seem to help it, with Dream.

Dream considers, then says. "I do trust you."

Hob finds that it means a lot. Now he's just going to have to earn it.

#i really am writing the most random indulgent shit this week XD #you know this was a missed opportunity to do 'forbidden romance between a physical therapist and a ballerina' like that ridiculous romance #novel that was going around XD #anyway don't take physical therapy advice from this #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #cw abuse #long post #perhaps i'll write more after my next appointment XD #physical therapy fic

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rederiswrites · 1 month

Text

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

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babiebom · 2 months

Note

bachelors and their weird kinks/turn ons perhaps 👀

A/N: it took a LOT for me to find weird things that arent gross(literally shit or dead people sorry if you’re into these) and even then I don’t even think these are weird but there’s only so many sites that I can go on to find weird kinks or even kinks in general. Fun fact there’s a kink for watching people fall down the stairs!! Keep in mind I’m talking about these fetishes and kinks from my own memory from looking them up lmao.

Tw:nsfw like all of it, cursing etc let me know if I should tag anything else!!

Bc: at least 4 for each? One for what the kink is and one for the explanation?

Stardew Valley Masterlist

Sebastian

Dacryphilia the kink or fetish for watching or causing someone to cry(positive or negative). A kink for tears if you will

I don’t know if I’ve talked about this before (I might’ve?) but dude has a major crying kink. Like he needs to make you cry while having sex. In this instance it’s a good crying. Like from how good his dick feels inside you. How good it feels when he moves, when he touches you. It’s like overstimulation but the crying is the main thing he wants.

Somnophilia the kink or fetish for having sex with someone while they’re asleep.

AGAIN this is all consensual but he likes the way you look when you’re asleep. You’re fully content and relaxed, no troubles or worries. He just wants to make you feel even better to send you to a new level of paradise. And the way that you are free in your reactions instead of holding everything back. All of your sounds and the way you move…it just gets him off in a different way.

Sam

Katoptronophilia the kink or fetish for watching yourself or others have sex in a mirror

I think this kink more so has to do with his partner. I do think he would get off with watching you or him fucking you in a mirror. Like you both can see your own faces and it’s just hot how you can see how good he’s making you feel and the other way around. It’s like his recordings kink but in real time.

Claustrophilia the kink or fetish for tight spaces literally the opposite of claustrophobia

I think he would like the whole stuck in a small closet together thing or the whole (if you’ve seen kdramas bc this is the only time I’ve seen it) hiding from someone in a tight space and being forced to be close or touching.

Shane

Shibari the fetish or kink of Japanese bondage. It’s more artistic than regular bondage and can sometimes be nonsexual(meaning it can just be for the act of being tied/tying someone up)

I do think Shane might have a artistic side to him, he loves his blue chickens and even though he hasn’t particularly shown that he likes art I think he’d appreciate this form. Like yeah it has bdsm tones and he likes that, but he likes the time taken to tie you up, the time it takes to make the ropes look pretty on you. It gets the both of you riled up so the sex might be more passionate.

Electrostimulation the fetish or kink to being stimulated or stimulating someone with electricity

Oh dude is definitely a sadomasochist. He wants to shock you, he wants to be shocked (partially because he wants to feel something other than mental and emotional pain). It’s never so much that it hurts too much but it’s a little stinging sensation that he can’t get enough of.

Harvey

Quirofilia the kink or fetish for hands, but well taken care of/pretty hands

Oh I think Harvey HAS to take of his hands. As a doctor I think he would be happy if someone complemented how soft his hands were or how clean they looked. And on the other hand(heheheh) he would appreciate how nice your hands look, how soft they feel, how good they feel when touching him.

Breeding/Pregnancy the kink or fetish for pregnant people or getting someone pregnant. It has nothing to do with the child itself but the person carrying the child.

NGL I think once you two come to an agreement about pregnancy(in this case you agree to start trying for kids) Harvey is absolutely going to go batshit insane with this new development. Before he would’ve never said that this is something he’s into but once you two agree he’s so pumped up and actually starts talking dirty if he didn’t before. It’s crazy how different he is during this time.

Alex

Anasteemaphilia the kink or fetish for extreme size differences so either a giant or a dwarf(I hope this word isn’t offensive it’s what the website used)

Dude would NEVER reveal this but actually would love a giant girlfriend. I think because of the lowkey misogynistic views he has he would like a bigger woman and a smaller man. He would LOVE lady dimitrescu from resident evil. Like bffr.

Food Play the kink or fetish of involving food during intercourse so either eating it off each other or involving it in some way

Oh absolutely would love to eat food off of you and would want you to lick stuff off of him. Like whipped cream and chocolate syrup are MUSTS if you’re having a particularly long night. He thinks it’s so erotic to eat and consume stuff off of each other that don’t really have anything to do with sex.

Elliott

Psellismophilia the kink or fetish for stuttering

One of the weird ones I found. I think he would think it’s cute and if you do have a stutter or happen to stutter when you’re nervous he’s going to have such a confidence booster because of it. Like YES keep stumbling over your words and stuttering it actually is cute to him and he feels like he’s in a book or a movie or something.

Podophilia the kink or fetish for feet

I think this one is obvious? I think he’d prefer beautiful people and that includes feet. In a lot of erotic movies and books and even in romance books feet have some sort of importance to them. Whether it’s used to dominate someone or to pleasure someone he likes beautiful feet. He wants you to step on him(not in a rough way) and tbh I could see him wanting to recreate the scene in that one tarentino(is this his name) movie where he casts himself in the role that drinks I think alcohol from that woman’s food after it runs down her leg.

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burnorgetburned · 9 months

Text

EVEN MORE CLARA DOLL DETAILS:

So you know how the Dolls have their own distinctive clothes?

Guess who else has their own distinctive clothes!

That’s right. The multiple Homuras are actually Clara Dolls.

And that’s why ‘Homura’ is smiling.

Here they are! The one with the striped hat is Nekura (Gloominess or Pessimism) and the one with the flower is Mie (Vanity).

Here’s their descriptions from the art book.

[The second one to come was Gloominess. Walking out with a tapping sound, she sneered at Good-for-Nothing. “This is Good-for-Nothing! How very unbecoming.” These dolls are only disciples of Freedom, and are devoted to their lust for it.]

[The tenth to come running is Vanity. She exaggeratedly avoids Good-for-Nothing's head and says a few words. “I wouldn't be able to bear dirtying my cape with that sticky blood!” These dolls make fun of the witch's self-mutilation.]

Good-for-Nothing is Homura, by the way, but the Clara Dolls seem to consider Good-for-Nothing to be good for something after all after she splits Madoka. She turns into the Devil, and the Clara Dolls are stated to be “okay” with the Devil. If the young voices in the trailer belong to the Clara Dolls, then they also call her “Akuma-sama” now. Something like Mistress Devil, implying a sense of respect.

[… if they are not summoned, they will simmer. There are orders they will comply with, and also orders they will disobey. What they are and the witch herself's own magic are not well understood.]

At the end of Rebellion, Homura gave Madoka her ribbon back. She declared that they might become enemies in the end. Honestly, I thought that Homura would try her best to avoid Madoka entirely. The trailer suggested that Homura was meeting Madoka, though. Here’s the answer: it wasn’t Homura herself, but Gloominess, who wants freedom.

