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valorums · 5 months

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RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC TAGS

╰──➢ ⠀the crowning jewel of the republic ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑽𝑰𝑺𝑼𝑨𝑳𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀songbird trapped in a gilded cage⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀all i ask of you⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑩𝑶𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑷𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀wishing you were somehow here again⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑩𝑶𝑿 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀this is the queue of no return⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑼𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀far too many notes for my taste ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑺𝑪𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑬𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀why have you brought me here? ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑫𝑨𝑺𝑯𝑩𝑶𝑨𝑹𝑫 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬

╰──➢ ⠀it’s over now; the music of the night ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑯𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑫

╰──➢ ⠀a hot mess inside a dumpster fire inside a trainwreck ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹

╰──➢ ⠀gaslight. gatekeep. girlboss. ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲

╰──➢ ⠀we’ll go from there ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑪 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀i make my own sunshine ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺

╰──➢ ⠀press conferences with secretary valorum⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀ 𝑷𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑰𝑻𝒀

╰──➢ ⠀some things never change ⠀⠀ ✧ ⠀⠀𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / dooku’s protégé ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀even the shadows are worthy of love ⠀⠀—⠀⠀fallesto

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / house serenno’s lost heiress ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀once upon a december ⠀⠀—⠀⠀fallesto

( 𝑬𝑿𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / prophetic and dyadic ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the redeemer and her chosen one ⠀⠀—⠀⠀forcenexus

( 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / force sensitive ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀force suppressed⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / modern ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀first daughter of the united states⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon divergent

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / the phantom menace ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀first daughter of the galactic republic⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / the clone wars ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the republic’s greatest hope⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / rise of the empire ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀architect of the republic’s demise⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / rebellion sympathizer ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀the twice condemned traitor⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

( 𝑴𝑨𝑰𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 / resistance general ) ⠀⠀ ଽ ⠀⠀never underestimate the elderly⠀⠀—⠀⠀canon compliant

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wispisstillverybored67 · 7 months

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"You'd like this character if she was a man" No, you'd hate her even more if she were a man.

#this logic is so boring. begone with it #wisp rambles #queue in wonderland #you never actually see anyone who'd act like that #and the thing is. between certain characters. there's a difference in the writings. that provide a different viewpoint of the characters #this wasn't even supposed to turn into a dangan-rant. nor was this supposed to sound all mental-gymnastics-y #but hear me out for a second #togami and hiyoko. two dickish rich blondes #both have suffered #mostly in her case. but yeah #and you're meant to sympathize with her. but it only comes up with at the end of her supports +maybe with mahiru bringing out a nicer side #while even if you know that togami's had it relatively rough. with what his family problems.#you're also pointing out that he's still a rich asshole. like. issues or not #and i love hiyoko. don't get it twisted #this sounds so stupid. i'm sorry #but i've seen this logic more times then i can count with her and other characters and i'm sick of it

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kismetconstellations · 2 years

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Zac Efron in That Awkward Moment for @efron-the-saxophone

#Zac Efron #The light of my life.#The love of my life.#This asshole.#That Awkward Moment #Mine.#This is the one film where I think Zac gives a confused and lackluster performance.#It doesn't help that his character is a massive douchecanoe who is incredibly difficult to sympathize with or root for.#Damned if he isn't stupidly cute #though.#All I want is to fly with queue.

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dearlyarchived · 2 years

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“ to take, to be taken from, it's heartrending. ”

@lestoria, for ventus. ♡ * super star spectacle.

#hehe.... namiven sympathizing over heart issues #lestoria #queue.#* ♡ . naminé. » born from the sound of waves.

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thevalicemultiverse · 2 years

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"I don't know. Watching the news these last few days leaves me feeling so ineffectual and helpless. I just ... Is it just me, or did a small child just run off with our silverware?" "Well, one must make space in one's world for the immediate."

"Matilda! I'm sorry about this," Victor says quickly to the couple before continuing to chase after his child. "Matilda, we do not take utensils that aren't ours!"

