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bardic-inspo · 2 days

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Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended.

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude.

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs.

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to?

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen?

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too.

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient.

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading.

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night.

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast.

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own.

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles.

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her.

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue.

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips.

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again.

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her.

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes.

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry.

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard.

Just a dream, then. For now, at least.

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.”

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time.

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces.

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

Banner credit to @cafekitsune

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #tavstarion #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion breeding #bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion x f!tav #f!tav x astarion #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate

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ramshacklerumble · 3 days

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can I see an ashi and gigi interaction <//3 look she even has an emote 🌺

KIDDING!!!!!! BUT HI I WANT MORE GIGI CONTENT 🫶 really curious about 🦐🦑🍄 octotrio? this is my attempt at more unagi crumbs BUT!!! I AM GEN CURIOUS ABOUT OCTO INTERACTIONS 🫣 don’t think I’ve seen gigi interact w the other two ssssso 👁️👁️

in a nutshell?

if these three carked it right in front of them, gia would at long last repent and hole up in a nunnery like the good lord intended.

jk. (kinda)

on paper, gia is the octotrio’s personal henchboy as payment for a “favor” floyd does them a little prior/early into the events of book 5. (currently working on a one-shot that goes into this) originally gia’s tenure under the mostro lounge was only meant to be for a few weeks, but it’s made readily apparent once the octotrio finds use in something they are not about to let it slip through their fingers.

so begins the trio's pattern of finding even the smallest infractions on gia’s part as cause to extend their servitude under them. this is, understandably, why there's little love lost between them. i’d say gia prays for the trio’s downfall, but gia isn’t religious and far too proactive to wait around for that to happen.

they’ve made it their personal mission not to leave nrc until octavinelle is burning at their feet.

…

in reality, gia’s relationship with the octotrio is quite complicated.

they’ve been an absolute pain in the neck in every single encounter, but it doesn’t take gia long to realize the octotrio is their speedrun towards getting some REAL power in their hands. proud and hard-working they may be, gia is ultimately a pragmatist at heart.

though a bit of a showman, azul IS an undeniably powerful mage with many a tentacle in many a pie. the twins are nothing to sneeze at either.

as much as gia hates their guts, these three are their chance to make it not only to graduation but to actually make something of themself when staying at night raven is no longer an option.

and that’s not even getting into the growing familiarity between gia and the trio steadily murking the waters…

—

🦑 AZUL ASHENGROTTO: (tagging @thehollowwriter since you also sent an ask for azul)

perhaps the most subtle dynamic of the three (making it the hardest to explain) gia's view of azul can be largely inferred by their joke-title for him: boss.

if azul wants something done, then gia gets it done. gia proves themself an incredibly adept asset to azul and it's why azul pulls whatever strings he can to keep them under his thumb.

that said, while gia puts up with much of azul's overworking and respects they are indebted to the trio by not putting up much of a fuss-- azul is aware he occasionally has to sweeten the pot if he wants to keep it that way.

he'd be a fool to forget this was the same person who got all his original contracts turned to dust. and besides: what good, gracious employer doesn't reward his employees for their hard work?

so azul doesn't mind giving gia access to a few of his private merchandise channels, maybe even some of his more advanced grimoires and alchemy notes, etc.

this dynamic remains largely unchanged for a while, though if one were to squint they might catch a degree of casualness peppering their interactions over time. they indulge in subtle sniping-- even minor trolling-- namely from gia who finds azul an easy target.

they are not fully aware of how things have changed until @cyanide-latte's chrysanthos shroud makes quite a bitter impression on them both. in a low moment surprising even azul, he admits to gia that shroud makes him feel inadequate as a housewarden-- made worse by the fact azul knows it isn't shroud's intention. shroud, in his own way, truly embodies the spirit of benevolence an octavinelle housewarden should be and it's something azul wonders he'll ever be able to do himself. (you can read more on this in cy's post: here!)

gia, in an attempt to give azul the peace of mind that they won't try to use this moment of weakness against him (and bolstered by the knowledge this could come in as blackmail should he think to use what they're about to tell him), shares a bit of their own worries shroud managed to jar loose.

working for the trio is hard, however, it's also been the path that's given gia the most opportunities. but, with the trio being a year ahead of them, gia is well aware their time with them is limited. they can’t help but mull over what is to become of them when the trio leave for their senior internships. gia will likely never see them again and likely be nothing more than a footnote from the trio’s school lives. a strange, magicless weirdo from another dimension, wasn’t that a fun little story?

gia’s probably going to have a lot of free time as a junior and who knows how they plan to go about senior year, frankly, they’re a bit at a loss with themself…

anyway. if it weren't for azul """kindly""" giving them the chance to gain what they DO have by working for him (or whatever), they'd probably be even more lost than they are now. he's a pain and a half, but he's probably not the worst housewarden in octavinelle history.

at this, azul reminds gia he's made his plans to branch out the mostro lounge to the public quite clear. gia wouldn’t be bound to them anymore, but it'd be a shame to let their experience at the school's location go to waste, wouldn't it?

—

🍄 - JADE LEECH

gia's relationship with jade is probably the strangest because despite jade being the one that wigs gia out the most, he is also the one gia openly gets along with the best.

fun fact: gia opened up their own club. the biking club. they are the only person in said club because, for some reason or another, they reject anyone who tries to get in. it might have to do with the fact the reason the club exists is because they needed an excuse to have a bike on school grounds they are allowed to ride anywhere unquestioned-- such as for personal errands or scavenging for potion ingredients. this includes up in the mountains.

y'know who else is often in the mountains..?

because of this little coinkidink, jade found a very weak and fevered gia struggling to get off the ground because they'd stupidly decided to go out foraging while sick. and of course, what good, gracious vice-housewarden of octavinelle wouldn't lend a hand to a poor, unfortunate underclassman in need despite their fervent protests? they're obviously, deliriously ill and are unaware of what's best for them…

indebted to jade on top of the octotrio as a whole, gia lost what little personal time they had as president of their own one-man club. now the biking club is (semi-officially) affiliated with his mountain lovers' club-- meaning gia accompanies him whenever he goes and bikes him around trails whenever he feels like it.

in theory, being alone up a mountain with jade leech should be terrifying, but gia sincerely enjoys these outings. jade is not only incredibly well-versed in mountain flora but a skilled potionologist in his own right.

honestly, it’s not bad.

—

BONUS:

BONUS BONUS:

they're friends :)

@inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @jovieinramshackle @blithesharem @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk (lemme know if anyone wants to be included in tags)

#this is another thing ive had squirreled away for months #you asked for floyd as well i know but just the other two alone gave me a hard time WHEEZE #another day #oc ask meme #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #octotrio #octavinelle #gia yugo #yuusona #twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #disney twst #oathofoaks

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steviewashere · 3 days

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For the kiss prompt....Steddie and 40 please because I saw it and had a burning need for it!

❤️❤️

Okay, this one is far less angsty (I'm hoping) than yesterday's, lol. But I appreciate this prompt a lot. <3

Number 40: "Because the world is ending."

Tags: Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, First Kiss, Slight Love Confession, Steve Harrington has a Bisexual Awakening, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Lives, Last Minute Promises, Protective Steve Harrington

💕—————💕 There was a weight in the way Eddie’s vest laid on Steve’s back. Something that nailed him to the floor, kept him under the clouds but above ground, that anchored him to existence. It provided a sense of security that Steve hadn’t felt in…three or more years.

But there was something about Eddie’s gaze, too, that provided that same amount of comfort. Just one glimpse, one stupid little sentence about lost loves, one panicked nervous fit of laughter—it was enough to make something inside Steve squirm. The same thing he kept away in his own Pandora’s box, deep inside the crevice of his chest behind sinew. It’s where Tommy existed at one point, maybe a few other boys from elementary school. He knew what it was, the pull in Eddie’s gaze. Or, really, the magnetism that Eddie’s eyes held.

It made Steve want to stare back. Made him want to stop the world’s rotation. Made him want to find a way to reverse time, prevent all the evils of his life, find Eddie sooner. He wanted Eddie the same way mosquitos yearn for amber light. Icarus to the sun. Something strong, invasive, all consuming.