Now, I’m not sure how this situation works out. Do Clara Dolls have free will? Are they obeying Homura’s orders? Acting out Homura’s true emotions? Is Homura perhaps directly puppeteering them in order to fulfill her goals, or do they act on their own?

I find it likely that it’s a mix of both: some of them obey her, and some of them will try and fulfill her (probably very conflicting) desires, as familiars usually do. Gloominess is likely part of Homura who wants the freedom to talk to Madoka, for example, but Vanity seems to me like a Clara Doll who is obeying Homura. After all, she still needs magical girls to fight wraiths, at least until she finds a way to wipe them out.

[I'm Vanity (Mie). I'm pushing myself to the limit for someone.] And she is, of course. All of the theatrics, the calls, the organization of magical girls. These are things that Vanity is shown to engage in. All of this is for Madoka.

We see with Gloominess, at least, that she seems to be fulfilling a specific desire: in the background are white spider lilies. Instead of the red spider lilies that mean death, final goodbyes, and lost love, white spider lilies mean a hope for the future and a fresh start. Maybe this really is the first meeting for these two in a while, and she wants to be friends again?

Or maybe, being Gloominess, she wants to warn her about something.

[I'm Gloominess (Nekura). Forcing smiles tires me out.]

Then there’s this Homura.

Nothing about her clothes is very different. She is wearing ribbons as Homura in the wraith universe does, but look closely: the ribbons are different. They have some wavy stripes on them, while Madoka’s ribbons are plain. She does not correspond to any known Clara Doll.

However, there’s mentioned to be a fifteenth Clara Doll that is not yet born: Ai, representing love. This could be her. Is it love for others? Or love for herself? I’m hoping it’s the latter, but very likely it’s love for Madoka and her friends. This would explain why she’s trying to fight Homucifer in the poster, as Homura believes that she’s a danger to everyone else.

How can this be? Well, here’s a few options:

- The Clara Dolls are grown-up familiars. They ate souls, and they became a copy of their witch. This is a process that was explained to us in the original series, where some magical girls are stated to farm familiars by letting them eat people so that they would grow souls/grief seeds.

- The Clara Dolls are not familiars, or wraiths, but instead a secret third thing. “What they are and the witch’s own magic are not well understood”, as said in the Rebellion art book. They could be magical constructs of a different kind, but I do think that this would get into overcomplicated explanations quickly, so I favor the familiar explanation.

- The Clara Dolls could be familiars, but instead of eating souls they’re simply powerful enough to change their shape. Their strength is equal to the strength of a magical girl…. when Homura was a witch, before Homura became something more. It could also be energy from the contracts making them stronger. Maybe it’s me being sentimental, but I don’t like the idea of Homura letting anyone’s soul be nommed on.

Now, before there’s a panic about how they’ll juggle fifteen extra characters, here’s a few thoughts:

- Just because they seem different doesn’t mean they’re actually different. It might be that the Clara Dolls are a way for Homura to present herself. As Vanity, she might show off more, or have dramatic flourishes like her throne and her dress. As Gloominess, it might be that she doesn’t believe that her plans will work, so she tries to do what makes her happy. It’s likely that the Clara Dolls are just extra ways to explore Homura’s character. They’re parts of her soul, after all, and right now she is extremely powerful. She might simply want to keep her true self away from humans.

- They could work like projections. Homura wants more bodies to work with, but she has to filter herself through the Dolls’ personalities. This could result in a lot of juicy character interactions, as the things she tries to keep hidden are closer to the surface.

- Will ‘Ai/Mystery Homura’ fight against Devil Homura? Very likely! How can this be when they’re the same person? Well, who hates Homura more than Homura? That’s right. Nobody. Anyone can fight and argue with their self, it’s just usually not on the level that a reality-warper like Homura can manage.

If this is true, there’s plenty of interesting directions they can take it.

- Because the Clara Dolls have a degree of separation from Homura, they can show other characters things that Homura herself has ignored or locked away. Bad memories, affection for her friends, the resentment she must feel - everything from concern to a cry for help can be plausibly shown through them as the actors.

- Manuke (Stupidity) is specifically more naive/sincere than the others. Maybe interacting with this Doll would show the Quintet that there’s something more going on than a Devil who wants to hurt other people.

- If Ai represents a love for other people, Ai can have a strange character arc where she learns to value Homura/herself, and become self-love.

- On the other hand, Ai can represent self-love from the start, and because Homura looks very fucking unhealthy in the trailer, she only wants to stop her because she’s hurting herself. This option plays into the themes of self-sacrifice and happiness, which I believe to be some of the major themes that they’re going for.

- The poster could be misleading and Ai ends up fighting everyone but Homura. I find this the funniest option.

- Homura can hug herself. It’s possible. In fact, every character can hug Homura 15 different times.

Smiles are a Clara Doll’s default expression. We have yet to see Homura smile for real.

Is this going to get very ambiguous and confusing? Probably. But rewatching for details was the fun part in Rebellion, so I’m looking forward to it!

#walpurgis no kaiten #walpurgisnacht rising #pmmm #homura akemi #madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #Homura also looks like she’s coughing in that final shot but I can’t find a way to put it in coherently #the Homuras on the tower are too far away for me to look at. sorry.#please don’t start saying things like ‘Ai is SELFLESS LOVE who wants to free Madoka and Homura is ‘SELFISH LOVE who wants to keep Madoka’—#I… disagree. I’d be happy to debate with you but send a message please #pmmm analysis #pmmm rebellion #homucifer #clara dolls #long post

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ellecdc · 4 days

Note

MOTHERR

Happy Mother’s Day 💐🌷🤭

Anyways, the marauders brainrot continues….I know shocking 😮 , my obsession will never end at this point in time. Oh well, art is kicking my ass and I need something to bring back my spirt lol.

Sooo, could I perhaps, if possible, request a poly!wolfstar? In which;

There’s a party in the commons, after a quidditch match or sm (idk 😭?) and shy reader (preferably female) dresses in only Remus and Sirius’s clothes but somehow finds a way to make her own twist on it and she look beyond gorgeous, all decked out. She doesn’t tell Sirius or Remus and the two don’t realise how much of their clothes and ect. Untill the spot her at the party talking with the girls, and are both shunned because their shy girlfriend is all dressed up, showing skin, confident and all, and in their clothes only, not a single thing of hers.

-🍄

firstly, thank you so much for your mothers day wishes hahahaha I was spoiled for sure. secondly, thank you for your request!!

poly!wolfstar x shy!reader who surprises her boyfriends

CW: mention of drunk friends but no description of drinking?, sexual implications at the end but nothing described and SFW

Remus felt slightly guilty that he wasn’t downstairs to greet you when you arrived at the Gryffindor after party following their latest quidditch win.

The reason he wasn’t there wasn’t even a very good one; it was simply that Sirius always came back to the dorms to shower instead of showering in the team’s locker room and was always riled up (just the way he liked him).

In other words, it was selfish and self-serving.

Which was perhaps why he was currently rushing his boyfriend as he painstakingly styled his hair to look perfectly un-styled.

“Pads, you’ve flipped your hair seven times already, can we go?”

Sirius flipped his hair four more times as he let out a scoff. “Easy bubs; you know I like to be fashionably late.” He responded as he righted himself, shooting Remus a salacious wink in the reflection of the mirror on his dresser.

