#AND NOW I WEIGH MORE THAN I EVER HAVE IN MY ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE

[zer0s-g0re-f1lled-gr4ve]

#OH MY FUCKING GOD #TW ED?? #I HAVENT FUCKING TRACKED CALORIES OR MY WEIGHT FOR ALMOST A YEAR NOW? #JUST GOT WEIGHED AT TGE DOCTORS OFFICE AND NOW IM LABELED AS OVERWEIGHT ACCORDING TO BMI #FIRST FUCKING TIME IN MY LIFE IM SICK TO MY STOMACH #I THOUGHT I WAS A FUCKING PIECE OF SHUT LARD BEFORE #ohh my fucking god im gna puke im so nauseous #i hate fucking being weighed at appointments but its the only time ill allow myself to since im trying not worry #AND YET IM STILL INCREDIBLY CURIOS #BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW IF IVE LOST #BUT THATS NOT BEEN THE CASE FOR A WHILE NOW #ohh my god #ohh my godddd #how do i get motivation to lose weight in a healthy way with all these health problems???? #THATS WHY I FUCKING STARVED IN THE FIRST PLACE #AND NOW I WEIGH MORE THAN I EVER HAVE IN MY ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE #why am i supposed to do???? #WHY do i have to look the way i do??? #half my fucking clothes dont fit me anymore. i know this already #everything hurts #why cant i just be normal? healthy? please #please #god what is wrong with me

[ursie]

Brennan’s statement on Palestine :

[ ID: Statement from Brennan Lee Mulligan, on Instagram. It consists of three black squares with plain white text. The text reads as follows:

"I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. it cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. it cannot co-exist with illegal settlements, segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the violence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My hear breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because I, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The Unites States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In wiring this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts and ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough clever enough, or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not constantly weigh in an make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American Politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who I've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words I've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event. I'll just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine." End ID ]

#if anyone wants to do the id I will love you forever btw #brennan lee mulligan #d20 #dropout #free palestine #dimension 20 #I babble

[sadnightforus]

[10:34 PM] If kissing your best friend while you’re smoking is illegal, then sue you for just doing that. Or even better, go to jail for that crime alone. 

 Because right now, you’re kissing the most well known boy from your university slash a party boy in the comfort of his apartment rooftop that he himself hosts a small gathering there. 

 You didn’t mean for it to happen, but Sim Jaeyun, better known as Jake, is just irresistible. And you would be lying if you say you didn’t have a little crush on him. 

 Both of his and your tongues are still gently roaming in each other’s essence, even if it lingers of the nicotine taste. You don’t hate how this night has particular turned out, but now you’re suddenly worried about how he’ll react or whether he’ll regret and realize it’s just his impulsivity that leads to the greatest mistake of his life, simply because you’re not his type, probably. 

 So you pull away, despite you wanting to reattach your lips onto his and leaving him in a trance of confusion as his dazed eyes look over at yours. 

“Why did you pull away?” He asks, sounding small and there’s a hint of him being upset. Truthfully, you’re caught off guard by the question and your face drops. 

“It’s just a mistake.” You mumble, feeling ashamed that you run away from your own feelings. 

“T-then… Why did y-you kiss me like I mean anything to you?” His voice sounds shaky just now, eyes brimming with tears just as he feels his heart breaking. 

 Thankfully, all of your other friends are too busy indulging in their own fun to focus on how you both are kissing, or have been awfully close the entire night since the little party has started. Which gives all of you more privacy to talk about whatever the hell you both just did without them interfering. 

“…..” You bite your lips and you can feel a bucket of hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “I-I.. like.. you. R-really fucking l-like you.” You stutter, letting yourself cry as you almost hyperventilate from confessing your own feelings. 

 What if he doesn’t like you back? You’re not his type. You’ve seen the type of girls he goes after, none of them really look like you. 

“I like you too.” He says in the most gentle voice you’ve ever heard. And his voice sounds so sweet that you want to keep listening to him talk. “It’s not too early to say I love you, is it? Because I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time.” 

 He then gently leans even closer, his thumbs wiping your tears softly, his eyes never leaving yours as the sincerity in his words weighing all of your worries and everything in the world down. There’s only you and him existing in this very moment. 

“It’s not.” You chuckle, but you can’t stop crying. “I still really want to kiss you right now.” You whisper, intentionally dropping your voice, hoping he wouldn’t catch it. 

 But he does. 

 The after-taste of cigarettes and toxic chemicals would kill you both, but you’d be lying if you didn’t say that it feels reassuring and nice to be kissed passionately and have your feelings reciprocated under the moonlight of the busy city. And you both consume each other hungrily, as if it’ll be the last moment on earth, before everything crumbles and breaks you both apart. 

 But there’s no other place you’d rather be at, as the world becomes blurry to you with his lips exploring yours, and you feel optimistic about the days you’ll get to spend with him far ahead with the sky full of small constellations and a romantic music playing at the background, making the moment more romantic than ever. 

 And you both wouldn’t trade the world for any other thing than being right in this moment. 

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2024

A/N: sue me for fluff

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

#kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen imagine #kpop imagine #enhypen timestamps #enha timestamps #enha fanfic #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #kpop idol x reader #kpop timestamps #sim jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #jake sim imagines #jake sim fluff #jake sim x reader #enhypen fanfiction #jake sim scenarios

[dragon-teaparty]

“ I Love You Too ” - Leon Kennedy x Reader

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

ok so first off, i'm so fucking MAD bc tumblr didn't save my draft when it suddenly closed the app to update so i have to rewrite this ENTIRE THING

i'm actually so mad about it, i swear i was about to just not write this. i'm gonna rip my hair out i swear

anyway, i'm back with another story :3 this time it's more wholesome and fluffy

-------------------------------

summary: you and leon become even closer than before (gn reader btw)

It was nearly sunset. You and Leon were in his backyard, just enjoying the weather. You had begun to play fight, something that was common amongst you both.

Usually, it would be typical banter but you'd always say something that would set Leon off, and now was one of those moments.

You said something about his driving and teased him about every time he crashed a vehicle. Of course you had to make some snarky comment about his license.

Before you could bolt off, Leon grabbed you by the waist, causing you to yelp and giggle.

He swept you off your feet and held you in his arms bridal style. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Hey, c'mon!" You laughed, wiggling in his grasp. "You're like 80 tons of muscle, it's no fair!"

Leon chuckled. "Can't take what you dish out, huh?"

You and Leon were very close. Your connection was obvious to those who even glanced at you. You weren't dating, no, but a lot of people sure thought you were.

It was clear how much Leon genuinely cared for you. You had been his light in the darkness of the horrors he's seen in Raccoon City and the mission to Spain to save the president's daughter. It was difficult for him to let people in and the trauma only made it worse.

Of course, Ada had to do something with this as well. Her betrayal all those years ago still weighed heavy on Leon's heart. He was still confused, hurt, and angry all the same. Although he was glad to see Ada alive, he couldn't help but have a taste of bitterness for her. A bitterness that just wouldn't wash off of his tongue no matter how much the mercenary tried to make things better.

You were different. So much different than any other person he'd ever known.

Everything about you was perfect in Leon's eyes. Your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor, the way you'd look away and squeal when you were excited about something. It made him smile.

You had successfully torn down the walls Leon had built and he was more than happy about that. Of course, the initial part of getting to know you was rather irritating for him, he didn't want to talk about his feelings or let anyone see this side of him. You had been a ray of sunshine on his cold heart.

"Put me down!" You squeaked, squirming around.

Leon let out an exasperated huff. "Okay, okay!" He chuckled and then gently placed you back down on your feet. He immediately pulled you into a hug to which you happily accepted.

Your love for Leon was just as strong as his love was for you. You always had more romantic feelings for him but you never admitted it in fear of ruining the special bond you two had.

"I missed you while I was away," Leon spoke up, still holding you against his chest.

You smiled at this. "i missed you too." You said, your voice becoming quiet. "I always miss you."

Leon felt a pang in his heart when you said that. His job was dangerous and there was always the risk of losing his life. He knew how much you worried and he hated it.

He never really thought much about how dangerous being an agent is since he was so used to it at this point. Seeing you worry made him feel guilty.

"I know," he replied softly. "But you know I'll always come back to you, right?"

You nodded, burying your face into his chest.

As much as Leon reassured you that he'd always come home safe, you couldn't help but have the thought in the back of your mind.

When he was away, your nights were often sleepless and you found it difficult to get things done from how worried you got sometimes.

The thought of losing Leon was crushing and you couldn't stand it.

"Hey," Leon spoke, pulling away a little to look at you. "I promise." His expression was soft and his tone sweet and reassuring.

You couldn't hold it back. As you looked up at him and heard his words, tears swelled in your eyes and they began spilling. Leon pulled you back into his arms and you hugged him back once more. He shushed you quietly, running his fingers through your hair and murmuring soft reassurances.

The two of you had stood there in each other's arms for quite a while. By the time you two parted, the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. The moonlight shines through the branches and leaves of the tree you were under, illuminating you both.

Leon couldn't help but admire you. You looked so beautiful underneath the soft glow of the night sky. Your eyes always appeared to sparkle in the light but they looked especially like stars here. He found himself not being able to tear his eyes away from you.

You looked back up at him and into his pretty blue eyes.

He reached over and gently cupped your cheek with one hand. "I'm never leaving you, y'know." He whispered, once again reassuring you with a genuine smile spreading across his face. "You can't get rid of me that easy."

You smiled back, your heart fluttering as you leaned into his touch, placing your hand on his own.

"Oh, I know," you said, your tone turning more playful. "You really don't know when to quit, Kennedy."

Leon laughed, a genuine laugh that you and you alone had ever heard. He looked back at you, a comfortable silence suddenly falling upon you both.

You felt yourself get lost in Leon's eyes. The baby blue was so mesmerizing to you.

The way you looked at him didn't help either, it made his heart jump out of his chest.

The way you looked at one another was undeniable. The fondness and love in your eyes, like you were a golden treasure in the middle of the rubble in both of your minds.

As Leon looked at you, he had an overwhelming urge to just admit his feelings. He loved you so much and he wanted to shout it out loud, pour out his heart to you.

Instead, he simply leaned in, his lips softly pressing against your own.

Your eyes widened, not expecting the sudden gesture at all but you melted into the kiss, your eyes closing shut.

It felt like fireworks had gone off in your brain, butterflies swarmed your tummy, tickling your insides. You almost couldn't believe this was happening.

Leon held the kiss for a little while longer before he pulled away, looking into your eyes. His expression was so soft and loving.

"I love you," you finally spoke, blurting out the words as you were unable to hold them back anymore. You surprised yourself, a blush quickly creeping across your cheeks.

Leon smiled. For the first time in years, he actually felt complete, he felt so loved and safe. This feeling was almost enough to drive him to tears. Never in his life had he ever felt this way about another person before.

He pulled you close again and planted another kiss on your lips before he pulled away again, looking down at you with a grin that he just couldn't get rid of.

"I love you too."