#~M: I want some questions! now! (ask)#~M: grin without a cat (anon)#~V: Cuddlepile #~T: Welcome To PTA Hell #small child and silverware vs the news #~C: Victor Van Dort #((I sympathize person who hates watching the news #it's just uuuuugh so much these days #but I don't have any small children stealing my forks to distract me))#~M: with this hand I will lift your queue

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proselfship-imagine-hub · 4 months

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💛PINNED POST💛

WHAT THIS SIDE BLOG IS ABOUT:

this is a sideblog is dedicated to making and sharing original selfship content made by and for proshippers and proship safe people

stolen, reclaimed, borrowed, etcetera posts and submissions will not be hosted on this blog. i hold no ill will to anyone who steals, reclaims, etcetera posts from antis, nor do i have any wish for them to be shamed or stopped, but as stated above, this blog is solely for original posts

if a post or submission is inspired by an anti's post, then that is different because it transforms the idea and makes it into something new with a personal twist

this blog will cover a lot of different kind of selfship stuff, from imagines to polls, questions, ask games, reblog games, memes, art and craft ideas, and more

this blog will also cover a range of different types of F/O relationships, from romantic, platonic, familiar, shipcest, and darkship

requests are ALWAYS open by the way!! it may take me a while to get around to them, but i promise i will. i love getting requests, i'm just chronically tired lol

also, in order to avoid being nuked, this account will is SFW only

QUEUE INFO:

posts queued: 28

posting speed: 15 per day

posting times: 7:00 AM — 9:00 PM Pacific Daylight Time (GMT-7)

last queue shuffle: 4/17/23, 1:30 AM

info updated: 4/19/23, 11:00 PM

ABOUT ME:

you can find my main blog @littlefaeella, my selfship banners and userboxes blog @proselfship-banners-n-boxes, or my personal selfship sideblog @ella-the-og-normalshipper

the character in my profile picture and banners is my sona, sticky note the sticky note, she is the host of this blog as far as i'm concerned lol XP

also, i don't check blogs before i reblogged from them unless i have any amount of doubt that are proship or proship safe, and considering i reblog from the tags... please don't assume that i do or do not support something just because i reblogged from someone who does or does support something

PEOPLE WHO I WILL BLOCK:

antis "cosang", "radqueer"/prats and other supporters of abusive relationships in real life, racists, and lgbt-phobic people pedophiles, zoophiles, necrophiles (big 3) along with any other unconsentual paraphiles and ANYONE who sympathizes, supports, or are neutral about them about them being "pro contact" (a.k.a pro rape and molestation)

ANYONE who thinks unconsentual paraphilias are just "different" and quirky silly attractions and not something to be taken/talked about seriously 100% of the time poppyblr/pro underage RPF people who make/engage with RPF in general. while i won't argue for the censorship of RPF because i don't believe in censorship, i do not want to interact with ANYONE who dehumanizes real people and puts them on the same level as character and decides they don't deserve to be treated with dignity and respect and can be used like they're just a character (a.k.a an object) for personal gratification anybody who tells people to kill themselves, they deserve to die, deserve to be hurt, doxxed, harassed, etcetera

TAGS (under cut due to length, encouraged to look over them if you have any squicks, icks, or triggers):

IMAGINES

original imagine

reblogged imagine

submitted imagine

requested imagine

romantic imagine

platonic imagine

familiar imagine

shipcest imagine

darkship imagine

nonspecific relationship imagine

F/Os (disclaimer, child, parent, sibling, and extended family are all inherently familiar and non shipcest or romantic tags unless specified otherwise)

villain f/o

hero f/o

sidekick f/o

yandere f/o

darling f/o

monster f/o

non or beyond human f/o

royal f/o

knight f/o

parent f/o

child f/o

sibling f/o

extended family f/o

OTHER SELFSHIP STUFF

non imagine

original non imagine

reblogged non imagine

submitted non imagine

requested non imagine

selfship ask game

selfship reblog game

selfship arts and crafts

selfship bonding activities

selfship poll

selfship questions

selfship positivity

selfship meme

selfship promo

selfship banners

OTHER STUFF (GENERAL AND CW/TW)

sticky note stuff

sticky note speaks

banner and pnj masterpost

banner and pnj masterpost reblog

ask box

askbox

blog update

cw rude dni

rude dni

cw hostile dni

hostile dni

#pinned post #proselfship #proship selfship #proship safe #self ship #imagine your f/o #imagine #imagines #proship please interact #antis do not interact #antis dni