“We’re going to miss the party altogether at this rate.” Remus muttered petulantly.

Sirius let out a noncommittal hum as he pulled the collar of his buttoned-up shirt lower in order to show off the new love bite on his neck from Remus, and a few older ones on his chest that you had given him in hopes no one else would see them there.

How wrong you would be.

“I could think of other things we could do instead.” Sirius offered as he stalked towards the chair Remus was currently pouting in and straddled his lap.

“You were the one who wanted to attend the party.” Remus pressed as he allowed Sirius to press lingering kisses along his jawline. “Neither me or your girl were very keen.”

“I’m sure she’d be happy if we took a raincheck.” Sirius responded as he continued his assault down Remus’ neck.

“Perhaps if she wasn’t already downstairs.”

That seemed to snap Sirius out of his ministrations as he looked at Remus incredulously. “Then what in the buggering fuck are we doing up here? Merlin’s saggy balls, let’s go Moony.” He barked as he stood abruptly and yanked Remus’ arm, forcing him to follow.

Remus was only slightly embarrassed that he had to adjust his trousers as they exited the dorm room.

As Remus had predicted, the party was in full swing by the time they made it down to the common room.

Peter was maybe three sips of whatever was currently in his red solo cup away from spending the rest of the night hunched over the toilet bowl, James was already completely ignoring everyone else around him in favour of staring love-drunkenly at Lily as she spoke emphatically to Mary, Alice and Frank were snogging to near pornographic levels in the corner of the room, and Marlene was passed out in Dorcas’ lap as she conversed with…you.

Just when Remus was certain he couldn’t love you more, your sweet, timid, lovely self showed up to a Gryffindor party on behalf of your extroverted boyfriend after they took their sweet ass time to join you when both he and Remus knew quite well that there were probably several hundred other things you’d rather be doing

And not to mention when you show up looking like that.

“What is she wearing?” Sirius whispered on an exhale; his steps faltering as he took you in.

What were you wearing?

You looked to be wearing – “is that your button up shirt?” Sirius finished Remus’ thought.

And based on the fit and length, it appeared you were, in fact, wearing Remus’ dress shirt.

Though it was cinched at the waist by – “that’s your belt, Sirius.”

“That little minx is stealing our clothes, Moony.” Sirius laughed; equal parts exasperated and lovesick.

You chuckled at something Dorcas said before you turned your gaze to the rest of the party where you spotted your boyfriends.

“What are you wearing? Or should I ask who since you look like you ought to be on a red carpet or something?” Sirius asked in way of a greeting as he made for you, causing your shoulders to migrate upwards as you smiled timidly at them.

“Hi, dovey.” Remus greeted you as he pressed a kiss to your cheek and shot a wink at Dorcas who was already looking at the two of them knowingly.

“Your girl looks smashing tonight, boys.” She commented; taking a sip of her drink from one hand as she used the other to pet Marlene’s hair.

You, for your part, turned to Dorcas with a look of unadulterated betrayal.

“She looks smashing, always, Meadows; but I have to agree that I like this look, baby girl. Stand up! Give us a spin.” Sirius said as he pulled you up by your hands.

“Sirius…” You chided pleaded quietly as your eyes nervously darted to Remus as if screaming ‘help’.

“Humour me.” Sirius pushed; twirling his finger in a circle to reiterate his earlier demand.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms protectively around your middle but acquiesced to his wishes.

After a few wolf whistles and an actual round of applause from Sirius, and ooh’s and aah’s from Remus, you turned back towards them and Remus could almost feel the heat radiating off your face.

“You played a good game, Siri.” You commented instead of hello, or thank you, or sod off you wankers, which made Remus all the more smitten with you.

“That’s old news, gorgeous.” Sirius dismissed quickly, eyes still darting over your form as if committing this sight to memory. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“I’d rather not.” You argued quickly.

“Tie breaker votes talking about you, sweetheart; sorry.” Remus responded, not particularly sorry at all if it meant he got to keep looking at you.

You harrumphed quietly and looked down at your converse which seemed to be the only article of clothing you were wearing that belonged to you. “You guys are being mean.”

Both boys immediately started cooing and apologising profusely; Remus pulling you protectively into his side as they fussed over you.

“Can’t believe I was upstairs all this time staring at Sirius when I could’ve been down here looking at you.” Remus commented quietly into your hair, but from Sirius’ indignant squawk, he was clearly overheard.

Your responding smile was well worth it though.

“Are these my earrings?” Sirius asked then, pushing hair behind your ear to expose the dangly star and moon earrings that Sirius had bought back in fifth year when he and Remus first started dating.

“I thought it looked good with the ‘fit. I had a vision.” You admitted; tone still shy but words far braver than Remus thinks he’s heard from you with this many people around.

“And you were right.” Remus agreed readily.

“The vision was great babes; it’s like I picked it out myself.” Sirius said with a wink. “The only thing better would have been if you showed up in only your knickers.” He stated with finality; seemingly proud of his proclamation and of his girlfriend.

Remus was expecting you to flush horribly at that as your eyes darted nervously around you.

Except you didn’t.

Instead, a mischievous grin spread across your lips as you looked up at the boys in front of you.

“They didn’t go with the vision.”

Both boys stared at you with varying levels of bemusement as Dorcas let out a snort behind you.

“What didn’t go with the vision?” Sirius accused quickly.

“Knickers, you tosser.” Dorcas answered from behind you.

Remus felt a blush of his own take over his face as he realised you had been waiting down here for your boyfriends looking like that without anything underneath your ensemble.

“Are you serious?” Sirius asked stupidly.

“No, you’re Sirius.” You giggled as if you made a truly funny joke, cluing Remus into the fact that you had these boys exactly where you wanted them.

In the palm of your hand.

“Better make a move quick, Black.” Marlene slurred as she rose from the dead sleep and blinked at the boys owlishly - one eye beginning to open before the other had even shut. “Otherwise we w- we will.”

Remus barked a laugh as Dorcas lovingly rolled her eyes and tried to tame Marlene’s now unruly bedhead, but Sirius appeared to take the threat earnestly as he quickly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, ignoring your surprised squeak and subsequent protests as he raced up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

“Quickly now, Moony.” Sirius called as he took care to cover your arse with one of his hands lest your ‘Remus’-shirt-turned-dress’ were to ride up. “Can’t believe I let you waste all that time getting ready when our beautiful, gorgeous, lovely girl was waiting for us.”

Remus rolled his eyes as he followed the sounds of Sirius’ faux chiding and your squealing laughter, wondering if Sirius’ diligent eleven flips of his hair was worth attending a party for four and a half minutes.

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rhaenella · 5 months

Text

CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.7

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

genre: social media au

summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain

face claim: léon

a/n: the finale... once again, all songs mentioned are either by taylor swift or léon. happy reading x

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

masterlist

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Liked by taylorswift, danielricciardo and 1,292,849 others

y/n: End & New Beginnings. ONE WEEK.

