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souperbloom · 8 months

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Tours over!! We def need a blurb of the boys coming home. Preferably Ash I swear I’ve read everything written about Ashton :/

thank you for the request, friend! i do agree, we are in dire need of some Ash homecoming content. how about a smutty little reunion? ;0

hope you enjoy <3

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honey, i’m home! [A.I.]

🏠 i’m biased towards this photo because i was there, teehee

boyfriend!ash. a reunion, if you will. :)

after a long three months away on tour, your boyfriend Ashton finally comes home.

CONTENT WARNINGS: references to weed, suggestive language, pet names.

WORDCOUNT: 1.9k

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Today was the day.

After three months of an empty couch, an unraided fridge, and the divot on the right side of your mattress growing cold, your boyfriend Ashton was finally coming home.

Today was the fuckin’ day.

You sat on the edge of your seat, literally, barely taking up any space on the couch cushions. Your feet were bolted to the floor, practically ready to blast off into space.

Or, to jump up and greet him.

You’d check your phone every now and then, watching the hours tick by growing later and later, and occasionally seeing your lover’s name light up the screen.

There have been a few updates on his ETA, random photos from his camera roll of the two of you, and even some mindless, lovesick babbling. Rambling on about how much he missed you and ‘couldn’t wait to come home to see your sweet face.’

Each time his name popped up, you’d smile; feeling nothing short of a kid in a candy store. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face not only after seeing you, but after seeing what you had planned.

You had decided to make Ashton’s homecoming an event, of sorts. A dreamy date night filled with all of his favorite things that you were sure he was missing.

And, of course, being that you knew him better than anyone in this world, you made sure to think of everything.

A fresh bouquet of daisies on the kitchen table, straight from his favorite farmer’s market. A joint, rolled with love, for the two of you to share and smoke out on your balcony. A fridge stocked full of his favorite snacks and foods.

And lastly, the pièce de résistance of it all.

A few days prior, you had gone out shopping on your own at the little boutiques down on Rodeo. You found yourself wandering into a quaint lingerie shop, only to walk out with the most beautiful, most expensive, two-piece set that ever graced their mannequins.

It was an emerald green two-piece, covered in floral lace and complete with its own matching silk slip. You thought it was perfect for the comfortable, homesick-curing aura you were trying to create around you and Ashton’s home.

And green is Ashton’s favorite color, after all.

After a few more moments of quiet, the mellow sounds of classic rock streaming softly out of your speaker, your phone lights up.

ASHTON ❥:

Be home in 5. Love you so much.

Can’t wait 2 see you. xo

It took everything in you not to let out a piercingly loud girlish squeal, rocking back and forth on the couch and clutching your phone like it was just going to just fly right out of your hands. But you didn’t want risk your neighbors thinking you were being attacked—

You didn’t want a repeat of the last time Ashton made you scream.

With Ashton’s messages still shining on your screen, you toss your phone to the side. You decide to stand up from your permanent spot on the couch, and do one last run around of the house to make sure everything was perfect, and in order.

The flowers were still on the kitchen table, yes. The sweets and fresh fruits were all still in the fridge, right where you had left them. Your bed was still made, thank God, and the stick of incense you had lit still had about an hour of life left in it.

Safe to say, everything you had thought of was perfect.

As you walk through the halls of your spacious, yet lived in home, you hear a familiar sound.

A click.

Then, another.

A squeak.

And one last sound that made your heart start to flutter.

"Honey, I’m home!"

Without a second to think, you’re rushing towards the front door. Your socked feet padded along the hardwood floors as you ran, cutting corners and slipping along.

"Baby? I hear you…"

The sweet sound of his voice grew louder, your heart just ready to burst and pop out of your throat into fireworks. You round the corner to the foyer—

And there he was.

"Ashton!" You gleam, finally seeing him for the first time since he had started his journey out of the country and across the world.

He sported unkempt, overgrown curls and a black trench coat, that was tugged off slightly from the heavy duffle bags that sat on his broad shoulders.

It was almost impossible for you not to swoon.

You barrel past his bags as he drops them on the floor, jumping into his arms and practically lifting yourself off of the ground.

"Hi, sweetheart," he hums into your ear with a voice like honey, as your body clings onto his, "I missed you so fuckin’ much."

He holds you tightly, his cologne hitting your nose almost instantly with the way you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"I missed you more, baby— fuck— I missed you." Your words are slightly muffled by the material of his coat, not long before he’s pulling away from the hug to get a better look at you.

"Look at you. Fuckin’ look at my girl. Thought I was dreaming when I saw this sweet face again," he trails off, letting his eyes linger behind your head to admire all of the little sweet nothings you had prepared for him, "Is this all for me?"

"Mhm, it is. You are definitely not dreaming," you hum, proudly.

Ashton pulls you in for one last squeeze, then places a sloppy kiss upon your lips.

"I am the luckiest guy in the world," he sighs, adjusting his arms around you, "Think I gotta get a better look at all the stuff my girl did f’me."

"Come in, stay a while." You try your hand at biting back a smile as you pull away from him, but can’t seem to contain the elated expression plastered on your face.

He shrugs off his coat, hanging it on the hook next to yours. Inhaling deeply, he smiles, "Do I smell Paolo Santo?"

"Mhmmm." Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, with your arms behind your back as you swing impatiently from side to side.

"Good choice," he nods.

"Your favorite."

With all of his bags now on the floor, and his Doc Martens still laced to his ankles, he quietly steps through the foyer to the kitchen. You watch from behind him through adoring eyes, loving every second of watching him discover each and every little detail.

"Daisies—?" He tosses you a sweet look over his shoulder, but stops in his tracks as his eyes meet yours.

He scans down your frame, finally taking in what you had been waiting for. The emerald green silk slip, in all of its glory.

"Holy shit—" he stops himself again, turning all the way around to face you.

"Well, whatdaya’ think of my outfit?" You ask, fanning out your hands and showing off the full extent of the dress and all of its means of hugging your curves.

His jaw hangs open slightly, before he crosses his arms over his chest. That expression of shock melts into a cheeky smile.

"Honestly, now I’m thinking about what it’s gonna look like on the floor."

He starts to walk towards you, his taller frame looming over you as you tilt your head to look at him with a pout.

"On the floor, Ash? This was expensive!"

When his hands find your waist, you freeze. His fingertips dance along the silky materiel that dressed your hips, pulling you into him.

"Money can buy you a new one, sweetheart. But— I’m afraid no money can buy how much I’ve been missing you."

Your lips push to the side, now feeling slightly electric at the feeling of his gentle touch.

"Didn’t know you missed me that much."

"No?" He quips, "Well then why don’t I show you? Show you just how much I’ve been missin’ ya."

Something inside of you snaps, the twinkle in his eyes making you giddy— you reach out to him, slithering your arms around his neck to pull him into you.

When his lips land on yours you sigh, like a forty pound weight being lifted off of your shoulders. You missed the sweetness of his kiss; the taste of his lips, and tongue on yours.

You were a puzzle that had found its missing piece. Whole again.

Ashton’s hands travel down your sides, greedily wandering across each and every part of you that he had been deprived of in the last three months.

The promise ring you had gifted him right before he left was now right back to its rightful owner, scorching your flesh in all of the places you had been dying for him to touch. To see. To have again.

His hands had now found their way to your ass, making you shiver.

"Jump." He mumbles messily into your lips.

You oblige, jumping up and locking your ankles around the small of his back.

As the kiss between you grows hungry, Ashton starts to move you. He walks you past the threshold of the kitchen, and over to the island.

You had already started to feel that familiar, swirling feeling you get whenever he’s around you; let alone the feelings that came with him so effortlessly picking you up and walking around the house with you in his arms.

He releases your lips, brushing his nose against yours as he he starts to walk the both of you closer to the marble countertop.

"I’ve been waitin’ so long to take care of you properly, sweetheart— But at this rate, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it t’ the bedroom."

As he speaks, he lowers you gently onto the cool marble. You let out a giggle at his eagerness. "I don’t mind, baby. You can have me anytime, any place. I’m all yours."

His hands find your waist again, sliding you forward into his hips. He knocks his forehead against your own, before granting you a quick kiss.

"You’re all mine?" He asks again, as if your words of confirmation weren’t enough for him the first time.

"Yes, Ash. I’m all yours."

His lips find their way to your jaw, starting a trail of gentle kisses down towards the nape of your neck. He stays there for a moment, tenderly nipping at the fragile flesh.

