#Hm might search a different name for her

[randomys-art]

.Frozen in despair

"Silence me, but we'll meet again when our bodies decayed, no matter how long it'll take."

#Decaying Stone #Schnee Quarz Candida #Hm might search a different name for her #Snow Quartz #Original work #artists on tumblr #Original character #OC #OC art #digital art #gem oc

[mistiell]

Hello!! Since your requests are open and I absolutely love the way you write him (despite there only being one—), may I request some sort of angst to fluff for Astarion with a reader that accepts his advances but doesn’t seek him out because they know that he’s only doing so for protection/convenience?

Like; yes, the reader does care deeply for him. They could even say that they love him. But they don’t want him to do anything just because he feels as if he’ll be denied kindness and sustenance if he doesn’t. So they’re very reserved and keep to themselves, treating him very kindly when he propositions them, but doesn’t do anything more than what he asks.

Omg, thank you so much!! I worried I might have portrayed him in a way that was ooc but I'm glad to see people like the way I write him!! lol WC: 1.6k

---

Astarion has manipulated and romanced countless people over the centuries. He knows what he’s doing. The routine differs depending on the person, of course, but he has it down to a science.

You shouldn’t be any different.

Since the first time you let him feed on you, it’s become a sort of routine he regrettably relies on to stay satiated. It’s been nearly a month and a half of sneaking to and from your bedroll every few nights, and he’s begun to worry that you’ll tire of it – that you’ll get sick of the fatigue and the lingering ache in your shoulder that clings to you well into the morning after.

This particular morning, he sees it in your sluggish movements and absentmindedness. Karlach has to call your name thrice before you finally turn to her with a small, “Hm?”

“Gods, has the tadpole migrated and blocked your ears?” The tiefling chuckles, cuffing you on the shoulder on the same side Astarion had fed from the night before. With a pained grunt, you wince, brow scrunching in discomfort as you roll it out a little.

Karlach gasps, “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright.” You smile, but when Karlach leaves, it falls as you rub at the juncture between your neck and trap muscle. If he doesn’t find a way to keep you on the hook, there’s no chance you’ll let your late night meetings continue.

So, when the two of you are sitting by the fire after setting up camp for the night, he decides to offer up the only thing he can think of to keep you interested.

“Ugh, Gods. There is nothing to do around here.” He huffs, prodding for an opening.

You snort, taking a sip out of your water skin, “You can say that again.”

There it is.

“You know,” He leans just far enough into your space to make you fluster, smirking, “We could always make our own entertainment?”

Eyes darting away from him, your throat bobs, “What do you mean?”

He leans in a little more, making sure to glance at your lips as he purrs, “I think you know what I mean, darling.”

“I think—,” Your voice cracks up an octave and you clear your throat, embarrassed. It’s rather cute, “I think I do...?”

“You think so, hm? Tell me what I mean, then.” Your mouth opens and closes a few times, and he can hear your heart beating fast against your ribs. He chuckles coyly through his nose and leans forward to brush the tip of it along the apex of your cheekbone, lowering his voice to a seductive whisper, “Might it have something to do with,” His fingertips find the top of your hand where it rests on your knee, ghosting up under your sleeve and over your wrist as he breaths, “Touching, maybe?”

A shudder runs through you as you swallow hard, “May— Maybe...,” He’s not expecting it when you pull back and look at him apprehensively, “But... I mean, are you sure?”

The question takes him aback; throws him off balance. No one’s ever bothered to ask before. It makes him wonder if he’s off his game, if perhaps his act isn’t as convincing as it normally is.

He shakes it off, grinning at you coquettishly, “Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.” It’s not the first white lie he’s told you, and it certainly won’t be the last.

You wet your lips, searching his expression for any sort of hesitance. He’s careful to make sure there’s none to find. When you’re satisfied, you smile shyly, “I’d like that” “That’s what I like to hear.” He hums, standing before offering his hands, “Shall we?”

You take them, and as he leads you somewhere more secluded, he counts it as a victory.

Weeks pass, and he’s sure to propose a little fun between feedings to keep in your good graces. One thing that he’s noticed is that you never really ask him to do anything more than what he’s suggested. He expected you to come to him every once in awhile after the first time he’d bedded you, maybe ask for a piece of him when you’re bored or in need of some stress relief, but... you haven’t.

He also expected you to have at least some demands, but aside from voicing your preferences in the heat of the moment, you haven’t asked him for a damn thing. For a moment, he wonders if he’s losing his touch, but he shakes the thought off as quick as it comes. The implications of it make his stomach churn.

If not his body, what else does he have to offer?

“Astarion?” You call as you approach him where he stands near his tent.

He startles, then clears his throat to play it off. “Yes, darling?”

You smile apologetically. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No worries, my dear.” He doesn’t understand why you’d apologize for something so small, or why it makes his undead heart twist uncomfortably in his chest, “Did you need something?”

“Come with me?” You ask, offering a hand, “I have something I’d like to show you.”

This is it. You’ve finally come to offer yourself up instead of it being the other way around.

“Ooh, I like the sound of that.” He hums, taking your hand and allowing you to lead him into the forest. A rather odd location to lay, but he’s definitely worked with stranger.

Weaving through trees, you lead him to a small clearing with a blanket spread out over the grass in the center. You only let go of his hand when you reach the edge of it, toeing off your boots before carefully plopping yourself down on top of it.

“So this is what you had in mind, hm?” He grins, following suit after you pat the spot next to you, “A romantic romp under the stars?”

“Oh! Uhm, no.” You titter, and he frowns.

“Then what did you have in mind, pet?” He asks, watching you twiddle your fingers.

“I-.” You huff, rubbing at your mouth and glancing away, “There’s supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and I thought we could watch it together.” You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, “It’s stupid. You don’t have to stay, obviously, but... I thought it could be nice.”

What the fuck.

“You... brought me all the way out here, just to watch the stars?” He asks, sounding bewildered even to his own ears.

You look back at him nervously, nodding, “I did.”

What the fuck.

He should say something, but for the first time in a long while, he’s completely lost for words. His brows draw together in confusion, and when he speaks, his voice comes out wrong; too soft, too shaky. “Why?”

You stare at him, worrying your lip for a moment before starting carefully, “You don’t need to sleep with me to buy my kindness, you know. I enjoy our nights together, of course, but I’d like you just as much without them.”

Now he’s really at a loss. His stomach lurches with the anxiety and embarrassment of being seen without meaning to be. He feels vulnerable; exposed.

“Of course I know that.” He scoffs, attempts a smug grin. His voice shakes as he says it, “What’s not to like?”

You huff a small, singular puff of laughter, “Right.”

Something flashes above, drawing both your attentions. Stars shoot across the blackened sky, streaking it with white and blue and purple. You gasp, eyes so wide, he could watch the whole spectacle through the reflection dancing over them.

You lay back, using your forearm as a pillow as you watch the sky intently. He follows soon after, a strange silence falling over the two of you.

He tries to focus on the sight above him, but your words have a hold on his mind like a vice grip. It’s been so long since anyone has shown him kindness without some sort of transaction involved. So long that he can’t even recall it ever happening.

He stares hard up at the sky, mouth twisting down in apprehension. He swallows thickly before murmuring, “Would you really?”

He sees you turn your head to look at him out of his peripherals, brows drawn together in confusion, “Would I really what?”

Embarrassment flares and writhes in his gut; his nose wrinkles at the feeling. He feels utterly ridiculous as he replies, “Still like me if I didn’t...”

He can’t find a word that sounds right. You understand anyway.

Some strange, melancholic sort of horror flashes over your face before you will it away, nodding resolutely.

“Absolutely.” You flip your hand so it lies palm up on the blanket. An invitation, not a demand, “You mean more to me than sex, Astarion. I don’t care what we do or don’t do, as long as I get to be with you. Whatever that entails.”

A lump forms in his throat and his eyes burn. He knows if he looks at you, he’s not going to be able to keep the tears at bay. He looks at your hand instead, staring for a moment before slotting his fingers between yours. Squeezing, he hopes you’ll take it as what it is, “Thank you. I don’t think I deserve this. I don’t know how to navigate this. I think I want to try.”

You squeeze back. He takes it as, “I’ll wait for you.”

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3

[moondirti]

simon sees a familiar face. (AO3 mirror) tags: darkfic. ghost x nude model! reader. (given a stage name but no discerning characteristics.) violent intrusive thoughts. objectification. rough sex. marking. dacryphilia. possessiveness. dubcon photo sharing.

It's the slip of her skin in his periphery. Moisturised, gold shimmer body glaze. Tucked up against the bar and nursing a negroni in both hands, her dress riding high up on her thigh. Sticks out like a sore thumb in a pub like this, where seedy men come to drink their woes away. Just a little too clean, prim and perfect polish. Pretty enough to make his teeth hurt.

He has to do a double take before he can be sure. Where he would know her calves, those hands and varnished nails, anywhere, he can hardly believe it until she turns a quarter angle and her face comes into full view. Lips he's seen perked up and glossed into erotic O's. Eyes so often half-cast and sultry, lined in kohl, that it's odd to see them wide like this; looking around, searching for something.

Yeah. Simon knows her. Knows her like the grip of a gun, the rip release of a hand grenade, the flat lining of barrack cot mattresses. Knows her so well that his cock chubs up in an almost pavlovian response, fat and heavy and leaking already, like a bloody sixth former seeing a pair of tits for the first time. In all honesty, this might just be the equivalent for a man like himself. Aching jowls, frothy lips. Ageing, dirty beast – thrown the most delectable fucking bone.

Because it's her. Cut straight from the centrefold of his favourite magazine and pasted a mere four feet away. Just as alluring, as provocative as she is in the poster he'd gifted Johnny on a deployment birthday. The object gracing every page not adhered together with dry cum. The one thing that gets him – and frankly, every other mutt on the task force – through long missions.

He throws back the last of his bourbon and slips his mask back over his chin. The haunt is emptier than usual. He assumes the big guy by the doorway is responsible, no doubt hired to follow her around and scare the creeps away. Simon must count as one – if his intentions, latched like filthy claws in his stomach, are anything to go by – but he's also bigger. Bolder. Probably has tattoos that outlast her bodyguard's experience in the field. So he takes his chances as he stretches up and prowls up to where she's sitting.

"Selene Harlow." It's a stage name, of that he's certain. But he has nothing else to call her by, not having fallen short of searching for her true identity. She's good at keeping herself safe from perverts like him. A good fucking girl, if not a little minx.

"Only on the clock." She smiles softly, dipping the orange peel in and out of her drink. It looks untouched, glass sweating onto the bar top. He thinks of holding her head back by her hair and knocking the concoction down her throat. "You don't look like my date."

Simon makes a sound. "No' your usual type, then?"

"I didn't say that." Her dress is low cut, bandage tight. When she breathes in, he devours the way her chest heaves out of the material. Begging to pop free, or else be ripped open right here. He can't imagine she would be opposed to being stripped in public. Not with her breasts plastered on a million different publications, issues displayed in the illicit material case behind every gas station counter.

"Well, he must be soft in th'head."