✨Is It Over Now?~Say Don’t Go~Bigger Than The Whole Sky~You’re Losing Me~Now That We Don’t Talk~Pretty Boy✨

View all 12,138 comments

user55: y/n’s latest masterpiece is incoming!!

user56: YES GIRL LETS GO

user57: omg finally 😱

user58: can’t fucking wait 💛

user59: babe are you realizing you’re releasing on friday the 13th 💀

user56: y/n is like “i’ve conquered all this year’s bad luck already, no one can stop me”

6 October

Liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 1,450,288 others

y/n: It feels like it’s been a long time coming and now it’s here, my new EP ‘End & New Beginnings’ 🤍 Been a few sleepless nights making this to be honest. Ups and downs like always. But now I’m just so happy to let go of it and let you have it, and hopefully you’ll embrace it and make it yours.

To the incredible people who’ve been a part of this record, THANK YOU! Couldn’t have done it without you…

Here’s to the end & new beginnings 🕊️

View all 14,159 comments

taylorswift: Perfection 🥰✨🎼😍💋

y/n: ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo: ART.

Liked by y/n

lilymhe: Beautiful work sweetie, I can’t with how talented you are 🥹 You made me cry the entire 23 mins (and then again cuz it was on repeat)

y/n: Awww, thank you love 🥰 and I’m sorryyyy 🙊

alex_albon: It’s so so good! I didn’t cry tho…

lilymhe: Liar

Liked by y/n

landonorris: Wow 💕

Liked by y/n

yourbestfriend: You’ve outdone yourself once again, darling, love you

y/n: I love you more baby

user60: as someone who’s just gone through a terrible breakup too, i cannot express how comforting it is to hear these songs and realize i’m not alone

Liked by y/n

13 October

—

You let your phone drop to the bathroom counter, blinking slowly, unable to fathom the conversation that had just taken place. Had he really just said those things? Scrolling through the texts confirmed that yes, he had indeed. The bastard.

Charles had always been the jealous type. But attacking you like that when he had been the one to… It was absolutely ridiculous. Apparently he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grasp the depths of how much he had actually hurt you.

You’d loved him with all of your heart. Until he had ripped it out and hurled it to the floor, letting it shatter into a million tiny pieces. Yet, even then, you would’ve forgiven him. If only he’d apologised. If only he’d shown true remorse. But he hadn’t. And so you’d been forced to walk the path of mending your own heart, and move on with your life.

Perhaps a small part of you had hoped that he could be happy for you. That somehow, even after everything, you would be able to greet each other normally—that you could coexist peacefully. But as his texts just now had demonstrated, that wasn’t going to happen. Not right now. And definitely not next week in Texas. You sighed. It would’ve been too good to be true, anyway. Especially considering who you were currently seeing…

A light knock sounded at the door, startling you out of those thoughts.

“Are you almost ready to go, darling?” a male voice asked, soft.

Right. Dinner. Celebrations.

You had been in the midst of applying the finishing touches to your makeup and outfit before Charles had interrupted, quite literally shocking you to the core when his name had appeared on your lock screen. He’d been the last person you’d expected to hear from today.

You swallowed the bitter taste that Charles’ texts had managed to leave behind. He wasn’t worth it, you repeated to yourself. You weren’t going to let his shenanigans ruin a perfect night—a perfect date. You ran a hand through your hair and readjusted the necklace around your neck when the bathroom door creaked open behind you.

Looking up, your eyes met your handsome, new boyfriend’s through the mirror. He was smiling, eyebrows raised in silent question, ever patient as he waited for you to finish up. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of him, dressed to perfection in a dark suit, hair neatly tousled.

As always, his presence was able to reassure you within the blink of an eye, the tense muscles in your neck and shoulders relaxing as you gladly let all of your complex emotions fall away.

“Yes,” you nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your lips. “I’m ready.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

THE END

but who is she with? well, there’s a little (and not so subtle) easter egg that refers back to the beginning of part 6 that will confirm certain things… have you spotted it?

thank you everyone for coming along on this ride! it’s been a hell of a lot of fun writing and creating this story 🥰 my apologies to all the y/n x charles shippers out there, but as our songbird said: here’s to the end and new beginnings…

Now, if you'd like, please cast your votes below :)

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx @kagatinkita @allywthsr @evieepepi08 @viennakarma @riverjane-d @httpjeonlicious @madnesstaking0ver @futurecorps3 @celesteblack08 @sadg3 @simxican @glow-ish @spideybv28 @laneyspaulding19 @tswizzleismother @slytherinfolk25 @merchelsea @1655clean @urgirlnextdoorr @cixrosie @lightdragonrayne @lxclerc @hopexcroc @nichmeddar @imthebadguyyy

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x singer reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fake instagram #charles leclerc fake social media #formula 1 smau #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc blurb #is it over now?

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pugh-bug · 30 days

Text

Flashing Lights

Art Donaldson x reader

If people like this I’ll write a part 2 and possibly some sub Art fics in the future. Challengers is all I can think about at the moment and this blonde man is living rent free in my brain.

——————————————————————

‘Come on come on, they can never have too many pictures taken of them!’

Your friend dragged you and your mediocre camera, quite forcefully, to Tashi Duncan’s party. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been invited and that you weren’t remotely a tennis player it was that Ashley’s lame excuse of ‘they need more photographers’ was patently untrue. Everywhere you looked there were photographers with cameras that cost more than your yearly rent.

‘I’ll get us a drink wait here.’

You watched her confidently insert herself into the queue for the bar, in between endless posters of Tashi Duncan hoodies and Tashi Duncan headbands. If you hadn’t been such a feminist you might have felt a little sick from all the masturbatory self promotion.

In your idleness you decided to people watch. There were no less than a hundred people there already, all dressed elegantly with hair and makeup that no doubt took longer to do than the night would even last. You pulled at your tight dress. Flattering? Definitely. Comfortable? Absolutely not. Ashley had the tennis body, the Tashi Duncan confidence and skill but without the praise or queue of fans. You had your camera.

You hadn’t touched a tennis racket since you were ten years old. These people weren’t your peers they were your betters, including the snobby photographers and perhaps even including Ashely. At least she knew what ‘down the line’ meant.

‘Can we go?’ Your voice sounded bitter as Ashley handed you a cocktail. ‘I’ve got two photoshoots to edit for tomorrow and I don’t even like tennis! Why am I even here?’ As your friend defended her plan to ‘sleep with as many rich tennis players as possible’ your eyes wandered once again, this time landing on a man who needed no introduction.

‘Is that … Art Donaldson?’

It was him, smoking a cigarette by Patrick Zweig dressed for Summer. Fire and ice in the flesh. You suddenly felt the need to readjust your dress, your hair, your earrings. To fidget. To fidget and prepare for the chance he might look in your direction and see what he wanted.

‘Fuck me it’s Zweig.’

As Ashley launched into a thesis on why Patrick was the hottest man she’d ever seen, your eyes bored into the side of Art’s head. His curls fell so perfectly on his forehead but all you could find yourself imagining was messing them up. As your staring breached the line of too far, Ashley tapped your arm. ‘Think I should go talk to him? Flirt a bit? He’s a bit of a man whore, I’m pretty sure I could get him.’ Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the recipient of your staring began to move closer.

It only took a few moments for Art to reach yours and Ashley’s corner of refuge but his eyes never strayed from you. Zweig had followed him like a puppy and whilst you couldn’t have cared less where the brunette chose to stand, you could practically feel Ashley screaming in her head.

‘Aaliyah right? You basically murdered my friend out there yesterday.’ As Ashley corrected Patrick’s memory, you forced your eyes to look at anything that wasn’t Art’s knowing smirk in your direction. It didn’t work, in fact your refusal to make eye contact with the future star had made your feelings glaringly obvious.