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copperbadge · 4 months

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ADHD anon here (by the way, i'm not that young, i'm just not in a position to leave). thank you very much for your very clear, very thought out response. i will try to follow your advice, although i think, for her sake, i'll still insist on her reading up on the subject. maybe she'll do it eventually? i think it would help her if she understood more about it than just "ADHD=bad" and "nothing can be done about my problems", which seems to be her idea.

i would just like to mention that she's never, like, forgotten meals or to cook for us or anything. outwardly she's always -seemed- very organised and put together (well. screaming at the drop of a hat aside), which is why it took until now, when it got worse, for her to be diagnosed, i think.

again, thank you very much. you gave me a lot to think about, and a useful-looking resource, too.

I mean, I certainly wish you luck of trying -- for one, I genuinely hope your mother is able to see that she's harming you and put a stop to it. If I were in your place and wanted to still try and effect change, I will say I would put emphasis on finding a doctor willing to try medication and giving it a shot (look for psychiatrists who specialize in medication management and adult ADHD). It really has been a life changer for me and other late-life diagnosis people I've spoken to.

I'm glad to hear your physical needs are met; one of the things I was concerned about was that impulsivity and lack of emotional regulation can make people do very risky things with their own lives and those around them as well. It's still very wrong of her to treat you as she does, but I don't discount the value of bare-minimum physical safety.

I hope you do take to heart that this isn't your fault and that even if you can't leave, there are buffers you can put into place. (Sorry about the assumption of youth -- I did wonder if I was going a little hard on that in the response.) I sympathize with not being able to leave.

In any case, I hope the diagnosis leads to only good things for both you and her! And clearly the readership here is pulling for you, so you have people wishing for a strong outcome.

Normally I might wait or queue the response but this is context people may wish to have if commenting on the earlier post, so I thought it best to get it out there sooner rather than later.

#toxic family #sam has adhd

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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Am I the asshole for snapping at my friend because I forgot her birthday

This happened a few days ago. We’ve (both turned 24f) been friends since college. My friend never remembers my birthday even when I give a heads up (I usually I mention it a few days in advance and a “tomorrow is my birthday”). She’ll only remember when I tell her or when another friend comes and says it. I don’t really do a lot in my birthday (I usually wait until a weekend when we can find time to do something cuz work is a bitch but sometimes we’ll just do a quick happy birthday and leave it at that). She doesn’t really do anything either other than to say happy birthday. As far as I know she has no memory problems.

I usually always remember her birthday and give her a call and a small present, usually a small box of chocolates. But last year I forgot because I had something that took a lot of my time that day. I didn’t remember until the late afternoon and sent her a quick apology and wished her a happy birthday which she gave a nice reaction to.

Come this year. Her birthday is on the weekend she’s throwing a small party for with a few friends, her parents, and her sisters. I show up and give wish her well and give her her present and she says “wow you remembered this year.” That put me off but I didn’t want to start the party by pushing it so I let it go.

We’re having a good time and hanging out but I notice my friends is a bit cold to me. She doesn’t talk to me directly and her actions felt a bit curt. I asked my other friends but they didn’t notice and I was beginning to think what she said earlier is just tainting how she acts to me right now. Later I see her by herself smoking in the back porch and I decide to go out and ask her. Since we’re outside and the music inside is loud I figured no one will hear us if it is something going on. We also try to be open with each other. So I ask her about what she said when I gave her the present.