She shrugs. "Don't sound so surprised." Simon wonders, if he were to press his thumbs down onto each collarbone, how much pressure it would take to snap them in place. He's always liked the delicate arch of her shoulders, the swan-like column of her neck. With how he fixated he is on them now, he can hardly place the dejection in her voice. "Not a lot of people wanna go out with a girl who does what I do. It was only a matter of time before he found out."

"Can' be too pissed at him, a'suppose."

"Hm?"

"His loss is my gain."

"Aha." A flash of teeth. She turns on the bar stool to fully face him, and her knees knock his. Soft fucking legs, plush like a chew toy and he knows– he knows what they look like completely nude and spread open. But nothing could've quite prepared him for how different it is to see them in real life. To see her – real, fleshly, blood full – and not be able to take. Have to hold himself back despite the way he's pumped himself raw to her arse almost a hundred times now. He lost the plot some time ago. His mind must think of her as his. "Is that what this is?"

And what is this? Simon doesn't have a name for it. All he knows is the way his head itches, the tantalisation crawling in his skin. The sheer self-restraint it takes not to pocket her home and chain her to his bed. He wants to dig his teeth into her cheek.

Instead–

"Could be."

"I think that's up to me." She crinkles in a wily little smile and he chuckles because it's funny. Funny because she takes him to be a good man. But with the way her bodyguard is eyeing him from across the room (fucking muppet), he knows that's not the quality he's projecting. There's the urge to crack a sick joke, something about clipping a bird's wings, just to see her pick up on the rot he carries with him. "You military?"

"Tha' obvious?"

"Hm, no. Wild guess." She straightens her back and the vague gesture she makes with her wrist is enough to drive him up a wall. It sets a timer, ticking time bomb, in his brain that'll detonate if he doesn't get his nasty old hands on her waist. Thirty seconds on the clock. He can never be patient when it comes to sweet things. "Your... stature. And I tend to be popular with servicemen, anyway. What's your name?"

"And why do you wan' to know my name, bird?"

She flutters her lashes, pointedly looking down to where he's bulging in his jeans. Bird is right. She shines like one with pretty feathers, begs to be plucked, because why else would mother nature create things like her if not to appease men like him?

"Figure you'd want me to moan it later."

And it's like watching one fly into a cage on its own accord. His blood boils hot and thin, flooding his head until his eyes strain with something ferocious. "Why wait." Simon says. He can't wrap an arm around her waist fast enough, scooping her from her seat and wrapping her tight against his side. Tight enough that, if she changed her mind, she wouldn't be able to flap her way out of it. "Name's Simon, and there's a bathroom 'round back."

It's nasty. Depraved. Graffiti lines all four walls and it's no coincidence that the one he pins her up against looks the filthiest. Something in him craves to see her degraded (the same part that marked a picture of her in black ink, chicken-scratch body writing proclaiming her as his), brought down to the same peg that he occupies. Beasts with too much baggage stored in their marrow. Humans, men, with moral compasses that skew a tad too far left. Animals. Animalistic.

"I don– Don't usually do this..." She breathes, excuse stuttered through little whimpers as he mouths at her jaw. Maybe she's afraid of living up to her name, or whatever image Selene Harlow projects. Not a prostitute, he can almost hear her say. Tastes the fear of misconception, sour on otherwise tart skin. He hums and tugs her breasts free with one, scarred paw.

"Doesn' really matter, bird. Were fuckin' made for it." He squeezes the two mounds, pinches knotted nipples and rolls them between his fingers until she cries. Her voice breaks in little bubbled sobs – starts crying so fast that, christ, it must be some sort of record – and he aches in his trousers. Ready to burst if he doesn't bully his cock into a hole soon, just like she's been ready to be unravelled all night. "Made to be mine, yeah? Bloody 'ell, jus' look at you."

Frayed little tapestry. If he weren't so mad with lust, he'd obsess what drove her to this point. What brought her to some shitty pub in Manchester to meet a good for nothing lemon. Why she mewls and completely melts into him when he slaps her tits, just to see the way they jiggle. He's an ugly bastard, definitely punching just by breathing the same air as her, and yet she's so perfectly willing. Flaying herself open, skinned alive. Gasping selfish gulps of air when he finally pulls off his mask to sink his canines into her shoulder.

He's so used to seeing her posed, perfectly still. To have her like this, a trapped worm underneath him, feels like concentrated lightning on every artery. Overstimulating. Paralysing. He never thought he'd see the day where she exposes herself in motion: folding her dress up over her wide hips, slipping soaked panties down to her ankles.

(In fact, he vividly remembers brooding over an interview her magazine had added to the corner of a cover page, once. Selene Harlow tells all! Answers inquiries on video pornography and more!

I don't think I'm the right person for that sort of scene. Not much of an actress, I'm afraid.)

Not that her feigning was ever a concern. Simon knows the giddy gossamer over her eyes can't be artificially replicated. She's too clumsy, too amateur in the way she readies herself for him. Used to doing all this prep in a frilly dressing room with apathetic staff members directing her. Sways a bit on her heels and holds onto his thick forearms as she widens her stance. He stands until she's steady, then drops to his knees in search of the star of this show.

And the sight is as much a bludgeon to his self control as seeing her for the first time was, trigger for the feral mongrel that barks and chomps on his ribcage. Her cunt is just as perfect up close in this grimy bathroom as it is well lit, professionally oiled, and printed on coated paper. A little fuzzy, swollen enough that it flowers open for him on its own. Shyly inviting him to dig his nose right under her clit and inhale, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of her, undiluted. Salivate blooms around his teeth.

When he flattens his tongue against it, she tries to find purchase in the roots of his shorn hair. Nails scrambling along the buzzcut until she forfeits and clamps her hand behind his ears, head thrown back to knock against the wall. If he were a nice man, he would spend hours buried between her legs. Sated by licking her slick from its source, like a kitten given a bowl of cream. Would make her cum until she forgets how to keep quiet, until she screams his name loud enough for the world knows their muse is off the market now.

But if he were a nice man, he wouldn't be defiling her here. He would've taken her out to the Greek place that never seems to have room for him alone, and then back to her apartment, where he'd drop her off with a chaste kiss and a promise to call her tomorrow.

So Simon combs through her lips once, twice, three times. Coats her in enough spit to be able to shove two fingers with little fuss, and scissors them apart. The little thing stretches to accommodate his ministrations immediately, clutch swallowing him up to the second knuckle and sucking around him when he spreads her hole for his leering eye. It's cute – so fucking cute how she clenches and keens and cries. Neck arched up above him. Apple of eden, blank canvas. His fingers leave her cunt as he rises to bite into it.

(Truthfully, she could've done with more prep. She wasn't lying when she said she doesn't do this often, whatever this is. But the way silver pebbles brim on her lash-line makes his chest twist, the dog rearing on its haunches, ready to pounce – and he thinks he'd like to see her babble in pain as he splits her open on his cock.)

"Gonna take you home after this, y'hear? Fuck you well 'n' good, all proper like. Fold ya over a mattress and print my cock on your guts, birdie. Never let you forget it. "

"S-Si! Simon, please. I n-need..."

Ichor beads in the shape of his teeth, streaking oxygenated red down her throat. He makes a mess of it, smearing it across the marred patch of skin, and brings the fluid up to her face to rub it into her cheek. The type of marking he'd reserve for his third or fourth going with someone – if anyone ever lasts that long – but is absolutely necessary right now. Here, with her. Technically their hundredth something time together, if he were deranged enough to count the various times he'd spent himself over her spreads.

But nothing can supersede the truth of the matter. He streaks blood along her face and licks it off in a show of merciless possession. Pretty things like her get plucked off streets and ruined everyday, despite her cynicism on her value, and he can point to at least three other men by name who would slaughter to be in his place. Best to stake his claim now, clamp a collar on the exotic fowl he pulled down from the sky.

"Need wha', hm?" His tongue laps at her cheek, laving over the contour of her nose and swiping right under her eye to catch the tears that freely fall. She winces when he gets too close, hands faltering along his waistband.

"Your... d-dick. Please, please. Just wanna be fucked, Simon."

He plants a rough kiss onto her mouth, all teeth and tongue, and finally ladles himself free of his jeans.

Just wanna be fucked.

Daft, silly girl.

She should've chosen anyone else.

It takes a bit of pressure to feed himself into her cunt, pinning either leg to the sides of his hips as he guides his cock toward the opening. If she was putty before, she's positively liquid now, boneless rag doll slumped onto him. Dead weight. Letting him take control of this fight. Content to do nothing, slack-jawed and empty eyed as her hot walls come to embrace him completely. Her breath halts, the air recalibrating to just the sound of his ragged grunts, and he considers it an invitation to wrap a fist around her neck.

"I'll do more than jus' fuck you, pretty thing. Won' ever let you out of my sight."

And he means it.

It's impossible to withdraw completely from her – vacuum sealed too tight, too good, around him. So he fucks in short thrusts instead, snapping his pelvis back, only to shove forward once her legs begin to flail about. It's brutal even by his standards, rough in a way that supplants pleasure with pain. A small pity surfaces when her lip trembles, discomfort wringing her darling face up like a dish towel. Wet and pathetic, but he sneaks his free hand down to knead at her swollen clit anyway.

Like oil, it slips and hardens, tense enough that he knows she won't last long if he keeps it up.

Simon feels his own release encroaching. Unfurling at the base of his spine to form something cruel and primal. His vision tunnels to fixate on her – not the filthy bathroom or the lewd squelch of her pussy taking him in. Not the banging on the door by a customer desperately needing to piss, or otherwise, her bodyguard concerned at the choked screams carved from her lungs. Just her. Little bird.

The howling in his head doesn't stop, but it sure as hell quiets down when she soaks the coarse hairs at the base of his cock. Squirts, off-white fluid gushing from her and trickling onto the tiled floor. His movements grow stilted, off-rhythm, at the sight. His want grows claws and scales, grows wants that have wants. Beastly. He sees red.

"N-noghonbirfcontraahl." She gasps, suffocated still by the fingers pressing crescent-shaped scars beneath her jaw.

"Don' give a shit." He growls, then cums.

(Really, he doesn't. To see her swell up with his child is just one more added temptation, carrot on a stick. He bucks like a rabid animal and bookmarks that thought away for later.)

His seed doesn't stay put when he pumps her full of it. It gathers and drips out of her, undeterred by the barrage of his softening cock. When he pulls out, it draws milky treks down her legs. There's the instinct to shovel it back into her, tape her lips shut until the spend takes; but as he pockets her panties and helps her readjust her dress (after polishing himself clean on the expensive fabric), he finds he quite likes the thought of parading her around like this.

"C'mon," He nips her earlobe. "let's walk you home."

Simon does end up making good on his promise. They hardly get any sleep that night, sweating on every available surface her flat affords. By the end of it, she's so tuckered out that he has to lift her to bed. Hardly cognisant as he strips to his boxers and sidles up right next to her.

What doesn't escape her notice, however, is when he pulls his phone out to snap a picture of her like this. Fucked to oblivion, puffy pussy oozing about three loads worth of cum.

"W-what are you–" Stuttered. Panicked, like a pet that has at last realised it's been caged.