You’d watched him play many times, instead of doing your own work, and although you found tennis a little boring the man had you riveted. The ease at which he hit the ball with such force, the little hand movements he’d do during a tie break and his cruel habit of taking his shirt off on hot days … you were hooked.

As he eyed your dress you wondered if he’d seen you, made note of just how many matches you’d been front and centre at. Maybe he knew you were an amateur photographer and perhaps his smirk was intended as a mockery of your being there. Art knew you didn’t belong at thee Tashi Duncan’s after party. You both knew it. He looked at you, finally as you’d lifted your gaze, and cocked his head slightly to the side.

‘So, you don’t like tennis?’

Shit.

‘Oh. You heard that.’

‘Yep.’

His voice was glazed with amusement as he sipped his cold beer, daring you to defend yourself.

‘Ashley was invited,’ you lied with little ease. ‘I’m here as her friend- well I guess also photographer but you all seem to have that covered.’ Both yours and Art’s eyes glanced at the gang of professionals taking Tashi’s photo. She was holding the shimmering trophy as if it was nothing of real value, she had the humble but proud smile down. Art clocked your jealous expression and raised an eyebrow. ‘Tashi not your favourite?’

‘She’s pretty amazing and she looks fucking beautiful tonight I can’t lie. I just, I guess I wish I was that talented.’

Despite her successful flirting to Patrick, Ashley heard your little, sad admission. Mentally you scolded yourself for letting Art see your vulnerable side. Instead of judgement he smiled.

‘Are you not the best at getting front row seats?’

He left off ‘at my matches’ but the point had been made loud and clear. You chose not to react and to ignore him completely. ‘Ashley?’ But when you turned your head to your friend you saw her mouth was occupied. Oh.

Art laughed at his best friend. ‘Seriously? You couldn’t go one night?’ No, Patrick couldn’t and he couldn’t find it in his horny heart to feel guilty for stealing your one friend and escape route from you. The pair, still connected by their lips, hurried away from the party and to some poor fucker’s bedroom. You were alone with Art Donaldson and the party that engulfed the two of you had began to die down.

‘I should go too-‘

‘Wanna go down to the beach with me?’

You couldn’t help but scoff audibly at his request. ‘You don’t even know my name.’

Art’s eyes practically gleamed with cheekiness as he moved towards you. ‘Then tell me.’

‘It’s Y/N.’

With a charming smile he repeated his offer. ‘Y/N… wanna go down to the beach with me?’

If a mind reader had been in attendance you’d have been mortified as your first thought was: Oh god have I even shaved?

The decision to take your heels off had been an impulsive one and an instant regret as you felt the brittle sand rub against your toes. Avoiding the broken glass, you walked into Art’s shoulder and quickly apologised. ‘You’re like a baby deer.’

You perched on the rock overlooking the water that moonlight reached. Art’s eyes were transfixed on you as your hair blew from your shoulders. Surely he was just bored and flirting for fun. But you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone except Patrick before approaching you.

‘What is it about photography?’ Art gestured to the camera you almost forgot you were still wearing around your neck.

‘What is it about tennis?’

Art lit his second cigarette, took a drag and smirked.

‘I’ll let you answer that.’

Much to his elation, your dress had begun to ride up but you hadn’t noticed. You simply dug your toes in the sand and smiled coyly at the blonde. But how to best handle this?

‘Watching you play tennis isn’t like watching other people play tennis.’

Art grinned, only for a moment, but you caught the ego boost in real time. He moved backwards in his chair, outstretching his long legs and looking up at you with keen interest and quiet amusement. ‘Go on.’

Your mind flashed back to his most recent match. His opponent had purposefully coughed every time it was Art’s turn to serve and instead of letting it distract him or doing it back Art had fired the ball, with force, by his head. It had been a warning, not a greatly subtle one but certainly great to watch. The shock on the boys face as he narrowly missed receiving a black eye had made you laugh and you suddenly remembered Art had beamed at you when you had.

‘You’re just really good at it.’

‘Try again.’

He wasn’t making this easy for you but that didn’t mean you had to shower him in compliments, not when he hadn’t so much as asked you your name until prompted. You watched him, completely settled and comfortable in Tashi Duncan’s deck hair and wondered if someone this confident and talented (and knew as much) could possibly be single… unless?

‘Are you and Patrick just friends?’

He twitched ever so slightly at your question before covering his shock with a chuckle.

‘Umm.. yes. Sorry to disappoint.’

You smiled, suddenly feeling more confident now that you’d put him on the spot for the first time that night.

‘Not disappointed.’

Seeing you at ease, seemingly with any answer he had to offer, Art relaxed into his chair again. A moment of silence passed as the two of you listened to the very end of the party above and the seas tumbling waves. The water was just beginning to reach the rock you’d been safely perching on. A sign to leave.

‘I think I should go back to my ho-AAA!’

You’d barely taken two steps before buried broken glass assaulted your feet.

‘Jesus fuck!’

‘Y/N!’

The pain shot through you from toe to head, it settled in between your eyebrows as you frowned, trying not to scream. Art’s face was a picture of panic. He couldn’t help but notice how much pain you were in from putting weight on your foot, which had just begun to bleed as a thought entered his head.

‘I’ll carry you.’

‘I think I can walk.’

You took a hesitant step further but your foot ,in an act of betrayal, buckled under the pain. Giving Art a look of defeat you sighed. ‘Yeah, I think you’re gonna have to.’

You thought it would feel strange, the man whom you’d been watching almost obsessively for months play a sport you despised carrying you to safety. It didn’t. It felt right. His strong arms flexed under your weight as he took confident but cautious steps to Tashi’s party. There wasn’t much left of it. In fact the only people still there were two photographers packing up their lighting equipment and they didn’t give you so much as a second glance.

‘Any chance you secretly are friends with Tashi?’ Art asked, his voice hopeful, hoping he could drop you off to safety. He pursed his lips when you shook your head. Another moment of silence passed through the two of you but this one was different. You craned your neck out to gage the distance before suggesting:

‘My hotel really isn’t far. A mile at most.’

Art smirked for a moment, forgetting what the actual circumstances were. Your foot had stopped bleeding but you didn’t feel like walking. In fact you were rather enjoying Art Donaldson: the knight in shining armour. It was a good look on him.

‘Uber?’

‘Think of it as a workout.’

It wasn’t the recreational workout Art had been hoping for that night but he did it. He carried you and your shoes to your hotel room. The receptionist barely reacted to your new person but of course what did she care? She was probably only concerned with what mess you’d leave the cleaners.

‘67, this is it.’

Art put you down, keeping his arm around your waist for support. He was a little flushed from the exertion and you were flushed from the pain, or perhaps just his wandering hand.

‘Do you want me to st-‘

‘I want you to stay.’ You interrupted him hurriedly, desperate for him to stay. In that moment you didn’t mind if he stayed to read the complimentary bible next to you or if he wanted to fuck you mercilessly in front of the bathroom mirror. You just wanted him close.

At your eagerness, Art smiled following you in. Your hotel room was not too messy for visitors but it certainly hadn’t been expecting any. For a moment you wondered how Ashley was getting on in her room down the hall and if she too had embarrassed herself in front of her favourite tennis player. Somewhat likely.