"’Don’t know who I bribed in heaven to get sent down an angel as perfect as you— ‘Don’t know how I got so lucky..."

He kisses your neck again as your hands get lost in his lush curls. You can’t help but tug down on them, just the way he likes it.

With one final kiss at your collarbone, he pops his head back up to meet you. But as he makes his way up, something on the counter catches his eye.

His eyebrow quirks, as he reaches behind you and picks up the joint you had rolled for him.

"Now, what’s all this?" He asks, waving the pre-roll in front of your face with a mischievous smirk.

"Just a little somethin’ special," you grin, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, "But we can worry about that later…"

He lets out a breathy laugh, putting the joint down in it’s spot the counter and reaching back up to cup your cheeks with his blistered, earthy palms.

"You really thought of everything didn’t you— my sweet girl."

Your cheeks tinge pink, unable to control your urges as you plant another big kiss onto his soft lips.

"Welcome home, Ashton."

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#soupster requests #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin #5sos #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin fanfic #request

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moonrose-mortem · 1 year

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Last night's episode was so good! I missed Laudna, Ashton and Orym so bad and I am LOVING these new characters at the table!

I wasn't sure about Deni$e at first, but seeing her kick ass and being so nice to Orym and crew I'm starting to grow on her. She gives off that cool aunt/mom of the group vibe, keeping everyone in check. Her talk with Orym was kinda sweet and I can see her being the one who hugs him telling him he's doing good while strangling anyone who hurts him at the same time.

As far as Bor'dor, I love him! He is just a regular guy with the looks of Bruno Madrigal and the personality of a dog who is scared and needs a hug. I loved him being scared shitless of Lauda's form of dread and Pate. Him trying to shoot lightning at Denise when she snuck up on him? Priceless! He's also a Divine Soul Sorcerer, I looked it up because they are sorcerers that can heal, and even though everyone is saying they have no healers he's going to come in clutch with his healing spells. I feel like there's more to him than he's letting on, but maybe for a reason. The way he spoke of his mother leaving when he was young, being a simple farmer/ sheep herder, and the way he got these powers for no reason is very reminiscent of Imogen. What if he is Ruidusborn and doesn't know?

Prism Grimpoppy is so damn cute I love everything about her! Her design, her "doesn't go out much" librarian girl personality, her Zazu voice talking book, her raven familiar, her magic coming in clutch in that fight(three nat 20s guys!) I already see a ship between her and Bor'dor, just a hunch but we'll see. And she's a member of the Cobalt Soul?

That moment of Ashton comforting Laudna was so sweet and he made wonderful points. They may not be able to save the world, but they are enough to save their friends. And the whole dead bodies in the hole and making them talk running gag was hilarious!

Can't wait to see what these guys get into next few episodes!

Edit: Bor'dor you evil mother f**ker...😒

#critical role #critical role spoilers #bell's hells #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #laudna #deni$e bembachula #prism grimpoppy #bor'dor dog'son

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scotianostra · 4 months

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Marion Gilchrist was born on February 5th 1864 she became the first female graduate of the University of Glasgow and one of the first two women to qualify in medicine from a Scottish university.

Born at Bothwell Park farm, South Lanarkshire to Margaret and William Gilchrist a prosperous tenant farmer, she had four older siblings; three brothers, John, William and Douglas, and one sister, Agnes. Her brother Douglas became was a well known agriculturalist.

Marion’s earlier education was at the local parish church when she was around 7 years old. She met with some challenges where her father and brother Douglas thought it pointless that she studied academic subjects however her brother John encouraged her and she attended the local primary school the Hamilton Academy before entering Glasgow University.

In 1887 she matriculated as an Arts student at Queen Margaret College in Glasgow. She completed her course in 1889 and enrolled along with thirteen other women in the newly opened medical school. She graduated in July 1894, the first woman graduate of the University of Glasgow.

She went into general practice developing an interest in diseases of the eye. The death of her father in 1903 allowed her to set up in practice at 5 Buckingham Terrace where she was to remain for the rest of her life. Financially and professionally independent, she became openly politically active. During 1903 she joined the Glasgow and West of Scotland Association for Women’s Suffrage. She did not take part in militant action, preferring to devote her voluntary energies to medical charities. In 1914 she was appointed assistant surgeon for diseases of the eye at the Victoria Infirmary. She resigned in 1930 as she found it difficult to combine the position with that of ophthalmic surgeon at Redlands Hospital for Women to which she had been appointed in 1927.

She was a prominent member of the British Medical Association and the first woman chairman of the Glasgow division. She had a fierce sense of duty which she expected others to share. When a newly qualified woman doctor was visiting her during the Second World War and the air-raid warning sounded, she told her young colleague that she must return at once to her hospital on the other side of Glasgow even though bombs were falling outside.

Gilchrist was an early motoring enthusiast and her garage and chauffeur’s house were situated in Ashton Lane, in premises which are now Bar Brel.

Marion Gilchrist’s achievements were honoured when her home town of Bothwell named Gilchrist memorial garden in her honour. The University of Glasgow named the Postgraduate Club after her. In 1932, a gift of £1,500 was used to endow a bed at Redlands Women’s hospital for the treatment of eye diseases which was also named in recognition of her.

The Gilchrist Window in the north transept of Bothwell Parish Church in her was created with funds she donated in 1936. The inscription below the window reads, “To the Glory of God. Erected by Marion Gilchrist in memory of her father William Gilchrist and her mother Margaret Williamson, her brothers, John William and Douglas, and her sister Agnes.”

The Marion Gilchrist Prize was established in 1952 from Marion Gilchrist’s bequest and is awarded annually by the University of Glasgow to “the most distinguished woman graduate in Medicine of the year.”

Gilchrist never married. She died at her home on 7th September 1952 aged 88.

#scotland #scottish #history #strong womaN #gp #doctor #glasgow

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tiredkershyff · 5 months

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TWST Headcanon

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Shaftlands

So in the Japanese Shaftlands is 輝石の国, Kiseki no Kuni. Smth like the country of pyroxene. A silicate mineral.

It's a large country with many regions of various cultures.

The characters that live there are: Vil, Epel, Cater, Jack. Plus, two professors: Trein and Vargas.

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Vil and Epel

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They both are connected with the Snow White fairy tale, it's of German origin, written by Brothers Grimm

Vil's last name is German origin as well. Schoenheit › Schönheit, beauty + -ness

Epel's last name, however, has french origin, from Old-French Fermier, lease-holder. Farmer in modern English.

We will talk about french later.

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Mozus Trein

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Mozus is the Latin version of the Hebrew name. It's Moses in the English version. His last name is a shortning from the 'Lady Tremaine, as per my guess. Seeing how he is based on her. It's a Cornish last name.

He comes from Cinderella. Originally it was about a Greek slave girl who married the king of Egypt.

The first literary version was Italian. However, I will note, that one of the popular versions is by Brothers Grimm. Yet again them.

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Cater, Jack

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Miraheze wiki says that Cater is an alternative for French word four or quieter. I will note, also, that Cater's family moves a lot bc of their father's job.

Jack, as miraheze suggested, could be after Jack London, bc of his novel about White Fang. It's an American novelist.

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Ashton Vargas

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The name Ashton is of English origin. Vargas is a Spanish last name. Miraheze also suggested the Lithuanian word 'vargas' that meant foe or enemy. They do not cite their reasoning behind choosing lith. noun and not an actual last name, so I'm not really inclined to count it.

He is based on Gaston, whose name could be both French and German origin. Yeah, the setting of Beauty and the Beast is a French village, some of his trophies animals are not native. Maybe he is not from there?

‎ ‎

With that we already got two German stories. And a lot of English as for me.

English is called the Common language (I'm fairly sure it's canon. If not, then it's part of the headcanon).

So I headcanon Shaftlands as a country with two official languages: English and German.

Obviously, it's not called German there. It's Pyrolytisch (Sprache).

And in that language the country is called Pyroland.

(Pyro is not read as 'pairo', but as pi:ro)

And about French? Well, I'll do it in a post about Sunset Savanna, French and Rook

#i already touched a bit about sunset savanna #birds of feather #but gonna go here more about it #i hope i explained it well #if not feel free to ask anything #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #twst hcs #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst worldbuilding #twisted wonderland hcs #twisted wonderland writing

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12pt-times-new-roman · 1 year

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c3e63

Within the chamber, there are remnants of rituals and spells that have been "abandoned."