"Shhhh, birdie. You're my model, ain't you? Let me show you off, yeah? Won' let it get into the wrong hands."

"Promise?" She whimpers, tucking into his broad chest. She isn't in the condition to give her proper assent, but he takes it anyway, kissing both eyes and carding his fingers across her scalp.

"Promise." He mutters, then sends the portrait off. "Jus' to men like me."

Sgt. Garrick: ?! Is that Capt. Price: Christ, Simon. Someone ought to muzzle you. Johnny: I don't believe you. Johnny: Pick up my calls. Johnny: SIMON.

#should've made this a proper fic #it's longer than i expected it to be #anyway. #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley #ghost #x female reader #call of duty #fanfiction

[w2sology]

morning scrunches, harry lewis.

summary: mornings with harry and baby bog

warnings: girldad!harry, cuteness overload!!!

waking up besides harry had quickly become one of your favourite things ever since the two of you began dating. his face being the first that you saw everyday was just so refreshing and bought you so much comfort.

today was no different, your hand naturally coming up to caress the side of your boyfriend's face as he slept peacefully. before you'd gone to bed, your head was on harry's chest but now, it seems the roles had reversed and harry's head was now on your chest, his arms wrapped securely around your body.

turning to the bedside table on your side, you checked the baby monitor, seeing your baby girl was still asleep.

using that as an excuse for a couple more minutes of cuddles, you inched closer to harry, feeling him readjust his head on your chest.

a few moments after, you heard harry groan, waking himself up after a good night's sleep. and like he did every morning, he searched for you, smiling through tired eyes once he found your beautiful face.

"morning, love," he rasped, kissing your cheek.

"morning, babe."

now that harry was up, you checked the baby monitor again, seeing your little sleeping beauty was wide awake, just feeling rather quiet this morning.

"d'you want me to go get her?" harry asked.

"no, it's alright, i'll get her."

the two of you often took it in turns to do the morning shifts, as you called them. one of you would tend to your baby and settle her down or get her ready for the day, whilst the other got to breakfast and making sure the rest of you were ready for the day.

walking to the nursery, you outwardly awed at the sight of your little bundle of joy, picking her out of her cot. the newborn scrunch was something you absolutely adored and would definitely miss as she got older.

"hello, my precious girl!" you cooed as she smiled a gummy smile, reaching for your face as you held her near you. "let's go say morning to daddy, hm?"

the first time you say harry interact with your daughter, you almost gave him another. he was such a natural with babies, people were surprised to find out he head a mild feat of them.

walking back to your bedroom, you saw harry had moved positions, his body now sat up against the headboard as the sheets rested around his waist, exposing his naked upper body.

he put his phone down as soon as he saw you and your daughter walk into the room, smiling so hard his cheeks were starting to hurt.

"look who's awake," he gushed as you handed her over to him, sitting right besides him. resting your chin on harry's shoulder, you watched how he interacted with your daughter, your heart swelling at the sight.

he kissed both her cheeks, watching as she squirmed and smiled at her dad's touch, her small hand holding his finger, grasping so tight as if it was all she knew.

"i'm gonna get started on breakfast," you spoke softly to harry, leaving as he nodded and kissed your forehead.

it was actually his turn to make breakfast, but seeing how occupied he was with your little girl, you were sure you could manage another day of making breakfast.

meanwhile, harry spent that time talking to baby girl about everything and nothing, things he did with her uncles lately, how big olive was getting and the playdates that they'd be able to have soon, things he'd seen that reminded him of her mother, how beautiful her mother was... literally rambling to an 8 week old about whatever came to his mind.

"did you know i actually wanted to call you bog? yeah, your mum put a straight end to that dream. you'll still be mini bog to me though," you heard as you came back into the room, laughing to yourself at the almost name of your baby girl.

"breakfast's ready," you mumbled against harry's skin as you kissed his cheek, giving your daughter one too. "oh look, you changed her! she's so adorable, i might cry."

"oh, please don't, you'll set her off again." harry rolled his eyes as you nudged him.

the next few moments were filled with a comfortable silence as your baby glanced between her parents, a serene look on her face.

"can you believe we made her?" you sighed.

"i can believe it, yes, because that's what happens when two people───"

"harry! gosh, i'm trying to be sentimental here." you groaned at his inability to be serious.

he laughed in response to your reaction, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as his other arm was being used to hold the tiny human. "i'm joking, i promise. but i get what you mean. like we're actually parents."

"still feels unreal."

"mhm. but," he said, facing you. "i wouldn't change it for the world."

humming at his words, you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, a hand on his cheek as you stared at him lovingly. "me neither."

#wroetoshaw #wroetoshaw x reader #sidemen #sidemen x reader #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw imagines #harry lewis #harry lewis x reader

[reidsdaisies]

Hello!

You wanted requests for Emily Prentiss, so what about an Emily Prentiss x gn!reader where Emily finds some of her clothes going missing. She asks reader but they say they don’t know. She ends up catches reader stealing and wearing her (stolen) clothes, finding it adorable.

Something nice and fluffy!

Hope you’re having a great day/night!

༉‧´ˎ˗ paring; emily prentiss x gn!reader

༉‧´ˎ˗ content warnings; clothes sharing (stealing).

༉‧´ˎ˗ wc; 0.6k

༉‧´ˎ˗ an; i love this request sm! thank you for sending it in <3 i hope you’re also having a great day/night!

𝐂𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Honey, have you seen my sweater?” Emily called from the bedroom, sifting through the closet, looking for the sweater in question.

“Hm?” You cluelessly hummed, peeking your head out from behind the bathroom door, toothbrush in hand.

“I’m repacking my bag, but I can’t find my sweater anywhere,” she explained to you as she continued to look lower in the closet, seeing if maybe it fell down from the hanger.

“Which one? You have a bunch.” You laughed, wetting your toothbrush under the faucet.

“My gray cardigan. Are you sure that you have no idea where it is?”

When you shook your head, she gave up her search, instead just picking out a different sweater. She leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek before allowing you to resume the process of brushing your teeth, going back to working on fitting her clothes in the bag.

…

The next day at work, Emily was pulled into the conference room almost immediately. Another case, one word. Florida.

Upon hearing JJ name the state they were traveling to, she sighed, shaking her head and following the blonde upstairs.

After finishing going over the main details of the case with the team, she made it a point to text you, letting you know she wouldn’t be home tonight, or the next few nights. You replied a little while later, wishing her a safe travel.

The case was grueling, and the unsub’s motive was tricky to piece together, so they had to go out on a limb, but thankfully the call they made was the right one. Emily was able to make it home in one piece, back to you.

As she tiptoed to the bedroom, socked feet pitter-pattering down the hall, she could hear a faint sound coming from your shared room. She took it as a sign that she didn’t need to tip toe, assuming you were awake, and pushed the bedroom door open.

She walked in, the first thing catching her eye being you, laying on your stomach on the bed, feet kicking back and forth in the air as you watched something on your laptop. She smiled, immediately engulfed by feelings of warmth and contentment being in your presence. Something else she noticed, however, was your attire. Or, actually, her attire that you’d seemingly stolen.

“Hi sweetheart,” she greeted softly, removing her sweater and tossing it in the hamper. “That wouldn’t be my gray cardigan that you’re wearing, would it? The one I told you I couldn’t find the other week.”

You just smirked, chuckling a bit as you hit the pause button on your show, rolling back over onto your back.

“Nope, definitely not.”

Emily quirked her brow at you, shaking her head lightly, a breathy laugh coming from her. “Yeah, sure it isn’t.”

She turned around, stripping off the rest of her work clothes and picking out something comfy to wear for bed. As she pulled her shirt over her head, she muttered, “next time you want to wear my clothes, just ask me.”

“Hm?” You hummed, looking back over at her.

“I think you look adorable in my sweater, but you should’ve asked.” She said, walking over to your side of the bed.

“Sorry.. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be alright with it.”

“Of course I’m alright with it, I mean look at you. I might just have to give that cardigan to you permanently.”

You snorted, but her words did put a smile on your face.

“No, that’s okay. I’m good with sharing, especially if that means I get to wear your clothes.”

“Sounds like a deal. But just so you know, this means I’m also going to be stealing your sweaters too. All the time.”

#reidsdaisies #reidsdaisies emily <3 #ssa emily prentiss #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss blurb #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss oneshot #emily prentiss scenario #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x gn!reader #emily prentiss x gender neutral reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x male reader #emily prentiss criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

[dragonbarbie]

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

aemond targaryen x prostitute!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: aemond becomes captivated with the most prized woman working the street of silk

word count: 3.3k

tags: mature content, sex work, choking, aemond being a tad bit dark here but still in character imo

aemond had scoffed at aegon’s penchant for the whores of the street of silk, but when he found himself attracted to one of its prized attractions, he felt like a hypocrite.

he had caught a glimpse of her the day he had gone searching for his brother with ser criston. aemond had stood by the door while cole conversed with the madame of the establishment and been momentarily distracted by the sight of the angel walking down the hallway inside the brothel, visible behind the older woman.

that day he could not stay to investigate as his duties called him away. but as the days went on, he found himself obsessed with the face he had only seen for a split second, and the delicate form barely hidden behind the flowy dress of silk that had stalked down that hall.

he had always imagined himself as a dutiful man, a man who lived his life in accordance with the code of honour that cole hammered into him with each sparring session, and with the faith that his mother had guided him towards. but with every dream he had about her, he found his resolve towards being that dutiful man, weaken.

those eyes, damn those eyes. there was something hypnotic about them, about the way she had kohl spread under them to make them look even more seductive. her skin, it had a shine, despite the lack of light inside the building.

she tortured him every night, invading his dreams without care. he would chase her each night, and she still seemed to elude him come morning.

until he had had enough. he donned a non-descript cloak to walk through the streets unrecognised, and walked till he reached the same brothel his brother had taken him to all those years ago. it looked much different in the dark, the doors were flung open invitingly for one. when aemond walked through them, he saw that it was teeming with people. men being led down by scantily clad women to areas sectioned off by thin veils of linen, women openly being pleasured by men upon cushions laid down on the ground. he could even recognise some lords from his father’s court, but as his mind began to judge them for their presence a voice in his head reminded him that he wasn’t much better than them, for finding himself skulking around these halls.

but among all those faces, he couldn’t see her. the thought that she might be off pleasuring some man in one of these corners crossed his mind, and he had the urge to storm out of there. but just then, he was recognised by the same whore his brother had chosen for him all those years ago. “my prince, i am delighted to have you grace my establishment once again.” her smile seemed more seedy to him than gracious. “hm.” he merely hummed in response, eye still looking around for her specific figure. “would you like to see the selection of pleasures that we can provide you with this evening, or…” she looked around to where he had been scanning the room, “…are you seeking someone more particular?”

how was aemond supposed to explain her, to this woman? he had no name, only a vibrant memory in his mind. thankfully, he didn’t need to. because suddenly a hush fell around the proceedings, and all eyes turned to the centre of the room where upon a slightly raised platform, he saw her. it seemed as if this was a performance that had been expected by the patrons eagerly.

the musicians then began playing their instruments to match the beat at which she was moving her body as she danced. slowly at first, every movement of her hands deliberate. her waist, exposed in the dress she was wearing, showed off its curves with the way it swayed. and those damn eyes. who needed wine when those eyes were intoxicating enough to beat any dornish red. the older whore hadn’t missed how his eye hadn’t left her. “ah, y/n… she’s our jewel that one….the finest you can get anywhere in the street of silk. the opportunity for even one night with her is sold out moons in advance.” “i don’t have moons to waste, and i am not a particularly patient man. money is no object.” he stated, his voice dangerously low as his eye closely followed each seductive step. “of course, my prince.” the older woman seemed to grin at the thought of the sheer gold that she would be able to get out of the prince.

aemond hadn’t even realised that his mouth had gone dry watching her until she finished with applause surrounding her, and men throwing coins at her feet. there was a proud smile upon her face as she picked the silver and tucked them somewhere inside her silk skirt. Men were approaching her already. she gave them a smile, as she apologised, “my lords i am promised to lord frey for tonight, alas.” he caught her words, his eye darting to where he had recognised frey sitting on the cushion earlier in the night. he was looking at her with unabashed lust in his eyes already, a look which lit an inexplicable fire inside the prince.