Love, he realized. He wanted love from Eddie.

Which makes it all worse when they’re going over game plans. Eddie going with Dustin. Dustin going with Eddie. Nancy and Robin going with him to the Creel house. Max and Lucas and Erica being all too far. There was that pull. A protective surge. Flames in his veins.

It was all so stupid. So careless. Everything they chose to do. The way Eddie knew about some gun store. How his body read nonchalance, but the way his hands shook when pointing out what kind of weapons they could find there. Steve wanted to reach down and wrap his own hands around Eddie’s, squeeze them still, bring his knuckles to between his eyebrows. Do something silly. Like kiss them or kiss Eddie or carve a spot behind his ribs and force Eddie inside of there.

That magnetic pull is back full force once they’re right side up in the Upside Down. Dustin’s a whole four inches shorter than Eddie. Covered in scrap and a hood. And he looks childish, dorky, how he should have been the last several years. Yet there’s a matured gleam to his eyes that haunts Steve, even as he stares it down. And when he glances to Eddie, looking reasonably the same—immature and dorky—green vest that isn’t zipped up, DIY’d leather jacket, ammo belt, and a pair of ill-fitting shiny boots. Steve can only wonder what it would be like to see Eddie not here, not in these circumstances, in his usual appearance. How more…beautiful he’d be if he weren’t so damned afraid.

If Eddie weren’t staring at Steve with something like goodbye. He forces himself to turn away, to stop looking, to stop wanting when there’s no sure presence of tomorrow. It’s like he’s being gifted a litter of kittens, being told not to get attached. Except, he’s already come up with names and collar colors and places where he could put beds. He’s got an idea of where Eddie would be soft if Steve could touch his skin. What nicknames would make him flush and what petnames would make him melt. Steve doesn’t want to be attached, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he ever had the choice.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie calls to him.

A crunching step forward. Steve forces himself frozen to his spot. His back tenses, shoulders hiking, the axe on his back brushes his hair. It’s cold, the metal is solid and real and sharp. His hands are shaking and his eyes are burning and there’s an iron grip around his lungs. Stomach turning and lurching and falling straight to his feet. He doesn’t turn, not yet. Not with the stern and sudden confidence to Eddie’s voice. Don’t get attached, he’s not yours to keep, a voice echoes deep inside him. I want him. I want him, though, that’s not fair, and that’s the petulant part of him. Something he thought he lost when he knocked on Jonathan Byers’s door.

He expects Eddie to continue, but he doesn’t. The rush of blood is loud in Steve’s ears. There’s no other voices. No other sounds. He’d think that the demo-creatures would’ve sounded off by now, but there’s nothing. The weight of everything, he realizes, is behind him.

Over his shoulder, Eddie’s eyes are fierce. No longer pulling on Steve’s arm, rather squeezing him tight by the shoulders, hauling him into his orbit, pressing their bodies and souls tight. Steve is startled and stirring and flippant. He shouldn’t leave. Doesn’t want to. Not when Eddie is…Eddie is what he wants.

And while his eyes are fierce, they are checking out. Somewhere else. And yet, they’re here. For Steve to fall into. And for him to cradle the sure absence Eddie is preparing to make.

“Make him pay,” Eddie’s voice demands. It’s neutral, neither loud and overbearing nor soft and assuring. His voice is a grenade, ring pulled but hammer still intact. Steve wants to pick it up and place it inside his chest. Wants to obliterate at the impact and sound.

He swallows. Wavers. Nods. And turns away.

But he doesn’t take a first step. He just stands, caught between worlds and passions and full body aches. A shiver crawling up his spine and into the back of his mouth. He swears he tastes it, decay. Something leaving and rotting, just as Eddie’s footsteps begin to retreat. To dissipate. Steve doesn’t want to forget the sound.

Without much on his mind, without any preamble or warning, Steve whirls back around. Stomps inside Eddie’s dusty footprints. Their shoes aligning to one another, the same size. His eyes burn lasers into Eddie’s back, but neither of them stop moving. It’s not until Steve is nearly at the front door to the Munson’s trailer that he’s able to grasp to something. His left hand wraps around Eddie’s right forearm. Gripping with the force of hippopotamus jaws. And he tugs Eddie to him. To face him.

Eddie’s eyes look to him in trepidation. There’s something else, like he’s realizing he’s been caught. An apology forming on the tip of his tongue. Before he can part his lips to say anything, Steve takes his right hand and forces his fingernails to indent into Eddie’s cheeks, squishing his lips to be slightly puckered, and drags him towards his face.

Their noses meet first. Soft and tantalizing. Breathing the same air. Steve, for a moment, can smell Eddie’s breath. And he doesn’t care, that neither of them have brushed their teeth in several days. That they’re tasting each other’s rot and stale words. He doesn’t care.

Slowly, he leans the rest of the way in. Pressing his lips to Eddie’s softly. Just soaking in their warmth. How dry and chapped and splitting they are. Pushes in more firmly, fluttering his eyes shut at the sensation. Breathing in gulps through his nose. Messy and wet on Eddie’s lips, but all the same a: ‘The world is ending, so nothing matters, but you matter and my world will end otherwise.’

And when he pulls his head back, he notices that Eddie wasn’t responsive at all. He wasn’t, but Steve doesn’t feel rejected, for once. Or negated. Or pulled taut and snapped in half. His chest glows with a low-level warmth, radiating between them like a candle’s near-dying flame. He digs his fingernails out of Eddie’s skin and cups his cheeks instead. Like protecting that little bit of light melting away at them. He opens his eyes, met with bewilderment and silence and fear and curiosity and…yearning. But also, there’s something shining back on Eddie’s face like a dream has just come true.

Steve takes a sharp, quick inhale. Whispers, “Don’t be a hero.” He’s already said it, he knows that. But…Eddie was never going to listen and he should’ve known that from the get-go. “Don’t be stupid,” he continues, “and you come back here. Come back to me.”

“Wha—“

“Come back to me,” Steve urges. “I want to know you. And I want to have you. I want to…I want to need you all the time, you understand me? Come back to me, all in one piece, away from danger. Or else I will kill you myself.” He nods once. Swipes his thumb over Eddie’s still jutting bottom lip. “Promise,” he demands lowly, “promise I can see you again.”

Eddie’s gulp is loud between them. His breath puffing hot and cold over Steve’s fingers. But his voice has lost all ferocity. Going soft and controlled and loving. “I promise, Stevie,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll find you back here.”

Steve nods one more time. Short and affirmative and final. He draws his hands away. Zips up Eddie's vest. And brings them back to being limp at his sides. The very foundation of his being shakes. “Good. And I like that. I like that name, Eds. Call me that again, promise.”

“Promise,” Eddie echoes.

“Not a goodbye,” Steve feels the need to say.

“Just a see you later,” Eddie states. And there’s an honest tone to him that settles all the frayed nerve endings inside of Steve. Before he gets the chance to turn back, Eddie gently cradles his face in turn. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Just for luck,” he murmurs, “be safe.”

There’s a weight in those words, too. Steve tethers to them.

And they ring out at the final blow to Vecna, as the flames engulf on all sides of the house. When they return to one another and all that’s wrong is a splash of ugly dark blood on Eddie’s cheek.

They’re safe. The world will always end, but they’re safe.

💕—————💕 Kiss Ask Game <3

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Eddie munson lives #angst and #angst and hurt/comfort #first kiss

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socialtomcat · 1 day

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chimera perks: you can easily pick up gf on your giant wing 🩷🤍🧡

#guyssss look at my lesbians #was gonna tag this with manga spoilers but i havent even read the manga so im not sure if no one cares or if its just me #also ignore how i got the feather placement wrong Again havent got that far and i refuse to check anything #farcille #marcille donato #falin touden #dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #lesbian visibility week #mew

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dfortrafalgar · 2 days

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I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Chapter 28

[Prev] [Next]

Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn. Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen. When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation. One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed. “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine. “It happens, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door. He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you. He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor. When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper. You squinted. “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments. He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down. “These are genetic predictions. It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl. Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.” He moved his finger from one scribble to another. “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us. However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes. Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair. At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait. I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right? I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair. If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind. If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be. But again, this is all approximations. So then I started thinking about more technical stuff. I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both. Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss. Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall. Just an interesting thought. Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter. “Law, slow down! Breathe!” Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek. “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table. “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted. “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back. “Nope, I came straight home. I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic. One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied. “It’s hard to stand up. Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand. I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed. The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned. “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly. The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion. “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive. And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off. It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted. “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong. I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out. I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench. “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject. You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you. You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead. You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly. “I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso. The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do. After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips. “Hey, so how’s the studying been? For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks. “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure. I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases. The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before. Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time. Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field. The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face. “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family. I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.