-------------------------

phew! this one is definitely not as good as the one i originally had and that upsets me a lot :'c

i hope you all liked it anyways! love u guys <3

#resident evil #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #y/n #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #fluff #leon kennedy fluff #fluff fic #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #leon resident evil #leonxreader #resident evil leon #x reader #self insert #leon re4 #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 leon #re4 remake

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

ok so here is how i personally would fix barbie movie. disclaimer i am NOT fixing the politics of barbie movie bc i don’t care. the problem with barbie movie as like a piece of screenwriting is that it’s actually a vision board of like seven different movies and no one ever went back to figure out which of the various things it’s trying to say is the thing they want to make sure it’s actually saying. i am fixing barbie to be a more cohesive toy commercial for children and nostalgic adults with milquetoast normie lib politics like god and feminism intended. also disclaimer because as i said barbie movie is a whole bunch of half-movies in a trench coat i don’t think this is the only way to fix barbie movie. there are i am sure many options depending on which barbie movie you would like barbie movie to be.

me personally i would like to see the barbie movie that focuses more deliberately on the america ferreira character. one of my favorite lines in the movie was when america ferreira’s kid asks her why she’s going into barbieland and she’s like “because i’m a boring mom and i never do anything!” i found that really charming and funny but also resonant as a perspective many women can relate to either personally or by thinking about their own moms. (i know i always say relatability is for babies but guess what! so’s the fucking barbie movie!) i think we can keep the broad set up of margot robbie barbie waking up to a wrinkle in her seamless universe, but i would introduce us to america ferreira in the real world more thoroughly before the two of them collide. (goes without saying but i personally am dropping the mattel execs plot entirely. i will put it back in my improved barbie script for the low low price of 8 million dollars.)

this does not have to be a huge investment in terms of screentime! the magic of film is it’s a visual and highly visceral medium and a few well selected moments can tell us everything we need to know in less than five minutes! but the goal here is to take america ferreira’s purpose in the movie, which is to Say Feminism by Naming Impossible Standards Of Womanhood, and dramatize it by showing (not telling!) us america ferriera in her day to day life struggling with impossible standards of womanhood. she’s weighed down by trying to be the perfect mom and the perfect wife and the perfect corporate employee. i think the mom-daughter stuff can be standard “my sweet little girl who loved hanging out with me is now an angsty tween who thinks i breathe wrong” fare but if you want a little more (pin this for later) i think you can have her be stressed that her daughter is a tiny hyper rationalist who likes doing math and reading books about evolutionary biology and resists her mom’s efforts to get her to do their nails together or decorate her notebooks for school or whatever. she’s proud of how smart her daughter is but she’s worried her kid is growing up too fast and losing the precious window of opportunity she has to be carefree and creative and full of wonder.

so now we still have the situation where barbie has to leave barbieland to find her human and the human world is scary and the kid is mean to her and then she finds america ferreira and realizes, omg it’s you. and they wind up in barbieland because obviously i want to keep “i’m a boring mom and never do anything” but this time instead of fleeing mattel it’s for uh…. reasons. weird barbie explains it. to fix the fabric of barbieland barbie has to bring back her human and they have to mumblemumble. again mattel i will happily work out the details for a mere 8 million dollars. but the key idea is that in this version the notion of what barbie stands for is clear: she stands for creativity and childlike wonder. and the lesson america ferreira has to learn… somehow… is that even though she’s a grown-up and a mom,  she’s also still a person and she’s allowed to carve out room in her boring mom life to ways to be creative and seek out the beauty in life. (please do observe that What If A Mom Was A Whole Human Being is in fact a longstanding concern of feminist thought. #girlpower) and if we’re doing the advanced daughter option described above, she reconciles with her daughter by recognizing that actually her daughter isn’t growing up too fast; she just finds wonder and joy and beauty in different things than her mom does, and that’s ok. she’s been pushing her own vision of joy on her kid because she’s been denying it to herself, and now that she can see herself more clearly she can also really hear what her daughter’s been telling her. (maybe the daughter somehow inspires her mom to figure out how to save barbieland? maybe we have one of gerwig’s beloved meta branding jokes about the time they made a barbie that said math is hard and letting me put that in the movie is actually amazing PR for mattel as a corporation? all this and more for 8 million dollars payable to me.)

the big takeaway about barbie is now less what if there was normal barbie(?) and more, normal vs. barbie is actually a false dichotomy! it’s possible to be a rich and complex enough person to be a stressed frumpy boring mom and also a sparkly creative dreamer! there are always ways to add sparkle to your life, and if you go on mattel’s website after the movie comes out you can buy some for as low as $19.99! (i said i wasn’t going to fix the politics of the toy commercial and by god i won’t!) there is no wrong way to barbie. you are already barbie if you only want to be. montage of america ferreira looking amazing in barbie-style bright clothes and idk signing up for an art class she clipped a flier to in her notebook to sigh sadly over earlier in the movie. this is actually better not only as a movie but also as a toy commercial and PR for the barbie product which this movie brands as maximally inclusive while retaining its aspirational glamor. literally where is my money mattel.

i think this version can even include gerwig’s nod towards her key theme of Woman As Artist only without coming completely out of fucking nowhere this time, because now after her adventures in barbieland reawakened america ferreira’s creative passion, we can say that barbie is inspired by her own adventure with this woman who after all filled her life all these years with so much beauty. barbie now aspires to that. she wants to pay it forward and find ways to fill the world with beauty too. the human world is scary and will change her, but she knows that holding on to her essential barbie essence is a choice she is strong enough to make! mattel barbie be the dreamer®️ art kits starting at $34.99! these would literally print money mattel at this point it’s more expensive NOT to give me 8 million dollars.

you will notice i have not said anything about ken. this is because i simply don’t believe we need to be asked to care about ken in the barbie movie. on the rewatchables podcast episode about mean girls even bill simmons agreed one of the charms of the movie is that none of the guys in it matter at all and i confess this is my vision for barbie. but mattel once my check clears if you feel strongly about this i actually think we can keep the idea of barbie and ken’s somewhat one sided relationship that he wants to escalate but she doesn’t, but make her reluctance to be upfront about what she wants less about she just wants to be nice and more about the idea that ken offers her a sense of safety and she wants things to say the same forever. when she recognizes that she’s ready for change she can also realize that the reason she wasn’t ready for change with ken was because deep down she knew she didn’t want her relationship to change the way he was envisioning. so she has a little more actual agency in the idea of having led him on because she was using him for something that he no longer wanted to provide. ooh maybe actually you could have him make a move AFTER things have started going awry and she actually thinks this is part of what’s broken in barbieland… and so barbie’s arc really is about going from someone who wants things to stay the same forever to someone who’s ready to change and grow, which involves overlap with america ferreira’s deal because they’re both moving beyond a dichotomy of barbieland/childhood (static and beautiful and fun) vs. the human world/adulthood (dynamic and exhausting and dull). notice how we are making a movie about barbie growing up that also reinforces the idea that barbie is for all ages, which is something your first attempt at the toy commercial didn’t do.

change can be beautiful! growing up can sparkle! storylines in a movie can complement each other thematically to create a satisfying sense of cohesion! you can still make the i am kenough hoodie because as barbie is letting go of ken she helps him believe in himself not just by telling him to because the script says that’s what happens now but by sincerely expressing her appreciation for all he’s given her in the time they had together! see how if you put just a little more thought into it all the parts of a movie can actually work together instead of feeling like they come from a bunch of different movies? i am happy to explain this at greater length once my check clears. for a lousy 8 million dollars i will even bother to think of a plan for how the integration of weird barbie into barbieland can actually serve as another button on the idea that change and self-expression are good and go together and are actually what barbie is all about, which is an amazing concept to put in your toy commercial for a toy who has so many outfits. i look forward to discussing this with you further.

#allan can stay he’s perfect as he is

[utahimeow]

ooo for the character + kink thing

tobio and dry humping (is that a kink? idk but here's what I ask you to consider: my kink is men being so desperate to have you that they don't need to be inside you to cum)

cw — nsfw content minors dni. smut, fluff, f!reader, slight intoxication, dry humping

tobio’s always been a little smitten with you. not that he’d ever be able to tell you– although, with the alcohol making his head a little fuzzier than normal, the timidness that constantly weighs on his shoulders feels a little lighter.

you’re sat next to him on your couch, giggling to yourself, courtesy of the one glass of wine too many you’d had. tobio wasn’t supposed to be drinking, what with his strict pro-athlete diet and all, but something about you made it hard for him to say. all it takes is the flutter of your eyelashes and he’s a goner.

you turn to him, all dazed, eyes twinkling. “you’re pretty, tobi.”

it’s true. he’s one of the prettiest boys you’ve ever seen.

his cheeks turn red and it’s not from the wine. “you’re prettier.”

“no, you are.”

he runs a hand over his face, chuckling and oh, he’s so cruel.

“you’re being gross,” he says, but his grin gives him away.

“i’ll shut up if you kiss me.”

he blinks at you. his grin fades, but it’s only replaced with an expression of pure wonder. he thinks he’s dreaming– his ears must be tricking him, right? maybe not–

you’re leaning towards him. suddenly tobio is completely sober, and when your lips meet his he swear his soul leaves his body. it takes him a moment to kiss you back, his heart beating out of his chest, and then another moment passes and his tongue is lapping into your mouth and you’re in his lap.

a moan slips out of your throat before you can help it. you pull away, a sudden timidness creeping up your spine, made worse by the string of spit that connects your mouth with the boy’s. you open your mouth to apologise, only to be cut off by tobio’s kiss once more.

giant hands trace along your shoulders, then down your back, sending goosebumps over your entire body. at last they settle on your hips, pressing you closer to him, and that’s when you feel it– his erection straining against his jeans, poking at your thighs.

in an instant, your hips, with a mind of their own, begin to move. it’s gentle at first, a slow rocking back and forth against his crotch.

when they pick up their pace a little however, when you start to fall into a (sloppy) rhythm, tobio’s breath hitches in his throat. his hands travel under your shirt, desperate for his fingers to sink into flesh not fabric.

your lips, swollen and slick with spit, move down tobio’s jaw, hungry for the taste of his neck.

“oh, f-fuck,” he breathes as your teeth nip at his skin and your tongue swirls over the mark, all while your clothed cunt grinds against his restricted cock. he’s even more lightheaded than before, the pleasure melting his brain more and more with every roll of your hips.

his head falls against the back of the couch, letting you rut into his lap as his eyes fall shut and his mouth drops. there’s electricity in his veins– everything feels intensified, not just from the alcohol but from the fact that it’s you. you, who tobio thinks of when his hand pumps at his cock and who he imagines holding late at night and playing with your hair until you fall asleep and who he wants so badly to kiss all the time whenever he wants.

he has you now. and it’s better than he could have ever imagined.

just the thought is enough to send him over the edge. he spills into his boxers in hot, white spurts, his hips twitching and jerking into yours as he sighs out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

he gazes at you, eyes fuzzy and half-lidded and filled with an affection unlike anything you’ve seen from him, and he also looks so cute that you can’t resist kissing him.

“th-thank you,” he whispers, his breath still ragged.

you giggle once more, amazed at how his politeness remains even after you’ve made him cum in his pants.

“you’re too cute, tobi,” you say with a peck to his lips.

“and you’re pretty.”

#kageyama smut #tobio kageyama smut #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio imagine #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama imagine #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu imagine #꒰ love letters. ꒱ #꒰ secret admirers. ꒱ #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — kageyama

[thatshirleylee]

brennan's statement on instagram

I'm calling on my government officials to immediately demand a ceasefire and de-escalation in Gaza.

I applaud anyone and everyone calling for peace, with the understanding that real peace only exists if it deeply and honestly accounts for and fully ends violence in all its forms. Real peace addresses and corrects wrong-doing in the past and guards against it in the future. It goes hand in hand with justice and requires truth, restoration, reconciliation, reparation.

Peace cannot co-exist with collective punishment, ethnic cleansing and forced displacement. It cannot co-exist with blockades, embargoes, or with 2.2 million people, half of which are children, trapped with no hope of escape or political recourse. It cannot co-exist with murdered journalists, bombed hospitals, or years of protesters being shot and killed at the border. It cannot co-exist with illegal settlements segregated roads, and the silent, imperial chill that settles over the gaps in the yiolence - the unspoken geopolitical consensus that a group of people need to unflinchingly accept permanent subjugation and occupation.