“my lord, i’m afraid y/n already has another patron for tonight. let me show you some of our other girls, i don’t think you will be disappointed.” aemond heard the madame placate frey as she walked towards him, but he was not pleased. “i have waited for days, and paid good coin for the whore, and i will have her!” he angrily proclaimed, and aemond saw y/n give her madame a confused look. as far as she knew, she only had one customer for the night, and frey had already paid in full. frey walked over to y/n and grabbed her arm, intent on taking her by force if nothing else. that was the point aemond decided to intervene.

“my lord frey.” he did not have to raise his voice beyond its normal volume, its distinctness coupled with him removing the hood to reveal his silver hair and eye-patch were enough to confirm his identity. “i believe you should look for other arrangements for the night.” he could hear the whispers around the room, the shock on everyone’s faces, including y/n’s. frey immediately let go of her, and bowed, “my prince… of course, yes…” he seemed to mutter.

so that was the new customer, y/n realised, taking in the man before her. she had never seen him around the brothel before, but she had heard from the older girls of the day the two royal princes had visited. and even more tales about the seedier activities his brother got up to at flea bottom. she wasn’t sure having the attention of the targaryen was an entirely good thing, as she thought of his brother. but with her profession, and her station, she knew one could not just refuse a prince of the realm.

she put on the sultry smile expected of her, “my prince.” she greeted as she approached him. “y/n, take his grace to your rooms. and take good care of him.” she caught the look in her madame’s eye, it seemed to read ‘tread carefully’.

had it been a different patron, y/n would have taken their hand as she led them up the stairs to her room, a luxury that was of the upmost rarity in the street of silk but that she had managed to accomplish with her revered skills. but the prince seemed so stoic, she couldn’t bring herself to reach out and hold his hand. “follow me, my prince.” she said instead and walked him up to her room.

aemond noticed that it was a small place, filled with only a bed in the centre and some cushions to the side of it near an open window. lit candles littered the corners, to shed some light for the work of the night, he realised. the sheets seemed to be made of fine material for the consideration of the noble men she brough up there, but the rest of the room was bare. then again, he thought, what items had he expected to find in the room of a whore? not that he’d ever imagined being inside one’s chambers anyway.

now that he’d come to think of it, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now, he hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. she seemed to pick up on how awkward he felt internally, even if he had kept his cool appearance.

“would you like some wine, my prince?” “no.” “i only offer because it tends to make one more… relaxed, for the proceedings.” she suggested, trying to put him more at ease. her words had the opposite effect. “are you suggesting i need wine to be able to fuck?” he accused her, offended as he took threatening steps towards her. used to placating customers who could turn on her at a moment’s notice, she kept her open palms reassuringly against his chest and told him, “i was suggesting it for myself, your grace. a woman’s heart, it’s a weak thing.” she had expected him to believe her words, batting heavy eyelashes to appear as pliant as possible.

his blue eye, it seemed to have the ability to read her. he chuckled darkly, “you’re a good liar.” and an unexpected, large hand reached to grab her throat. his hold was rough, but she could still breath and she refused to look away or struggle against his grip. she had learned that the best way to pacify these great men was to let them have the power over her that they so craved. she was surprised though, for no one had been able to look through her so quickly and easily, in all her years.

her lack of putting up a fight seemed to satisfy him, but at the same time, he couldn’t understand how she could lack the basic need to preserve herself. he tightened his grip further and further, testing her. yet, her hands remained limp by her side and her eyes trained on his. when he finally pulled his hand off her, it was only the coughs that left her and the red marks of his hand printed around her neck that could evidence the pain she must have felt, but not acted against.

he picked the goblet and poured from the wine jug kept in the corner, to hand it to her for the cough, wordlessly. she eagerly grabbed the cup and downed its contents to provide some relief to her throat. “why did you not struggle? do you enjoy pain?” he asked, curious. her fingertips rubbed against the skin where his hand had been moments ago, as she answered, “in my trade, you learn quickly to endure pain. to fight against it usually means something worse will befall.” she answered, her voice still coarse.

“then why choose it? you can earn a wage as a serving girl, a maid…” he looked at the bed in her room and couldn’t help but think just how many men before him must have pushed her against it and had their way “…why suffer such indignity?”

she was surprised at his question. some men did like to talk to her before they had her, but she had never been asked such intrusive questions about herself. “there are many reasons, every girl here has her story. i have mine.” never talk about your own woes with a client, she had been taught. it would break the spell, the fantasy if they thought of her as a living, breathing thing, as opposed to a doll only meant to please them. that was what she was attempting to do, but her answer did not satiate him. “and that story is?” “not one i care to share with your grace. i do not need your pity, i promise you. i’m paid ten times more than any serving girl at your grand castle, and all my work is done lying on my back. i am content.”

aemond could see the logic there, but he seemed unconvinced. she seemed to be in a hurry to move past the conversation. “is this how you would like to spend your night, asking me questions? i have no qualms, but you are paying quiet the small fortune for it, and i would not want you to feel as if i have robbed you.”

“since i am the one paying, why don’t you let me be the judge of what we are going to do.” y/n shrugged in response, “whatever you wish, my prince. i am but your humble servant.” she had a small, amused smile on her lips as she sat down on the edge of her bed. “ask whatever you like.” and he did.

once she got used to the invasive questioning, she settled in his presence. she found him polite but straight forward, proud but intelligent. he was unlike any man she had met. he seemed to be full of questions about who y/n was, where was she from and how she had ended up in a place like this. all questions that she patiently answered as she drank more wine by the hour. it was not common behaviour of a patron, to ask about her so insistently. even when the men wanted to talk, it was usually them talking about themselves, their problems and y/n sitting there patiently to listen. but every time she tried to ask the prince a question in return, he brushed her off or gave her short replies.

“why did you decide to come here today?” she asked him at one point. he had settled on one of her cushions a few meters away, but he never really looked comfortable, choosing to sit with his back straight as steel. his discipline was admirable, y/n thought. “you’re not known to frequent the street of silk, or i would have heard of it.” or i would have had you already, she thought, she was the most sought-after woman on the street after all. “your visit is most unusual.”

aemond swallowed at the question, “every man has needs.” it wasn’t a complete lie. he had come there because of a need to see her, to be near her, to touch her. “had you come here to fulfil some ‘need’, we would not have spent the night merely talking.” she commented. oh, he had meant to do much more than just talk, from the second he saw her dancing downstairs. she had captivated him, with the way her body had moved and set his imagination to wonder all the ways in which it would move against his.

but first, he had wanted to quench his curiosity about her. he hadn’t realised when he got so lost in their conversation that it was nearly daybreak, and he was yet to fuck her. every time he had thought to move in and close the gap between them, she had made some clever comment that he had to give a retort to, and so the night had passed.

“it’s a shame.” y/n sighed as she laid back down on her bed, “when you walked in here, i thought i would have the story to beat any other girl’s. the story of the night i rode a dragon.” she lazily smirked.

oh, she was a minx, he grinned as a hand grabbed her ankle to pull her down towards him. she yelped at the action but allowed him to snake an arm around her waist to seat her at his lap. “is that a desire of yours?” he asked in a murmur, close enough to feel her breath on his face. “i’m a whore, my prince, i cannot afford such luxuries as desires.” she draped her arms over his shoulders, fingers entangling themselves in his silky hair. “as your prince, i command you – tell me what you desire.”

she had lost count of the number of times men had asked her that question, the number of times they wanted her to tell them that she needed them, desired them. she had complied each time of course but had never really meant the words. as she gazed into the clear blue of the prince’s eye, though, she answered with the utmost sincerity, “you.”

he didn’t need more words, he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, his lips upon hers. there was a hunger in his actions, a desire to push in as further inside her as he could, of wanting to be one with her. she reciprocated the sense of passion, hands reaching to undo the buttons on his leather coat.

soon he had her pinned beneath him on the cushions, his coat and tunic discarded, her flimsy dress pushed up, so her bare core rubbed against his leather pants. he hadn’t objected to her removing other items of his clothing, but when her hand reached to pull off his eye patch, he broke the kiss and grabbed her wrist firmly.

when she had told him she desired him, he hadn’t taken her to mean it in a physical sense. For, how could she, he thought, with an eye missing and an ugly scar running down half his face? where she was a goddess reborn that men paid their weight in gold to be able to pay a pilgrimage to, he thought himself deformed.

as with many things, with this too it seemed she could read his mind. a crease formed between her brow, “this is a whore house, your grace. the price of admission is all your clothing.” she teased. her free hand reached to caress his face. gods, he was beautiful, she now understood why they said targaryens were closer to gods than men, for with the first rays of the sun hitting him to form a halo over his form, how could this man be anything else but heaven-sent? 

“i would see all of you.” she softly told him. he hesitated, but there was a conviction in her eyes that he could not deny. he eventually let go of her wrist, but she could feel how uneasy he felt as she slowly pulled the eye-patch off his face.

her eyes went wide at the sight of the blue sapphire she had heard only rumours of. it dazzled with brilliance, and almost matched the colour of his remaining eye. her hand caressed the side of his face, thumb tracing the scar before she pressed a soft kiss to the healed skin. “i wasn’t aware whores were supposed to be this… sentimental.” he mused at her actions, “you’re a special customer.” she grinned. “let’s see how good this service of yours is then, hm, that you can afford to rob all these lords blind.”

and service him she did, with a steady chant of her voice saying ‘my prince’ filling the room. she heard him whisper things too, against her skin in a language she couldn’t understand, but his voice was filled with a devotion she could recognise.

hours passed, till she could no longer feel her legs, and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. she felt sore, but in the most perfect way. the day had set in now, the rays of the sun making her room shine bright as she laid with her head on his chest, legs tangled. she could feel his fingers tracing shapes on her bare back. it seemed like the perfect morning.

until he broke the spell with his voice, “i have to go.” he had only just realised the time, realised that he was late for cole’s training. as he shifted to get up from under her, she whined at the loss of touch but wordlessly watched him gather his things. “will you visit again?” she asked as he walked out the door, but it seemed he hadn’t heard her.

she lazed around until a some of the younger girls entered her room, excited to hear all about y/n’s night with the prince, brimming with questions. “oh, how i can explain to you, my darlings, the pleasures of riding a dragon.”

note: by the time i finished this i had sm muse im thinking of doing a pt 2 w an angry and jealous aemond, when reader is entertaining other clients?? lmk if you guys would be interested in something like that 👀

update: part 2 available now!