‘I think seeing as you’ve carried me bleeding you can see me in pyjamas. Give me one se-‘

You gestured to the bathroom and your dress, looking forward to getting out of it but Art shook his head. You froze. His face was one of sheer determination and unwavering confidence, not unlike the look he gave cocky opponents who needed humbling. He closed the gap between you until his chest was inches from yours but blocked by your camera. You took it off, not breaking eye contact, and placed it slowly on the desk behind you.

Just as you thought the only way to break the silence would be with a kiss, Art broke eye contact. ‘Do you have any antiseptic wipes? Anything to clean it?’ You felt your stomach unclench. ‘Yeah.’ Limping slightly, you fetched a packet from the bathroom sink and placed them in Art’s open palm. He gestured to the bed.

‘Sit.’

His order was polite but you felt compelled. Sitting on your own bed as if it was alien, you looked up at him waiting for the next.

‘Foot.’

Art got down on his knees. Your stomach flipped. With careful hands, he held your injured foot and inspected it. You’d never felt so exposed before, the way his eyes engaged with your wound as if it were more fascinating than any match he’d won. There was an unspoken rule for neither of you to speak as he cleaned you. It stung like a bitch but you only let out minor hisses in pain, barely audible to Art but not unnoticeable.

As he took out a plaster, seemingly from thin air, and applied it to your foot he said: ‘Before tonight,’ Ouch. You winced from the pressure he applied. ‘I’d seen you watching me.’ He didn’t look at you, only concentrating on his handiwork and causing you as little pain as possible.

‘Yeah I gathered from all the teasing.’

His voice grew suddenly lower. ‘I’m not talking about tennis matches.’

You were suddenly reminded of a not so distant memory. Ashley had stood you up for lunch, she’d found a better hot date, and you had been in the cafeteria alone. Art had been queuing in front of you, waiting for Patrick and you’d been in awe. What you hadn’t noticed was that he’d sensed your eyes burning holes into the back of his head long before he turned around. He had given you a passing look of recognition and slight amusement before finding his seat next to Patrick.

You imagined alongside that memory were hundreds others. Hundreds of days you’d stared at Art, watched how he span his apples before eating them and the line of his jaw when he drank water in oppressive heat. All the time he had known, you just hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

‘Oh.’

Art gave you your foot back and sat on the bed beside you. For a moment you couldn’t bare to look at him, incase he disappeared and decided it was funnier to leave you hanging. Your foot was the least of your worries. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d really kissed someone, with feverish need, but you wanted to.

Noticing your inward battle, Art raised his hands almost in defeat. ‘I can leave.’ He meant it, there was no judgement. You turned to him, your eyes meeting his clouded with lust, and recognised that this was a man who needed to be wanted. He wanted to give and receive pleasure, not out of boredom but out of a clawing need for it. If you wanted him to leave then he’d leave but if you wanted him to stay then he’d make the most of it.

Your hand settled atop of his.

‘Don’t.’

Part 2

#challengers #challengers fic #mike faist #art donaldson #art Donaldson x reader #art donaldson fan fic #art donaldson fanfic #challengers x reader #challengers art Donaldson #challengers 2024 #x reader

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artificial-transmutations · 4 months

Text

Strength Within

Tiberius was humming slightly as he carefully, almost tenderly, chipped away another piece of marble. It was a warm summer day, and he was working on one of his best pieces yet: A statue of a gladiator, made of the finest marble. It was going to replace one of the hundreds of statues in the great Colosseum. There had been a storm some weeks ago, and a few of the lighter statues had been toppled over, breaking them beyond repair in the process. It had been a great honor to be asked to create a replacement, and Tiberius had immediately started to work on it.

It was the statue of a young man, his body chiseled out of a piece of white marble that Tiberius had bought at the market. He was so focused on the statue in front of him that he almost didn't hear the noise of approaching feet. Only when the person stopped right next to him, did Tiberius avert his gaze.

It was Marcus, Tiberius' slave, a young man with a lean, fit body. Tiberius even supposed that the young man was kind of handsome, at least judging from the attention Marcus got when he went to the forum for him. Right now, however, the slave seemed flustered, almost fearful even.

"Master, there... there is a visitor for you."

Tiberius frowned slightly. Usually, Marcus knew not to disturb him when he was working. One wrong move and the whole statue could be ruined.

"Well, can't you see I am busy? This is most important work. Imagine all the people who are going to see my statue at the great Colosseum when they pass it by. Even the nobles, perhaps even the emperor himself. I can hardly afford to make mistakes here. Tell the visitor to return after sundown."

Marcus gulped slightly.

"Master, it's..."

Another voice, strong and filled with arrogance, spoke up. "I will most certainly not return after sundown. I am here, after all, to inspect the work for my Colosseum."

Slowly, Tiberius turned around before letting himself fall to his knees in a panicked motion. Standing in front of him was no one else but Cornelius Magnus, the emperor of Rome. The most powerful man in the whole world was standing here, in the backyard of Tiberius' villa, clad in the finest toga.

"Y-your lordship, I am so sorry! Please, forgive me for being rude!"

"Oh, I forgive you, artist." Said the emperor, stepping closer to Tiberius. "You seem like a nice enough man."

Tiberius was still looking at the ground as the noble came closer.

"Stand up, artist!" The emperor commanded.

Tiberius was shaking like a leaf as he got back on his feet.

"I... thank you, your lordship."

The emperor thankfully didn't comment on his stuttering and instead looked at the marble statue.

"I can see why the great Colosseum has employed you. This is truly a magnificent piece. Who is it supposed to represent?"

"That... uhm. It's nobody, actually. I was just imagining a gladiator."

"Ah, I see. And what a fine gladiator he would make, too." The emperor replied.

Tiberius couldn't help but blush slightly. It was such an honor to receive praise from the emperor himself.

"But tell me, artist! Why is his chest so smooth and unadorned? Where is all the manly hair you would expect on a man of his strength?"

"I-I just figured that... you know... a gladiator would look better without chest hair. More... more elegant. It's the style, you see. Also, it is almost impossible to capture these fine details in marble."

"Hm. A pity you think so." The emperor continued to look at the statue for a few moments before turning towards Tiberius.

"You know, I have not only come to inspect the art, but also the artist." The look of the emperor now lingered on Tiberius himself, making him feel entirely uncomfortable. It was just the same judging look he just used on the marble statue.

"What... what do you mean?", Tiberius stammered.

The emperor didn't answer the question, but slowly circled around Tiberius. "You are aware that you are my subject, yes? That I basically own you, just like you own that slave boy?" he asked in a casual tone.

"I... yes, I am. I would never dream of questioning your authority." Tiberius didn't like where this was going, and he knew the emperor was, in fact, wrong. He was a free citizen, not a slave. Not even the emperor *owned* him. But that were semantics he didn't want to lose this job over.

"Good. It pleases me that you are not a troublemaker. It makes my life easier. I do not enjoy punishing my subjects." The emperor paused and then looked directly at Tiberius.

"Now, take off your toga."

"My... my toga?"

"Yes, you heard me."

"Eh..." Tiberius didn't know how to react. It wasn't that he didn't want to obey the emperor, it was just that the command made no sense to him. He had no idea what the emperor had planned.

"Are you refusing an order from your emperor?" The man now asked with a hint of danger in his voice.