"You are intruders within my domain." The air instantly gets colder. "Hevestro is not available... I am Evothorir, and you are in my home uninvited." The air grows colder and the lights dim slightly as shadows cascade from the ceiling. "Hevestro is mine. Omadua is mine. This valley belongs to me." A pale gray, pointed face emerges from the cascading shadow, the eyes a faint blue with a smile of crooked, cracked, elongated teeth. With an arcana check, Prism identifies that there is a fey energy to this thing.

Prism says they have nothing invested in Hevestro, that they can get the power they want then leave.

"You smell of... potential." Orym sees some little whips of red light in the shadow.

"Whatever happened, it freed me. I have no interest, for now, in leaving. I am home, and you are intruding... I know how you can help me. You can join Hevestro. You have potential — I want it."

Initiative!

This thing has legendary actions and resistances, and is able to cast at least 6th level spells. As a bonus action, it manifests one of the two glowing red orbs Orym saw, which turns everything in a radius grayscale.

As Orym strikes it, he sees that there's some kind of corporeal form inside the shadow, and assumes that it's Hevestro. When Prism hits it with force damage, the shadow dissipates for a moment and she sees a shriveled elven figure within that also takes the damage.

Ashton rage build update: When Ashton's gravity rage build is active and a creature within the gravity well tries to move away, that creature loses 10 feet of movement and has disadvantage on attack rolls against creatures that aren't Ashton.

With Seedling, Orym dissipates the shadow and uses the grappling vine, which wraps around the shoulder of the humanoid within. With a successful strength check, the body is pulled onto the ground next to Orym, and the shadow shrieks. Then Prism sends Dynios to cast dimension door on the body and teleports it next to Ashton. Now that's what I call teamwork!

Bor'dor does have sorcery points, and uses them to regain a spell slot.

Deni$e gives the elf a healing potion, and he wakes up. He's a middle-aged elf with matted black hair, tanned skin covered in tattoos, and lavender eyes. He's wearing metal bracelets, leather vestments over green robes.

With a quickened eldritch blast, Laudna gets the HDYWTDT! The shadow reduces into a tiny slug-like thing that pulls itself forward before Laudna squishes it. The red orbs fall to the ground and shatter.

(Have I mentioned? Socerer/warlock is one of my favorite multiclass combos because of the quickened spell eldritch blast.)

Bor'dor uses mass cure wounds and heals everyone up, including the elf. The spell looks like little puffs of blue cotton candy. (How/why does he have this spell?)

Hevestro sits up and says that he's responsible for protecting "her," gesturing to the obelisk. "Any solstice is a strange time, and in preparation, we were hoping to reinforce the protective wards here. I don't know how, but Evithirir, the Taker, seems to have escaped and come back." An ancient Gau Drashari named Omadua rooted here long ago, but Evithirir was drawn to the immense power of Omadua and they fought, which diminished him; he was sealed for centuries, broke free during the solstice, and slaughtered the rest of the people in the shrine. However, the battle left Omadua mortally wounded, and she spent her final years implanting her power and spirit as a fane of protection for the region, which has since become the Emerald Tree.

Even Evithirir didn't know why or how they were freed.

Hevestro doesn't know who Ludinus is, and doesn't know what happened to the bodies of his fellows.

"Gau Drashari... not Hishari. Definitely not Hishari." "What do you know of the Hishari?" "Not a terrible amount, just what the locals are aware of... there was a humble village of farmers and crafters called Tumilo — nice folk. But 50 years ago, a charismatic figure arose named Efterin. He was traveling from town to town displaying abilities and giving sermons about the need to reinstall the primordial powers within our world — a task that is foolish, as the gods scattered them long ago. Even so, he drew many to follow him, eventually settling in Tumilo and taking control of the town. Last I heard, the source of Efterin's power was likely his downfall, leading to the destruction of the village. The survivors scattered." The town was far west of where they are now, not terribly far from the base of the Udeespire Mountains.

Ahhh. Abadena was a survivor of the Hishari village, and has "seen the error of their ways," allegedly. Hevestro hopes that she isn't being "re-radicalized" by Ludinus, but she clearly has been, with her talk about a new rise of the Primordials. It explains so much that her beliefs were sourced from the Hishari cult and from her failure to learn from its destruction.

The Hishari were attempting to channel an extremely powerful source of elemental magic, an artifact or something that became a centerpiece to their cult. In not knowing what it was they toyed with, they couldn't control it, and it left a curse upon the land. Hevestro doesn't know for sure, but imagines that the power they were trying to access was sourced from the Primordial Titans themselves. But if this took place 50 years ago, then Ashton definitely experienced some kind of temporal displacement — so my money is on this artifact being a Luxon beacon.

"In the conflict between the gods and the primordials, it was proven that perhaps, such power should not be focused in only a handful of individuals. With their destruction and eventual dispersal in the presence of the gods, the lands were left to largely live for themselves, outside of the influence of the temples and the local governments. That's where eidolons thrive — that's where we thrive, and that's why this valley is sacred, why we keep such strong mind to keeping it as it always has been."

Hevestro is happy to teleport the Bells Hells (and the group seems ready to split up at the drop of a hat), but he needs to recover his spells first.

Prism asks what he knows of the githzerai — he's heard of them, but doesn't know much, only that they are from the Astral Sea (which he describes as an ocean connecting the disparate shores of the planes).

Off in a corner, Deni$e grabs Bor'dor, twists his arm behind his back, and says, "I feel like you're not telling us everything."

Yessssss Laudna brings up the mass healing word. That isn't on the divine soul sorcerer list, and it's too high level to get from a feat. It seems like that question gets Bor'dor to tell the truth.

He grew up in "Menagerie, not far from Demali." His mother, Demandra, was blessed by the Wildmother, and taught him her ways in secret. They moved to the city, and under the guise of being leatherworkers, stayed away from the eyes of the people of the city and the church. Once, when he went into town to get some tools, some rich kids started a fight with him and he hurt them with a spell, nearly killing one. It was an accident, but his mother knew they wouldn't let Bor'dor live, so she took responsibility. She believed in the gods, and accepted her fate because of that; but Bor'dor's brother and father fought against an entire army for her freedom. Demandra's faith, on seeing them fall, shattered, believing that the gods had let her down. So she handed Bor'dor her dagger and told him to run, as the last thing he saw was Demandra engulfing both herself and the guards in a vitriolic sphere. This was years ago. He fled to the Cyrios Mountains, used his magic to make money, stole and tricked, developed a reputation. Soon, he caught attention, and was asked to join a community, and was asked a question. "Do you believe in the gods, and what they do is good?" He said no.

"What community?"

He drops his guise. Eyes full of sadness. A pain that only Orym recognizes -- indescribable grief. He's 6'4, the gold of his skin is cracked and gray.

Bor'dor fires a vitriolic sphere at a little crystal he had left on the ground.

"I saw you, you killed my friends in Marquet, you were there!"

HE'S PART OF THE RUBY VANGUARD. y'all fucking called it.

"You cast inflict wounds on an angel!" "It felt good."

Two initiatives in one episode!

Ashton rage build update: While the gravity build is active, when Ashton hits with an attack, he can use "gravity well" to force the target to make a STR save. On a fail, the target falls prone.

"Just get it over with, just end it -- end it, Laudna." Bor'dor is a bloody mess, crying, and Laudna is in a "bad spot." She goes into her form of dread, branches erupt, her eyes go dark -- and a faint purplish hue emanates from her pupils, a hue that hasn't been seen in a long time. Shaking. "I'm really sorry, Bor'dor. I just can't stand having anyone else betray me." She takes him by the throat and uses hunger of the shadow.

It's an ability (Marisha has never said "cast" in regards to this, she's always said "use") with an attack roll that seems to deal necrotic damage proportional to Laudna's level (in d6s or d8s, I think).

Bor'dor feels his blood turn to ice as he fades to unconsciousness, and Laudna feels good. She almost revels in the delicious revenge, and just hears a heartbeat in the back of her head as she dissociates.

Prism takes more damage from the acid, and she gets angry. She had been given so much hope and fun from the idea that they were learning together, and it was all a lie. She clocks him across the jaw, intending to deal damage in the stupor, and Bor'dor takes 2 death saves from the fist of a wizard with -2 STR.