“No, I do, when performing treatments. When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained. He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled. You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it. His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright. Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored. The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about. You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face. You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date. As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career. Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field. You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers. The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled. Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading. Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor. You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month. He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery. What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day? Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up. Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home. The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump. The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen. You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you. “You could say that.” You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated. He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away. “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged. “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate. And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks. “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything. I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’m not expecting anything in return. And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are. Always. Even the changes that come with having a child. You’re always going to be beautiful to me. I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be. The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones. He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries. Likewise, you never removed your glass ring. Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks. “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college. I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up. A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles. It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes. “Can you help me sit down?”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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the-xolotl · 2 days

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It Hurts to be Nothing, It’s Worse Being Something With You.

Alastor x gn!Reader

ꨁ Itty bitty snip !

ꨁ a/n: this is the continuation of Darling, Can I Be Your Favorite? ngl this one felt mean even for me xd and this for sure will be the last part this time :)

and yes the title is a reversal of Laufey’s lyrics It hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you :D

summary: if he cannot make you see reason, he will make you feel regret.

what have you gotten yourself into, you little fool?

—• TAGS: canon typical violence, he collars you but not in a sexy way, unhealthy dynamics, idealization of unhealthy relationships, 🚩🚩🚩, forced contract, no use of y/n, gn reader, proof read :D

Part I | Part II

“And if I was to, hypothetically, entertain your offer, what then?” he asked casually. Everything about his demeanor showed how little he cared about his conversation. Alastor can be the most unserious being in all of Hell, but right now you weren’t laughing. He served himself a cup of his usual tea as he spoke, “What do you have to offer besides yourself?” chuckling.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. He’s been doing this over and over again, putting you as far beneath him as he likes. Almost as if to make a point. “What do you want?” you answer back.

Bored and displeased at your answer he rolls his eyes, “So, in reality, you have nothing worth my while. Look here, darling,” he put the kettle down folding his hands atop the table with a more serious expression mixed in with something else, “Dealings and contract making are a two-way trade; I get something that benefits me from offering you what you want. You want to trade the ultimate price for what? Love? Don’t be absurd, come now I know you’re much smarter than that.”

By now you should reality check yourself because even after all that the only thing you took away was the bit of praise 'I know you’re smarted than that.' Not 'you could' or 'I thought'. No, he knows you’re smart. “You think I’m smart?”

“Not with the way you’ve been acting recently,” Alastor can feel his eyes beginning to twitch. Not much unlike a couple weeks ago, reasoning with you seems impossible. “You’re talking this conversation in circles. I gave you time to consider your offer and see reason. So I will tell you directly I don’t want you, I’m not interested in frivolous fairs of romance, and I don’t want your soul.”

Each word tore deeper and deeper into you. Opening your mouth to speak he interrupts adding, “And I won’t be inclined to continue being so gracious if you don’t make the right decision; backing down and forgetting this whole ordeal ever happened,” he takes a sip of his hot tea making direct eye contact with you.

Something snapped, the emotions you had bottled up, the anger and hurt of rejection that you simply couldn’t accept burst. “Just give me a chance!” raising your voice and abruptly standing from your seat, “I can change your mind. I can show you what love really is!” Your words reeked of impetuosity and despair. Alastor is ready to get up and leave he’s had enough. You were too far gone at this point he feared.

The last straw was you taking his hand and lacing your fingers together without his permission. Even falling to your knees, looking at him with glassy eyes, “I could show you happiness, we could—” The grip on your hand closed and tighten down painfully. Static crackled all around you, old radio feedback bouncing off the walls assaulting your ears. You tried to pull your hand back but Alastor didn’t let go.

“Could what? Do you really think so high of yourself as to put yourself an equal to me? Don’t be so ludicrous.” His antlers extended with chilling cracking sounds, his limbs growing in size. It was a sound like that of breaking bones that made you gag slightly. The radio demon still didn’t let go while his demonic form manifested itself before you.

His eyes that turned to radio dials looked upon you with disgust, your fight or flight instincts kicking in. And all you wanted to do is get away as far as possible from the nightmare-fueling appearance Alastor is taking. You pulled and threw yourself with your whole body weight in attempts to break free of his iron grasp.

His tall, horrific frame towered over you, the shadows seemingly swallowing you up making you feel even smaller still. Now, antlers twisted nearly reaching the low ceiling and limbs were extended uncomfortably long. He barely fit inside the hotel room, Alastor took up every space, cornering you against the wall of which you trembled against. He laughed, “I’ve lost my patience with you. I gave you an inch but you took a mile. You should have appreciated what little attention I gave you, now what’s that deal you wanted to make, my sweetheart.” The radio filter over his voice intensified, feedback and static buzzing loudly around you.

The hand that had already been grasping yours now envelopes your whole forearm. You felt the grip tighten, “A-Al— Alastor you’re hurting me—” you stammer out barely. The demon felt elation at your blooming fear, watching you trying to run now, break free. Laughable, pathetic the way your very soul quivers before his true nature.

“No, no,” his filter crackling, “You were on your knees, groveling, surrendering your very being to me. Begging me to make you mine even if this would be the only way to belong to me, so do we have a deal?” There’s tears streaming down your face down, fat warm droplets that soaked your face and chin.

“D-Deal! Deal just please let go—!” Strange glowing green light flashed between the both of you. It crackled like lightning, it felt like it burnt your hand and you cried out again. A phantom collar glowing with the same color materialized around your throat clasping around it tightly as a chain weaved itself that wrapped itself around Alastor’s hands. Your fate has been sealed.

You were a disappointing sight, truly. Alastor really had grown fond of you, had been a breath of fresh air to enjoy nice talks with you over drinks without feeling annoyed or bored. Slowly, he returned to his former self, limbs and antlers retracing and shrinking down to their usual side again. You were simply left on the floor, wides blown wide from the horrifying and traumatic experience you’ve been put through. Nothing feels real at this moment, were you even breathing? Judging by the fact you’re still processing the events and your vision is only blurred by the tears at least you are still alive. So to speak.

“Now look at what you’ve done. Ruined everything for your own selfish, salacious desires,” he looked down at you without an ounce of sympathy, “You get to live with the consequences of your actions, and rest assure dearie, I will remind you every day for eternity.” He tugged on your chain harshly, pulling you off slightly off the floor. “Is it worth it? I hope not.” He lets go, letting you fall back to your knees, his laughing track playing along his maniacal cackle as he walked away and out of the room.

ꨁ a/n: THANK YOU FOR READING and those of you who asked for a part two i hope this was just as good as the first part :33

got this locked-in in a matter of a few hours and i almost put it in the backlog but i knew i wouldn’t finish for a few days if i didn’t akdkskald

check out the alastor playlist i made !