#aemond imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fic #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #hotd fics #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fanfic #fics i wrote

[suzukiblu]

WIP Wednesday Game

Taken from @kedreeva.

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

file names:

interdimensional kidnapping via Robin

the one where Clark is trans but Kon isn't

omegaverse nursing

weird Kryptonian bonding rituals

congratulations, it's a metaweapon!

snippet from "congratulations, it's a metaweapon!":

"Okay," Superboy says, his eyes still just barely narrowed, and then the whole room shatters.

Actually, "shatter" might not be a strong enough word, given that the floor and walls are all effectively gravel now and all the furniture is in pieces, as well as all the guards' weapons and body armor, and the directors have all been dumped on their asses.

Huh, Match thinks, tilting his head. Well, the Agenda didn't teach him how to do that.

"That's my kid you fucks said all that shit to!" Superboy snarls furiously, his fists clenched. The directors look alarmed, all three of them scrambling to their feet in an undignified rush. Spence looks bewildered. The guards look like they want to run for their fucking lives.

Match has no idea how Superboy got his TTK to do that so quickly and efficiently, and immediately wants to know.

"Don't take the stupid option," Spence says, narrowing her eyes at Superboy. She shifts like she's going to reach for the gun on her hip, but the holster is empty and the gun itself is in pieces on the floor, so Match assumes it's just an instinctive gesture.

"I could rip all your nerves out right now," Superboy says flatly, glaring back at her, and the guards all make some very alarmed noises. Match tilts his head the other way consideringly. Hm. That's a creative idea. He'd just have gone with causing a stroke or heart attack, probably. "You're touching the same floor as me and you can't fly. You couldn't do shit to stop me."

"Is that what you think?" Spence snorts dismissively, which isn't much of a bluff. "You wouldn't even if you could. Superman doesn't maim or torture, and you're no different."

"That was before you miserable pieces of shit told my kid he wasn't a person," Superboy hisses, baring his teeth at her. "So why don't you fucking try me, Spence?"

#meme #wip wednesday #omegaverse #wip: congratulations it's a metaweapon!

[docholligay]

Do you think having such a personalized and detailed headcanon makes it harder to enjoy fic about the show/game that's written by others?

I mean sure, probably.

But unfortunately things I adore, for people named Doc who are me, fall into one of two buckets:

The character work and plot in this show are incredible, I find myself turning it around in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. I constantly discover new things about the show/book/game or the characters in it. I do not read fic about this, because why would I? Every answer I search for is in the text. I want to talk about this with someone, but about what is THERE, not what could be there. Ex: The Haunting of Hill House, Picnic at Hanging Rock, Piranesi, Bioshock:Infinite, Watership Down, Yellowjackets, among others.

The concepts of this could be amazing but are handled so fucking badly so consistently, in a shocking contrast to how INCONSISTENT the character work is, that all I want to do is steal it and make it better. All i want to do is turn it into something that doesn't suck ass when you look at it too hard. So I am going to take it SO seriously, and I am going to develop the rich inner lives for these characters that they lack, with intense backstories and families and motivation for how they got to be the person we know, or know sometimes, in certain episodes or shorts. Ex: Sailor Moon and Overwatch are the biggies here obviously, this is actually not an emotion I feel very often. I don't have intense backstories and extra-textual feelings and ideas about most of the stuff I read and watch, these two are just my Spiders Georg.

So! The odds on me being into something in the correct way to make me want to Seek Treasure Elsewhere but also I have a chill enough attitude about how the characters are that Any Dream Will Do is almost nil. I do not in ANY way mean this in a shady way, but I mostly read published adult fiction for entertainment and not fanfic. I am very picky about my fanfic. So, "plus these two new red and blue girls into Starbucks" often won't work for me, because the reasons to have Haruka and Michiru meet in a coffee shop are completely different from any of the reasons Fareeha and Angela might meet in a coffee shop, and so many of those types are archtypical plug and play stuff. Honestly, I have skated the idea of making a cheat sheet of fanon archetypes of various characters and buying a typewriter to sell 100-200 word 'quick fic' at cons with my sister. That's how common it is to use these archetypes. This is not a criticism! At all!

But, to take the two couples above, I have read so much BORING SHIT about both HM and FA that I could throw up. Lesbian couples have a lot of very milquetoast writing about them, and a lot of meet-cute which isn't really my bag.

But there are authors I love! @oathkeeper-of-tarth was and is one of the best harumichi writers out there and we don't even have all the same headcanons. The rare occasions @verbforverb decides to grace me with "Jewish Mercy I don't Have To Write" I pop a can of bubbly in the tub. And on both fields of battle @keyofjetwolf has stuff I've had bookmarked for years, and there are some things even within Rei's backstory and history that we disagree on.

Actually, to that point what I like is good writing. You can write me into believing nearly anything. There are things I believe about Amelie when I'm reading @lemon-embalmer's stuff that when I go back to my own world, aren't true, but when I'm in her world who the fuck cares, I'm having a great time. EVEN MORE to the point, I read @moonlight-frittata's stupid sun and moon lesbian League of Legends shit and I would rather shoot myslef than know ANYTHING about the game, but unfortunately she has a beautiful turn of phrase and plot flow to her work that I just....read anyway, because it is good. Fucking @tallangrycockatiel had me like 25 pages or so into a story before I was like, "OH SHIT, IS THIS SLASH??? WAIT I DON'T WANT TO READ ABOUT BOYS' LOVE!! NO!!" *hits next page* And I still could not care less about that podcast and would never listen to it, and if I did I would be massively disappointed because to my mind, her John and Arthur are the actual article, and whatever the fuck is going on in the source material can eat my dick.

So, yes, I DO think that having a very particular point of view is going to mean I back out of a story where like, "Lena stepped out of her Chelsea flat, custom leather high heels clicking against the step" sometimes, or, you know, "Haruka put down her copy of War and Peace, each meticulous note codified by a color-coded tab. Blue was for historical references to research, green for character analysis, yellow for themes, blah blah blah*" But I am actually shockingly open minded in what I will read, often to the point that I'm reading stuff from SHIT I DO NOT LIKE OR CARE ABOUT, because the quality of the writing is excellent. So, also no.

*I met someone who read books like this and I suddenly realized what the literary equivalent of 'knowing someone is a serial killer' was.

[danyvhell-writes]

Hi hi hi !! Idk if ur TS headcanons asks are still open (I am, so so sorry if not) but if they are I was wondering if you could do some Pirate Ais Au? >:3 I saw that idea in one of ur other posts and i think the idea is just MUAH MUAH

It could just be general Ais headcanons or X Mc :0 anything with him just being a pirate because bro I just love pirates so much 😭 they are SO COOL and Ais as a pirate captain is just ??? Even better ???

Anyway, I hope you have the best rlly good day 🫶

Pirate Ais AU 🏴‍☠️ Touchstarved

GN reader - no warnings | Yes my asks are still open !!! So happy you liked my idea :') OMG OMG OMG WHERE DO I EVEN START ?!!!!? The brainrot is real and fueling eachother with ideas like that is making it even better (or worse u choose uefgzifguz). As a kid who was obsessed with pirates and a current One Piece fan, your ask is exactly what I needed, thank you so much ♥ This AU is more joyful than what's seen of his canon life so yeah, hope you'll like it ! Okay, ready to sail ? Let's go !

• First : the ✨fashion✨. Ais could be at sea for weeks but would still make sure to look good, real good. I mean look at him ! He even has a pretty hat he wears on special occasions ✧.

• In this AU, Ais has his crew but is still affiliated to Ocudeus. Instead of being the spirit of the Seaspring, Ocudeus is literally the incarnation of the sea depths, a whole big Kraken ! Its energy, force and magic are linked to the abyss.

↑ Ais powers manifest differently here. Instead of seeing through the eyes of others, Ocudeus gave him some sort of marine omniscience. He can use the kraken's senses to a certain limit, a real advantage for navigation. Bro can literally listen through the sea itself if he wills enough :') He must have seen a lot...

• Ocudeus isn't the only spirit of his kind but is genuinely intrigued by mortals. It's not his first time forming a pact with 'lower beings' but Ais is actually one of his favourite holders/vessels so far lmaoezoihf. He kinda cares about the pirate, who's the closest thing he has to a friend.

• His ship is his second home, he takes absolute care of it. If his whole crew has to stay up all night to tidy & wash everything from top to bottom, they will ! And of course, the ship has a japanese name ! Ais named it "Hayai" [速] cause she's the fastest boat you'll ever see (his words not mine). First time you hear him talk about her you're like "...Wait who's Hayai ?" "This big girl over here >:)" and he shows you his amazing ship with a proud smile, which you really weren't expecting !

• Loves, loves, loves to travel ! Any new destination in his adventures is a reason to explore more, search for information and mysteries. He's just so curious about everything :')

• He picks up expressions, phrases and languages from his previous trips ! If he can remember as much as possible, he'll note everything in his log.

→ After every daily island/town tour, he makes sure to write a little about what happened so far. How much they traveled, how much they visited, how much they learned from passengers and citizens.

• Ais originally comes from a village on a small island, lots of yokais live in there as a community.

• He moves a lot but always comes back to his hometown when he can ! He's someone who gets attached and I just know he'd never abandon his little village.

• As a captain, his main role is to make sure everyone's fine. He checks up on his mates whenever he feels something might be wrong. He's got a sort of sixth sense for that... wonder how he got it hm 👀

→ Being the big softie he is, he actually really likes sleeping in the same room as his whole crew instead of his own cabin, he knows they're safe with him so he feels way less stressed. (Would 100% read bedtime stories to the youngest members.)

• His goal isn't even to find treasures or anything, he simply enjoys the freedom of being a pirate, the message behind it and especially the sailor fights !

• Knows how to sword fight and is pretty talented at it ! If you want to learn one or two tricks, he'll teach you >:)

• That man already had the smell of blood, smoke and metal well... in this AU it's even worse ! His smell is so distinctive and strong, anyone could recognize it from miles away.

• Our boy enjoys a good drink, we know that. Almost every night all his gang gather around and share some booze together in a comforting atmosphere, around a small fire. They enjoy the night together while chatting, playing games and much more !

→ Of course they also share tea in daytime when they're not busy navigating or whatsoever.

• Could also fit in general hcs but, his tattoos move or/and glow at specific moments. Sometimes it's like he's bioluminescent, when he goes in water at night, completely in the dark, his skin starts to glow under the moonlight. First time it happened he was so confused zegbkzuhf.

• After his pact with Ocudeus, he started to feel even more at peace when closer to the ocean. If he stays away from shores or marine areas for too long, little oni starts feeling homesick.