My heart breaks for every Israeli person who lost loved ones during the attacks of October 7th. It breaks for every Ukrainian person who has lost their loved ones. It breaks for every Congolese person who has lost their loved ones. I do not speak on behalf of Palestinians now because some lives are worth more than others. I speak on their behalf because, as an American, my government is actively championing and financially funding their mass slaughter and forced displacement.I speak on their behalf because l, and all Americans, have a responsibility to pressure our government because we are responsible for this. Some have said that this situation is complicated. The United States government clearly disagrees. It has definitively, categorically, militarily chosen a side, and I do not agree with that decision.

In writing this, I have been wrestling with what I am sure many people like me wrestle with: There is a powerful narrative surrounding violence in the Middle East that asserts an ever-moving goalpost of self-education and study in order to even be qualified to have an opinion. As someone with a love of research, I have at times in my life fallen into the trap that I am not educated enough, clever enough or aware enough to have a worthwhile perspective, and that three more articles and two more lectures and one more book will do the trick. Unfortunately, democracy doesn't work that way - we, the citizens of any democracy, cannot possibly be experts on every aspect of the policies of our governments, and yet if we do not weigh in and make our voices heard, the entire experiment falls apart. Not only do people constantly doubt themselves and the things they can see with their own two eyes, but old shortcuts for political action can fall apart as well: This specific issue exists along a raw, charged and unique faultline in American politics. Nobody I grew up with has ever challenged me on my support for abortion rights, LGBT rights, Black Lives Matter, anti-capitalism, anti-fascism, none of it. The people in my country who would despise me for those positions are, for all intents and purposes, strangers to me. But there are people who l've broken bread with and shared honest affection with who will see the words l've written here and incorrectly conclude that I do not wish for the security, dignity and happiness of them and their loved ones, and that breaks my fucking heart. Full-throatedly condemning the actions of the Israeli government while battling rampant anti-semitism at home is an urgent moral necessity, and doing so is made unnecessarily challenging for the average person to navigate by the pointed obfuscations of cynical opportunists, bigots, and demagogues on all sides of the political spectrum who see some advantage in sowing that incredibly dangerous confusion.

So, I'm calling my representatives. I'm having hard conversations with friends and family. I'm here, talking to you. I should have done it sooner. If you're Israeli and hurt by this statement, know that I want freedom, dignity, security and peace for you, and that every ounce of my political awareness believes whole-heartedly that the actions of your government are not only destroying innocent lives, but doing so to the detriment of you and your loved ones' safety. If you're American and feel lost and confused - I understand and empathize. This, the whole country, only works when we get involved. I am constantly haunted by the specter that maybe I have missed some crucial piece of information on this, or any, important world event: I'Il just have to make my peace with that self-doubt and trust my gut by going with Jewish Voice for Peace, Amnesty International, the Geneva Conventions, the United Nations, etc. And if you're Palestinian and reading this: I unreservedly support your right to life, to freedom, to happiness and human flourishing, to full enfranchisement and equal rights, to opportunity, prosperity and abundance, to the restoration of stolen property and land, and to a Free Palestine.

#free palestine #brennan lee mulligan

[doriians]

FATE’S PROTÉGÉS!!

ARE YOU A SOLDIER OF THE NEVERWAR? A DISILLUSIONED, ADVENTURE-HUNGRY ACADEMIC? DO YOU HAVE A WORLD-ENDING PROPHECY WEIGHING HEAVILY ON YOUR SHOULDERS?

TAKE YOUR CHANCES IN THE FORESTS OF GWENAR AND RISK IT ALL FOR GLORY, WEALTH, AND POWER BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION!

A prequel to my main series, Masks and Madness.

SUMMARY.

FOR LLEVAN AND ZIRA, THE POWER SOURCE DISCOVERED IN THE DARKEST CORNER OF GWENAR IS THEIR ONLY HOPE. JOINING FORCES WITH THEIR BEST FRIEND RIL, ZIRA’S SISTER ERZSE, AND ONE LONG-SUFFERING BANDIT DOMINI, LLEVAN AND ZIRA HEAD FOR THE KINGDOM THAT PROMISES A POWER STRONG ENOUGH TO BREAK THE PROPHECY THAT THREATENS TO TEAR THEM — AND THE WORLD — APART.

BUT THE ROAD TO HELL IS PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS, AND THE JOURNEY TO GWENAR PAVED WITH CHALLENGES. BEHIND THEM, THE NEVERWAR RAGES ON, AND A DANGEROUS FIGURE FROM THEIR NOT-SO-DISTANT PAST THREATENS TO DRAG THEM BACK TO THE FRONT LINES.

LLEVAN ISN’T SO SURE HIS BOYFRIEND KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING. THEY’RE IN OVER THEIR HEADS, AND THE ONLY ACCEPTABLE ENDS ARE VICTORY OR DEATH. ONE THING HE KNOWS FOR CERTAIN IS THAT FATE HAS ALWAYS PROVEN HERSELF UNKIND TO THOSE WHO DEFY HER. FOR THE FIRST TIME, LLEVAN KNOWS ZIRA’S ARROGANT NAÏVETÉ IS GOING TO HAVE CONSEQUENCES THEY MIGHT NOT SURVIVE.

INCLUDES.

An all-queer main cast; Found family turned found tragedy; Self-fulfilling fate; An unsettlingly desperate hunger for power; Four fantasy languages, Ambition & corruption, Outrunning destiny, fantasy horse girls, and unhappy unending endings.

THE RUNAWAYS.

LLEVAN ADEJ is twenty four years old and a recent graduate from Eirfin. Barred from the front lines of the Neverwar because of his parents’ villainous background, he works instead as a healer, saving the lives of those around him through his Hand of Theory. He is determined to break the prophecy that hangs over his and Zira’s heads at (almost) any cost. Llevan is quiet, but stubborn, and has (as expected) a serious complex about villainy.

ZIRA XAROSEN. Born to two of the kingdom’s most renowned war heroes, Zira wishes his life was as easy as people believed. The subject of a nasty prophecy, destined to bring an end to the war, and his rapidly increasing fear of dying, all lead him to some desperate — and dangerous — decisions. At twenty four, he already has the most powerful Hand in Life Magic ever seen, and Zira is entirely oblivious to the broiling consequences he is about to face.

ERZSE XAROSEN, on the other hand, has a Hand of Death, and at an angry nineteen years old, she’s not afraid to use it. Desperate to join the war and desperate to join her friends, Erzse knows following Zira to Gwenar is the first step on her path to greatness. Experiencing the world for the first time out of the safety of her kingdom leaves her rattled and uncertain—but it’s what happens after that changes her forever.

RILAN BRECCH has been followed by tragedy since his fifteenth birthday. Eager to please and even more eager to help his friends, he abandons his position as the first openly transgender soldier to make the journey to Gwenar with them. Rilan is Zira’s best friend, Llevan’s confidante, and possesses a powerful Hand over the Elements. Only twenty years old, he doesn’t think much about changing the world. He has no idea that he’s about to.

DOMINI LEROY is fucking tired. They didn’t ever imagine joining forces with the enemy, but as a Neverwar deserter, they know both sides would be willing to hang them for treason. Twenty-two, gifted with Illusion, and more street-wise than the rest put together, their resourcefulness proves invaluable in the journey to Gwenar. They might, however, have changed their mind if they knew what it would lead to.

DRAFT PROGRESS.

I started writing this novel in 2020 after developing the idea in 2019 (right after writing draft one of The Hero’s Protégé!), but it’s been on hiatus for two years since! Now, however, it’s a different story. I’m back and willing to grind to get it finished (hopefully this year).

I’m currently tidying up what I’ve got of the first draft (40k~ words), and then I plan to continue writing every day! You’ll be able to find my writing and development of this novel on my blog, probably under the #wip; fate’s protégés tag.

So SO excited to share this with people: if you want to be added to the Fate’s Protégés taglist, please let me know!!!

#wip intro #writeblr #writing #my writing #writing wip #wip introduction #fantasy wip #high fantasy wip #young adult wip #ya writing #fantasy writing #wip: fate’s protégés

[ghostofskywalker]

Afterparty Blues

Dieter Bravo/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,531

Summary: According to anyone else, this night should have been nothing but celebration for Dieter - he won an Oscar after all. But he couldn't help the way his mood tanked when he saw you dancing with someone else at the afterparty. It didn't matter though, you weren't his, and it was his fault in the first place.

Flower and meaning: yellow hyacinth || jealousy

this is my first work for the @yearofcreation2023 ! my theme is flowers, and i'm so excited for what this challenge will bring! i recently watched the bubble, and i wasn't originally going to write for dieter, i had a bit of an epiphany and decided to try my hand at writing him! this takes place pre-canon, and is angst with a happy ending :)

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Dieter Bravo Masterlist

They say the feeling of elation lasts for days, weeks even. Winning an Academy Award was a once in a lifetime experience for most actors, and this would mark the first time Dieter had won one. And for a while he did feel that way, stupidly thinking that there wasn’t anything in the entire world that could bring him down.

And then he saw you at the afterparty.

More specifically, he saw you dancing with someone else.

There were two types of jealousy in the world. There was the red-hot version of the emotion, that burned like fire in the stomach and enveloped one’s entire being until it was all they could think of as their hands curled into fists and they had to keep themselves from acting in a way that was unbecoming or impolite.

And then there was jealousy that was dark and gloomy gray, bringing down the mood of whoever experienced it, and making them want to do nothing but go to bed and shut out the entire world. It was wanting to cry but realizing that there were no tears left, and staring at the wall without focus or care for anything. This type of jealousy made a person feel like their limbs were being weighed down with dumbbells, along with a crushing feeling of existential dread.

Right now, Dieter was experiencing both of those at the same time, and it was brutal.

Maybe it was the heightened emotion he felt from winning (or the little bit of cocaine that he snorted between the ceremony and the afterparty), but he hated the feeling. Watching you smile and dance from across the room was almost equivalent to medieval torture for him, knowing that you wouldn’t want to talk to him if he went over and said hello. Because he fucked up your relationship, and it was one of the worst mistakes he had ever made.

It started out as a PR thing, it always did in this business. His agent called him up and practically threatened him to agree. He did, not knowing what kind of joy you would bring to his life.

You were also an actor, but mainly worked in TV while he focused on movies. However, you had landed a decent role in a big budget drama, and your agent wanted to generate a little more of a buzz around your name than you already had. They had reached out to several other agents asking for advice and ideas, and Dieter’s manager had responded, wanting to drum up press for his upcoming movie as well. Without the input of either you or him, it was decided that you would be in a fake relationship.

The beginning of it all had been fine. You were both a little wary of what you were being asked to do, but he enjoyed your company and you didn’t seem to hate him, so it could have been a lot worse. He made a promise to himself not to let things get real after the first time the two of you were photographed together, because he knew it would only make things more complicated.

But of course, that promise was doomed from the start. You spent more time together, planned outings where you could be seen and photographed holding hands, and managed to convince the rest of the world that you were one of Hollywood’s new “it couples.” And all the while, he found himself falling for you.

The two of you had been invited to the premier of another movie, some sci-fi thriller that everyone seemed to think might win big during awards season, and his agent wanted him to kick it up a notch. He complied, and after a few planned kisses on the red carpet, he knew that promise he made to himself was so far down the drain it was irretrievable.

You slept together that night too, camping out in a hotel room instead of attending the afterparty. Parts of his suit were strewn across the room the next morning when he woke up and your dress was in a pile on the floor, no doubt collecting wrinkles.

For a few weeks, the image that you presented to the world and reality were the same, and then everything started to crash and burn. You knew you would have to “break up” eventually, and soon it was written in the contracts between your agent and his.