—

⤷ text diviners were made by ME using cafekitsune’s template !! | gradients by rookthornesartistry | animated by cafekitsune ✰

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lemonlurkrr · 18 hours

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lemon i hope you know (if you didn't already from your notification boom solely from me) that your prev hero au designs did something to me. fundamentally altered my brain somehow. im literally stuffing them in my mouth how did you do that

HHEELLLOOOO THIS WAS A LOVELY NOTIFICATION BOMB TO WAKE UP TO, HOLDING ALL THESE TAGS NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART

as for how (i'm seizing this as an opportunity to share a bunch of process work):

there was a butt load of trial and error

From what I can remember (this all started 3 years ago holy shit,,,) I worked on Kevin's design first. The only 2 ref images I've found are included in the screenshot, but I'm pretty sure I was looking at those in addition to all of the other Impa+Sheik designs from the games, OG Hyrule Warriors concept art for Impa+Sheik, and the Sheikah pages from BOTW's Creating A Champion.

here's Link's stuff and YIPPEE I HAVE HIS REFERENCE IMAGES 🙌🙌

(BIG BIGG shoutout to @/historyofhyrule btw for archiving so much concept art and everything from all of the zelda games. None of this brainrot would've been possible without them.)

butt load of trial and error cont. especially for the colour of his scarf omg (I was looking at some of the hero's garb colour variants from OG Hyrule Warriors, and was conscious of the two other scarf wearing Links in Zelda Not Canon)

I can't find Zelda's inspo/ref images either but I remember referencing Griffith and Casca from Berserk, Kushana from Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, Ashei from TP, some of the OG Hyrule Warriors concept art for Princess Zelda, and of course some of the other canon Zelda designs (ALttP, TP, HW, OoT, BOTW).

I'd say Kushana was and still is the biggest inspo for Prev!Zelda, even personality wise I find myself looking back to her and how she was in the Nausicaa manga and movie.

final design thoughts: I really REALLY wanted the three of them to look cohesive with each other SO,

I always carried over screenshots of the other members of the trio onto their individual canvases to make sure that any changes I made to one design didn't stand out too much from the others,

I'm also pretty sure I worked on Link and Zelda's design simultaneously, or at least flipped back and forth between them a LOT when doing their armour (I wanted it to be evident that they were produced by the same smiths of the royal family yknowww),

and finally I made sure there were a couple of shared colours between their colour palettes

Thankee Thankee for reading this far and I hope y'all enjoyed my process stuff :))!!!

#lemonreplyrr #lemondoodlrr #RRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH #WOOOOOOOOO #it was actually so much fun looking back through the files and all the layers (i wish past me had named them though oh my god)#no promises atm BUT!!!!! with school finished and the LOZ brainrot slowly trickling back in I hope to make some more #prev hero au #stuff over the summer #i miss drawing these guys #and the design process is so much fun I reeealllyyy want to start designing the other characters I had planned for the AU #designing au stuff is like this insane puzzle where there isn't really? a wrong answer? but I'm cherry picking all of the pieces myself #from canon and outside sources and it's so satisfying when they all come together at the end #anyways #RAAAHHHH BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK

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vhagar-balerion-meraxes · 2 days

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Fuck it. You know what, I’m not going to let all this bullshit ruin my enjoyment of things.

Fuck anyone who has engaged in this shit. Everyone involved are all complicit to greater or lesser extents, even if you weren’t the ones saying or doing stuff, the fact that you didn’t do anything while your ‘friends’ did doesn’t get you off the hook.

But I have had time to think about it, and I have decided that I will not let my enjoyment of being in this fandom be extinguished by a few toxic people. This fandom is far more than them.

I will reblog, I will like, I will interact with people because I do not want to be full of distrust. I will read fics and comment (once I have the mental energy again to do so), I will reblog and comment on fanart and gifsets, I will participate in tag games, I will do everything I can to make my tiny blog a safe space for everyone.

At the end of the day, we all came here to mutually fangirl over things we enjoy, not to spread hate. If you don’t like someone, unfollow them or block them, and move on. Don’t go talking shit behind people’s backs and stop sending fucking hate anons. Just move on and find things and people you do enjoy. Hope everyone has a lovely day.

#feeling a bit better after a good night’s sleep #fandom bullshit #sorry if this is a bit rambling

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icycoldninja · 2 days

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Hello! Can you do a dmc boys + V with a rich S/o? Perhaps the boys didn’t know that their s/o was rich when they first started dating but as time went on and the relationship becomes serious the s/o starts to spoil their boyfriends with all kinds of stuff related to the things they like because after the stuff they went through they definitely deserve it.

Aww yes, here you go and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Rich!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-He was completely oblivious to your wealth (as you did a great job of hiding it) and didn't really give it much thought until one day, when his power went out.

-He groaned, suddenly remembering he had no money to pay the bills, but then, astoundingly, the lights flickered back on.

-Was it a miracle? No, even better, it was you. You had paid his bills and gotten him out of debt with Lady--how?! Then you revealed you were rich, and Dante's mind was blown.

-Even after this stunning revalation, Dante still didn't care. He was very thankful for all your help, but he honestly had no sentiments towards being rich. He still treated you the same.

-The only thing he'll ask you for is for you to buy him some pizza, maybe once every week or so. He's not greedy.

-If you decide to shower him with presents anyway, he'll gladly accept and immediately find a way to make it up to you, be it taking you somewhere nice or...something else. No do not read into that

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil never noticed, and never cared. He is far too MOTIVATED to trifle with mundane things such as wealth.

-But then you presented him with a rare copy of a book that was worth hundreds of dollars, and he had to question, how did you obtain the funds for such a thing?

-Thus, you revealed you were absolutely loaded with cash, and Vergil was, understably shocked.

-After thanking you, he went right back to not caring about wealth because now he has this interesting book to read.

-Still, he appreciates it when you gift him little gifts, regardless of what they may be. You could give him a pebble you found on the side of the road, and he'd still treasure it forever.

-To reward you for your generosity, Vergil will do his best to take good care of you, physically and otherwise.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't think much of it either, cause he's not shallow, but one day, Nico's van broke down in the middle of the road and was assaulted by demons who ripped up the exterior. Repairs were going to be extremely expensive, but then you stepped in and promised to take care of it all.

-Nero had to wonder, where'd you get the funds for that? You sheepishly revealed your wealth and he just shrugged.

-After thanking you and all that, things proceeded as usual, with you and Nero splitting the bills for everything as you always do.

-Nero never asks for anything, regardless of how expensive it is, but you don't care. You shower him with gifts, love and affection because this sweet boy deserves it.

-You two end up leaving little treats 'n things for each other at a designated "drop off" spot somewhere in your house.

-Your gifts always seem to be well thought out and expertly made, proving that you don't just buy meaningless trinkets to appease him, you get him things that truly have value.

● V ●

-V noticed you always seemed to be impeccably dressed, but didn't dwell on the subject since it wasn't all that important. His current objective was to get to know you further.

-Then, as things progressed between you, he found himself constantly receiving little presents on his doorstep, usually wrapped in shimmering velvet bows. There was no name tag and no writing on it, so he had no idea who was doing this or why.

-One day, Griffon caught you placing a little gift box and, Griffon being Griffon, decided to rat you out.

-V then approached you the next day and expressed his appreciation, which led to a massive confession on both your parts. You explained you just wanted to give him the luxury he deserves, and he was very touched, but insisted you didn't need to do that.

-But of course, you don't listen, and continued to spoil him however possible, even if you have to break in at 3:00 A.M. and leave it on his kitchen table.

-Eventually you had him move in with you, where you can treat him like the lovely princess he is.

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hushed-chorus · 1 day

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Hi everyone! I’m climbing out of my cave and scheduling this in advance to spread the good word about vampire angst. Because, as anyone who’s read my blog title knows, I am a fiend for vampire angst, and there is some cracking vampire angst in this fandom.

Here's a selection of fics that dive into the tasty vampire stuff, especially ones that come with a serving of ‘this sucks actually’. I love all of these, but I’m sure I’ve forgotten or missed other great fics, so please feel free to reblog with your own recs!

Also, since these fics all deal with how being a vampire sucks, I’d recommend checking the tags before diving in.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch by @monbons

I am asking you all, please, hop on board and join me in reading along with this WIP. Monbons has a wonderful writing style; well-paced and impactful. She’s made some inspired choices in this AU. Angsty, clever, and so, so engrossing. Tasty angst so far, and we still have many chapters to go!

burning pitch by stainedglassflood

Lamb is a character who really fascinates me. This ficlet imagines a conversation Baz and Lamb would have if Lamb discovered Baz was a mage under less bloody circumstance. This short and sweet fic is something of a hidden gem, and I’ll cry forever that this is a 600 word fic, not a 60k one.