• He really appreciates collecting small objects from his travels. His room is full of souvenirs, strange artefacts found in the sand, small treasures, sea shells, cards from around the lands, old books in foreign languages, cultural jewelries offered by locals etc...

• Never really sets up a specific destination, except if he needs to. He loves the adrenaline of finding new places by complete hazard.

• Ais being a pirate who doesn't like seafood, the most accessible food at seas, is well... ironic.

• The sound of seagull chants and waves soothes him. He usually falls asleep on the deck, sunshine on his skin with the sea rocking him gently.

• First time you come to see him, it's one of his crewmate that tells you about him but you don't even know he's a captain ! You see him for the first time and you're just "Helloooo sailor ! How can I join your pirate gang handsome?"🥴

• Every single member is attractive. That's it. It's not the biggest crew really (around 20 people) but the diversity is here. Young ones, old ones, skinny ones, fat ones, pale skin, dark skin, humans, monsters, all the types really. And yes, some tried to woo you (how could they not, MC is 10/10).

• Kids on the ship view you as the cool unty (is that the gn term ?). Ais thinks it's cute except when you start spending more time with them when he originally invited you over…

• And yes, Princess & all his other soulless are here !!! Now they're more some sorta semi marine creatures. They really like to swim and it's the cutest thing :') Like, Ais and his pets swimming in the sea while some are playing in the sand ??? Too cute for me I-

• Talking about our favourite girl, she's the mascot of the crew ! Everyone is so in love with her, she's everyone's precious lil baby (even tho she can and will bite). They'll sometimes try to dress her up to fit their aesthetic and surprisingly she doesn't seem to mind. Also, the sounds she makes are…a mystery !

• Okay but just picture it : Ais hair flowing into the wind while he's watching the horizon, hues of the sea reflecting on his skin looking so peaceful.

• Thinking about his jolly roger, it would be a oni skull surrounded by red eyes with two teal sabers behind (I did a lil sketch hehe) :

• His favourite thing to find are old maps ! Especially if they lead to ancient locations with unchanged names. He has a lot of them and it also might be why he gets into a lot of fights (maps are a treasure themselves so of course people are gonna take risks).

• Even if he's young, he has a big reputation among other pirates. Rule number one : Don't mess with him or his crew. Number two : If you want information there's always a price to pay ! He's nice and generous but hey you know : don't except mercy.

→ Known for his loyalty tho ! If you show that you're worthy of his trust, he'll be your best ally for the rest of your life. He's intimidating but full of qualities.

#touchstarved game #ais #touchstarved ais #touchstarved #ais headcanons #ais x reader #kinda #gn reader #red spring studios #headcanons #touchstarved headcanons #pirate ais au #touchstarved au #answered asks #alternate universe #my aus

[lbibliophile-sw]

Guess Who

Also on AO3 [680 words] For @jedijune - week 5: tragedy averted Inspired by The Guessing Game by Kelpie_Mist

Master Vos shrugs at the assembled Council members.

“That’s all we’ve got. We know that the Sith has been playing a long game. We know that they have ties to the Separatists, if only through Dooku. We know that they have high-level influence or authority in the Senate and the GAR. We know that there is a growing Darkness centred on this hemisphere of Coruscant. But beyond that, we’re at a dead end. We’d have just as much luck throwing darts at a list of names. A list consisting, mind you, of half the Senate, two-thirds of the GAR admiralty, and most of the adults in the Order. I’ll keep looking, but at this point we need a miracle.”

Master Vos leaves, and there is a long moment of silence as the Council processes the situation. It is hard not to feel hopeless.

“Very well then, if we are all to be suspects, I accuse Ki-Adi of being the Sith Lord. You stole the last seaweed cookie in the refectory yesterday. Surely a sign of great evil.”

No.

Everyone jumps as the Force chimes in response to Kit’s joke, chuckles running around the room as the tension breaks.

“Really Master Fisto, what an accusation! How does the saying go, ‘you snooze, you lose’? If we are attempting wild guessing now, then we might as well start at the top. Master Yoda, just how long have you been hiding as a Sith in our midst?”

No.

“Offended, I am. Sith, I am not. Too much work, all that scheming is. Particularly when deployed, a certain someone is, and leave me with his flimiswork he does. Sith Lord, Master Windu is, hm?”

No.

“It was your turn and you know it. But if we’re talking about headaches, I’m calling out Skywalker as the Sith. I’m tired of the migraine I get any time that walking shatterpoint enters the room.”

…no.

Everyone straightens to attention.

“That… was a very tentative ‘no’.”

“Does that mean that Skywalker is involved?”

“Is the Sith Lord close to him?”

YES.

As the ringing dies away Obi-wan shifts uncomfortably, everyone in the room either looking at him or studiously avoiding doing so.

“Obi-wan?” It is Depa who breaks the awkward silence. “For the record’s sake, I have to ask. Are you the Sith Lord?”

No.

“See, I always told you I was incorruptible.” His smug smile can’t hide the worry in his eyes.

It is Saesee who speaks next.

“If not the Master, then perhaps the Padawan? I hesitate to re-open wounds, but with the timing of Ahsoka Tano’s leaving the Order, could she be…?”

No. “Little ‘Soka would never! And she is far too young besides.”

The Force and Plo object at the same time, prompting a ripple of guilt and regret through the group.

“Look outside the Order, we must. Married, Skywalker is. A different bond, that could hide. The Sith Lord, Amidala could be?”

No.

Obi-wan glares.

“Really. Are we just going to start listing everyone Anakin spends time with? Who’s next; Admiral Yularen, Captain Rex? Madame Nu, Master Drallig, the rest of this room? Dex? Are you going to start listing out every single one of his troopers? You might as well suspect the Chancellor of the Republic while you’re at it!”

Shaak Ti leans forward in her seat, blue hologram flickering as she frowns.

“Why haven’t we suggested him yet? He fits all the criteria Master Vos brought us. He has been mentoring Skywalker for years. And I know that we have repeatedly raised concerns at the increasing scope of his emergency powers. Is Chancellor Palpatine the Sith Lord?”

There is absolute and deafening silence in the Force.

With a growing sense of dread, they all focus their attention and Mace repeats the question.

“Is Sheev Palpatine, current Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, the Sith Lord and Master we have been searching for?”

Very faintly, as though straining to be heard through the empty void of space or thick clouds of choking darkness, the answer reaches them.

­YES!

#jedijune2023 #jedi council #the force #the force as a lie detector #darth sidious revealed #bingo fill #fanfic

[tnc-n3cl]

More Rito Headcanons!

Something of an expansion of my "Rito Biology 101" post, but I'm not going to bother with the in-universe POV and talking about a couple different things here so...

Here's the original. Now that TotK is out, we got some new info so I'm going to go over things. (Namely a new Tribe for Penn and some thoughts on the aged up kiddos.) There my be some minor spoilers in the images, so I'm going to put them below the read more line.

Minor edit: 7/30/23, realized that one of the new NPC's mentioned something I forgot to talk about!

New Rito Guy! Penn is a reporter who you team up with for a few sidequests. Clearly he's some kind of pelican, so a quick search on Wikipedia and... Pelca Tribe (from Pelecanus the genus that contains all living pelicans)

So a couple things here. One: the triangles on his little sash reminds me of Kass' scarf. (What did you do to Kass Nintendo?!) Two: his outfit appears to be made of some kind of blue leather. I'm assuming that all Rito wear leather armor basically (except Saki and the little ones). Interestingly, I had drawn an axe that had talon grip handles in the axe head that are sometimes made out of leather sourced from blue monster hides. Doubt that's the case here since he's not a warrior but still...

His catchphrase... You can see they did the little hook on his beak! Is that yellow on his chest part of his clothes? Hm...

Including this because, A: this is quite possibly my favorite quote from him and B: you can see he has webbed feets! (Still say they should have given the Rito four toes but whatever...)

Look at his tiny pen and notebook! (The dangles on his hood are shaped like pens!)

Okay, that's enough Penn for now... In other news, new color morphs just dropped ya'll!

So the first guy looks like he might be a shade or two lighter than Huck, but the second guy is a new color altogether. We gots purple Orni Tribe Ritos now! Really don't have much to say about these two, but more variety is nice.

EDIT: Actually I do have something to say about Ornest. He mentions that all Rito have the ability to manipulate the wind, something I was theorizing to be the case. So, headcanon confirmed!

Moving on to the kiddos!

Kotts! Again her headband makes me think of her father's scarf and I miss him so much!

Here's BotW Kotts for comparison. As you can see, the white on her face is starting to fade, and she's lost her "bangs", and her head is starting to be more bird shaped. Rough estimation is that TotK is around 5 years after BotW and I'm assuming that she's 5 during BotW so that would make her 10 in TotK. (I'm going with Rito living around 80 years on average BTW).

She's almost as tall as Link! Also that dialog speaks to me on like, a molecular level. (She gets up at 10AM BTW) Also note her Saki-like clothing.

BotW Molli

TotK Molli

I, uh, don't think she grew at all...

She wants to make cool arrows so her dad will use them with his bows... (Why's there no emoji/emoticon button?! I need a big eyed sad face here!)

Speaking of her dad... Here enjoy this totally unrelated to anything I'm talking about shot of Harth actually standing! He gets to do stuff in this game guys! (Can you believe I almost forgot he existed when I went from BotW to Age of Calamity? How could I forget this unique bird?!)

Last but not least, Bird Son himself...

Tulin!!!! Look at this adorable little guy! LOOK AT HIM!!!!

I like to think he admires the hell out of Link and so he's mimicking Link's pose as much as he can. Speaking of which... Get that guy a cowboy outfit and a giant belt buckle!

Look at him some more!

So I don't know if that's eyeliner or just natural markings but he's doing his mom's thing and I can't even you guys!

I am SO normal about these birds...

*regains composure*

Okay, so what have we learned from this? Rito start off with blue sclera (the whites of the eye) when they're little. Around 10 or so the sclera becomes white and the irises are blue. Given that neither Kass nor Amali have blue eyes, I'm going to assume at some point their daughters will develop yellow eyes like them. Tulin... Let's just say his eyes stay blue.

Fluffy white baby feathers on the face slowly fade over the years until they their faces are solid colors (Orni Tribe at least). Tulin's little bun, is this like his mom's "hair" or more like his dad's floof? His he tying it back? You can make out something around the base of it in that second image of him so I think so... What if he ends up with a braid like the Ancient Wind Sage? (Why couldn't you just name them Nintendo? You could have just used the Divine Beasts' names and it would have been fine!)

None of the kids have proper tail feathers yet, so I hesitate to call them juveniles... Give them a few more years and they'll probably start growing them.

I like Penn, and pelican/waterfowl Rito fit in with ideas I was having for my fanfic so... Just gotta find a way to fit him in...

I made it so that different Rito settlements have different symbols. Normally these would be found on the cloth around their waist. However, Penn has this unique symbol on his chestpiece... Granted there's some similar symbols around the village but...