She says her birthday means a lot to her and even though she said she was okay with me forgetting last year she realized it hurt her feelings more than she thought so it’s affecting her right now. I was mad because she’s acting like I didn’t say anything to her last year.

I told her I was sorry I hurt her feelings but I only forgot once while she has been forgetting mine for years (she completely forgot this year and didn’t even send a text). I also told her she never remembers anyone else’s birthdays unless they were around hers and she should learn to get over herself when a friend makes a small mistake because holding on to something as petty as that when it was only one time was really childish and bitchy.

I leave and our other friends don’t know why. I just tell them I needed to go home. I cooled down a bit later and apologized to the other friends at the party through a group chat without my friend and explained why I left. They sympathized with me but also said “that’s just how she is.” While I do plan to apologize to my friend too I also wanted to let her know that it wasn’t fair for her to be passive aggressive towards me when she herself doesn’t even do the bare minimum for what she wants. But at the same time it’s just a birthday and I feel like I’ll be a hypocrite for being so mad about it

Generally speaking, I don't mind pasting bits of info like this as long as they follow immediately and I don't have to dig through my queue to add them

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thesongmachine · 2 months

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Hello can you pls write a korekiyo shinguji x trans male reader if that's alright. Gender neutral reader is alright to

Omg yess I love the idea of this! I'll make the reader trans >o<

Korekiyo Shinguji x Trans! Male! Reader

When you both first met he sensed that there was something about you that you were somewhat "hiding" from him.

When you become friends -close enough ones at that- you finally feel comfortable with telling him.

His initial reaction was not what you'd expect, he didn't mind and honestly didn't believe you at first. He actually thought you were biologically a male.

"Okay... Uhm Kork, I'm transgender. I know it seems weird, please don't think of me any-" before you could finish he cut you off.

"No your not." He says straightforward.

You look at him confused. "I- Yes I am?" You stutter out. "No, you were born a male..? Not a female, you must be hallucinating dear." He says placing a gloved hand over your forehead checking your wellbeing.

You didn't know whether to be happy or confused.

He is surprisingly supportive- he actually makes you feel as if you are biologically a guy.

When he gives you these random reminders you can't help but smile and just appreciated him for being so supportive and always there for you.

"Oh my... You are just the most handsomest man ever... I adore you dear..." He says looking at you lovingly.

Queue you standing there smiling like this 👇

He makes you feel special ♥

He tries to make sure your in good condition, whether it be taking off your binder, taking your shots, ect.

But sometimes he is so focused on whatever he is doing like his studies, he may forget.. :(

He tries to remind you but sometimes he forgets so you also gotta put in the efforts of remind yourself!! 💪

He will 1000% get you anything you need though. Tell him and he's got it.

Oh? You need a new binder??? It got here a week ago, don't worry. You need your testosterone to be refilled? He's already on his way.

If you ever get body dysmorphia or you go in a little funk about your gender hear me out... HE IS THERE FOR YOU!!!

"Dearest... what has gotten you so upset.. you know I hate seeing you like this..." He says softly, removing his mask and places a soft kiss to your face.

He encases his arms around you a d holds you there as he listens to you vent.

He honestly is a great listener, he will speak when he needs to of course, but he just sits there and let's you vent.

He listens to every word and remembered every detail for future reference.

He sympathizes dearly for you and sometimes he wishes he could take away all your negative thoughts.

He sadly can't but always tries his absolute best to.

He tried to his best to be a great boyfriend and honestly he is!!

But if you ever need him to stop doing something or even do something then of course he will, anything for you!!

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 x reader #korekiyo shinguji #danganronpa korekiyo #drv3 korekiyo #korekiyo shinguji x reader #x reader #fanfiction

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cornerstoreclown · 1 year

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Leashed

Summary: This is a short one-shot (3563 words approx.) where the reader (Gender Neutral) has Art on a leash and is riding him. It’s all fun and games here! The reader is AFAB, but their specific sexual bits below the belt are not mentioned in this fic by name. In addition, the reader’s chest is not elaborated on if they have breasts or not. Just wanted to give a heads up as to what is in this so people who sit down and read it know what to expect so that they can assess if this is something they’d like to crack open or not. :)

Warnings/Contents: Light BSDM because Art’s on a leash, some fluff, sex, some... LIGHT ROMANCE?!