Crowding out the Bad (with Good) by twigs_in_my_hair

Another WIP, and if you are a fan of lore, this is one for you. This AU involves Simon trying to improve his diet with the help of nutritionist (and reluctant vampire) Baz. Twigs devotes so much to exploring Baz’s feelings about his vampirism, and how it has left marks on his life, behaviour, etc. And, of course, there's a lovely bit of slow burn Snowbaz along the way!

Joy and Trust by @bookish-bogwitch

Bogwitch constantly surprises and impresses me with her range. This short (400 words), sweet and heartbreaking ficlet sees Baz receiving a Visiting during the events of Carry On. I love it so much.

Proof of Life by @roomwithanopenfire

What if Natasha Pitch survived the vampire attack, but Baz still got Turned? What would that mean for Baz and the World of Mages? In this WIP, it means a Baz who is even more angsty about being a vampire than he already is in canon—and with good reason. Added bonus is the consideration for the wider canon divergence. What would Watford be like if Natasha is still headmistress but Davy is the Mage? Very intriguing fic so far, especially now we’ve landed in eighth year!

This is where it ends by LakeWitch

The least Baz-focused on the bunch, this fic is about the Mage taking Old Family children prisoner for leverage and the aftermath. It sees Baz hit his lowest point (gave me the big good sads), and then follows how he and Simon recover from all they’ve been through. Love it.

A Record of You and I by Sip_of_your_soul

Argh. I just can’t. This one hurt so good. Want to die a little inside for fun? Read this.

Thanks everyone, I'm eager to see any recs you wanna make! Tags below the cut!

@artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @cutestkilla

@ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @whogaveyoupermission

@nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @shrekgogurt

@theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @valeffelees

@j-nipper-95 @rimeswithpurple @wellbelesbian @imagineacoolusername

@youarenevertooold @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @alexalexinii

@bookish-bogwitch @cosmicalart @bazzybelle @theotherhufflepuff

@that-disabled-princess @prettygoododds @mooncello @noblecorgi @roomwithanopenfire

@emeryhall @monbons

#fic rec #snowbaz fic rec #vampire angst #baz pitch

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thedevilsoftruth · 2 days

Note

Hey!, I just finished rewatching moon knight and now scrolling through the moon knight tags when I came across a post about how Mr knight is actually Marc Spector and Steven Grant is a playboy billionaire in the comics and I was shook. Then I came across your post of you ranting about the differences from the show to the comics, which blew my mind!, and now I’m so intrigued and curious about the true lore of moon knight, every time I try to search about it on google I just get references from the shows (so frustrating) I can’t afford to buy the comics, so if you can/want could you please tell me all the important and interesting facts/lore that’s in the moon knight comics?

Sorry for the long message, just came across your page and pressed follow, love your content!. ❤️

AAAAAAGGGGHHHH HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. GIIGLING AND KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR. HEY, LOOK MA, I MADE IT!! I GET TO EXPLAIN THE MOON KNIGHT COMICS LORE TO SOME GUY ON THE INTERNET!!

in all seriousness, this made my day. I'm so glad you enjoy my content, and I will happily explain to you the MK lore!

I completely get you on the not wanting to but the comics thing. Comics are expensive. Honey, imma be real with you, readcomiconline.li is where it's at. It's where I read all of the comics I didn't have.

So before I go on a tangent and explain things, and this goes for anyone wanting to start reading the comics, heres a little list of all the comics I've read so far in what I understand to be chronological order.

It's a little bit cheesy and a VERY long run, but Marc Spector: Moon Knight from 1989-94 is maaayybbeee where you want to start off, but maybe not. I didn't start off with this run, but even as bad as the old comics are, they're a bit important.

But, I HIGHLY suggest you start out with the Lemire and Smallwood run from 2016. It was the first run I completed, and it's an amazing run and VERY important to read. Many people say it's the best run. It's certainly a run, I'll tell you that. ( Also I didn't read that one online, I received it last year as a Christmas gift. Also readcomic doesn't have all of the issues, so be warned on that. )

Next I read From The Dead. And I moved on to Vengeance of The Moon Knight from 2009. And after I'd suggest reading Age of Khonshu, Devils Reign and then The Midnight Mission. You can read all of these for free on readcomiconline.li ( don't type in comics plural because it will direct you to the wrong site ) be warned though because there are a lot of ads and you will get jumpscared by anime boobies.

Now moving onto what you asked me for. The important stuff, right.

I'm new to this whole comic reading stuff as well, and for anyone else reading this who knows more than I do, please add additional information I missed down in the reply section. It would mean a lot. So now I'm going to give a you a quick run down on Marc's origin story. ( And for a quick disclaimer, I will come off as not taking myself seriously in some parts of this post because I don't take myself seriously lol. )

Marc Spector was born on March 9th, 1987 in Chicago Illinois into a Jewish family. His father was Elias Spector and his mother was Wendy Spector ( his younger brother being Randall Spector )Elias was a rabbi who manged to escape Nazi prosecution during the days of Hitler and all that jazz. Because Elias was a rabbi, Randall would get picked on at school a lot, and Marc would be there to stand up for him. Even at a young age Marc was exposed to a lot of violence. That could come from growing up yk... Kinda poor and having to stand up for your lil bro.

Marc's violent nature was really born when a close family friend of his, Yitz Perlmen was discovered to be a secret serial killer who targeted Jews. From what I understand, Perlmen tried to Kill Marc ( mind you Marc was like 11 or 12 ) but Marc had escaped but his traumatic experiences led him to form D.I.D

As seen in the Lemire run, the first time Marc had encountered Khonshu was when he was 12 and was getting diagnosed for his D.I.D Marc wasn't told to his face from the doctor about his disorder and was told to step outside the office. Marc tried to evesdrop on the conversation, and from outside of the doctor's office, he meets Khonshu. Khonshu tells him, " That man in there is not your true father. I am. " Mind you, Marc is 12!!! 12!!!! Khonshu began manipulating Marc since he was twelve because he was, obviously really fucking young, and traumatized. Khonshus tactics were to strip Marc away from his religion and culture and make him submit to him.

So anyways, Marc was sent to Putnam Psychiatric Hospital and would stay there until he was 18 when his father funeral came along and he was let go for a week to go visit his family. This is where we learn Marc's relationship with his father was complex. Marc tells his mother, Wendy, that his father must have been happy to send him away because he was embarrassed by him. Wendy and Marc have an argument, which ends in Marc saying he's going to the bathroom, when he actually leaves to his childhood bedroom and escapes out the window when he hears Khonshus voice.

Marc later enlisted into the U.S marines Corps and served as a private for a couple years. But on Marc's second tour to Iraq, superiors started to report his odd behavior and they found out that Marc had lied about his disorder, leaving him to be discharged. Marc joined the CIA and served with his brother Randall. Randall was jealous of Marcs talents and killed Marc's girlfriend, Lisa, because she was going to expose a gun scheme. Marc then like... Threw bombs at Randall and shit and then assumed he was dead...but he wasn't.

Marc left the CIA after that and started doing illegal boxing, where he met his soon to be best friend, Jean-Paul Duchamp ( usually refered to as Frenchie ) and they became mercenaries together and started killing a bunch of people, in Marc's case, for mooonnneeyyy!!! Get that bag, girlie. And then Marc got put on trial for war crimes!! His crime being yk...assistanting the president of this south African country called Bosqueverde as one does.

And then he started to do missions under this group call the Karnak Cowboys and fell in love with one of his groupmates, Layla El-faouly, as seen in later issues of The Midnight Mission. Then she fucking died when an escape went wrong.