#rito #botw #totk #loz au #headcanons #therealmwalker #long post #totk spoilers #minor spoilers #rambles #tnc-n3cl rambles #thinking out loud #rito headcanons #kotts #molli #tulin #saki #penn #harth

[blysse-and-blunder]

In lieu of a making a comeback

11:45pm Sunday, June 18, 2023

Went through my drafts folder today, scrolling quickly past all the posts I’ve saved for when I’ve finally finished succession and found that the last time I drafted a commonplace book post was back in early May? I may post that one later—it’s a bit of a time capsule now, and isn’t even fully finished (hence why I saved it rather than posting). but rather than wait for perfection—my lesson of the year it seems—I’ll dash off a short one here. for my own entertainment, which of course is the point.

[no read more on mobile; scroll or press J to skip]

Reading just started victoria goddard’s bee sting cake, the second book in the greenwing & dart series. jemis’ narrative voice sounds a little too much like fitzroy’s — exacerbating my prejudice against first-person narration where the pov character just kinda sounds like the author’s mouthpiece—but seeing more of ragnor bella, this area of the twelve kingdoms, these references to the Interim and the Last Emperor, remains delightful. Also about 80% of the way through ursula k. le guin’s a wizard of earthsea for the very first time, which has been a slow because I’m absolutely savoring it. one of those books that feels like it’s in conversation with Tolkien but goes about ‘let’s make magic literary’ in a totally different way.

watching the aforementioned succession. @hematiterings and I were doing a rewatch (for me; her first time) and we have now gotten up to season 4 episode 3, You Know the One, which means that there’s only one more episode before I’m in new territory. it’s been a really rewarding rewatch, even as I’ve been doing laptop work the whole time—I’m understanding characters’ relationships and the stakes of different decisions and events so much better than I did the first time.

listening for some reason this week and last I have not been able to get enough of Hildegard von Blingen’s bardcore covers. Specifically the cover of taylor swift’s willow, which is not a song I knew, cared about, or really even noticed before now? But it the bardcore cover elevates it so well? hildegard’s voice is so lovely? one of those sopranos I usually don’t quite believe are real—just a pleasure to listen to. bad romance and holding out for a hero have been on repeat as well, and pumped up kicks (buskin boots!) is so much more interesting than the original, but willow has been the one I actively searched by name.

playing d+d campaign one tonight for the first time since FEBRUARY. it was good! we laughed! R tried to seduce a jaguar! we might be starting a schism in a fantasy meso-american religion or possibly playing the ball game to avoid that! we won’t be able to play again until late July, early august! The real boss fight is—has always been—scheduling.

making look at this dining room chair I glued back together.

No after pictures yet but it was clamped for a few days and has now been back in use with no ill effects since…gosh, last weekend? so we’ll count that as a win.

working on between finishing my most recent slog of grading (32 review assignments, which I spent waaaaaay too long on out of an anxiety of needin to help them revise for their final portfolios) and the next round of grading (final exams for 385 are due…thursday, possibly? and portfolios Friday, though I expect I get many either late or with extension requests, my fault entirely), I think I have to write at least one job app for June 30 and. maybe try to slap some new stuff into ch 2. or conference paper? hm.

#ilcb #in lieu of a commonplace book #weekly roundup #hey y’all!

[ecargmura]

Paradox Live Episode 5 Review - Found Family And Blood Family

What makes a family? That’s the theme of this episode. Two opposing teams, one biological and one found, contemplate on what it means to be family. I do like how there are two perspectives on family from cozmez and Akan Yatsura. It really shows off that anyone can be a family as long as they choose to do so and not take them for granted.

In Akan Yatsura’s case, what family means to them is not losing anyone precious to them ever again after the Suiseki group’s boss died in a raid years ago. Because of this, the group reformed and the group became a new family. As a family, their vibe is much different from TCW. While TCW has a chill vibe, AKYR are very loud and rowdy. The beginning showcases that with Satsuki and Reo fighting as the eldest Hokusai watches, the dad Iori lazes about, and the mom Zen yelling at them to stop fighting. Like both TCW and AKYR, you cannot deny they’re a very harmonious family.

They’re also a found family as they chose to be with each other over being with their biological family. It seems like all the kids in AKYR come from difficult families, which is why they’re so close. Satsuki was abandoned by his biological parents for being too wild. Reo had to separate from his family due to financial difficulties. Hokusai’s father is in prison, and because of that he was isolated from society as he was branded a criminal’s son. They all had rather rough lives, which is why they’re so tight-knit.

The episode is from Satsuki’s perspective as he tells Kanata of cozmez what it means to be family. I think it’s really interesting that the one with the found family is lecturing the one who has biological family. However, what Satsuki says isn’t wrong. Family is precious and cannot be taken for granted. I particularly liked the scene with Reo and Hokusai—the one where Reo mentioned how annoying it is to search for family and feels as if Kanata was overprotective of Nayuta, but Hokusai retorted that he’d do the same if Reo or Satsuki were gone as he gives him a head pat. I think that moment is sweet since Reo did mention that his own family never looked for him, so knowing that Hokusai would search like a madman for him got him all flustered.

Speaking of cozmez, I do wonder something about Nayuta. There’s something that seems a bit…off? I can’t really put it into words and it’s just something I’ve detected. There is something rather cryptic about him. Was he really out on a walk and took a nap? And there’s his words to Kanata when they were arguing. It was as if he wanted Kanata to be free and such. Hm, maybe it’s just my imagination…

Anyways, while Iori and Zen weren’t much of a focus, I can say that they’re fine as fuck. Man, Paradox Live has some QUALITY character designs. Fun fact: all of AKYR are designed by Harada, a well-known BL mangaka; you might know her for her works such as One Room Angel, Yatamomo, Nii-chan, Color Recipe and more. I was quite surprised she designed the entire group because they’re rather unique and a step up from Harada’s usual designs for her original works. Anyways, back onto topic, I quite liked the three kids after watching this episode. Satsuki’s rough around the edges and a bit of a wild child, but he has a good heart. Reo’s adorable and cheeky, but is rather cynical. Hokusai is quiet, but knows how to handle people and situations well; the one thing that surprised me the most about Hokusai was his age; I looked it up and the tall green cabbage man is…24???? Iori and Zen are 28 and 27. Did the creators just throw dartboards to pick their ages or something?

The voice actor choices for all five of AKYR are quite interesting. Iori is voiced by Takayuki Kondo, who’s most known role is being the Japanese VA of Phoenix Wright in the Ace Attorney games. Zen is voiced by Shima, who is an utaite. Hokusai is voiced by Shunichi Toki, a rather rising VA who’s name I’ve seen in several stuff recently—one of his recent roles is voicing Freminet in the Japanese dub of Genshin. Satsuki is voiced by Tasuku Hatanaka, who is known for voicing Yuma Tsukumo from Yugioh Zexal and Reki Kyan from SK8. Reo is voiced by Shougo Yano, who’s most known for voicing Mafuyu Satou from Given. These are quite the interesting voice actor choices and I’m glad to see them because they have interesting rap style. I particularly like Hokusai’s voice the most because it’s soft, sultry and gives him a mysterious vibe.

Their song at the end was actually quite nice. It gives a more…Japanese feel in terms of background sound? I’m also quite surprised how well their voices mesh well together. I really like how they manage to make every group sound distinct from the other.

Also, before I end this review, I want to asks something. Did my ears deceive me or the ramen guy had Junichi Suwabe’s voice? But Suwabe also does the ending song as Buraikan? I know that he voices the black haired guy as he showed up in Episode 3…but ramen guy had white hair while Buraikan guy had black. Are they the same person? Are they twins? Why was there an emphasis on the ramen guy towards the end? Who is he?

I’ll end the review here. I do wonder who the next episode will be about since the title was shrouded in green. What are your thoughts about the episode?

#paradox live #paradox live the animation #akan yatsura #akyr #Iori suiseki #zen gaho #masaki hokusai #Satsuki ito #reo maruyama #cozmez #kanata yatonokami #nayuta yatonokami #review #anime #anime review #arum journal #ecargmura

[projectbluearcadia]

Exchange Students Wanted

So far, I’ve figured out a few things. First of all, I’m essentially in hell. Second, “Grim” are gold coins with what seems to be a half-decent exchange rate for the work they are exchanged for. And third, “Diavolo” seems to be a respected figure here, currently residing in this castle.

Annelie: This is going to end poorly. 

She knocks on the door, and a man opens it almost immediately.

???: We’ve been expecting you.  

Y-You have? I literally just bullshitted my way here; I didn’t think I’d actually get in...

???: Truthfully, we’ve actually been searching for you these past few weeks. It’s quite fortunate that you managed to find your way here yourself. 

Annelie: ...yes.

What are the safe things to say in this conversation???

???: My name is Barbatos, for further reference. You needn’t be so tense, Ms. Glasgow; unlike the other denizens here, I have no intention of devouring you.

Annelie: ...

Barbatos: That being said, we also do not intend to send you straight home as you might desire.

Annelie: ...why?

???: I can explain that. I would be the ‘Diavolo’ you came searching for.  

Holy—well, unholy—mother of Satan, he’s like twice my size!

Diavolo: I saw an opportunity in your mistaken transport here, and I wanted to take advantage of it, seeing as you’ve survived by yourself this long. 

Annelie: An... opportunity?

Diavolo: Yes. You see, I’ve recently started an exchange problem involving other races attending an institution I head. Currently, we only have one human exchange student, and he’s not what you would call a... representative of the species. 

Annelie: Are you asking me to attend a school...for demons?

Diavolo: Correct. 

???: He’s not asking. 

Diavolo: Hm? No, I am asking though. 

Annelie: Ah...!

Diavolo: Annelie?

Annelie: You’re the guy from the diner!

Diavolo: Lucifer, you met her already? Why didn’t you tell me?

Lucifer: I didn’t know who she was. And please forget you ever saw me there. 

Annelie: You look better in what you’re wearing now. 

Why did I say that out loud?

Lucifer: ...

Diavolo: Ahahaha! I’m inclined to agree, although there is a certain charm about him in those clothes. 

Lucifer: Ugh. 

Diavolo: So, Annelie, what would you like to do?

Annelie: Well, um... What’s in it for me...?

I should have phrased that differently. Shit. Lucifer’s going to murder me with that stare. 

Diavolo: What do you want?

Annelie: What?

Diavolo: Is there something in particular you’d like? It’s not often that you encounter a human that’s as courageous as you are. 

Lucifer: Is that what you’re calling her?

Diavolo: Human? Of course, Lucifer. What else would I call her?

Lucifer: No, courageous. She bluffed her way here; I’d say that’s more indicative of either great stupidity or great cunning, and I’m partial to the former.

Annelie: Thanks. 

Lucifer: You’re welcome.  

Annelie: That was sarcasm.

Lucifer: Answer Diavolo. What do you want?

Annelie: ...

What do I want? What do I want, actually? I wanted to get out of here, but...

Annelie: Is my safety guaranteed if I live here? What about living arrangements? Or food? Octopus is fine once in a while, but I don’t want to eat it every day. 

Diavolo: Of course, I will provide accommodations for you. As for safety... 

Lucifer: I’ll take care of it. 

Annelie: Do you promise not to kill me?

Lucifer: I said I would take care of it. Just what do you take me for?

Annelie: You won’t like my answer. 

Lucifer: Enlighten me. 

Annelie: No. 

Lucifer: Oh?