But you believed that somehow things could work out between you and him. And he stupidly wanted to believe it too, but his agent had forbid him from keeping contact with you after the “split” was recorded and reported. He should have fought back, he should have admitted that he was in love with you right then and there, but he didn’t.

Instead, he pretended to be a commitment freak when you told him you wanted to continue seeing him, and he watched as the expression on your face went from love to disgust in seconds. He told you lies about only wanting to get in your pants, driving a stake not only through your heart but his at the exact same time. He watched as you walked away from him, and he knew he had fucked up big time.

Two months later, he fired that agent and hired another, but the damage to his relationship with you was already done, and he had to simply accept that.

You ran into each other at the bar of all places, both stepping up to order a drink at the exact same time. “Congratulations on your win tonight,” you told him, a smile on your face that Dieter knew was simply for politeness’ sake.

“Thank you,” he responded, the suit he was wearing suddenly feeling a little too warm and constricting. Trying to keep his nerves at bay, he spoke again. “I saw you got the lead in that new thriller coming out next year. Congratulations.”

You smile grew a bit bigger, and he could see your expression soften a little. “Thank you.”

Your drink was ready, and you turned to step away, but Dieter gently touched your hand to keep your attention. “Listen, I feel terrible about things went down between us. My agent was really overbearing and I took some stupid advice. I miss you, and even if you don’t want to give us another shot, I’d at least like to be friends.”

You were silent for a moment, clearly not expecting that to come out of his mouth. “I know about your agent,” you said quietly. “Mine was complaining about how annoying he was to work with, and she told me that he pressured you to have a ‘clean break’ from me. I don’t know if I’m looking for a relationship right now, but I’d like to be friends too.”

He nodded, a small smile spreading over his face. “Then friends it is.”

***

The next morning, he woke up alone in his hotel room, with nothing but a bad case of bed hair from the night before. He thought everything was completely fine, or at least he did until he grabbed his phone and checked his messages.

The first one he clicked on was from his agent, and the text read Is this real or should I start damage control?, followed by a link to a news article. Dieter stared in shock at the headline when it loaded on his phone.

Could It Finally Be Take Two For This Pair of Hollywood Exes?

Photos of the two of you together from last night sat right under the large type, along with a red carpet photo from when the two of you were “together.” The afterparty photos looked like they had come from the background of someone else’s instagram post, and he wondered who was the one who had accidentally captured the moment between you and him last night. Dieter swore to himself as he thought of you: what did you think of all this? He just hoped that you didn’t think he had done this on purpose, even though he should have known that cameras would be everywhere, he was just too caught up in the jealousy and then the hope you gave him after your conversation.

He backed out of the article and the text from his agent, not sure what to tell him. It was then that he noticed another new text, timestamped at 7:23 this morning. Your name stared back at him as he opened the thread.

I know what I said last night, but it seems we’re all over the internet. If you were serious about giving us another shot, I say we do it. Can’t be worse than our first relationship, right?

Suddenly, all his worry about the situation began to wash away. Immediately, he texted you back.

I was definitely serious.

Can I take you out to dinner this evening? I think we have some things to talk about.

He waited for you to text back a confirmation before calling his agent, and he was already thinking about where he wanted to take you for your first (real, or rather, not sponsored) date.  

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#year of themed creation #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction

[terrainofheartfelt]

okay could you do dair 23 or 26

Dair + 23 …in relief.

(there was another request for dair + 26 so that shalt be answered later <3)

(in the meantime, some 5x24 canon divergence as self care <3)

Dan knocks back the shot Serena hands him with a wince. Tequila. Whenever Dan shoots tequila he makes ill-advised choices. Which is why for his birthday two weeks ago, he and Blair drank Manhattans before feeling each other up in the bar bathroom. 

Whiskey goes with Blair, warm but harsh, sweet and sharp, burns down through his chest like being in love. Tequila is dangerous. Tequila is…well…Serena. 

“Okay, okay, time-out,” Dan pleads, making a T with his hands, trying in vain to referee his own life.  

Serena laughs, her smile glinting around a wedge of lime. “Don’t give up on me now, Dan. I never took you for a lightweight.” 

He snorts. “Yeah, well, anyone’s a lightweight when they ingest tequila on an empty stomach.” 

He hasn’t eaten all day. He couldn’t make himself. His stomach has been twisted up in knots ever since those fucking Gossip Girl blasts. He’d stupidly thought that drinking would help, but it’s only made it worse. 

Serena pats his shoulder sympathetically. “There’s food around here somewhere. I’ll flag someone –” 

She lifts her arm, and despite his compromised state, Dan is able to spot the danger. He stumbles backward and pulls Serena with him, out of the way of a passing waiter, narrowly saving the both of them from being doused by an entire bottle of champagne. 

“Whoa,” he brilliantly comments, then reflexively drops his hands from Serena’s arms to his sides, releasing her.  

She only steps closer, looking at him with concern. “You okay?”

He chokes on an hysterical laugh, because no, he is clearly not, and suddenly everything in the party becomes too much. The noise, the people, the terrible music, the lighting, the dense, cloying air of a hundred over perfumed American aristocrats, and is he that drunk or is Serena still extremely close to him?

“Uh – yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair—it’s so hot in here that he wishes he could chop it off now, or at least have a hair tie on his wrist like Jenny always does. “I just – I need some air.” 

He takes a step back, and Serena immediately follows him. “I’ll come with you.” 

“No, Serena –” he snaps, then catches himself, his stomach does a violent flip. Personal space has never been much of a thing with them, even as friends, but now Dan feels on the precipice of something dangerous. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke. And I know that dress you’re wearing is worth more than my book deal, so –” he waves a vague hand, and turns and walks away before Serena can protest again.   

Dan ends up on the sidewalk in front of Grand Central. Given the spring humidity and all the city smells that come with it, the air outside the Campbell isn’t much better, but at least out here Dan can be alone for a moment. 

He knows she means well, but Serena’s hovering only makes him feel worse, like she’s already decided what choice Blair is going to make. 

Dan supposes if anyone were qualified to weigh in on Blair’s choices, it would be Serena. But no, Blair hasn’t really let Serena know her for a long time now, and maybe Dan is partially to blame for that, but — he’s too drunk to follow this thread right now. 

He leans back against the wall to steady himself. He’s already out here, public transportation hub at his back, it would be pretty easy to make a getaway, spare him the humiliation of waiting around for the rest of the night. 

But, what if?

He tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Too many trains of thought, too much tequila to chase them down. 

“Dan?”

He wrenches his eyes open. No way. 

“Oh thank god,” he mutters, pushing himself off the wall and into Blair’s arms, pouring all the relief he can’t speak into a kiss. 

“Mm – Dan,” she pulls back, but holds her grip on his lapels, keeping him close. She wrinkles her nose, impossibly cute, and he loves her. “You taste like a distillery.” 

He loves her. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tipping his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” he repeats unevenly, apologizing for more than just the tequila breath. For being drunk now, for serving her that stupid ultimatum, for nearly giving up on his end of it, for saying too much and scaring her off. 

“It’s fine,” Blair says with a long-suffering sigh as she twines her arms around his neck. “I love you anyway.”

Dan gapes at her, dumbstruck. Blair Waldorf has a singular talent of rendering him speechless. “You’re gonna have to tell me that again when I’m sober.”

She giggles and pulls him in to kiss him again, distillery be damned.

#thank you!!!!!!! #sometimes a girl's just gotta look the s5 finale in the eye and #*sam the onion man voice* i can fix that #dan x blair #blair x dan #dair #*prompts #this is how it happened actually

[slusheeduck]

For Want Of A Wish

[I][II][III]

IV. Revel

As they passed through the crossing, they were immediately enrobed in the golden sunlight that seemed to drip through the trees. They both had a moment of wonder, before Astarion remembered himself and dove for the nearest shade. He pressed his back against a tree, brows creasing as he realized he was stuck.

“Gods, I forget how beautiful it…Love?” Falerin broke from his reverie, looking around until he found where Astarion had tucked himself away. He stepped around, still bathed in sunlight—the deep red of his hair was brightened in the light, with streaks of silver threaded through, as he tilted his head to look at him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know if you recall this, dearheart, but I am, in fact, a vampire,” Astarion hissed. “Or did you think we only went out at night for fun once the Absolute business was over?”

Falerin blinked, and his eyes widened. “Oh, oh! Oh, you think…this isn’t real.”

“I beg your fucking pardon.”

Falerin shook his head, then waved around them. “All of…this. It’s not real sunlight. I mean, I suppose it is, but it doesn’t work like ours. It’s always like this.” He wrinkled his nose, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Here, let me show you.” He held out his hand for Astarion’s.

Astarion looked down at it, then back up at him. “Did you ever learn cure wounds?” he asked dryly.

“No, but we won’t need it. Just trust me.”

Astarion frowned, weighing his options, before he finally gave a sigh and set his hand in Falerin’s. “If I burn…”

“You won’t.” Slowly, Falerin pulled Astarion’s hand forward, into the sunlight. Astarion grimaced and shut his eyes, waiting for the burn he knew all too well. But it…never came—there wasn’t even so much as a prickle. He opened his eyes, staring at his pale skin, bright and unmarked in the sunlight. He blinked, releasing Falerin’s hand to hold it up.

“Gods. You were right,” he said, voice soft. The longer his hand stayed in the sun, the more he realized that it did feel…different than what he remembered from three years ago. It wasn’t warm, or cold, or…anything, really. Somehow, it felt more like an artificer’s lamp—effective, but inorganic. But even so, it was more sunlight than he’d dared to hope for in years, so he was hardly going to complain.

He stepped out into the sunlight, glancing over to catch Falerin staring at him. He returned the stare with his own curious look. “What?”

To his surprise, Fal’s face split into a grin. “I’d forgotten how beautiful you look in the daylight,” he said, voice soft and odd eyes bright. “It suits you.” He laughed. “All the more reason to get that Wish.”

Astarion gave his own little smile, mouth staying firmly shut. Best not spoil anything by blurting his plan now. He looked around them, now able to properly take in their surroundings. “Is this the Court?”

“Mm? Oh, no, no, the Court’s a way off. Well, probably. It…moves.” Fal picked his way back out to the little road, Astarion close behind.

“What do you mean ‘it moves’?” the vampire asked, any wonder suddenly evaporating.

“Well, her Court never stays in one place. I assume it’s still close by—it hasn’t been very long since I was here, in their time, but…” Fal shrugged, having the audacity to look unbothered. “Someone will be able to point us there.”

Astarion stood still, staring hard at Falerin. He finally looked away, taking a very deep breath as he brought his hands together. “So. You’re telling me, darling, dearheart, beloved, light of my life, Falerin Glais, that your plan for the two of us, is to wander around an entirely different realm until someone is nice enough to give directions to a fey court that could be on the other side of the Feywild for all we know?” His voice had steadily risen through the last half of the sentence, breaking on “Feywild,” but even so, Falerin didn’t look any less confident. In fact, he smiled as he reached for Astarion’s hand.

“Look,” he said, voice quiet as he wrapped both warm hands around Astarion’s, “it’s like I said. This place is…it was my home for a long time. I know how it works, and I know how to get us where we need to go. And…” He tilted his head back and forth. “My patron is…she has a lot of sway here. One look at this…” He tapped just beneath his violet eye. “…and I guarantee every fey will know exactly where we’re going. Trust me?” Falerin bit his lip, looking over Astarion’s face, then nodded back behind him. “Portal’s still open. We can still leave.”

Astarion’s mouth stayed in a hard line, and he glanced back over his shoulder. The portal was indeed still open, a perfect circle of mundane darkness amidst the impossible vibrance of the Feywild. It was tempting, scurrying back to the shadows and hoping for an easier way to fix things. But if he’d clawed his way this far after two hundred years, he wasn’t about to get back to it now. He took a breath, then looked back to Falerin.