Author’s notes: I realize Art’s suit has a zipper in the back and for the sake of this one-shot, he’s got a slightly different costume going on. Because you know what? We deserve clothed sex. And I fully intend on doing more of it in the future. It’s MY kink, and I’m driving this car! This fic really let me write Art a little gentler in comparison to the more intense BDSM one I had initially published. If this one doesn’t speak to you, I’m doing a gender neutral blowjob next. And if you don’t like that, then... I got other stuff still on my queue! It’ll take a little time though, I’m taking a small break after this to recharge.

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You have to admit, Art looked good with a collar and chain leash—just as good as the new costume you got him in. He couldn’t keep wearing the same clown suit over and over again. The new one looks similar to the one he already had, only it came in two pieces versus one. You managed to convince him that he’d need to eventually switch it out every so often. He didn’t have to wear this one as much if he didn’t want to, but at least preserve the original as much as he can. It still had the pom-poms, still had the colors split down the middle and on his sleeves, he still had his cap, hat, and gloves. Same shoes, too. He even has the ruffle around his neck on this one. Art was just a creature of habit, and you understood, you were too and sympathized, but still stressed the importance of having a backup costume.

At least with this outfit, he had pants, which was part of the reason why you were so excited that he finally yielded to the idea. It was so funny, he was pushy for when he wanted something from you, but wasn’t necessarily a fan of when the tables were turned on him. Hypocrite. You’ve pointed that out but he’s only shrugged it off or given you a dismissive wave. He didn’t want to hear it. Never did.

He didn’t have his pants all the way on anyway, it was pulled down just enough to expose his dick. You lack any pants or undergarments yourself, only adorning a plain sweater while you keep his cock between your thighs to keep him warm. He’s partially firm, and you’re sitting atop him. Nothing more, nothing less. It is taking a lot of self control on your part to not just slide him in yourself, but that was part of foreplay, wasn’t it?

“How are you doing? Okay so far?”

Art’s under you, glancing up at you as you’ve got the leash wrapped around your forearm multiple times. You’re not tugging on it too tightly right now. Not yet, anyway. Art’s smile is wide, eagerly nodding his head. He looks quite pleased to be in the position he’s in, and it makes sense. He enjoyed being able to sit back while someone else did all the work. And you are his favorite.

“Good.” You purse your lips and try to fight your lips from turning upward into a grin, but fail. Art looks… cute like this. He looks happy. Giddy, even, moving his head side to side a little while waiting. It’s a little jarring how someone so dangerous is so… innocent in behavior right now.

For as long as you’ve both been together, he’s never once shown signs of wavering interest. Existing was a chore, and no matter what changes to your body you would go through the day to day experiences, whether it be an accidental scar, the change of your hair, any bruises, tattoos, piercings, body shape change, muscle gain or loss, weight gain or loss, and just about anything else you could possibly think of—he was there for you, with you, unrelenting just as he was with his terrorizing humanity every October. To him, you were the epitome of all that he could want, all that he could ask for, and you were wonderful the way you were. You are loyal. You care for him and about him. For a man who sliced people up for fun, he adored the person who inhabited the form you hold. He didn’t have room to judge, anyway. Not that he would. Perhaps that was just another thing you really like about him–he was fairly unbiased.

The bed was comfortable. It was your bed, after all. You weren’t going back to his place, wherever the fuck that was this year. He moves around all the time to keep people off his tail, so it makes sense. However, you liked the comfort of your own space anyway.

“Up.” You tell him, giving a tug on the leash, yanking it back. You’re leaning forward until he props himself up halfway with his elbows, and when the both of you meet, your faces are inches away from each other.