As Bor'dor's life essence feeds into Laudna's mouth, a mourning veil begins to form over her face. Orym stands, watching, saying and doing nothing. Ashton takes Prism by the shoulders and turns her away. Deni$e doesn't often feel bad, but she does, and unbinds him.

"Laudna. At the threshold of death, Bor'dor is in your grasp, broken and at your mercy. What do you do?" 15 feet away, she sees Orym in her periphery, and he gives a tiny nod. Laudna is barely present, the only thing that's going through her head is Bor'dor's words about the look of someone who knows true pain. It's as if her life is flashing before her eyes, but it's trauma -- "losing Imogen, the solstice, losing her friends, watching so many die, being hung on the tree, death upon death upon death, so helpless, so out of control. In this moment, she has control, and nothing is going to stand in her way." She uses wither and bloom to take whatever lifeforce remains in Bor'dor, and it's not Laudna standing there anymore -- it's everything she hoped she wouldn't be, hoped wouldn't resurface, but the world has broken her. She gives in to the darkness. She can't control it anymore. "A familiar purple flame runs down her arm, not seen since the journey to retrieve her soul. From the ground, the roots and fried brush that has been gathered begins to sprout vibrant green and flowers of white petals, blue roses, a beautiful circle of life surrounds the two of them as Bor'dor's skin pales and cracks. His body thins. In that moment, the apex of natural beauty rising with life, alongside the balance of death, you watch the troubled life of Bor'dor Dog'son reduce to ash and memory."

Ashton walks over, and Laudna instincually lashes out. "It's okay." "Ashton?" "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. Come on, let's go sit down." They gently lead her away.

Orym lingers by the body, reaches into his belt, and pulls out the locket he took from the dead guard by the Malleus Key. He took it as a reminder because he felt bad for them, and leaves it now with Bor'dor. "We're at war." He goes, sits in the dark, and stares at the remains of a Gau Drashari.

"Ashton -- what have I done?" "Nothing that I haven't. Nothing that... I think we're all gonna have some nightmares before this is over." "I'm weak." "No, you're just hurt. It's okay." Laudna just cries into Ashton's shoulder, and he holds her close with no hesitation.

On the body, Deni$e finds a crossbow, an envenomed dagger ("I didn't get to use it, I would have, I would've stabbed each and every one of you"), leatherworkers' tools, a ring and cloak of protection, an immovable rod, and a hat of disguise. Deni$e takes the dagger with every intent of burying it with him. There is nothing tied to the Ruby Vanguard, and everything that would've tied him to the cult was likely discarded intentionally -- implying that he knew who the Bells Hells were from the get-go.

Bor'dor's body turned to ash in the wither and bloom spell. Deni$e scoops up the ashes, digs a hole, puts them in, fills it up with dirt, and puts a rock on top.

This is the first betrayal of Prism's life. She feels bad for punching him, but she's also seeing Laudna and what she did. To Prism, when Laudna did that, it wasn't something to be ashamed of. She's angry at being hoodwinked, she wonders if the feeling of learning and growth alongside Bor'dor was fake, she feels the literal and figurative acid that Bor'dor through. She's standing in the corner with a broken fist, afraid to start a conversation, but Deni$e comes over and puts a hand on her shoulder.

Deni$e has all of Bor'dor's stuff and offers the first pick to Prism. She opts for last pick instead, and she goes to shout at his grave. "We were supposed to be friends! This was supposed to work out differently!"

Eventually, Hevestro returns, after his own walk of grief. He immediately notices the change. "It seems that these days bring quite a bit of loss in so short a time. I am sorry for what has brought you here, and what has happened since. But do not let this weigh you down -- not entirely. Carry these memories with you; they hurt, but they are a strength as well. At least, I have to believe that. You are capable, or you wouldn't have been able to save me from a fate that even my focus prevented me from seeing approach. And I have a sense... just in the trust the eidolons of this land have already placed in you, that you walk a fateful path. But you do not know me from your families, and I do not wish to pry. Let us all take a night of rest. In the morning, I will usher you to your destinations, out of gratitude for the kindness you've done me."

I don't know about you, but my favorite kind of DM monologue is when the DM is so clearly communicating their own feelings toward the party through an NPC.

Laudna is afraid -- terrified that killing Bor'dor has hurt more than just him. She fears that, as hard as the Bells Hells have tried to cut her off from Delilah, she has opened that door again. But Prism comforts her. "If you closed that door once, you can close it again... I just don't want you to feel bad because it made sense, what you were doing. At least emotionally, I understand it." "I feel like control is a fallacy. We've talked so much about it here lately. We've tried to control our concurrent destinies... I'm just confused." "Well, confusion is just knowing you don't have control... so maybe surrendering to the confusion will be some medicine for that." "You're very smart, Prism -- very capable." "Thank you. You're an incredible magic user, and I think that someday you'll be strong enough to beat this bitch (Delilah) back to where she came from."

"Anger and pity don't have to be mutually exclusive." Y'know, I am absolutely living for the way the entire cast has become so good at these one-liners.

Orym can hear most of these conversations echoing, and he's meditating on how complex and broken the centuries of history are between his being held here and all of them being there, and how complicated this conflict is, how so many people have different reasons for their choices. In the end, all he can think about is what was taken from him: the people that he holds most dear, in the name of philosophy or ideology or whatever you wanna call it. "In the last few days, I've lost my footing, and I'm struggling with it. Sitting here on the stone, I know that we're going to try to kill the people who took from me, who didn't care who died to get what they wanted. And I'll just fucking die trying if I have to."

A little ways off, there's a sketch of Bor'dor's family. Deni$e finds it, then she digs another hole next to the first one. In it, she puts the dagger and the photo, before burying it and putting another rock on top.

In the morning, Hevestro offers to take them where they need to go. Before they leave, Ashton asks to take a bit of the crystal, and Hevestro gives them -- and Prism -- permission. When they're alone, Prism tells Ashton and Dynios how she doesn't want to go back, and suggests that she and Dynios could just disappear without anyone ever knowing. "Sometimes, books don't get returned to the repository what a shame." Dynios approves, and Prism acknowledges that she's asking the wrong person -- Ashton -- on purpose. But Ashton notes that "the thing you felt last night, you will feel again, and it will not feel better. Most adventures will end that way, not the other way. You're pretty fucking good at this, and I think, maybe, if you try not as hard to be someone else... just be a criminal nerd. You are clearly good at being a criminal, and you're a nerd. You're asking me? I'd do it. I've done worse. And, yeah, I think you'd be pretty good at it." Dynios pipes up and asks where she wants to go, and Prism would go anywhere there are scripts that need decoding, knowledge that's being hoarded. "Actually, we just got back from Whitestone -- they have a massive library, and the lord of Whitestone is a dick, so if a couple books go missing..." talisien jaffe you fucking genius--

Also, there's certainly something to be said about the character development of Dynios specifically.

"You said don't run from yourself -- but right now, I think I'm running toward myself." Changing Exandria for the better, one hubristic wizard apprentice at a time.

Meanwhile, Deni$e is going to go back to Emon to find Dariax. Prism offers to scry on him. (I can't believe there was a whole-ass exchange about "messing up your slots" without a single fucking giggle--)

Orym takes out his sending stone to Dorian. "Dorian -- still alive, by the skin of our teeth. Want to talk more. You know where Dariax is?" Another d100, another failed sending.

Deni$e and Prism give their goodbyes, and both are thankful for the rest of them not lying to or betraying them.

They distribute Bor'dor's items. (Ashton wholeheartedly agrees with Deni$e leaving the dagger in the grave, which is, IIRC, a huge change from the start of C3.) Laudna takes his slingshot; Ashton takes the immovable rod; Orym takes the cloak of protection; and Prism takes the hat of disguise (which looks more like a bandana).

Hevestro goes up to a tree and teleports the group away. Deni$e goes to Westruun to find Dariax; then, Prism and the Bells Hells (after having Prism scry on the other half of Bells Hells' current location, narrowly missing the werewolf threesome) return to Jrusar. (Ashton remarks, "come on, family. Let's get the rest of the kids.")

In his final words, echoing across Issylra, Bor'dor "is at peace. I'm with my family again." He's put to his rest, here, in the mountain, away from the gods. Under the watch of the guardian spirits who first crafted this world."