“Well, I’ve trusted you this far, mad as you are,” he finally said. “Suppose I can manage a bit farther.”

Fal gave him a wide smile, squeezing his hand before he let go to turn and start walking. “I actually think you’ll like it here, once we get to the Court. Obviously I don’t think we should move in or anything, but…well, you can already see, it’s unlike anywhere else.”

Astarion looked overhead. Despite the golden light filtering down to them, there didn’t seem to be a source for the light. It just...was. No shadows either, now that he was looking—granted, he couldn’t go by his own. But each leaf of the trees around them were perfectly lit, creating an odd lack of depth in the world around them. Beautiful, yes, but…not quite right. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“Ah! Hang on, before we go any farther, here.” Falerin suddenly stopped, reaching up to grab two of the perfectly lit leaves from an overhead branch. He held one out to Astarion. “Here, you’ll want this.”

Astarion took it, looking it over. “What, is it…currency here?” He grinned as he spun it between his fingers. “Trading leaves and dewdrops for…” He looked up just in time to see Falerin shove the whole leaf in his mouth. “…couldn’t wait thirty seconds before being an absolute weirdo, could you, love?”

Falerin nodded at him as he chewed. “Go on, eat yours.”

“You know, I’m really regretting what I just said about trusting you. I think I’ll pass.”

Falerin shook his head as he swallowed. “No, no, it’s…it’s essential. I promise it is. You know fairy food, how it’s enchanted?” As Astarion nodded, he continued, “Well, it is. But the first thing you eat here makes you immune to future enchantments. Most people, of course, have the cakes or wine or whatever, and they get enchanted. But if you have a leaf, stick, flower—you know, anything recognizable that’s from here specifically, you’ll be able to have whatever you want without any issue.”

Astarion stared at him, then back down at his leaf. “Well, then, isn’t it lucky I don’t have to eat? And that includes leaves.” He tucked it in one of his many hidden pockets, then waved his hand. “I’ll just drink from…” He paused. “Do…do the things here have blood?”

Falerin thought for a moment, squinting hard at the ground. “I…they must. They must. I mean, I’ve never seen for myself, but they’re…” He trailed off. “Well, it might not even be an issue!” He started walking again. “When I came before, my illness, my aging, all of that seemed to stop. I don’t recall being particularly hungry or thirsty, really, so…it may be a non-issue, especially since you drank from me last night. And everything should be paused for me now, so you’ll be able to drink from me again if you need.”

“Mm.” That did…not sound like a solid plan, but it wasn’t like Astarion had anything better to offer. He took a couple quick steps to catch up to Falerin, looping his arm through his again—this realm was getting increasingly strange, just listening to Fal talk about it, and a bit of grounding never hurt anyone. They kept an easy pace; there was no real rush, after all, and the…day? night? was young, and there seemed to be no threats ahead.

After a while, Astarion glanced to Falerin. “So how did you get here the first time?”

“Crossroad, same one we came through.”

“Yes, yes, but…what did you do? You know, like the flute playing.” Astarion paused. “How did you show your heart?”

Falerin’s mouth twitched up into a little smile. “I sang.”

Astarion snorted before he could stop himself, and he quickly covered his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry, love. I just…I’ve heard you sing, and it’s…” He tried to think of the kindest way to put it. “I can think of many other strengths that would suit you better.”

Falerin let out a soft little laugh. “I’m terrible, you can say it.”

“Zel’s yowling for breakfast is more melodic, darling, I’m sorry.”

Falerin nodded, staying quiet for a moment as he stared down at the road. “I didn’t used to be,” he said quietly, but he left it there.

Astarion watched him for a moment as they walked, trying to decipher the odd, almost wistful look on his face. But ultimately, he also left it there. He sighed, tilting his head to rest against Fal’s as they walked.

“If you had to do that song and dance again, no pun intended, I think you’d really impress the Guardian with your lacework.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm. You know Adrina, the dragonborn who commissioned a wedding dress that I begged for your help on? She adored the lace. Thought it was the best part.”

“You’re flattering me.”

“I’m not! Please, like I would ever voluntarily say something outshone my embroidery.” Astarion paused. “Which, for the record, my embroidery on that dress was also stunning.”

Falerin laughed, and Astarion relaxed. There, a bit of normalcy in a terribly strange place—that made things much better. And, from experience, a bit of laughter always made the vast, overwhelming first steps of a journey that much easier to take.

~

While there seemed to be no sun, the daylight began giving way to twilight, gold shifting to pinks and blues as they traveled on. Like the last time Fal had been here, the path had been pleasant thus far, with no threats lingering close by. Astarion had even lost a bit of his natural wariness, and they chatted as if they were walking down to the night market.

Eventually, though, it was clear they would have to make camp. Falerin sighed as he set down his pack. He’d hoped they’d find someone before now, but it looked like it was just them. He sat down on a rock, brow furrowing as he thought. “It certainly is interesting here,” Astarion said, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back. “I hardly feel like we’ve walked much at all. Of course, now that I say that out loud, I’m worried that we’ve hardly made any progress.” He looked behind him, searching for the portal; it was nowhere to be found. He gave a pleased little huff, then looked back to Falerin. “Are you doing all right, darling?”

“Mm? Oh, yes. Not as well as I did with the tadpole, but I’m all right.” Falerin leaned forward, mouth pressed against his hand as he thought. “We may have to go off the path tomorrow. I thought we’d find someone by now—I’ll admit, it has me a little worried that we’re farther off than I thought…but that doesn’t make sense.”

“Darling, when has any part of our adventures made sense?” Astarion asked, digging out his sleeping roll. “We fought a giant brain with a squid-faced hero of old as an ally…or, well, whatever it was doing. A sparsely populated wood is far from abnormal.” He unrolled the mat, then looked off into the wood, squinting. “Oh, hello.”

Falerin followed his gaze. “What?”

“We may not be alone after all. I spy a light.” Astarion leaned down and pointed through the trees. Sure enough, a golden glow filtered through the leaves against the darkening surroundings. Falerin got up to move closer to Astarion, tilting his head curiously as he listened. From where they crouched, the tinkling sound of laughter was carried by the soft breeze, along with the heady smell of flowers and something sweet that was nearly familiar, but not quite.

He bit his lip, tugging it to the side as he studied the shifting shadows and laughter. He glanced at Astarion, who tilted his head.

“Should we go?” the vampire whispered. “Do you think it’s safe?”

“It’s definitely Court fairies, though I’m not sure with who,” Falerin whispered back. “But I’d wager Spring Court—that’s where my patron’s from.” He tilted his head back and forth, then looked at Astarion and shrugged. “It’s either trying our luck with them, or wandering around tomorrow. I’d say we should try.”

Astarion nodded, silently moving back to gather up his bedroll. He didn’t say anything, but the unspoken I’m trusting you hung heavy between them. Once he’d gathered his things and brought Falerin’s pack over, they quietly made their way toward the light.

They found a clearing not far into the forest, and that’s where the laughter and light was coming from. The two of them slipped around the trees to get a better look. There were two fey—wispy, pale things, feminine in appearance with long tendrils of white hair, frothy shifts that looked as though they were woven from the morning mist, and large silver eyes that sparked with something much more wild than anything in mortal eyes. They’d arranged a picnic, it looked like, with delicate little cakes, sandwiches, and other dainty foods that certainly wouldn’t be seen at a standard Neverwinter tea. Each fey had a goblet in their hands, with wine so sweet Falerin and Astarion could smell it from where they hid. The two laughed at some untold joke, but one suddenly stopped, starry eyes wide.

“Oh, oh, Fionnula,” she whispered, reaching to grasp the other fey’s arm. “I think we have company.” She gasped, excited. “Mortal company, even.”

“Mortal company? Oh, Fiadh, how exciting!” Fionnula hopped up to her feet, so lightly she looked as though she floated upward. “Come on out, mortals! Oh, we won’t hurt you—and you must know we can’t lie!”

Fiadh got up as well, flittering around the camp. As she came near where Astarion and Falerin crouched, Fal caught sight of Astarion’s hand starting to go for his knife. He reached over to grab his wrist, shaking his head. Before he could say anything, though, one of the fey popped her head out from between the trees, sending a bright smile at them.

“Fionnula, I found them!” she called, then reached for Falerin’s hands. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and she pulled him up to his feet without much effort. “Oh, you mustn’t spend the night there, silly! Come, join our revel! It’s a small one, but still plenty of fun!”

“Don’t touch me,” Falerin heard Astarion snap as Fionnula came over to pull him into the clearing. He tensed, worried he might have offended her, but she merely laughed.

“Oh, no need for that, mortal!” she trilled, practically dancing him to the little set-up. “We’re kin, you know! I can tell by your lovely ears and your pretty face—you’ve fey-blood in you!”

“This one does, too, though much, much less—his ears aren’t nearly so lovely.” Fiadh’s fingers traced curiously over Falerin’s ear, and she tilted her head as she looked at his face. The hand found its way to his violet eye, delicate fingers pushing his lids open to look it over. “Ohh, I know who you belong to,” she said with a knowing smile as she released him.

Despite the manhandling, Falerin perked up. “You do? Can you tell me where her Court’s moved to, then?”

“Oh, yes yes yes, but not until you’ve reveled with us!” She looked back in alarm as Fionnula let out a little shriek of laughter, not unlike a child who’d been startled by something. Falerin just caught sight of her pushing up Astarion’s lips, and she danced back quickly as he snapped his teeth at her instinctively.

“Fiadh, Fiadh, come here! This one…oh, he’s so cold, and his teeth are so sharp!”

Fiadh fluttered her way over to Astarion, reaching out to grab his hand despite his best efforts to back away. “Oh, he is! He’s so frightfully cold. Do you need warming, kin?”

“I don’t need anything,” Astarion hissed at her, trying to tug his arm back.

“You see? Oh, but look at his teeth. Do you think he’s dead? I think he’s dead!” Fionnula said in a half-whisper.

“He can’t be dead. He’s far too handsome. He looks like us!”

“Oh, he does, he does. But the eyes are all wrong.”

“The eyes are all wrong. Oh, but maybe the rest of him’s all right.” Fiadh’s hands traveled to Astarion’s collar, trying to work the stays, while Fionnula set to his shoulders. Astarion had frozen up, eyes wide and teeth still bared—no magic, not that Falerin could see, but rather indecision on whether he was going to go somewhere a million realms away or bite off one of the fey’s hands.

Well, Falerin wouldn’t let either of those happen. It was time to intervene.

“Fionnula, Fiadh,” he said brightly, getting their attention back on him as he stepped forward. “My beloved there is certainly flattered by your attention, but…well, he’s not familiar with this realm, and you may be overstepping a bit. We’re not mad, of course, but…it can read as a bit rude.”

The word “rude” sent a visible shiver through both fey as they gasped, and they simultaneously stepped back from Astarion. There was the barest bit of relaxing in the stiff line of his shoulders and the set of his jaw—crisis averted.

“Oh, we didn’t mean to be rude,” Fionnula said.

“You’re just so pretty, we couldn’t help it!” Fiadh added, anxiously combing her fingers through her hair.

“I hear that more often than you’d think,” Astarion said weakly. He took a breath, composing himself. “But th—” He caught sight of Falerin firmly shaking his head. “…I’m grateful that you’ve given me a bit of space.”

There was a time, not too long ago, when Astarion had to be coached through saying thank you. This was a bit of a pleasant reminder of how far he’d come, really—not that Falerin would say anything about that.