So anyways Marc meets this funny lil guy named Raoul Bushman ( he is not funny lil guy, he's killed hundred of people, probably) So Marc works for him with Frenchie and they, together, set to north Sudan to raid a dig site. ( This should start to sound familiar, as it was briefly touched on in the show when Arthur's guys captured Steven and put cuffs on him and slammed him in the back of their car ) Looks like raid shadow legends went down again, and things started to get not so epic when Raoul killed the lead Archeologist of the dig site, Peter Alraune in front of his daughter Marlene. This pissed the ever loving shit out of Marc because even though Marc likes violence, he doesn't enjoy violence against innocent people, and so he punches the fucker but uh oh! The Raoul Bushman Strikes Back, and he fucking KILLS MARC IN RETURN AND EVERYONE ELSE EXPECT FOR FRENCHIE AND MARLENE AND THIS ONE MF WHO TOLD HIM HE WOULD TELL HIM WHERE THE DIG SITE WAS. ( really Raoul left Marc mortally wounded, but he was on the brick of death, basically)

Marc was able to regain conscious and drag himself halfway to Khonshus tomb ( which is what Raoul was looking for ) Marlene and a bunch of other citizens find Marc and they carry him to Khonshus tomb. Marc hears Khonshus voice for yet another time, and Marc is revived and becomes the Moon Knight we all know and love. Then he basically killed Raoul's guys and then fell in love with Marlene.

So that's his origin story. Now onto the stuff I know as fact but it won't be explained in chronological order because I haven't read a ton of comics to explain it in chronological order.

He used Steven as a a way to handle money and build wealth so they could have recourses like vehicles, weapons and a ton of other random bullshit ( go!! ) that they don't need. Jake was used as a new York taxi driver so that he had his eye in the streets and knew when shit was goin down. They're both kind of horny. Jake literally spends some of his free time in a strip clubs drinking rum. ( As seen in the midnight mission and implied on in the Lemire run. )

His relationship with Marlene was long, but didn't last because, if I'm recalling correctly, Marc had a mental breakdown and decided to basically stop working for Khonshu so he could be with Marlene. But soon after he started hearing Khonshus voice again and Marlene couldn't take anymore of it, so she left him.

And then there's that bullshit with The Midnight Man. All I know is that he passed away from cancer and had a son named Jeff Wilde. Jeff aspired to Marc and wanted to be his sidekick, kind of like Robin and Batman in the Lego Batman movie with a little less adoption, but Marc kept on refusing as a way to protect Jeff. The Jeff had this whole thing where he turned evil or some shit idk and I guess Marc killed him? I'm not sure. Please, moon knight gang, let me know what happened in the reply section because I'm ignorant.

Marc had his independence from Khonshu after banishing Khonshu to Asgardian Prison ( seen in Age of Khonshu and discussed in The Midnight Mission) and decided " fuck you, I don't need need you anymore. Imma do my own thing and you can't do nothing about it " and then he became Mr. Knight. Mr. Knight is kind of a detective and he consults with policemen ( as seen in From The Dead ) Moon Knight is the one who does all the fighting.

From where Marc's development is at right now, Marc was running a thing called the Midnight Mission, which was a place where citizens would go to to report strange things happening in the city.

Additional, fun information:

Marc has a daughter named Diatrice. He only knows about it because Jake had a secret relationship with Marlene on the side after Marc and Marlene broke up.

He sleeps all day in the tomb of Khonshu and fights crime at night. He's like a bat!!

His ringtone ( as seen in the midnight mission) is The Killing Moon by Echo and The Bunnymen. ( Y'all should listen to it, if you haven't. it's really good. ).

He drives a red convertible car ( as seen in the Brain Micheal Bendis run, don't read it it's REALLY bad and insufficient. ) and also a motorcycle ( as see in Vengeance of The Moon Knight)

He was originally supposed to fight mainly just werewolf's and um... Writers at Marvel had different ideas.

His favorite drink is an ice cold vodka ( as seen in the Midnight Mission)

He had a mansion and then his money went bye bye and now he lives in a haunted house ( as seen, once again, in the Midnight Mission)

Frenchie is also gay! Hes married to a man named Rob! ( And this is only from what I've heard, by he apparently had a secret crush on Marc at some point.)

And yeah. That's all I have for ya today. Thank you if you made it this far, and I hope I was able to satisfy your curiosity a little bit!

Goodknight everyone!!!

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alackofghosts · 19 hours

Text

got tagged by tumblr user @fourteenthz (loved reading about thesa, by the way <3)! thank you very much!

— B A S I C S

name: lil guy i'm very shy, don't worry about it

nicknames: none based on his name, as it's quite short already, but will also respond to a fond and/or slightly exasperated "hero"

age: 33 as of 6.55

nameday: 27th sun of the 4th umbral moon

race: rava viera

gender: cis man

orientation: gay

profession: adventurer

— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T

hair: black, naturally wavy, very thick and soft

eyes: dark brown

skin: warm brown, freckles easily, especially his face

tattoos: none

scars: burn scar on his left shoulder from his fight with ifrit, another burn on his right thigh from nidhogg. a few other scrapes here and there. notable lack of any significant scarring from shb and beyond, because that's how i see astrologian healing working - he feels particularly strange about not having a scar from his fight with zenos in endwalker

— F A M I L Y

parents: he has not been back to his home village, for obvious reasons, so doesn't know - but assumes - his mother is still alive and well; never met his biological dad. but because he showed signs of. however the viera would call/conceptualise the inner beast, one of the women called in a favour with a wood warder who was also a warrior, to take him under his wing to train. said wood warder, however, was wholly at a loss what to do with a child, having never taken in a ward before and decided to seek out an old friend, who had since left the forest. ...long story short, he ends up being raised by an all-viera dalmascan resistance cell, who end up packing up and leaving with him in tow after almost being rooted out by garlean forces. he views most of them as Parental Figures and loves them dearly, even if some of them have scattered into the winds after he left to become an adventurer

siblings: he isn't aware of any biological siblings, but the village took a very communal approach to raising kids, so at the time he definitely felt like the other kids were his siblings, regardless of any blood relations. one of the men in the resistance cell was a 'mere' 30 or so years older than him, so he also counts more as a sibling than anything else in his eyes

grandparents: he has definitely met his maternal grandmother, but as with his mother, he's not been back home and doesn't know if she is still alive (but in all likelihood: yes)

in laws and other: THE TWINS. putting an exact name to what alisaie and alphinaud mean to him would honestly not be Good or Close Enough, but they are absolutely like family to him and a reason to keep on going. he also has a very sibling-like relationship with lyse, who is always ready and willing to match his energy, tag along for workouts and tease the hell out of him

pets: he befriends an amaro hatchling at the crystarium during shadowbringers and during a later visit, her handler notes that she's been looking glum without him around. he loves animals, but his living situation has been far too chaotic after becoming an adventurer to accommodate an animal (that isn't his chocobo, who, at least, is much easier to house) and hasn't felt particularly inclined to change that. but after endwalker, he finds himself actually wanting to change that and has the time to do it... so, with a little bit of help from feo ul, he has a little amaro friend with him now

— S K I L L S

abilities: war + drk + pld and all that that entails. skilled and formidable fighter, good at navigating/strategising through a fight on the fly, quick study (as far as fighting is concerned, anyway)

hobbies: working out (especially running and swimming), hiking, he's been learning to enjoy fishing after endwalker

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: protective, caring, insatiable lust for life

most negative traits: too willing to let other people do the talking for him, impulsive, stubborn

— L I K E S

colours: warm red, gold, the bright green of sunlight filtering through leaves

smells: fresh earth, cinnamon, a meadow in early summer, the savoury smell of the stew one of his dads used to make

textures: soft grass under bare feet, tree bark, skin on skin, the scratch of ardbert's beard

drinks: water, pineapple juice, lemonade

— O T H E R D E T A I L S

smokes: no

drinks: only socially, and even then it's fairly rare. he did drink a little more often as a baby adventurer, mostly because he simply had more opportunities to do so: mingling was useful and it wasn't uncommon to have a rowdy bar night to celebrate a job well done. he is a bit of a lightweight and tends to withdraw when tipsy/drunk, so he actually has more fun when sober

drugs: also no (unless we're counting medicine for this. he won't be refusing painkillers if he's in pain etc.)

mount issuance: his beloved chocobo, who he dotes on very much, especially because it was something of a dream to have when he was just a baby adventurer - he could not have afforded to buy or maintain one at the time

been arrested: he's got in trouble for those rowdy bar nights - he's not the type to start a fight, but if someone were to pick a fight with him or his friends, by gods, he will be finishing it. no serious jail time, more like being hauled off with everyone else involved to sober up until morning, though

#meme tag #i draw sometimes #sjddskjhs i feel a bit nervous

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oxymorayuri · 2 days

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❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part five

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: language, angst ✦ Spoiler: none

A/N: This back and forth of feelings is screaming; Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know? sorry guys I'm totally on the Arctic Monkeys ride lol. Also their vibe somehow suits Ace.

wordcount: 2722

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi - @cottoncandyloverrrr

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

"All right you two, that sounds good. Y/n I'm firmly convinced that you'll come back with valuable information." The captain of the Whitebeard pirates leans back with a satisfied expression.