#critical role #note watches c3 #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #critical role c3 #critical role liveblog #note watches critrole #I'm sorry but the fact that Matt was able to PERFECTLY pace each half's adventure #so that they end up meeting back up at almost the exact same day #is fucking WILD #and is such a testament to his ability as a DM.#I was very impressed by his ability to create homebrew monsters that are balanced for his party #I was even more impressed by his ability to do the same while also having multiple encounters per long rest #but this?#this is some wild fucking foresight #also remember that Matt did say that the next episode would be the conclusion of Prism's story #quote if emily can join us for that unquote #btw fuck tumblr for the way it uses quotation marks in tags

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lashton-is-my-drug · 2 years

Text

Ashton’s posts to his ig story.

July 29, 2022

A link to another teaser post for his new candle company, the old farmer’s almanac for 2022, and a page titled “KNOW YOUR LIMITS”.

What are you up to sir? 🧐

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin 5sos #ashton ig story #ashton irwin ig story #clubhouse candle company #clubhouse candle company ig #clubhouse candle co #candle company #farmer’s almanac #know your limits #july 29 #2022

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kindahoping4forever · 2 years

Text

Blood Moon Lit // Ashton Irwin

Hello! Thank you to everyone who continues to engage with my masterlist and ask about my writing even though the fics have slowed down again - even as a writer, I somehow can't find the words to describe how encouraging it is. It's because of that encouragement that I've got a new fic for you today! I've been working on some longer form stuff (partly to blame for my absence) and since those projects are gonna take some time, I thought it'd be fun to sneak in a quick, light piece to tide us all over. The lunar eclipse that took place last week (sadly rained out in LA) provided a burst of inspiration and I ran with it!

As always thank you to @cal-puddies, it's more apparent than ever that I don't know how to do this without her lol

Warnings: Friends to lovers!Ash, an overabundance of flirty banter, an obnoxious amount of references to Ash's beard. A conversation about weed. Protected first time sex.Just some classic fluffy smut vibes.

Word Count: 6585

Masterlist // Ko-Fi linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

“You know, according to the Farmer’s Almanac---”

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s an absurd way to begin a sentence?”

Ashton tosses a crumpled up napkin in your direction, good-natured glare on his face. “If you’re gonna invite yourself over to my house to watch the eclipse, it’s only fair that you listen to my moon anecdotes.”

“Alternate perspective: if you’re going to be offering up moon anecdotes to a captive audience, you should spice up your presentation. You’re a professional entertainer, Ash, you should understand.”

You cackle watching your friend’s face twist and contort as he struggles not to laugh at your ribbing. He scratches at his beard, aggravated and amused, and you can’t help but smile. He’s so expressive, you love getting a reaction out of him.

“Next time, you can throw your own damn eclipse party, I don’t care how lame the view at your apartment is,” he declares, knocking on the kitchen island for emphasis.

You shrug, “Lucky for me, the next lunar eclipse isn’t until 2025, so I’ve got time to find some better digs.”

“I’ve got time to find better friends,” he mutters under his breath, giggling at the sound of your offended gasp. Apparently he loves getting a reaction out of you as well.

You pout, “Aww, if you didn’t want me here, would you really have gone to this much trouble?” You hug his broad shoulders, cozying up to him, smiling at how he seems to melt against you. You gesture at the spread of snacks on the tray in front of you. “Crescent sandwiches, moon pies, Mars bars, Milky Ways…”

“Not a lot of moon specific snacks out there, had to extend the theme to the entire solar system,” he chuckles, nudging you with a pack of Starburst, gesturing for you to follow him outside.

It’s not that you invited yourself over to Ash’s tonight, it’s just that when you complained how obscured the view is at your place and he responded by mentioning how much he loves watching the moon from his garden every night… Well, that sounds like an invitation, now doesn’t it?

You trail behind him as he sets the food on a table in the backyard and pulls two bottled waters out of a nearby cooler, handing one to you.

You grab a sandwich off the tray. “Do you want to finish your almanac anecdote, buddy?” You ask sweetly as you settle in, laying across the patio couch he’s set up.

Distracted, he pats the pockets of the button down shirt he’s wearing. “You’re only being nice to me now because I’m feeding you," he sighs.

“Well, yeah, that’s the key to most positive interactions with me. We’ve known each other for how long and you’re just realizing this?” You crack, grabbing the lighter out of your shorts pocket and tossing it to him.

Ashton snorts at your joke and bends down to light the candles on the table. You may be friends but you’re also human and can't resist noticing how well his jeans fit him, especially when pulled tight across his ass like they are right now. The sound of him dropping the lighter back onto the table stirs you from your thoughts and you tune back into the conversation.

“...So that’s why some cultures advise people not to eat during an eclipse,” he shares proudly, sitting in a chair across from you.

“Interesting,” you respond breezily, giggling as he sticks his tongue out at you, clearly able to tell you weren’t paying attention.

“Listen, I don’t see you attempting any trivia to pass the fuckin’ time,” he snarks.

“I didn’t know there was gonna be a pop quiz, dude,” you gripe. “Besides, why are you worried about filling time anyways? If you went to the trouble of themed snacks, I know there's no way you didn't slap together a playlist."

"Ah, I have been perceived," he admits with a grin and with a few swipes of his phone, "The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen begins pouring from the speakers just outside the house.

The eclipse begins just after midnight and the full visibility - and accompanying "blood moon" coloring - isn't due for almost another two and a half hours so the two of you vibe, snack and banter for a while, occasionally peering up at the sky and commenting on if you think the moon looks different yet or not.

After about an hour, Ash disappears inside for a few minutes and returns holding two cups of steaming hot coffee, the pink blanket from his living room couch slung over his shoulder.

"How'd you know?" You coo, beaming up at him as he spreads the soft material over your legs.

"Because I know you," he laughs, watching as you warm your hands on the mug he just handed you. "Offered you sweats to come out here, you refused and still spent the entire time trying to yank that hoodie - which I expect back by the way - over your legs."

You defend your choice, "I like the cool air on my legs!"

"Why is that such a girly thing? The oversized hoodie with the tiniest shorts? Like are you hot or cold? Pick one."

"Says the man who went inside to get his cozy jacket and yet hasn't thought of buttoning his shirt."

"Maybe I like the cool air on my chest," he mimics you with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, is that why your nips always look ready to cut glass?"

He nearly spills his coffee laughing. "You been checkin' out my nips, baby?"

"Nah, just conscious of sharp hazards and when I should be wearing protective eyewear," you joke, ignoring the flush you involuntarily feel when he casually calls you 'baby' like that.

Ashton giggles gleefully as he turns his attention to the sky. "These clouds are making it hard to tell what's supposed to be there, eclipse-wise," he complains. He crosses over to your couch and in one easy motion, lifts your legs up and places them in his lap as he sits down. He points, "That right there? That's moving, right? Must be a cloud. But what's that next to it?"

If you're being honest, you can't see what he's talking about too well from this angle but you're not sure you're ready to move and give up the feeling of his legs warming yours, of his hands subconsciously drumming on the blanket covering you. You like feeling him close.

"I mean… you can still kinda see light through it so it's probably cloud, yeah?" You reach for your phone to check the weather. "Damn, why is there so much coverage though, didn't you say it's not supposed to rain until the morning?"

"Yeah not ‘til like 5 or 6," he answers. He squeezes your legs. "By the way, if it starts before that, you're staying here. I don't like you driving home in the middle of the night and in a storm."

"Whatever you say, Dad."

He scoffs, face coloring ever so slightly. “Excuse me for caring about you staying safe.”

He looks damn good when he’s embarrassed and you decide you’d like to see more. “Sorry, you’re right. Whatever you say… Daddy?”

“Oh, fuck off,” he laughs, a little too loud, a little too hard. Cheeks now an adorable shade of pink, he playfully shoves your legs off his lap. “Get outta here,” he adds for good measure.

“Rude,” you accuse, grinning as you catch yourself before you fall off the couch, adjusting your position to sit next to him.

You steal a glance over at him as he looks upwards again: his curls messy from laying around, shirt askew and exposing a generous amount of chest, chest you know to be warm and solid and full of hair that tickles your face every time he pulls you into a hug when he’s wearing a shirt like that. He looks nice. Comfortable. Comforting. You want him closer and you’re contemplating how to achieve that when he suddenly gets up from his seat.