“Oh, but we’re terrible hosts. Terrible hosts! Let’s make it better.” Fionnula took Astarion’s hand again, but only to guide him over to the set up. Fiadh beckoned Falerin over to join them, which he did. “We’ve brought such lovely things with us, and we’re all too glad to share.”

From thin air, it seemed, two glasses of wine materialized in Fiadh’s hands, and she pushed one each into Astarion and Falerin’s palms. “Here, do drink this. We’ll have a lovely time together.”

There was the too-sweet smell—fairy wine. Even if it had been a while since Falerin had seen it, he could remember the effects all too well. The haziness, the looseness…drinking fairy wine was an essential part of a revel, and while Falerin couldn’t remember most of what happened when he’d drunk it, he could always remember waking the next morning, sick and sore and untangling himself from whatever fey had wanted to play the night before.

But he’d warned Astarion, at least. So if they could play off not drinking it, they could… He glanced over as he caught a flash of silver, and he blanched as he watched Astarion, still stiff and wary, take a bracing sip, likely in an attempt to shake off the unwanted touches. The sip became a gulp, then two gulps—the whole glass was drained before Falerin could so much as say a word.

Oh shit.

Fionnula and Fiadh, however, seemed delighted. “There, look at him drink! Oh, we really must be kin. Shall we give you some more, pretty cold boy?”

“No,” Falerin said firmly, moving closer to Astarion. “I…I’m sorry. Your revel is lovely. But we have a meeting with…” He trailed off as he felt the entire weight of Astarion flop against him, breath catching as a hand, still clever even with the fairy wine, traced along his inner thigh.

“You…” Astarion slurred out, tilting his head up against Fal’s shoulder to look up at him from under his lashes. “…are so beautiful. Have I told you that lately, my love?” He tilted his head up, pointy chin resting on the half-drow’s shoulder. “Kiss me. Please kiss me. I think I may just die if you don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Falerin muttered.

“Oh, no! Oh, kiss him, please!” Fionnula pleaded.

“Yes, he’s asked ever-so-nicely!” Fiadh added.

“Ever-so-nicely,” Astarion echoed with a hazy grin.

Falerin grimaced, but he finally leaned in for a quick peck. Astarion, though, had other plans; his hand buried in Falerin’s hair, and he expertly shifted them to press the length of their bodies together as he deepened the kiss, tongue tracing Fal’s full lips as he did. Falerin’s eyes widened, and he abruptly pulled his head back to gasp in a breath.

“This…this was lovely,” he said, voice shaking slightly as he tried to disentangle himself from Astarion, whose hands were wandering over his neck, his cheek, his chest. “But we really must be going.” He got up to his feet, hoisting Astarion up with him—it was a strain, with how close he was to being dead weight, but he got him up and balanced after a few false starts. He heard Fionnula and Fiadh giggle from their seats, but he ignored them—Astarion, from the look of it, wasn’t even aware they were there.

His cold hand clumsily went back to Falerin’s hair, combing his fingers through it. “Why did you cut your hair?” he mumbled, heavy-lidded eyes traveling, half-focused, over his face. “I loved your hair when it was long. But I still love you. Gods, do I love you.” Astarion lurched forward, this time catching Falerin’s lip with his blunt front teeth. His hand traveled over his cheek, down his neck and dipping below his collar, while his free arm stayed looped tightly around his waist. “Fuck me,” he mumbled into Falerin’s mouth.

“Astarion…” Falerin’s throat bobbed against Astarion’s exploring hand.

“I mean it. Fuck me. Gods, I want you to so badly.” He lurched forward, tongue teasing at Fal’s earlobe before he whispered, “And I know you want to, too.” He laughed against Falerin’s neck, breathy and soft as his cold lips smeared kisses along it. “You allllways do. Even when you pretend you don’t. I can tell, darling.”

Falerin finally set his hands on Astarion’s shoulders, pushing him back to look at him with wide eyes. The vampire was relaxed, possibly the most relaxed Falerin had ever seen him, and the tilt in his head and spark in his eyes suggested that, yes, he really did want to sleep with Falerin. His tongue pushed against his lower lip, his body shifted forward, his hands tried to flutter to land anywhere on Falerin—he didn’t just want to sleep with Falerin, he was gagging for it.

And, despite Falerin knowing that this was wholly because of the wine, it was…thrilling, seeing Astarion like this. Wanton and pliant and obvious, in a way he’d never been before now. With how worked up he was, Falerin could do whatever he wanted with him, and he’d thank him for doing so.

What a heady power that was. Heady and…familiar. The promise alone seemed to seep into his bones, and it puppeted him as he reached his hand out. His thumb grazed over the elf’s smooth cheek, and Astarion pushed against it with a shuddery little breath, as if he could find relief from Fal’s touch alone.

“Astarion,” Falerin purred out, and it felt new on his tongue, no matter that he’d said his name thousands of times before. He let the taste linger, eyes tugging up the elf’s body like they were being guided. There was a bright flare behind his right eye, similar to when he’d watched Barger and Astarion perform for the Guardian. Amusement far beyond what he’d ever felt, but with something more this time…want.

The pretty thing in front of him would do anything he asked, he knew. And he would not let that chance go to waste.

But before he could lean forward, something odd happened. His sight in his right eye changed. With the left—the mundane eye—his gaze was still fixed on Astarion, but with his fey eye, he was somewhere new, catching a glimpse of a beautiful room filled with greenery and light.

It was just for a moment, but that was enough to pull him out of…whatever that had been. Oh, gods, what had he been about to do? He gasped, stepping back despite Astarion’s protest. That…was that…him? But no, it couldn’t have been. He’d always wanted to protect Astarion, to be different than all the others that had just taken.

At some point, it seemed like Fionnula and Fiadh had gone, and their spread of treats along with them. Falerin looked over the now-empty copse, then let out a breath. But he only had a moment before two hands, cold and clever and impatient, found their way to his body, tracing the line of his neck and following the curve of his arse before both slid down to meet between his thighs.

“Astarion,” Falerin’s voice came out high-pitched and whispery this time, hips lifting before he could stop himself. He melted as cold lips found his neck again, fangs just teasing his skin. “As-Astar—love, you’re not in your right mind.”

“When am I ever?” Astarion purred back. His tongue traced the jut of Falerin’s Adam’s apple. “Come on, darling, I need you.”

Falerin shut his eyes with a shuddering little breath as his trousers loosened, hands weakly going to Astarion’s wrists once he’d untied his stays. “You…” He was interrupted as he caught Astarion’s lips, kissing him hungrily before he pulled back. “You’re making it very hard to say no, you know.”

“Then…say…yes.” Astarion pressed himself up against Falerin, bodies interlocking perfectly against each other, and he let out a shuddering sigh against his mouth. “Please, dearheart.”

Falerin only had so much willpower. The little he had left he used to push Astarion back, just enough to look at him. He swallowed, face flushed and hair mussed and loosened trousers tenting. “Okay,” he finally said in a rush of air. “Okay. But…but let me…I want you to enjoy this.”

Before Astarion could get a word in, Falerin sank down to his knees. His hands weren’t as quick or clever, but they were well-practiced as he found the ties of the other man’s trousers. He didn’t waste time with teasing or goading, though he was careful as he pulled Astarion free; given how riled up he was, Fal was fairly certain one wrong touch might finish him right there.

He looked up at him, odd eyes glinting in the half-light. Astarion’s gaze had been barely focused up to this point, but now his red eyes were direct and bright as he slid his fingers into Falerin’s cropped hair—there were no stars in the twilight sky overhead, but Falerin could practically see them glinting in the vampire’s gaze. He gave a smile, taking a moment to press a warm kiss to the tip before he took him in his mouth.

Astarion, as a rule, was relatively reserved whenever they had sex. No doubt it was a holdover from centuries in the flophouse; no matter who you were or what you were doing, no one wanted to hear their neighbors fucking through the walls. He teased and melted and purred out praise, but always quietly.

Except for now. As Falerin’s head bobbed, tongue teasing the underside of his cock and lavishing attention on its head, he was loud. A breathless jumble of Elvish and Common echoed against the trees, a cacophony of “IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou” falling from his tongue. It was all terribly earnest, not a hint of performance in it, and it, admittedly, was really doing things for Fal. He kept his pace, one hand firmly grasping Astarion’s hip while the other reached down to palm himself for some relief as he worked.

Not that it took long at all. Astarion’s verbal torrent stopped suddenly, and his grip on Falerin’s hair grew painfully tight. After one moment of stillness, he let out a shuddering exhale as he curled around Falerin, finish spilling cold and fast down the half-drow’s throat. Falerin didn’t dare move as Astarion shook through his finish, reaching up only to keep a steady grip on him as he came down. Once the hands in his hair loosened, Fal carefully pulled off of him, giving his mouth a quick wipe before he looked up at Astarion—just in time to catch him as he collapsed in a boneless heap on top of him, bringing them both down onto the grass.

For a moment, they simply laid there. Astarion was too far gone to catch his breath—a learned behavior rather than a natural one at this point—and Falerin kissed the top of his curly head before letting his own fall back with a sigh.

“All right?” he finally asked as Astarion stirred after a moment of stillness. He lifted his head, haziness from the wine still evident but eyes just as bright as they’d been not long before. He gave a smile—bright and unhindered—and he gave the dreamiest of sighs as he looked over his face.

“Never better.” He grinned as he pulled himself up, pulling Falerin into another kiss. “But, my darling love, I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

~

Morning in the Feywild was a misty thing, damp and fresh without the chill that you’d find in the real world, so to speak. The golden light was diffused, making the world paler and softer than the bright summer light the two of them had walked into the day before. Really, as far as mornings went, you couldn’t ask for a prettier start to the day.

Not that Astarion noticed, given that he felt like utter shit. Between the fairy wine and the veritable marathon of sex he and Falerin had had the night before, he’d slept—actually slept, which he’d only done a handful of times in nearly two-and-a-half centuries—soundly enough, but waking had greeted him with the worst hangover he’d possibly ever had. Everything ached, he felt sick to his stomach, and having honed hearing and smell really was not helping with either.

At some point, they’d gotten their sleeping rolls out, and Astarion sank deeper into his, trying to blot out the light. The light touch to his shoulder resulted in an exhausted—but no less embarrassing—actual hiss.

“Sorry, sorry.” Falerin’s voice was very soft, no doubt trying to mitigate the sensory overload that was a hungover vampire. “Just checking on you. How do you feel?”

“If you really loved me, you’d stake me now.”

“Can’t. I don’t want to carry your pack.” Fal’s hand found Astarion’s back through the blanket, and he gave it a gentle rub. “I’m sorry about last night. I should have warned you about the wine.”

“You should have.”

Falerin stayed quiet for a moment, hand still working a soothing path up and down his back. “I’m…sorry I didn’t say no.”

Even in his haze of misery, Astarion’s brows drew together at that. With a tremendous show of strength that really deserved a medal of some sort, he turned over, mussed curls and red eyes poking over the edge of his sleeping roll. “You’re sorry about the sex?”

Fal’s face, already drawn, grimaced even harder. “I just…you weren’t in your right mind, and I know I did try to say no but I…I should have…it wasn’t…I don’t want you to think that I…” He looked down as Astarion’s hand snaked out to wrap around his forearm.

“Falerin, dearheart. If there is anyone that I feel comfortable having…completely addled fairy wine-induced sex with, it’s you. You don’t need to apologize for that.” His cheeks lifted, showing the smile hidden beneath the covers. “I don’t remember much, but I do remember having fun.” Once Falerin’s frown lessened, he groaned and sank back down into the bedroll. “What you do need to apologize for is allowing us to get up to all that in the fucking grass. I feel like I need three baths.”

“Might have to wait on that front, though there must be a river nearby.” Falerin sighed. “And we didn’t get any directions after all that.” He shook his head. “But we shouldn’t dally too long. Let’s get dressed.”