"N-no, of course not, your lordship!"

Still shaking, Tiberius untied his toga, exposing his naked chest.

The eyes of the emperor were akin to those of a vulture as he studied the exposed body of his subject.

"Pitiful. But your face is agreeable at least. Agreeable enough at least. Get on your knees, boy, and use that mouth of yours to serve your emperor."

Tiberius froze.

"I... I don't understand."

"Don't be daft. You are going to suck me off. Use that mouth for something other than talking."

Tiberius stared at the man with disbelief.

"No." Everything in Tiberius was revolting against that request. He wasn't a particular fan of being intimate with other men, but even more importantly, he wouldn't let himself be forced to that against his will. Not even by the emperor. He was a free citizen.

The emperor had a cold look in his eyes as he spoke up:

"What did you say? I thought I misheard."

"I... I said no." Tiberius was trembling, but he managed to keep his voice firm.

"You... dare to defy me? You dare to defy your emperor? You will regret that, artist. You just forfeit all your privileges. Your life is not worth anything anymore. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey their master? They are taken to the arena and fight to the death against wild beasts."

Before Tiberius could protest - or react at all - the emperor snapped his fingers. The clicking sound was unnaturally loud, like the crack of a whip. All of a sudden, Tiberius felt weak. Shadows and darkness came closing in from all sides despite it being a sunny day. He barely heard the voice of Marcus cry out, as he collapsed into unconsciousness.

***

When Tiberius awoke, he was not in bright sunlight anymore. Instead, he found himself in a dark dungeon. Moist stone surrounded him and as he got on his feet carefully, he noticed that he was imprisoned. His cell was small and empty aside from a heap of straw that served as a bed. It smelled as bad as Tiberius would have expected, and light only came in from a torch in the corridor through the iron barred door.

Tiberius stumbled towards the door, holding on to the bars for support. He was weak and felt lightheaded. He was also wearing different clothes, a simple tunic and sandals.

Of course, Tiberius recognized his surroundings. He had not been here before, but he recognized the masonry. He was in the coliseum, the biggest and most famous structure in Rome. Only now, he wasn't in the part where visitors went, and statues stood. He was in the dungeons beneath the arena.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice echoing in the empty hallway.

Even though he didn't expect any reaction, he heard steps approaching. He thought the sound of the steps sounded familiar and, really, a familiar face appeared in the torchlight.

"Marcus!"

"Master! You're awake!" The slave was obviously happy to see him.

"What happened?"

"It was all very weird. After the emperor snapped his fingers, it became really dark for a moment, and you collapsed. Then, the emperor ordered his guards to bring you to the coliseum as a new gladiator. And then, all your stuff was being sold off. I, too, was sold to the arena, although not as a fighter. They need a lot of support staff for the fights, so I was bought to be a cleaner and a servant. Oh, and the emperor's guards took your statue and smashed it. He was really angry at you."

Tiberius needed a moment to digest that information.

"I'm a... gladiator now?"

Most gladiators were slaves, or criminals, or prisoners of war. It was about the lowest one could fall, and all just because he had the nerve to refuse the emperor. Still, even though Tiberius felt anger swelling in himself, he wasn't angry at himself, but that *asshole* of an emperor.

"Master, I'm so sorry, I..." began Marcus, but Tiberius quickly cut him off.

"What happened is not your fault. And don't call me master. I'm not your master anymore. I'm a servant myself, as it seems. Just call me Tiberius."

"But I can't..."

"It's okay, Marcus. Just do it."

"Okay, Tiberius. Thank you. We will figure something out. The emperor said he would 'inspect his work' later, perhaps you can appeal to him then."

That sounded reasonable. However, Tiberius didn't *feel* reasonable. He felt... enraged. Full of furious energy. His whole body felt like it was on fire from within.

"Perhaps." Tiberius murmured, clenching his fists.

"How... how long was I unconscious?"

"Two days."

"Do you have any food?"

"Yes, the kitchen is well stocked. Let me get you something."

While Marcus fetched the food, Tiberius was left alone with his thoughts.

Being turned into a gladiator was pretty much a death sentence, at least for someone like Tiberius. He looked down on himself and looked at his lean, but not overly fit body. He wouldn't last ten minutes in the arena.

However, as he looked, the warm feeling inside of him intensified. Every breath he took in seemed deeper than the last, and every time he exhaled, his chest didn't recede all the way, as if his lungs were expanding with each breath.

When Marcus returned, he almost cried out: "Ma- Tiberius! What is happening to you?"

By now, his chest had barreled out considerably and his clothes felt tight. When he spoke, the added lung volume made his voice resonate somewhat deeper. "I don't know." He replied. "What is happening to me?"

"You... are growing."

"I know." came Tiberius frustrated answer. "It's like my chest is blowing up."

"It's not just your chest! Your shoulders, too."

It was difficult for Tiberius to look at his own shoulders, but he found Marcus was right: His shoulders had become considerably wider, and his arms were further apart then just minutes before.

"I feel like I'm growing. Growing stronger, I mean. My body feels so energized. I feel like I could smash that iron door with my bare hands."

"Well, perhaps you should try not to. This is some weird magic going on, no doubt." Despite his words, Marcus didn't just appear to be frightened. A certain ...interest was clearly audible in his voice, too.

Tiberius could hardly focus on it, though. His simple tunic felt even tighter as his arms and legs began to swell with strength and muscles. At the same time, his chest and shoulders expanded further and further, the fabric stretching beyond its limits. The seam of his tunic ripped, and the garment fell apart, leaving his torso naked.

"Fuck." Normally, it would be unlike Tiberius to curse like that, but now it came to him naturally. On the other hand, he found it more and more difficult to focus on the more complex thoughts, like *why* he was changing.

All of a sudden, an itching feeling spread quickly over his body.

"Gods, my armpits!" Cried Tiberius, scratching his underarms and sides.

"Let me see." Marcus quickly rushed closer, and indeed, small hairs began to grow out of the previously smooth pits. They didn't stop there, though. quickly, like a fire, the pelt of hair covered his bare chest and back, quickly spreading further north and south from there.

"Your face!" exclaimed the slave, before obviously getting an idea. He produced a small piece of polished silver and handed it to Tiberius, allowing him to see his own face change.

While before, his face had been lengthy, crowned by dark curly hair, he was changing quickly now. His skull reformed to a blockier appearance, radiating a form of rugged but outlandish and primitive manliness. Coarse stubble grew on his chin, and his curly hair straightened into strong spiky strands in an exotic blonde color.

This wasn't the face of a roman, Tiberius knew that. It was the face of a barbarian from the north, a member of the tribes of Germania. Confusingly, Tiberius didn't feel particularly disgusted by becoming some filthy animalistic barbarian from the north. Instead, he felt... pride? It was hard to find the right words, even more so, as his knowledge in Latin diminished to a heavily accented basis.

He looked back at Marcus, who was watching the whole process with big eyes. Well, not only big eyes, as Tiberius noticed. The excitement was clearly visible in the loin area of his clothing. That, in turn, was oddly exciting for Tiberius. The thought that he preferred female company was quickly diminishing as his own member grew. It wasn't just that his cock was becoming stiff, no. It was also becoming *bigger*. In Rome, a small cock was considered civilized. But Tiberius wasn't from Rome anymore. In Germania, a big fuckstick was something to be proud of! And proud he was.