"But before you leave tomorrow, I have something special for you…" He waves a crew member over to you, who was standing at the side with a box in his hand. The young man in front of you opens the box and your eyes widen with a sparkle.

"These are small ear buds that you can use to communicate." Whitebeard says with a smile due to your childish reaction. Excited like a little girl, you examine your new technology.

That's so coooool!

"How did you get hold of them Father??!" You're surprised about the specific model. These aren't normal spy buds… These are long distance earbuds. No matter how far away you are from each other, you can keep in touch. It is also quite difficult to disrupt their connection... You are thrilled.

"Oh, that was easy. We just never needed it, until now." - "Hohoohoh that's so cool! Now I really feel like a spy!" You eagerly reach into the box. You put one bud in your ear and happily walk over to Ace to put the other one in his.

"Come on Ace, say something!" excitedly, you gently tap him on the shoulder. Ace blushes slightly as you get so close to him. He's a little uncomfortable in front of Whitebeard, and not just because he's giving you both a judgmental stare. Imagine how he would react if he knew what was going on between you two…

When you hear Ace's voice in that earbud, you have to pull yourself together not to squeal and fall into Whitebeard's arms instead.

"Thank you, Daddy!" You sit on his lap like a little girl while he pats your head with a warm grin.

Ace observes the close relationship between you and Whitebeard. He could swear you even look alike.

"Ace, listen to y/n… but in case something goes wrong, you're allowed to do whatever you think is right." - "You can count on me, pops!" He confidently points his thumb at his chest and you snort as you cross your arms in front of your chest. A little annoyed, you look up at your father.

"I don't need a guard!" You grimace in offense and Whitebeard bursts out laughing.

"I know you're strong…" His gaze softens and you let go a little. "I've often played with the idea of putting someone by your side. The fact that you've always traveled alone has never made me feel good, but I've never found the right one…" - "You softy…" You're bold but your cheeks turn pink.

You could never have dreamed that you would ever experience the love of a parent. Where would you be if not on the Moby Dick?

He ruffles your hair and you struggle a little weakly as you both share a laugh.

"So you're saying Ace is the right one for the job?" - "There is no doubt about that. I trust Ace and I would like you to do the same." - "Okay but only because it's you father…" You groan out a little defeated and jump off his lap.

Together, you and Ace walk back onto the deck and look at the island you've docked at.

"The show starts tomorrow morning Ace… Are you ready?" You rest your hands on the railing and look over at Ace, who is gazing into the sunset beside you. His eyes peer down at you from the corner of his eye.

"I was born ready." His confident grin looks promising. You're eager to see how he performs.

The next day arrives and you wake up before the alarm clock rings. Brushing your teeth in front of the mirror, you think about the fact that Doflamingo hopefully won't recognize you. Luckily for you, you wore a wig when you were undercover in Alabasta...

When you come out of the bathroom, you stop in your tracks because Marco is sitting in a chair in front of you. In your room.

"What are you doing here?" A little surprised at him, you sit down in front of your dressing table to get ready.

"Good morning to you too, little lass..." You raise your eyebrows and give a little snort. "Yeah yeah good morning, whatever…"

"I'm here to give you some advice." Marco starts talking without moving from his seat.

"Oh dear. Here we go again…" You say boredly as you put your hair up in a low bun. But Marco doesn't let it bother him and just keeps on talking.

"It's usually the case that when two people like each other, they end up together… Apparently you and Ace like each other soooo???" - "So what?" you turn around annoyed and raise your eyebrows. Marco groans out in a heavy voice.

"Are you two finally a couple and had a bit of a crisis or what's going on with you?" - "What makes you think we're a couple? We are definitely not together." You stop, caught off guard, as you pack your things.

"Well, the rest of us have eyes in our heads, you know… Additionally, Ace has been getting on my nerves with you since day one! Besides, you've more or less told me that you like him." Your ears perk up.

"Ah yeah? Ace has been getting on your nerves since day one?" a kind of evil smile settles on your lips.

"What did he wanted to know? What did he ask you?" You put your hands on your hips "Ah, so now you're getting curious?" Marco interlaces his fingers and you could swear you see amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, what am I supposed to say now?" You roll your eyes. Marco already knows what's going on. Why is he bugging you like this?

"Of course I want to know what Ace asked…" You turn around. You don't want to show him the blush on your face.

"It's nice to know that the feelings aren't just one sided… you know…" - "Finally you spit it out… I thought I had to pull it out of your fucking nose…" Marco makes a relieved noise and you look at him with a disgusted expression.

"Eww that's gross." - "I mean that rhetorically, gosh."

You know exactly what he meant, but you stick your tongue out at him.

"Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, what do you want to tell me?"

You know Marco only means well, as always. Like when you once failed a mission and he gave you comfort or when you had an argument with Teach and he rushed to your aid. He's always been there for you, even when you were a newcomer to the pirate gang. He looked out for you like a brother.

"I'm pretty sure the feelings aren't one sided. Ace is crazy about you. At first I don't think he quite realized it himself, but he's come around to his feelings." He looks you up and down. "Not like someone certain in front of me…" You throw a shirt at him, which you were going to pack in your suitcase, and give him a death stare.

"You're annoying." Marco doesn't mind your attitude and starts talking again.

"You said you were the problem the other day?" You pause for a moment and sit down in another chair.

"Ace is great, but I've met some great men and where are they now? I just don't know if it's worth it…" A little ashamed, you look to the side and avoid eye contact. Marco is not exactly surprised. He was already expecting something like this.

He considers his next words carefully as he glances around your room. Whitebeard really means well with you, he thinks to himself. He gave you the biggest and 'nicest' room on the ship.

Nice is actually an understatement. A bed that looks as comfortable as it will be in reality. Bed sheets made of the finest cotton or most expensive silk.

One side of your room is completely covered with a beautiful and yet simple bookshelf and on one side is your desk and on the other side, opposite the desk, is a small sitting area.

Your dressing table was made especially for you by the same carpenter who made your weapons cabinet. You thought the details carved into the cabinet were so beautiful that you wanted the dressing table to be made by the same craftsman.

The cabinet was already in your room so you went to Whitebeard with your request and he immediately changed the destination of the Moby Dick and sailed to the craftsman's island.

The name would have been enough for you, but Whitebeard not only knows your worth, he loves you like his own flesh and blood. So he didn't hesitate and got you your dressing table straight away.

Marco seriously wonders what Whitebeard wouldn't do. He doubts that there is anything. Not even he himself has that luxury and he is the commander of the first division.

He even thinks that if Ace messes up with you, Whitebeard would kick him off the ship to make you happy again.

"You know y/n, sometimes you have to take the risk to know if it's worth it…" You groan and let your head fall back, running both hands over your face.

"Ace said something pretty similar to me." you grumble.

"You know what? I know you're right, but I haven't known Ace that long either... I need to trust him. You know, out there on my missions, I was always dealing with people who had stabbed you in the back. Maybe I'm a bit paranoid, but maybe that's not such a bad thing…"

You want to look strong in front of him. You get the feeling that he thinks you're scared. But you just know how men can be. You can get over the heartache, but not over the waste of time. Not about the fact that you trusted them with your heart and told them things you wouldn't have told anyone else.

Marco seems a little frustrated but knows that he can't push you any further.

"Just be aware that you might regret it." You snort a little scornfully at his words.

"Why." Your voice a little serious. What should YOU regret?