Astarion groaned again. “Okay, no stake. But my rapier’s not far off; if you’re quick enough, I bet you could behead—”

“No, Astarion.”

“Horrible. Wretched. Cruel. I don’t think you love me at all.”

Despite his complaints and trying not to think about the fact he knew he looked like death warmed over, Astarion did finally crawl out from the bedroll and started getting dressed. He’d just pulled his trousers on when he paused, head tilting as he heard something. He looked over to Falerin, waiting for the half-drow to pull on his tunic before he pressed a finger to his mouth. He crept over to the edge of the copse, listening.

“We were just having a bit of fun! Neither of them are hurt!”

Oh, that sounded like…Fiona or Fiddle or whatever the two fey from last night were named. Astarion frowned, leaning in a bit more.

“It was just a little revel. We didn’t even ask their names.” There was the other one.

“Even so, you both should have known better. If anything happened, she’s going to be furious—you know how badly she wants mortals sent her way.” That was a different voice. It was melodic and smooth—definitely masculine and very pleasing on the ear. “If they’re hurt…”

“They’re not!”

“They were sleeping when we checked on them!”

“Hush.”

As the footsteps drew closer, Astarion went back to Falerin’s side. “Company coming,” he said, digging out his rapier from the jumble of discarded armor. “Get a spell ready.”

“What?” Falerin’s head whipped around to look at Astarion, but before he could do anything, the male voice rang out into the clearing.

“Good morning, sleepyheads! Heard you had quite the welcome to our neck of the woods.”

The two fey from last night stepped into the copse, looking suitably chastised as they flanked another one. Like the voice suggested, this one was male, and he was beautiful. He was thin and willowy, standing just a touch taller than Astarion. Red hair spilled over his shoulders like ink, smooth and shiny in the morning light; his face had the telltale sharp and pointed features of the fey, with a pretty heart-shaped mouth and almond-shaped, golden eyes not unlike a fox. He glanced over Astarion first, chuckling as he held up his hands.

“I mean no harm,” the fey said, giving him a charming, slightly lopsided smile—a show of imperfection, clearly. “I just wanted to…”

“Amory?”

The fey stopped as Falerin spoke, and his head darted over to look at the half-drow. He blinked a few times, hands dropping and face going slack in surprise. “Falerin?”

Fal suddenly smiled, and he took a step forward to greet him. Amory, though, was quicker; in two swift steps, he’d gotten right up to Falerin, and he immediately pulled him into a deep, deep kiss.

Astarion stared, too dumbfounded and far too hungover to even think of how to properly react to seeing a fey shove his tongue down his partner’s throat. Finally, after far too long a kiss, he cleared his throat. Amory pulled away, and he gave Astarion a grin.

“Sorry, where are my manners? Shall I kiss you too?”

As Astarion bristled at that, Fal quickly patted Amory’s chest, disengaging from him. “What are you doing here? I thought you went off to the Court of Hearts.”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Amory’s attention was back on Falerin, and he ruffled his hands through the warlock’s hair. “And how are you so old? Look at all this gray hair—and don’t think I don’t see the wrinkles around your mouth. Oberon’s sack, you mortals really do age like mayflies, don’t you?”

Falerin laughed, a hand going to push off Amory’s with an easy familiarity that made something uncomfortable twist in Astarion. It had been a while since he’d felt jealous, truth be told, but it flared hot and furious just as it had years ago, at a much more bearish target.

“Is anyone going to explain what’s happening?” he snapped, then pointed his blade at Amory. “Falerin, who is this?”

Fal blinked. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course, sorry.” He gestured to Amory, who looked over Astarion with no small amount of amusement. “This is Amory. He’s a leanan sidhe, from the Prince of Hearts’ Court.”

“I’m a gloaming fey, before you ask,” Amory added easily. “Not with the Seelie or Unseelie, though typically I prefer the former.”

Astarion’s eyes narrowed, blade still in place. “Well, that’s all well and good. Now how in the hells do you know Falerin?”

There was something wicked in Amory’s smile at the question, and he grinned before lightly batting the rapier away. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” He draped his arms around Fal’s neck, pressing their cheeks together. “Should I tell him? I’ll tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Astarion said through his teeth, which only made Amory’s smirk widen.

“Well, I’m Falerin’s lover, of course.”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #feywild #nsft #There's lemon in here #This is so long and I am so tired but I did it

[house-of-slayterr]

Marko headcanons? Please 🥺 am in much need of my trash baby cause am much sad

Of course, anything for you my love! I too am experiencing Marko brain rot!

Marko loves pretty things, and by pretty I mean unique. Someone’s style, hair, makeup or lack there of. He notices all that stuff right away. It’s like he’s constantly searching for the next coolest person in town.

Cause we all know Marko is a platonic whore (as well as a regular one) boy could make friends with his eyes closed and his mullet on backwards. He’s just a really charismatic guy!

And that’s when he’d spot you, with your new blue hair! He thinks it’s possible the coolest thing he’s ever seen in his life. Before Paul or David can even tease him, he’s marching on over to you. Determined to at least leave with your number.

He probably uses the cringiest of pick up lines to attempt to flirt. “Are you a parking ticket? Cause you’ve got fine written all over you!” And don’t you for a second think it stops after just one. No, he makes it his mission to find the worst ones just to hear your laugh.

“Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?”

“Feel my shirt, wanna know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

This is your life now. I hope you don’t mind a little golden doodle following around everyone, because you now have your own personal vampire body guard. The only time he’s not with you is when he’s hunting. He wouldn’t want to scare you off, but little does he know it makes him more irresistible.

Prepare for a lot of Paul time. Where on terror twin goes, the other fallows. He probably flirts as well, but Marko cuts him down with well places glares. He loves teasing Marko, and making you blush. So the behaviour again, won’t stop. Not unless Marko asks him too in the moment.

This man will drag you to EVERY concert on the board walk. If they’re selling t-shirts, prepare for a whole new wardrobe! Marko is a master Kleptomaniac. He could steal from five different people before anyone notices. What can I say, he’s got sticking fingers to go with the devious smirk of his.

Dates under the stars! He will fly you to the highest point in the city so y’all can look at stars together. He probably just picks up Chinese and turns it into a little rooftop picnic.

YOUR JACKET! That’s right, you heard me! Marko custom made you a jacket to match his iconic one. He pays attention to bands and colours you like and collected patches for months before gifting it to you. Sometimes you help him see new patches onto both of you jackets.

Dwayne whole heartedly approves of this. You mellow him out a Little. He’s not like a kid who’s on a sugar high, and claustrophobic, always needed to be on the move anymore. He doesn’t care how much you weigh, he’s content to have you sit on his lap. He’s a vampire after all, you weigh nothing to him. Get you a boy who can handle some skin!

David is wearing of you at first. But he sees how happy the two of you are so he lets it happen. But he’s probably had a chat or 100 about Marko turning you. David is impatient and would rather you be a fledgling than a human. Even if like Star and Laddie you don’t want to feed right away, he’d respect that. But he’s much more excepting of you after you turn.

And don’t worry, Marko would make it special. He’d be careful not to hurt you, and make sure everything goes smoothly. He can’t go with you, but Marko gives you an entire day to watch your last sunrise and sunset. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re missing out by being with him. Please assure him your not, this poor Baby would have his heart broken if he continued to think that.

But you’re living your best life now with the boys, and Marko couldn’t be more proud of you. You’re Marko’s person, and he’s yours. And everyone respects that. Those other people better stay away, cause an angry hungry fledgling is not someone you want to piss off. You kill someone for flirting with Marko, he goes fucking feral.

Don’t expect to be getting any rest anytime soon. He’s keeping you up well I got he morning in that cave. Cue David yelling at Marko for his poor timing, why couldn’t he do this when they weren’t all stuck in the cave for the day.

Marko’s love languages are gift giving. He sees something that reminds him of you, it’s yours now. He’d buy the whole world if he could, but you’ll settle for an ice-cream and the random set of rings he thought would look nice on your fingers. But he’s keeping that one finger empty, so one day he can get you a real nice ring and start your forever together.

An: hope this was what you were looking for! I’m all soft and mushy now 🥺

#marko tlb #marko #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys #vamprie boyfriend #vamprie best friend #foor Drew <3

[chickensarentcheap]

Bedtime sneak peek :)

@tragiclyhip @munstysmind @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @mrsmungus @timbradfordsboot @ninjasawakenedmystar @asirensrage @residentdormouse @thebewingedjewelcat @karimac @kmc1989 @themaradwrites

AFTER THE CUT:

“Please, Tyler,” Esme begs in the background. “Please just listen to him.   He knows what he’s talking about.  I know it’s hard for you sometimes;  you react emotionally when it comes to me and the kids.  But I need you to just stop. Please. Just stop and think about all of this.  Think about what he’s saying.”

Both chest and throat tighten.   Nearly brought to his knees by the sound of her voice;  the fear and the desperation that weighs down every tearful plea.   And as his grip tightens around his phone, he briefly closes his eyes;  struggling to get the mixture of emotions under control. A combination of intense rage,  profound sadness and near-painful helplessness.  And emptiness and loneliness unlike anything he’s ever experienced before.

“I know what it’s like.”  K’s voice is softer; laced with patience and sympathy.  “Being used to always having a handle on things.  The one everyone turns to when there’s trouble.  And I also know what it’s like to feel all that slipping away.  It’s fucking awful, mate.   no longer being in control of things.   Especially through no fault of your own.”

“I have seven kids here.  That need their mother.   And you keeping her away from them even longer than you need to…”

“I’m doing what’s best for her.   I’m not doing this to cause more problems. Or to punish anyone. I know what these people are like; I know the kind of power they have and I know what kind of resources they have backing them up.  It’s why we can’t just jump into things; we need to play along and gain their trust and their confidence.  I can’t just break her out of here.  It’s not that easy.  And I think if you’d look at this as a mercenary and not as a husband, you’d say the same thing.  You wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks with a client, would you? You’d do whatever it takes to keep them safe, yeah?”

“We’re talking about a client. We’re talking about my wife.”

“Which is exactly why you can’t be taking risks.  Why you shouldn’t be WANTING to.  How many times have you had to talk a husband down? Or a wife? From doing something stupid?”

“More than once.”

“Well, now it’s my turn to talk YOU down. I’m not stalling.   I’m not dragging things out to make things worse on you or those kids.  Everything I do? It’s for Esme’s benefit.  And I know it’s a lot to ask, but you need to trust me.”

“That’s awful damn hard.  I don’t even know you.  I don’t just hand out trust to everyone I come across.  You’re holding my entire life in your hands.  And if there’s something I’m willing to die for, it’s her.  You and your buddies fucked with the wrong man.  And the wrong man’s family.  You do all this damage and then expect me to just blindly trust you? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m the one who is keeping your wife and your baby alive.  And if you want to stay that way…”

“Tyler…”  Esme’s voice once more. Tearful.  Terrified. “...please just listen to him.  I’m begging you. Please.”