It was impossible for Marcus not to realize the hefty tool Tiberius was now sporting.

"Tiberius, you..." he said, but again, Tiberius cut him off. "It's Torben." he said with his gruff accented voice. After a moment, he added: "I... like you Marcus. Really." He wanted to express more than that. He wanted to express gratitude that Marcus was there for him, and he wanted to express the deep fluttery feeling that was composed of both barely contained lust for the other man and emotional closeness, but Torben didn't know the words for that.

However, even though Torben lacked the words, it looked like Marcus understood him perfectly well. Still separated by the bars, he brought his face close to Torben's. So close they could feel each other’s breath. However, just as their lips parted, the door to the dungeon opened. Quickly, both men took a step back.

It was the emperor, a smug grin on his mouth.

"Ah, the artist. Although, you're not much of an artist now, are you? But don't worry. What you lack on status now, you'll make up in entertainment value for the people of Rome. Or..." he paused for a moment before continuing. "For me. In my grace I have decided to give you one. last. chance. Serve in my bedchamber for one week and you shall have your former body back and be exiled. Now that is a most generous offer, if you ask me."

Torben couldn't help himself and snorted.

"And what if I don't accept?"

"Why, you stay like that of course. And be eaten by lions, eventually, I suppose."

Torben looked at the emperor intensely. The offer wasn't that bad, he had to admit. Being with men wasn't a problem anymore for him, and a week wasn't that long. The only trouble was his burning hatred for that arrogant asshole. Nevertheless, it was his best shot at survival.

Torben was just about to agree, when his gaze fell on Marcus. Torben wasn't too bright, but he understood: If he returned to his old life, he wouldn't be attracted to Marcus anymore. Even more so, he would be exiled, without him. Torben might be strong as a bull, but the thought alone made his knees weak.

"No." he said firmly. "I stay. With Marcus."

Clearly, the emperor did not expect that. His expression changed from surprise to anger, and, after a few seconds, to an amused grin.

"My, aren't you a strong one. Even now you have the audacity to defy me. You realize I could just let you have executed right now?"

"Yes." Torben said, with his head held high.

"Ha. You really must like that slave boy. Fine, have it your way. Stay a gladiator, see how long you survive."

The emperor turned around and went for the door. When he reached it, he turned around once more.

"You know, it doesn't happen often, but every now and then a gladiator can earn back his freedom. I'll be delighted to see you try."

The closing door felt as if Torben's fate had been sealed. He looked to Marcus, unsure what to think, but the young man just smiled.

"Thank you.", he said, and closed in for that kiss. Life surely wouldn't be easy from now on, but Torben had a goal. He would fight for freedom, both his own and Marcus'.

Hey, if you like Torben or Tiberius, check out my Tip Jar - There are many alternate versions of him!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay #racial transformation

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galedekarios · 6 months

Text

gale as a professor at blackstaff academy

i have to say that at first i wasn't too sold on the (then still fanon) idea of a professor ending because of gale's own prior anecdote about being irked by his previous students and their inadequacies.

i thought it might not be a good fit for him as far as professions go.

but reading the epilogue files, i have come around on it.

i think it's just one more way in which he's really grown into himself, become content with who he was in the past, the mistakes he made and what he has learned from them, and the person he wants to be in the future:

Player: You? A teacher? I'd hardly say you set the best example for impressionable young wizards... Gale: I think it makes perfect sense. devnote: Surprised you wouldn't recognise this, a tiny bit offended you don't trust him to do this Gale: Who better to warn of the perils of misusing magic than someone who was once only a wayward sneeze away from destroying a mid-sized settlement? devnote: playing up to his past a bit, you can imagine this is how he acts with his students Tara the Tressym: Don't remind me of those terrible times, Mr Dekarios. My blood pressure has only just recovered.

a few more cute banters & things we learn about gale and his new teaching position:

tara swipes at students who fall asleep in gale's classes, which he himself doesn't mind. he, too, slept through some of them (like his calishite lessons):

Player: Perhaps that's a good thing. I'm sure they're far better students than I was... Gale: Ah, so you still remember our little lesson? devnote: A little bit bashful, it was a vulnerable moment for him Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. devnote: Complimentary, pulling the thought back to the teaching element after getting lost in the memory of the moment Gale: They try their best, of course - when they can manage to stay awake. devnote: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student Tara the Tressym: The cheek of them! Nothing a well-placed swipe from Tara can't fix, though.

2. gale offered to teach more subjects than illusion via simulacra:

Player: Only a professor? With your expertise, I'd have thought you could teach every kind of magic going... Gale: I did offer, as a matter of fact. devnote: Secretly glad the player thinks so highly of him Gale: However, the Blackstaff insisted I couldn't teach every subject, nor could the simulacra of myself I offered to create for that purpose. devnote: Reluctantly accepts that this was the right decision Gale: So, I've settled for teaching the art of illusion. Magic to confound the senses, to render the impossible into reality, and to allow expression of that most magical attribute of all - imagination. devnote: Selling it a bit - he wants to make sure you appreciate how cool this is

3. gale has told his students about the player's adventures and will invite a player to be a guest lecturer:

Player: I found the love of my life. I'd say I'm pretty happy. Gale: And I couldn't be happier for you. A fitting reward for the sacrifices you made in getting here. Gale: I've told my students plenty of tales about our escapades. You're something of a hero to them, you know. Gale: I'd be delighted to introduce you to my current cohort - as a guest lecturer, perhaps? I'm sure they'd have plenty of questions for you. Player: It would be my pleasure. Gale: Excellent. I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the allure of sharing your expertise. Gale: Of course you'll be most welcome to stay with me in my tower- Tara the Tressym: Ahem. Gale: My apologies, Tara. That would be our tower.

4. his students find him somewhat intimidating due to his backstory with mystra and the orb:

Gale: Well, that was quite lovely. I'm glad you're as pleased to see me as I am you. Gale: I have to say, I'm quite grateful to just be 'Gale' for the evening. Gale: I fear my students find me somewhat intimidating, due to my erm, explosive former reputation. I seem to put the fear of the gods into them. devnote: He plays up to his reputations a bit, so he isn't overly surprised Gale: Or the fear of Mystra, to be more specific. Gale: I surrendered the Crown of Karsus to her, as I told you I would. And in return, she cured me of the orb at last. Gale: Even now, I struggle to put the feeling into words. It was like exhaling for the first time, after holding my breath for so very long. Gale: Of course, I haven't clarified with my students that the orb is no longer a threat. The legend of my explosive capabilities is an excellent means of controlling a classroom. Too good, if anything.

5. he wants to teach his students that there is fun in studying magic:

Gale: I spend most of my time trying to convince them how much fun the study of magic can be, but it'd be easier to crack a smile on an intellect devourer than some of my pupils... devnote: Despairing a little, doesn't understand why they aren't all as passionate as he was Player: Or on a mind flayer, perhaps... Gale: Smiling may no longer come easy to you, but I've seen how your tentacles twitch at my jokes. Even the ones I'm not entirely certain I was trying to make... devnote: Last sentence a tiny bit self-conscious, aware that people sometimes find him ridiculous. Gale: Still, I hoped my students might be a little more open to the playful side of such magic.

anyhow, i hope this was insightful to someone! 🖤

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

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