The disappointment that runs through you is mercifully temporary as Ash drags the cooler over in front of the couch to use as an ottoman. He plops down next to you again and stretches out, putting his feet up, sighing in satisfaction. You do the same and use the opportunity to toss the end of your blanket over him, scooting closer so that you’ll both fit under it. You rest your head on his shoulder and he doesn’t seem to mind, just like you don’t mind the designs his fingers begin tracing on your knee.

“Can I ask something?” Your voice breaks the silence. The designs stop. Interesting.

“Depends,” he says wryly. He seems nervous. You like it.

You throw him a curveball. “Are we not smoking tonight?”

He snorts, nudging your knees with his. “Take over my garden, eat my snacks, now you want my weed?”

“See, I’d argue that having someone over to literally just stare at the moon for hours implies drug use is on the agenda,” you muse. “I’d argue that Ashton Irwin having someone over to his house in general implies there’d at least be an offer.”

He pokes your side as a means of protest and you squeal in response. “Truth be told, I thought about putting a couple joints on the table but I didn’t want you falling asleep before the big show even started,” he explains, mischief dancing in his eyes.

You drop your jaw in exaggerated offense. “That’s never---”

“Your birthday, my birthday, select dinner parties, two weeks ago when we watched that movie… that one time I think we were watching the Olympics…”

“OK, OK, I get it… Jesus,” you concede, amused at how much he’s enjoying calling you out like this. “Listen, maybe if you didn’t smoke fuckin’ industrial strength weed…”

“Maybe if you’d bring your own stash every once in a while instead of just mooching off mine,” he zings back, squeezing your thigh to make sure you know he’s kidding. He lets you pout for a few beats before he adds in a notably softer voice, “I actually did go to the shop the other day and picked up some of that hybrid you told me you liked. Maybe if this goddamn moon ever does what it’s supposed to do, I’ll break out with it.”

You offer him a fond smile. “Ya ol’ softie,” you tease, ruffling his hair. Your logic brain tries to convince you it was because you wanted to annoy him but the impulsive part of you suspects you just really wanted to touch him for some reason.

In a move that appears to surprise even himself, Ashton closes his eyes and contentedly leans into your touch. He attempts to course correct by peering at the sky and observing, “The moon’s definitely gotten darker… but that storm really looks like it’s moving in quicker than they said it would, there’s even more clouds than before.”

“Gonna be such a waste if we can’t even see the blood moon after all this,” you comment.

“Ouch, I’m having fun hanging out with you too,” he cracks, nudging you with his knees again. You don’t think his body has been out of contact with yours since he sat back down. Interesting.

You bump his shoulders with yours. “So fucking sensitive,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Like I probably wouldn’t have been hanging here tonight anyways.”

“That’s true,” he agrees. “You’d definitely already be asleep on my couch by now.”

“Oh my god, Ash, I do not pass out here that often!”

“Why’d you think I served you a giant cup of coffee at 1 AM?”

“You’re actually the worst person I know, congratulations.”

“Just figure you took the whole ‘make yourself at home’ thing a bit too literally.”

You turn to stare daggers at him and the resulting burst of laughter he lets out is so intense it echoes into the night.

“As if I'd be able to fall asleep out here anyways, I’m fucking freezing,” you grumble. He takes a breath to respond but you cut him off. “And I know it’s my fault for not borrowing the sweatpants, we’re all aware, the media will be calling for comment in the morning.”

His laughter continues and though you’re committed to your performance as a pitiful, mocked guest, watching him react to your plight is so endearing, you’re having a hard time keeping a straight face yourself.

He finally stops long enough to gasp out some breaths and wipe his eyes. “Aww, I’m sorry, baby,” he says, somewhat sincerely, though you can still detect a faint chuckle in his voice. He tries again. “You’re still cold, though, for real?”

“Yeah, dude, the temperature’s had to have dropped at least ten degrees since we’ve been out here.”

You’ve barely gotten through half of your sentence before Ash is pulling your body closer, laying your head on his chest, tucking you inside his jacket and wrapping his arms around you. “How’s that?” He asks, vigorously rubbing your arm.

“Um…” Your mind is blank and suddenly you swear you’ve never had a thought in your life, the concept of language is entirely outside of your grasp. All you know is you wanted him close and now Ashton is literally all around you. You take a deep breath to reset your mind but it only makes things worse, he smells incredible.

He reads your stammering negatively and starts rambling, "I thought about setting up that little fire pit for us but I didn't want to light things up too much and take away from the view." He continues fussing over you, holding you tighter. "I could see if I can do it real quick…"

“No, Ash… it’s fine, I’m fine,” you quickly insist, unwilling to give up this embrace for any reason. Trying to play it cool, you quip, “Plus it’s getting late, can’t have me getting too cozy, anyways.”

Your humorous sidestep provides enough of a misdirect and the two of you lay in comfortable silence for a bit. It’s long enough for you to finally relax into him and start thinking about how nice and natural this feels, how you kind of want him on you like this all the time, how you’re not sure if you’ve ever felt this warm and content or if you’ll ever feel this way again.

Unfortunately it’s also long enough for you to start overthinking things and now you’re wondering if he can feel how fast your heart is beating, if he’s noticed all the subtle breaths you’ve been forcing yourself to take. You pause. OK, his heart feels like it’s beating pretty fast too. Wait. Really? Shit, thinking about his heart beating fast is making yours beat even faster now. The fuck?

He’s not… you’re not… right? You’re obviously aware that Ashton is an attractive man. Super charming. Thoughtful. Caring. And yeah, you get along great. He understands you, listens to you, confides in you. Sure, you have chemistry. All friends do, don’t they?

He senses that something’s up with you and you swear you’ve never felt anything as intense as his hand squeezing your shoulder as he quietly asks, “You OK?”

You look up at him… since when is he this gorgeous? The sleepy smile on his face, creating deep dimples in his cheeks and friendly crinkles around his eyes, eyes filled with equal parts curiosity and concern for what’s going on with you. The dark beard on his face draws attention to his perfectly pink lips, lips that he nervously licks and catches between his teeth while he waits to hear what you have to say. Lips that you’re definitely staring at now. Lips that you’ve never given this much intentional thought to. Ashton’s lips. Fuck.

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” you nod, tearing your eyes away from his suddenly irresistible features. Desperate to distract yourself from your thoughts, you ask, “Got any more moon anecdotes for us?”

“Pfftt, why? So you can make fun of me some more?” He replies pitifully, jutting out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

Those goddamn lips. Fuck.

"It was a genuine question!” You sit up and train your eyes on the clouds, figuring it’s best not to look at the man sitting next to you until you figure out exactly what your brain is doing. “Might as well learn something while we wait.”

He giggles, “Ah, ‘might as well.’ My favorite conversation prompt!” You jab at him and he giggles harder. “I dunno, what kind of anecdotes do you want? You clearly thought my almanac shit was lame.”

You laugh, “Because it matters so much what I think?” The tiny shrug he gives in response gives you a butterfly feeling in the pit of your stomach. Your brain needs a channel change ASAP. “Give me some of your hippie dippie anecdotes. Like, we know why the moon is doing this but what does it mean?”

Ash grins. “You’re still making fun of me but I’ll allow it.” He purses his lips and strokes his beard while he thinks of what topic to present to you. “Well… you know all eclipses can be considered symbolic, spiritual events.”

“Sure, everyone knows that.”

He squints, unsure whether or not you’re being serious but unphased regardless. “But did you know that emotionally a lunar eclipse is about three times more powerful than a solar one?”

“Oh?”

“You seriously want to know?” He asks, looking you over in a way you’re assuming is meant to be playfully skeptical but makes you feel flushed nonetheless.

Your laughs blend together as you elbow his side. “Yes, you weirdo! You’ve been trying all night to tell me about the moon, now’s your shot!”

He begins explaining this theory, animatedly detailing bits of ancient mythology for context. You listen with genuine intent but you also find yourself focusing on the way he’s talking to you, the excitement behind his eyes as he shares his knowledge, how he uses his hands to punctuate his ideas. Have his hands always been so large and attention grabbing? You try to zero in on his words but unfortunately, that brings you back to his lips, which are wrapping around every word he says in the most inviting way.

In an effort to remove the visual conundrum of Ashton entirely, you lay against him again. Without breaking his train of thought, he recalibrates, arms coming back to gently cradle you, voice dropping to a softer tone. “...So it’s basically like you’re getting all the effects from a full moon and an eclipse all at once,” he summarizes.