"I don't know…" He glances around at the ceiling and then looks directly into your eyes "Maybe Ace is getting involved in some flirting again. After all, he's not tied to anyone. Then what? Are you going to splash him with water again?" He grins at you with a knowing look.

You feel like you've been caught red-handed, but your grin widens.

"Oh, so you saw that?" You get up from your chair again as you need to pack a few more weapons.

"You're getting jealous y/n, so my advice is that if you can't admit your feelings, you shouldn't deepen them." That one hit home and you stop in your tracks.

He's right. You shouldn't intensify your feelings.

"You're going to be together for a while now so either you come back as a couple or I hope your feelings haven't grown. The last time you were completely alone, it was only half a night when something happened…" A little lost in thought, he spoke his last words and seemed to be thinking things over.

"What did you actually do that night after the pub? When Jozou and Whitey arrived drunkenly on the ship, they said that you two had left hours ago but you weren't on the ship when they arrived?" The heat went straight to your face as the images of that night came up and you stammered to yourself a little unsteadily.

"That's none of your business!" you yell at him as you put on a cute sun hat. Carrying two modest suitcases filled with weapons, equipment and clothing, you stride past him and head for your door. At the door, you gesture to the closed door and look at Marco expectantly.

"Would you be so kind as to open the door for me?"

Marco sighs a little but eventually gets up and holds the door open for you.

"Just promise to let me know if anything happens, okay?" He looks at you a little worriedly and it's hard to believe, but your facial features are softening.

"Yeah, sure."

Marco takes your suitcases from your hand and accompanies you to the deck of the Moby Dick.

It's a sunny and calm day, the breeze is light and you hold on to your hat so it doesn't fly off. There are already a few familiar faces on deck, just waiting to see you and Ace off. You are surprised that Ace is already there, he seems to be quite reliable after all.

Ace was still talking to a few of the other members and when he noticed you in the corner of his eye, he looked down at you in obvious surprise.

"You look so…" He stuttered a little when he saw you in your floral summer dress.

"…Unusual?" you finished his sentence. Your outfit is definitely very different from your actual style… You like to dress rather extravagantly, but today you're dressed like a fine little lady.

Ace still looks at you, somewhat enchanted.

"…No, no, no, rather cute." You raise your eyebrows with your mouth open as if you want to say something, but close your mouth again and walk past him without a word.

You say goodbye to your friends and walk over to Whitebeard, who is already waiting for you at the end to say goodbye.

Marco presses your suitcases into Ace's hands, who is still a little taken aback by the simple and sweet sight of you. You look like you're going on a beach vacation.

When Ace finally managed to say goodbye to everyone properly, he came sprinting up to you and Whitebeard.

"Okay you two! Are you ready to bring success to the Whitebeard pirates? Are you ready to be the key?" His eyes are on you. You are his key to success and it always feels good when he says this motivation speech.

Excited as if it's your first day at school, you nod at him. You always forget what a dangerous journey you are about to undertake because you are already looking forward to how proud your father will be when you return.

"Of course father!" He hums happily and offers you his hand to lift you into the small boat that will take you to the island.

Ace jumps into the boat and you don't miss his open shirt blowing in the wind.

"Hey Ace, I don't mind, but I think you should button up your shirt. Remember, we're simple people. Your muscles would just be a distraction…" You barely give him a glance as you check your make-up in a hand mirror, but the dark haired man is grinning up to both ears.

"Oh yeah, a distraction? To who?" He asks in a cheeky voice. You look up from your mirror with a raised eyebrow and he laughs teasingly at you while buttoning up his shirt.

You wave goodbye to the crew member who paddled you ashore and together you make your way to the small town.

Ace weighs the two suitcases in his hands and seems to be guessing.

"What have you all packed? The suitcases are damn heavy!" - "Just some things… Weapons, my equipment, which is important for missions like this, and of course my clothes." You're puzzled, as you'll probably be on a mission for a while, but you're not particularly surprised when you look at Ace, who only has a backpack on.

"Man, it feels like rocks."

Hope you liked it, see you <3

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #ace x you #short fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic

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kytsuine-blog · 2 days

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Ok so I'm going to do a better, Tumblr-focused writeup soon and also track down those blogs to talk about them more specifically, but I fell for a misinformation scheme today and want to talk about how and why. Here's an email I sent my little cousin about it.

This morning, I encountered a Tumblr post talking about the TikTok ban and the government's attempt to severely curtail digital privacy rights as part of it.

I had heard that the TikTok ban was currently up for debate in the Senate, after passing the House with strong bipartisan support. I was not surprised by the information in the screenshots; it matched with things I knew the government had tried to do often in the past, and often under similar circumstances. I looked up the bill linked to verify, and yeah, it was an active bill that had been introduced in the Senate. (I should have realized then that there was an issue with what I was reading, but in my defense it was about 6:00 AM, and I was just glancing over things in the parking lot before going in to work.)

Concerned for the digital privacy and security of my family, and especially the ones I can't just drive to, I drafted the following message to you:

"I haven't had time to read all the way through the RESTRICT act that the Senate proposed, but summaries I've seen indicate that as written it's a massive overreach. It's better known as the TikTok ban; the news has been focusing on that part as it passes through Congress so far.

I always sign my emails to you with my public key. Both of you should look up how to use PGP to send me encrypted emails with that. It may become even more important soon to normalize secure encryption in Internet communications, and there may also be things that we wish to discuss that state or federal laws may frown on in the future.

I planned to introduce topics related to computer and information security more gradually, but making sure that talking about those is possible at all is an important part of that.

Congress.gov page on the bill

Tweet thread"

(As an aside, I do still think that normalizing encryption is a very worthwhile thing to do; it makes the web a safer place for activists and informants needing a way to communicate without surveillance, without being singled out as enemies of the surveillance state.)

I then checked through the notes of the Tumblr post to see if there was more context I wanted to share, and noticed people who called out a detail that I missed. That post was first posted in March of 2023, a little over a year ago. It refers to an entirely different bill than the TikTok ban which is currently going through the Senate, one which activists successfully stalled (and likely killed) last year. This year's bill is much more targeted (though, as implemented, I still have issues with it); its text can be found here.

This is a classic example of how misinformation spreads. I did not have bad intent when I went to share that commentary on last year's bill with you, and I did not find it from someone with bad intent (in fact, she subsequently shared a commentary I posted on the actual bill, in reply to her original incorrect post.) From what I can tell, on March 14, a number of mostly inactive politically-focused blogs all shared that post directly from the original poster (not from someone who had it in their feed, like a normal Tumblr interaction). Each of these was tagged with fairly popular political tags. None of these blogs has posted since, keeping it at the top of their page to get more eyes on it.

Misinformation is spread deliberately, and it takes caution and checking of your biases to combat it. I almost fell for this one because I expected it to be true. I should have checked on it before sharing anything at all. Looking at it now, I ask: who benefits from this?

Most directly, proponents of the current TikTok ban benefit from activist efforts being directed towards a functionally dead bill. This, apparently, includes the strong majority of the House, on both sides of the aisle; it may be assumed that it also includes the government's surveillance agencies (as it is easier to compel data from American companies than from foreign ones, particularly Chinese ones). It could also include other social media sites, especially those like YouTube and Instagram that compete directly with TikTok in the realm of algorithmically driven short videos.

More abstractly, though, this misinformation benefits the status quo, and conservatism as a whole. By causing people who are invested in the TikTok ban (mostly left-leaning people) to engage with more stringent and concerning bills, stress is increased on activists and burnout becomes more likely. Targeting the mental health of left-leaning activists is a tactic we've seen multiple times recently in misinformation campaigns; another example is the "the Guardian is doing a story on DIY HRT" hoax that recently circulated among my trans friends. This type of stressful lie misinformation serves the dual purpose of causing activists to burn out and decreasing trust among communities that share it.

This is a new specific strategy to me, but the solution is the same as ever. Check your sources when you speak publicly, check how your biases affect what ideas seem "clearly correct", and aim for your statements to maximize quality, rather than quantity. That's a discipline I still need to refine, but it's not hard. Just requires a bit of diligence.

#misinformation #hoaxes #TikTok ban #sb 686 #hr 7581 #this is why timestamps are important

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