Annelie: Keep in mind that if you smack me, Diavolo’s watching. 

Diavolo: I’m glad to see you’re getting along already. 

Wait, is that what he really thinks is going on here?

Diavolo: In any case, if your living arrangements were all that you were concerned about, then I believe there is a place open in the House of Lamentation for you. 

Lucifer: ...

Annelie: What’s that look for?

Diavolo: ?

Lucifer glances at Diavolo and shakes his head. 

Lucifer: No, it’s nothing. Nothing important.

Diavolo: Wonderful. Then, since we’ve concluded our meeting, would you like to head home together? 

Annelie: He lives there too?

Lucifer: Yes, I do. So do my brothers. 

Annelie: Are there... any other girls?

Lucifer: No. Why?

Annelie: No reason. No reason. 

You don’t need to bore holes into my head with your eyes, Lucifer. 

Annelie and Lucifer depart, passing Barbatos by the door as they do so. 

Barbatos: Be careful on your way. 

Annelie: Hm? Er, yeah. Sure. Thank you. 

Somehow, for some reason, I have the feeling he isn’t talking about the trip to the House of Lamentation. Those green eyes... what do they see?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #exchange program #fanfiction #writing #self indulgence #LuciAnne

[memyselfandi2008-blog]

Just a Coffee

(A/N): First of all, before anyone asks, yes, this is extremely self indulgent. Second off, I mostly wrote this to somewhat explore Lindsay and Chris’ dynamic. Also, I might continue this? Probably not, but we’ll see if I’m motivated at all.

Paring(s): Lindsay & Chris McLean

Word Count: 1,191

Summary: Chris hadn't intended to get his own coffee, but one messed up order and one fired intern later, he found himself standing outside the coffee shop a few blocks away.

"Unbelievable," Chris grumbled under his breath, tossing the still warm latte into the nearest trash can, "How hard could it possibly be to get my order right? I even wrote it down for them!" he ranted to no one in particular. That was the fifth time, within two weeks, that someone had gotten his order wrong. Could you really blame him for getting frustrated?

Chef couldn't help but roll his eyes at the TV host, briefly recalling the memory of Chris barking out his order, while the intern frantically wrote it out on a piece of paper, "If you're really that upset about the whole thing, why don't you just get your own fancy shmancy drink?" he proposed, meeting Chris' bewildered stare.

"Get… my own… latte?"

It was as if the thought hadn't even crossed his mind—which it hadn't. Why would he bother with such a trivial thing when he had better things to do, like literally anything else?

Chef nodded, "There's a coffee place nearby," he gestured towards the exit of the building, "So it's not like you'll be walking far."

Chris hummed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he thought over his options. He'd lose the joys of firing any intern who messed up his order, but he'd also finally get his coffee just the way he liked it. Making people suffer, or his own wants and needs…

Wait, why was this even a dilemma?

"You know what? I think I will get my own coffee from now on," he crossed his arms and grinned, a satisfied look on his face, "Man, I can't believe I didn't think of that sooner."

Chef sighed heavily, shaking his head in mild annoyance as he watched Chris head out of the building. It was times like these, some small part of him missed being in the Army.

———

It was a cozy little building with a chalkboard sign sitting just outside the door, listing off the day's specials in different colors. Several plants were intricately placed on the windowsill, causing a sense of unease to settle in Chris' stomach. Anything that looked that cheerful must have something wrong with it, if he was going off of his prime example (himself).

Nevertheless, he still needed his coffee, and the only way he'd get it is through that door. Letting out a long sigh, he entered the building, causing a faint ding to fill the quiet room.

"Hello!" a cheerful blond greeted him from behind the counter, "Welcome to…" she seemed to trail off, gaze shifting down as she tapped her chin in thought, muttering quietly to herself.

Chris raised an eyebrow, the faintest of smirks pulling at his face. Did she... forget the name of the café?

"Um… hm… welcome to…" she squinted at her surroundings, gaze searching for where she might find an answer. After a minute, she smiled, eyes going wide, "Oh! Welcome to Brew-ti-ful Coffee and Bakery!" she grinned, meeting Chris' stare, "What can I get you today?"

His eyes skimmed over the baked goods on display, unable to keep the smirk off his face, "Looks like the pastries aren't the only thing here that's brew-ti-ful," he hummed, giving the barista a quick once over as he leaned against the counter.

"Well, duh," she crossed her arms, still smiling, "The coffee is too! That's why it's part of the name."

A small, almost breathless, laugh escaped Chris before he had the chance to stop it, "Well, nothing gets by you, now does it?" he turned his focus to the menu, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the counter. There were so many options to choose from, and so little time to pick. He did still have a show to host, after all.

And yet, some part of him felt the need to take his time. The world did revolve around him, all things considered.

"What would you recommend, Lindsay?"

She gasped, "How did you know my name?" she asked, an excited glint in her eyes, "Are you, like, psychic or something? Oh, oh! Can you read minds?" she frantically asked, bouncing up and down at the thought, "What number am I thinking of?"

There was a shift in his stomach and, once again, a laugh broke out of him, "Actually…" he admitted, gesturing to the tag on her apron, "I just read your name tag."

Her face fell into confused disappointment, "So, you're not psychic?"

"I'm not, but I think you might be," Chris was still smiling, still bidding time, still ignoring the feeling that had settled in his chest, "You spend so much time in my mind, I should charge you rent."

Lindsay tilted her head to the side, "Do I? How much do you need?" her voice seemed to grow quiet as she spoke, digging through her wallet, "I mean, I've only got a little money, cause Heather used most of it to buy her lunch, but—"

Without hesitating, Chris quickly interrupted her, listing off his order at record speed, in an attempt to drop the previous remark before it got too out of hand. Lindsay carefully pinned it into the register, nodding her head to show she was listening, her wallet having been placed back in her pocket.

"What's the name?" she asked, sharpie and cup in hand, staring at him expectantly.

Despite himself, Chris let a beat of silence pass between them as he glanced around the very empty building before turning back to Lindsay, "Chris."

She hummed, writing down the name, then turning to work on the order. Chris watched as she briefly struggled with getting the drink put together, knocking over various items in an attempt to get what she needed.

"This your first day?" he couldn't help but ask, trying to bite back the amusement in his voice.

"Nope!" Lindsay replied cheerfully, "I've been working here since summer break started."

"Really?" he blinked in surprise. She had been working here for almost four weeks and she still had trouble remembering the name of the place?

"Yep!" she turned towards him, holding out the paper cup, "Here you go!"

He took the drink carefully, "Right, well, it was nice talking with you."

Chris nearly froze at the statement, but tried not to let his shock show on his face, waving goodbye as he left. He never liked talking to anyone, save for a very select few.

"Bye! Come again, soon!" Lindsay called after him, returning his wave as the door's bell chimed once again to indicate Chris' departure.

It felt funny, the whole thing. He was sure Chef would get a laugh out of it, at the very least. A sigh escaped him as he looked down at the drink, hesitant to even try it, with how much of a mess she made putting it together. Though, all that hesitation seemed to vanish when the name she had written on the cup caught his attention.

Chip.

"Huh…" he smiled gently, taking a drink as he started his walk back to his studio. Almost surprisingly, she actually got his order right. Definitely surprisingly, he silently decided he'd go back there again.

#total drama island #tdi #total drama island au #alternate universe #chris mclean #tdi lindsay #platonic chrindsay #chrindsay #flirting #oneshot #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on ff.net #scheduled

[lightvsdark18]

Alice tucked Grim into bed and slowly closed the door, heading downstairs to refill her water bottle and place it in the fridge for the next day. She held a plastic water bottle to drink in her room when she faintly saw green lights through the windows on the front doors.

What is Firefly doing out this late?

She approached the door and swung it open to see the black haired, horned figure on the front yard wearing a starry robe.

"Firefly," she called, "what brings you here?"

"Child of man, good evening. I wished to pay you a visit before the night ends."

She closed the door behind her and walked over to him. "So, what are you wearing that robe?"

"It's the attire the third years wear on their birthday."

Birthday?

"It's your birthday?" He nodded which made the young woman a bit sad.

"My apologies for not inviting you. I wished for you to join, however, my worries of how you would react if you heard my name stopped me. But I do not desire to leave you out completely."

He presented a plastic container in front of himself. "They are food from my home, Briar Valley, my dorm members made for my party. May we enjoy them together?"

"Yes, come inside." She turned back to the old dorm and gestured for him to follow. She led him to the lounge and requested him stay quiet for the cat is asleep. He chucked and promised, placing the container on the coffee table and peeling off the lid carefully.

She ran to the kitchen to grab plates and another water before sitting beside him on the sofa. The two talked and ate the treats he brought, enjoying each other's company and retelling stories of their home.

His gaze turned curious and focus as she stopped talking to drink some water for her dry throat. "There's something I might ask you." She looked up and gestured for him to ask.

"I heard rumors of you about you facing an overblot during the break, blackmailing Crowley to letting you stay in the school."

He slightly smirked at the blackmail part, then frown as he asked the hard-hitting question. "Being from another world... I originally brushed that specific rumor off, but it has been stuck in my mind for awhile now. Tell me, are you from a different world?"

Her heart sank at those words. "Yes, I am."

His eyes widened slightly, then looked away and touched his chin. "How interesting." His gaze turned back to her. "And how did you arrive to this world?"

"I don't know." She faced the fireplace. "I woke up in the coffin, or gateway, and that's it. I don't know how I got here or why I'm here. I can't even remember what I was doing before waking up in your world. But I do remember it was raining and I was running in the dark, but that's it."

He held his chin in thought. "Is that why you weren't scared?"

"Hm? What did you say?"

"Have you been looking for a way to return home?"

"Well, Crowley is apparently looking into it for me, but I'm not holding my breath."

He studied her face, trying to read her expression. Sad? Tired? Angry? He was unsure on what she was feeling.

He took her hand between them and lifted it up to his lips. "Since you are new to this world, I would gladly teach you everything I know of my world if you wish."

He softly kissed her hand and a bit of a blush colored her cheeks. "I, appreciate the thought. Thank you."

He smiled at her. "I must go. My retainers are probably looking for me."

"Oh, okay."

The two stood up and walked towards the doors where he opened it and glanced back to wish her a good night. However, she stopped him and asked him to wait for a second, running up the stairs and down the hallway to her room.

She had been working on a painting since getting those art supplies from the mystery bag. She picked up the finished painting and quickly went searching a white paint pen to draw her symbol, then raced back downstairs.

She breathed heavily and presented the art work to him. "Happy birthday, Firefly."

A small painting of a starry sky greeted him. He smiled and took it into his hands. "Thank you, I will treasure it."

He walked out into the cold air as she stood in the doorway, waving towards him and wishing him a good night.

"Sweet dreams."

The door closed, her shadow disappearing from the window as he walked away. However, at getting onto the path to the Hall of Mirrors, he stopped and turned back to the dorm. The wind blew through and carried his long black hair, gripping the art work to his chest and smiling as his heart felt at ease.

"You're a charming woman, Katelynn."

#excuse me as i die from sweetness from the ending #twisted wonderland #alice #malleus draconia #written work #stories