“Oh, I guess I never thought of it like that before,” you think out loud. You smile because you practically hear him buzzing at your interest. “Both of those events are already centered around transformation, so combined that’s a lot of energy being put towards change.”

“Mmm hmm. And this one’s a blood moon too, which also fits that theme.”

“I thought a blood moon was more like… destruction. Chaos. That’s why those tattoos of yours make so much sense,” you tease.

He cackles loudly. “Can’t give a guy a break for one second!” You look up to flash him an innocent smile and he affectionately rolls his eyes before going back to the conversation. “It can mean those things. But I’d say those are forms of change, right? And it can also symbolize rebirth, which is change.”

“True.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he launches into his next idea. “I really like how it all works together to form a bigger conversation about exploration, evolution.” He waits for the inquisitive glance he knows is coming from you and when you deliver, he continues. “So a full moon is full so that’s an opportunity to think on what you’re grateful for, the fullness in your life, right? But you can also use those feelings to set your intentions by the full moon, what you want your next phase to contain. Evolution.”

“OK…” You nod.

Fuck.

“And then an eclipse is a harbinger for change… could be an ending, could be a beginning.”

“Could be both,” you point out.

He squeezes you encouragingly. “Exactly! And then the blood moon is interesting because it’s, you know, refracted sunlight - literally light shining through the darkness. So that’s connected to intentions hidden below the surface…” He pauses long enough that you look up to see why he stopped talking and he locks eyes with you. “Evolving something you maybe thought you were already content with… or exploring wants and desires you didn’t even know were there.”

You trust your face to remain neutral while your mind races. Evolving something? Exploring wants and desires? It’s all a bit too on the nose… maybe you’re reading too much into things, looking for excuses to be feeling the way you’re feeling, thinking what you’re thinking. But the way he looked at you when he said that… you’ve never been smoldered at before but hey, apparently every aspect of tonight’s moon is super gung ho about new experiences so why not?

Ash holds your gaze, looking at you somehow both patiently and expectantly as he waits for the conversation to continue. Your logic brain and your impulse brain have differing ideas on what an appropriate response would be so you buy yourself some time.

"I mean… I think there's definitely something to all that but it also seems like a good opportunity for people to be reckless and then just blame it on the moon if it doesn't go the way they wanted."

Soft smile on his face, he shrugs. “I don’t know if it really matters to be honest, whether it’s an actual influence or just helps you frame your perceptions differently? Maybe that safety net of ‘the moon made me do it’ gives people the courage they need to act on feelings they felt they couldn’t otherwise.” His eyes stay fixed on you while he speaks. “Doesn’t make their actions any less valid. Inspiration is still inspiration.”

Fuck.

He definitely just snuck a peek at your lips.

Fuck.

Logic brain and impulse brain are arguing louder than ever… but curiosity brain decides to drown them both out and you find yourself coyly replying, “Well then… are you feeling inspired tonight, Ash?”

The corners of his mouth curl into something more teasing than a smile but softer than a smirk. His fingers brush along your jaw before hooking under your chin to tilt your head towards him.

Fuck. This is really happening.

You're not sure what's louder: the voice in your head screaming excited obscenities at you, your shallow, shuddered breathing or your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

You lean in to meet Ashton halfway and his lips finally brush against yours. Those lips. Ashton’s lips. They're softer than you expected and sweet, still faintly tasting of the desserts you shared earlier. His lips are undemanding, applying gentle pressure, moving slowly, unrushed. The kiss is commanding but cautious. Persuasive but respectful. Simultaneously a screaming exclamation and a tentative question, both eagerly awaiting your response.

You expect your brain to be bombarding you with a million questions and concerns but you're stunned to hear… nothing. No racing thoughts, no self-conscious reprimands. Your mind has suddenly found peace, content to be exploring… whatever this is.

You eventually break apart and he studies your face, clearly trying to gauge your reaction to this unexpected territory. Your brain doesn’t offer up any coherent thoughts, let alone words to say, so you pull him back in, opting to let your lips silently share with him how you’re feeling. He lets out a satisfied hum against you, reciprocating your energy and your mouths move together frantically, your skin tingling both from excitement and from the friction of his beard.

Without even realizing you're moving, your hands tangle in his curls, pulling him closer as your tongue swipes over his lips, seeking permission to deepen the kiss. His hands settle on the back of your neck, thumbs lightly stroking your cheeks as he accepts your invitation to finally kiss you with the full force of his passion.

The next time you break for air, you waste no time in adjusting the blanket so that you have room to straddle his lap. He delightedly chuckles your name as you settle on top of him.

“This feels like one of those reckless things you were talking about,” he teases, running his hands up and down your sides.

“Mmm hmm,” you lilt, leaning in to peck along his jaw on your way to tongue at his earring, an idea you’ve been fixated on for most of the evening.

He groans deliciously as you catch the tiny hoop between your teeth, giving it a light tug before you move your attention back to his lips. “Do we need to take a beat and think this through?” He asks before capturing your face between his hands and planting his most heated series of kisses yet.

You shiver at the way he caresses your cheeks, at the realization that his hands are large enough to cover basically your entire face; Ashton assumes you’re trembling from the cold and pulls away to reposition the blanket around your shoulders. “Oh, this is clearly a huge mistake,” you answer, tone unconcerned as you run your fingers through the chest hair peeking out from his shirt.

He giggles, ticklish at your touch, as he brings you back in. “Definitely in ‘ruining the friendship’ territory,” he laments with a grin.

“Irreparable damage being done,” you agree, smiling back, closing the space between you. The kisses seem to increase in intensity each time you break apart and come together again and you soon hear yourself murmuring at the feeling of his hands giving your ass a light squeeze. You roll your hips in response and can’t help whimpering again when you find him half hard beneath you. Ash. Hard for you.

You never considered yourself a greedy person but the more you make out with Ash, the more you’re fascinated by it. It’s satisfying, it’s electrifying, it’s… Ash. You want to feel everything he has to offer, you want to feel him everywhere, you want to feel overwhelmed by him. More. You just need to feel more. More of Ash.

“Do you care?” He asks, gently tugging your hair back so he can nip at your neck.

“About destroying our relationship?” You joke breathily as his beard scratches at your tender skin. You grind in his lap a little more and the groan he gives you in return makes you feel lightheaded. “The better question is: if we’re gonna do something foolish, how stupid do we want to be?”

Ashton bucks his hips against you and you moan, louder than you mean to. He licks his lips hungrily before replying, “I mean… I have no problem admitting I’m having some pretty dumbass thoughts tonight.”

“Just tonight?” You giggle, squealing as he playfully tosses you onto the couch to lay on your back, slotting himself between your legs. His mouth attaches to your neck again while his hands slip under the hem of your sweatshirt, fingertips chilly against your skin, a pleasantly surprised hum escaping him when he grazes your bare breast. “Wanted to be comfy,” you shrug, arching your back to encourage him to keep touching you.

His large hands wander on your body, unlocking a newfound level of desire for you and the urgency with which you kiss him is a testament to that. You writhe under him, mewling at the way his hardness feels against you. He grins against your lips, hand traveling down to play with the hem of your shorts. “I know my answer but how stupid do you want to be?”

You watch him closely as you guide him under your shorts, pressing his hand to your clothed center, letting him feel the heat between your legs, the wet spot that’s been forming since he sat down next to you. He meets your challenge and pushes your panties aside; he curses under his breath as he drags his fingers through your arousal, swirling light circles on your clit, all while maintaining eye contact with you.

“Mmm… Ash…”

“Yeah? Like that?” He rasps, clearly affected by watching you react to his touch.

You nod, gently pressing on his hand to receive slightly more pressure. Your head spins at how intimate it is to look directly into his eyes as he pleasures you, to feel so completely seen as you moan for him. It’s got you feeling needy and you pull him back up to your lips, seeking more connection with him.

His teeth nip at your bottom lip, fingers still teasing when he breaks the kiss, groaning into your mouth, “So wet.” He raises his fingers to his mouth, noisily sucking his fingers clean. You pant beneath him, restless, and he asks in an earnest, strained voice, “Tell me what you want, baby.”

It’s a simple request and yet one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard. “Wanna be so… so fuckin’ stupid with you.” You reach to palm him through his jeans. "Think you can run inside and grab a condom before we talk some sense into ourselves?"

Ash grins as he plants an impassioned kiss on you before taking off for the house. You make the couch more comfortable, putting a pillow for your head at one end and spreading the blanket out at the other, ready for you to crawl under. You're shimmying out of your shorts and underwear when he reappears, protection in hand.