“I swear to God…”   Tyler growls through clenched teeth. “...if you hurt her in any way…”

“All I want to do is help.  Without causing more issues.  I tell you where we are and you come storming in here?  It will be the worst possible ending. You want your wife and your kid alive? Then you do exactly as I say.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Never Gonna Be Alone

[drdemonprince]

hey i know what im about to ask for advice for isnt ur experience but i thought its possible someone else in ur audience has had a similar one its just starting to get unbearable. im in my early 20s and an autistic lesbian. im almost done with college, have had good friends here, have had good friends online as well, but to my knowledge no one throughout my entire life has had even a crush on me. ive never kissed anyone, no one’s asked me out, even as a kid at recess or whatever. like sometimes i even wish a boy had paid attention to me in that way because maybe then it prove theres not something wrong with me. its just so isolating because literally everyone else in my life has at least been kissed or had a crush situation by the time they were my age. ive tried to talk on dating apps but i just have zero confidence about it because no one who has actually seen me or talked to me for more than a couple times has expressed interest. maybe im oblivious to it being autistic but like i would know if someone said something explicit you know? i feel like it wont ever happen. idk. i think it would help to know if people thought the same things about themselves and then something did happen for them. because it just feels like im the only person alive with this experience who actually wants these things to happen (like i know ace/aro people are out there, its just not me)

Thank you for your question. I'll share some of my thoughts, with the huge caveats that I have not lived this experience, and hopefully readers with more relevant perspectives could also weigh in.

I notice here that you describe yourself and your relationship to attraction in terms of things happening to you, or you receiving certain kinds of attention. You frame yourself throughout this as the possible passive recipient of attraction. But what about what you want? How often have you expressed desire to somebody? How frequently and in what ways have you initiated contact, told someone you were interested in them, or invited someone on a date?

You mention using dating sites and talking with people, but those conversations never turning into anything more. That seems to be a very common problem in the lesbian dating world. I think a lot of women do not feel confident and comfortable in expressing their desires outright and it seems to lead to a lot of grinding of gears and people assuming that nobody is interested in them when really all parties involved feel too shy and disempowered to use their words and directly ask for a date.

I understand that to be a very common thing for queer women, though admittedly it is difficult for me to wrap my mind around as someone who was telling people on OK Cupid that i wanted to meet up and fuck them that evening back when I was like 21 years old, and who moves through the realms of steamworks and grindr and the cell block bar dancefloor now. I've had many interpersonal problems but telling somebody directly that I wanted to bang or even to hang out has not historically been one of them, and I really wish I could just lend some of that hutzpah over to my lensbian siblings because I hear people grousing about how dry apps like Lex are all the time.

It seems pretty glib and unhelpful for me to say "just act more like a bluntly direct gay autistic man" and to say that would be to ignore that a lack of confidence and queer women skewing a bit passive are probably not the only factors you're dealing with. There might be biases working against you like fatphobia, racism, or ableism that incline fewer people to openly express desire for you, and that's a real problem that operates outside of you and that no amount of self love can eradicate, and I think it's validating and important to just acknowledge when the deck is stacked against people.

But there are lots of people out there who will want to date and fuck you, for sure, even if you are dealing with any of those injustices, and additionally, I doubt from your message that you're doing anything particularly weird or off putting in your messages with people on dating apps that's like driving anybody away. You mention that you have a lot of good friends and that things are otherwise going pretty decently for you in life, so it really doesn't seem to me like anything you are doing or bringing to the table is "wrong". And over the years I have known a great many lesbians and wlw who were very social, outgoing, fun to be around, cute, and a total romantic prize who just did not fuck or date until their late 20s or 30s or beyond, because of some of the social forces I already described (and again I encourage my lesbian followers to contribute to the conversation because I know it's not my lane and I might not be explaining the phenomenon correctly).

If you haven't, I would suggest showing your dating app profile and messages to some trusted friends (maybe some gay men as well as other queer women?) to get a variety of perspectives and some reassurance.

But I think, based on the admittedly limited information that I have here, that you just need to approach people more and more directly, and that slowly through that you will become more comfortable with initiation and rejection, as well as with seeing yourself as a sexual being with agency, rather than a passive receiver of others' interest.

Try telling people directly that they are cute, that you like them, that you want to be around them, that you'd like to kiss them, that you'd love to go see a movie with them or tie them up or finger blast them or that being near them makes you happy or horny or etc as the situation warrants. If you havent already that is!

[smartycvnt]

Strong Enough

Pairing: Chuck Taylor x Reader Summary: Chuck wonders where he made the wrong impression with you while you try to remind yourself that he's not like Orange.

Chuck sighed as he watched you rehearsing in the ring. You had a pretty big match against Penelope Ford tonight and it made him really nervous. A lot regarding you had been making him nervous these days. He wasn't sure what had went wrong between the two of you. At first things had been nice and relaxed, then Chuck asked for things to get a little more serious. You had been hesitant to share hotel rooms with him or stay over at his place when he invited you to. He felt like he was twisting your arm a little, which made him feel really guilty. You had been in relationships before and Orange Cassidy had told Chuck how compatible the two of you were based on that alone. Chuck was beginning to wonder if maybe you just weren't into him and that was why you'd been acting the way you were.

"Hey Chuckie, what's wrong?" Trent asked as he sat down next to his best friend. There had been a lot weighing on the southern man's mind, but he hadn't been doing much talking. Trent wondered if it had anything to do with you, but he was afraid to ask either one of you. You were sort of like his little sister, having grown up right across the street from Trent your entire life. He had been the one to get you into wrestling whenever he'd hang out with your older brothers.

"Do you think Y/n likes me?" Chuck asked. Trent nodded slowly, as if it was the obvious thing in the world. "Okay, then why is she so reluctant to be with me? Maybe this isn't supposed to be as serious as I want it to be. Cass could have been wrong."

"He wasn't wrong, he was an asshole," Trent said. There was an edge to his voice that Chuck had never heard before when talking about their friend. Trent's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were starting to turn white. "Y/n likes you, she wants things to be just as serious as you do, but she's scared. She waited for almost three years for Orange to marry her, but he never did. They had a really big fight about it and now she's scared to try again with anyone else. You're the first person she has been with for more than a couple months since they broke up."

"When did that happen?" Chuck asked. Trent rubbed his head over his hair as he thought about it.

"They broke up a few years ago. I'm telling you man, he fucked her up. She still gets kind of depressed when the date comes around," Trent said. Chuck nodded as he glanced over at you. He didn't get mad at his best friends that often, but he understood the reason Trent had gotten so angry all of the sudden. You were one of the best people that Chuck had ever met in his entire life and you had gotten your heart broken so badly that you weren't sure whether or not you could love again. Chuck didn't think that anybody deserved that, especially not you.

"I'm gonna go talk to her. I need to tell her that I do want the things she does," Chuck said. Trent nodded and waited there for Chuck to come back. You were catching Penelope from a jump off the top rope whenever he got to the ring. He waited for you to set her down before clearing his throat. "Can I speak to you for a moment please?"

"Y-yeah," you stuttered out. You were nervous that Chuck was about to break up with you. You knew that you hadn't been the most open girlfriend, but you hadn't been sure how to explain to him that one of the guys he considered his family had destroyed a big piece of your sense of security. You trusted Chuck, but you had also trusted Orange.

"It's not bad, I promise. Trent told me what happened, and I just want to let you know that I do want a lot of the things you do. I want to get married one day and settle down with a kid or two. I want to find someone to spend the rest of my life with someone who loves me just as much as I love them. I don't doubt that you have feelings for me, just like I don't doubt mine about you, and that has to mean something. So all that I am asking you right now is that you give me a chance to prove that I can be every bit of the man that you need me to be," Chuck said. You had melted a little bit at his words and the sincerity in his voice. Chuck had always struck you as different, but in this moment, you knew that he was probably the one for you. The two of you had spent a lot of time together and been good friends before dating, so you had a good grasp on how well the two of you got alone.

"I would like that, and I am sorry if I made you think that I wasn't into this because I so am," you told him. Chuck took your hands in yours, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and then let you resume your training with Penelope. "What?"

"You guys are adorable. I hope this feud goes places because I can't wait to see how you two walk down to the ring together," Penelope said. You rolled your eyes as you got into position to take the Fisherman's Suplex. Penelope was beating you tonight, but she'd cheat, which would spark the feud between the two of you while Kip and Orange Cassidy did their thing together.

#aew x reader #aew #aew imagine #aew imagines #chuck taylor imagine #chuck taylor imagines #chuck taylor x reader #chuck taylor

[light-yaers]

Right Where You Left Me: Prologue

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, implied sexual content, flirting, eventual sexual content/smut, 18+

Find the chapter list here

Find Author’s Note and writing under the cut ☟

A/N: Hello all! Let me first of all say-- I am still finishing my other ongoing fics. I just wanted to post this after sitting on it for months and it's very refreshing for me to write between other fics.

Let me make this clear: THIS FIC IS ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT FOR ME. It's cliche. It's straight out of a tumblr post from 2014. And that's exactly what I wanted, honestly. I've been dying to write a silly college AU for years and this all began when I found the old novel I'd started writing when I was 13 and I just thought-- I want to rewrite this, and make it intentionally cliche and bad, and make it with Poe Dameron as well. Yeah. So that's exactly what I did.

I'll be posting it weekly or so I think, because I just don't want to put more pressure on myself with writing right now. Writers block has been destroying me and I'm only just really getting out of it. 

Thank you guys for being so patient while I've been gone the past 2 months! Hope you enjoy this piece of crap that is intentionally terrible and written like a Netflix rom com.

beff x

Word Count: 611

Prologue

You remembered being upset; more upset than you’d ever been in your life; with a heavy feeling in your gut, akin to having rocks in your stomach, weighing you down to the point where if you were to jump into a lake you would sink—way, way down to the very bottom—until you became one of the fishes.

You’d never fought with him before, not like this. This wasn’t a funny insult that made you smack him playfully, this was two people equally hurting from the exchange they’d just had and the fate they just realised they would have to live, but neither of you could see past your own feelings currently. It was a recipe for disaster.

When your best friend in the entire world tells you he’s moving across the country in two weeks, what’s the rational thing to do? Cry together, make plans and promise that you’ll see each other soon, suggest going back and forth for weekends and sending letters to fill the silent void?

No.

Instead, you get angry at him. And he gets angry at you because you’re angry at him. Until there’s only red, red rage between you to the point of no return, to the point where he finally says—

“You know, I finally have an excuse not to be around you for every second of my fucking life!”

And you hit back with—

“Thank fucking god that I never have to be known as Dameron’s friend around your fucking awful older mates—,”

“Dameron’s weird friend, Dameron’s strange friend who never fucking leaves his side, etcetera, etcetera—,”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“No—fuck you!”

The silence is nasty. It sticks to your skin as both of you think things that shouldn’t be said out loud, but ultimately it fizzles down to you having the final word—after learning he’d never thought much of you, never liked you as a friend, never loved you as more, never... never...

“I can’t think of anything better than never having to see you again for the rest of my life,”

It feels like the world is ending, but you’re only fourteen and he’s only fifteen and you’re both so young, but you’ve been around each other since you were born and Poe was one and it just made sense. You grew up together, were essentially the same fucking person, but that made it even worse when you had this colossal fight.

You were both too stubborn for your own good.

The day Poe’s family moved away, you stayed home when your parents went to say goodbye. You stayed home and blasted music in some attempt to bat away the obvious feelings coursing through you—

Until it was too much.

You didn’t even bother wearing shoes as you raced to Poe’s house in a pair of fluffy socks and sweatpants, hair unbrushed, eyes red and cheeks puffy from how much you’d been crying for the past fortnight.

“Poe!” even though you went back on what you’d last said, you still got the last word in. Even if that word was you yelling his name as you bombarded into your parents and other neighbours as Poe’s mom’s car was already speeding up down the street.

You wondered if he’d heard it, and somewhere deep within wished he actually hadn’t.  

You hoped he’d have a good life, make new and better friends, be himself every single day of the year and never apologise for it. You hoped, no you prayed, that he’d remember you throughout his high school years.

The day Poe Dameron left, you couldn’t feel your fingers.

And the day you saw him again, you almost fainted.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron #oscar isaac #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #star wars #college au #alternate universe #writeblr #ff #ao3 #archive of our own #wattpad #second person #angst and smut #angst and fluff #lightyaers