"Afraid I was gonna change my mind that quickly?" You joke, wincing at the cold air on your naked bottom half as you toss your clothes aside.

He snorts and gestures to the room you entered the patio from. "I had some condoms in the den, so."

"Oh my god, are you one of those guys that keeps condoms in every room of the house 'just in case'?" You smirk at him as you lay back down. You take his slightly exasperated sigh as your answer and you can't fight the urge to tease further, coughing out a quiet, "Whore."

"And yet I'm not the one pantsless in some dude's backyard at 2 AM," he teases back, lightly slapping your ass as he covers you with the blanket.

He sits at the end of the couch, helping you get situated before stripping himself. You love the spontaneity of the situation but you have to admit you wish you could see him better; your imagination is going wild as the late night darkness seems to amplify the smack of his cock hitting his stomach, the hiss he lets out as he strokes himself before rolling the condom on.

You hold the blanket open for him to climb inside and on top of you again. He smiles softly at you, offering a slow kiss as one hand slips under your sweater again, the other between your legs. His tongue teases yours, licking into your mouth with precision while his fingers play over your clit and you start to wonder what it’d be like to feel his tongue on your pussy instead, his beard scraping against your inner thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing and pulling to where you need him most.

The fantasy elicits a moan from you and Ashton takes that as a prompt. He asks quietly, “Ready?" You nod, pecking at his lips once more as you feel his tip nudging at your entrance. He begins to push in and your groans mix together in a sensual harmony.

“Oh… holy fuck, Ash,” you sputter, gripping at his shoulders as he continues to slide in. Everything about Ash is big so you can’t say you’re surprised but the stretch you’re feeling is unlike anything you’ve experienced and you’re immediately craving more.

He pauses to check in with you. “You alright?”

“Mmm hmm,” you exhale, playing with the curls at the back of his neck. You crack, “Lotta things about your personality are just suddenly making a lot of sense right now.”

He giggles and rolls his eyes. “You really making digs at me while I’m inside you?”

“You know I like to keep you humble.”

He bottoms out and you moan together; he leans down, his beard tickling you as he sucks a mark onto your neck. You trace along the seam of his jacket, appreciating the moment to adjust, until you start to get impatient and try rocking yourself against him.

You feel him smile against your skin. “Easy,” he rasps, holding your hips still as he slowly starts to move inside you.

“Oh my god, that was sexy… don’t be sexy, that’s too confusing for me,” you ramble playfully.

He laughs loudly. “‘Don’t be sexy?’ We’re literally having sex.”

“I know but like… it’s us. Don’t you think it’s weird for it to be this hot?”

“No?” He replies with a hint of incredulity. He curses under his breath as he increases his pace a little. “Haven’t you ever thought about this before?”

“Not really?” You think out loud, noting that he almost looks disappointed at your admission. “I mean it’s probably crossed my mind in an abstract sense but not in a ‘that’s something I actively want to happen, that’s something that could happen’ sense.”

Ash hooks one of your legs around his hip and you breathe out a tiny ohmygod at his next thrust that makes him smirk. “Interesting.”

“So I take it you’ve thought about this before?”

“Not in an ‘actively wanting it to happen’ way but more in a ‘that could definitely be fun’ way,” he shrugs. He grinds his hips into you and the friction on your clit causes you to whimper. “Gotta admit I have spent a bit of time wondering what that sound would be like.”

"Godddd why is that hot?" You whine, rolling your hips to match his movements.

He half-chuckles, half-moans as you move together. "Hate to be the one to break it to you but… there's a possibility you might be attracted to me."

"No, that can't be it," you jokingly dismiss, pulling him down into a heated kiss.

You fuck back against him with greater force and he gasps your name. "Fuck…" He huffs, already sounding spent. "You feel… so fuckin' good around me… Takin’ it so well."

His praise goes straight to your core and you grab at his back, loving the way he feels on top of you but wishing you could feel his skin instead of his coat. Your brain suggests maybe next time but you push the thought aside.

"Never felt so full before," you admit with heavy breath. "God… can’t believe it feels this good. You’re making me feel so good, Ash.”

You wrap both your legs around his waist and the new angle instantly gets an audibly enthusiastic reaction from both of you. The shift allows him to drive into you faster, harder, deeper and Ash can tell from all your tiny whines, heated moans and revelatory sighs of his name that you’re well on your way to getting what you need.

“Love hearing you,” he groans, voice straining as he tries to keep control. “You make my name sound so good, baby.”

Your brain decides that hearing him call you ‘baby’ in this context is somehow the most erotic thing that’s ever happened and you give a long whimper as you slide your hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, chasing the orgasm you can feel sparking deep within.

You feel him hesitate slightly, as if he’s wondering if he should help you out. “Keep… perfect… just like that,” you murmur, grabbing his ass, pulling him closer to you. “So… so close… oh god, Ash…”

“That’s so fucking hot, oh my god,” he pants, watching you touch yourself while he fucks you. “Working so hard for it, baby… gonna cum for me? Gonna let me feel it? Wanna feel it so bad, baby, wanna feel you cum.”

A strangled cry escapes your throat as your orgasm crests and you begin pulsing around him. You gasp and moan, the waves of pleasure washing over you again and again as he continues snapping his hips into you. You hear a variety of profanities followed by a long groan of your name before Ash’s hips stutter and he cums with a shout.

There’s a few solid beats where it’s clear neither of you know how to proceed, what the immediate afterglow should look like. He’s awkwardly hovering above you, head hanging down, arms slightly quivering as he fights the urge to collapse from exhaustion.

“Well, no reason to get shy now,” you declare, pulling him to lay on top of you, rubbing his back while he catches his breath.

He laughs warmly, allowing himself to settle for a minute before raising up and asking quietly, “Can I kiss you?”

It’s a silly question, considering you’re both still naked from the waist down, but for once, your instinct isn’t to make a joke.

You hold his face in your hands as you pull him in and the kiss you share is representative of the encounter you just shared: sweet, surprisingly erotic and appreciative of each other’s presence.

Smiles decorate both your faces as you break apart. He sits up and reaches for the stack of napkins on the table, handing you a few as he ties off the condom and wraps it in one. You’re almost done cleaning yourself up when you hear him chuckling to himself and look over to see him squinting at the sky. Before you get the chance to ask what he’s laughing at, you jump at the feeling of a stray raindrop landing on your thigh.

“You’re kidding,” you gasp, taking a look at the sky yourself. “Where’d the fucking moon go?!”

He grins, standing to slip his pants on. “Can’t really be mad that we got distracted and missed the rise of the blood moon - seems like it was probably never visible to us because of these rain clouds.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you grumble, getting dressed so you can help Ash clean up the table. You think for a second and then laugh, “How long until you tell me what the rain symbolizes?”

Ashton giggles, playfully bumping into you as he grabs the blanket to take inside. “It’s not dissimilar from the eclipse, actually. Lots of introspection, mindfulness. Beginnings. Contrasts between light and darkness, the acknowledged and unspoken truths.”

“Soooo… what I’m hearing is we have an excuse for this to happen again,” you flirt as you head for the house.

You feel his eyes lingering on you before he springs into action, quickly catching up and opening the door for you. “Liked it that much, huh?” He teases. “Already ready for more?”

Ignoring the blush you feel spreading through you, you continue towards the kitchen. “I’m just saying, you already insisted I sleep over if the rain started, which it has,” you reason. You set the dishes down and spin around to face him. “And there are worse ways to spend our time.”

He nods, giving exaggerated consideration to your points as he inches closer to you. “Well… who are we to fight against nature?” He smirks, lifting you up onto the kitchen counter.

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Thank you for reading! I'm no longer in the habit of using a taglist so more than ever, these fics live and die by reblogs! If you enjoyed please consider sharing so it can circulate and be seen by other readers!

#5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton smut #smut #kindahoping4forever #kh4f fic #blood moon lit #reblogs get you into heaven #feedback gets you a smooch! (or a friendly nod if that's more your speed lmao)#thank you for reading!#been a minute since i wrote non-established relationship fic lmao this was fun #not much to add tbh #just some fun inconsequential fluff to get you through the weekend and content drought #basically speaks for itself #i am once again asking: me under Ash's pink blanket when (not a weird euphemism he actually has a pink blanket lmao)#love y'all

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