He’s a good listener, you’ll give him that.

His lips are parted, no smile nor frown present as he waits in anticipation for your next move, and you stare into those mesmerizing eyes of his. He’s got the same half lidded gaze as you right now. Up close, he smells distinctly like … a kind of burnt spice, and smoke. Especially smoke. The man often smells like he’s been standing in a firepit half the time when he wasn’t smelling like death itself. It was usually one or the other.

What is he thinking? What goes on behind those eyes of his? You’ll never know. But it’s surreal knowing that you’re this close to a murderer, a man who has killed countless people, possessing such supernatural powers and yet viciously slaughtering them through human means. He could choke you right now. It’d be easy. He could use the leash you are holding and wrap it around your neck and squeeze so hard until your head would feel like it’d pop clean off.

What does he see in you? You don’t know. But you’re not going to question it. Instead, you give into what drives you, and bring your lips to his and close your eyes. You tilt your head a bit because of his nose, and you feel the hot exhale of your breath hit his face and bounce off of him, back onto you. His taste is bitter, and you’re well aware how many would throw up at the thought of kissing this man, but you weren’t like other people. You’re a little fucked up in the head, kind of like Art, but not as severe. That’s why kissing him didn’t bother you, and that’s probably why, now that you think about it, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you. Being nice didn’t solely get you places with Art, you had to have an edge or something for him to bounce off of, and you were rubbery enough in the personality department for him.

His tongue pushes past your lips and you let him, kissing him passionately as you relax and you feel your body temperature rise. He’s exhaling through his nose too, but the heat that hits your face from him is far more intense than yours was earlier, and you start to realize that the reason your body is heating up as fast as it is, is because Art is a furnace. Heat is radiating from him in such a way that you could swear that he’s almost running a light fever, yet he’s not the slightest bit sickly seeming, if you exclude his mental state. He can’t be just a man. He’s some sort of demon, or a demon that’s inhabiting the body of a man, you’re convinced of it. But whatever otherworldly force is within him, you’re getting a taste of it, and it’s potent, and it’s addictive. He’s addictive.

You’re already feeling that familiar wetness between your thighs grow, the gentle throb impossible to ignore. You caress the side of his face mid kiss, and hold onto it still when you pull away, slowly opening your eyes. He didn’t bite your lip this time. He liked to do that a lot. You did tell him you were in charge tonight. He must be committed to being on his best behavior. He was good at roleplay and it made sense–he’s a clown, after all. A performer at heart.

He leans into your touch and you see it in his eyes–that flicker of contentment. Had you blinked, you’d have missed it. You’re not sure if he’s capable of feeling love, but if he were, what you saw would make you believe so.

“You’re being a good boy so far,” You tell him.

He now holds his head high, looking pleased with the praise. You stroke his cheek one last time, then place your hand on his chest, and rest it there. You’re not sure if it’s because of his clothes that are in the way or what, but you take note that you don’t feel his heartbeat. Did he even really have one? You’re not sure, but all the times you have checked in the past, you don’t really remember sending anything. It’s hard to tell if who is beneath you is a man or some sort of entity, but the mystery is and has always been the appeal.

You give him another kiss, savoring the bitterness one more time before using the hand on his chest to push him down flat on his back roughly. Art goes willingly, giving a corrupt grin as he watches you through half lidded eyes. You think for a second he looks a little enamored with you.

And why wouldn’t he be? He finds you attractive and hasn’t shied away from making that explicitly clear in the past. Even during the days you didn’t personally think so, he thought so. He adores you alive as you are now, or even potentially dead in his hands by those homicidal itches that often would leave him daydreaming about breaking your limbs, tearing you to shreds with his own teeth like the animal that he was.

He’s also made certain that you do not forget that he’s a predator, and you’ve only gotten this far because he’s allowed it. Right now, he might be yours, but outside of this roleplay, you’re his. Even in this moment, this dominance is in service to him. For him. It’s what he wanted just as much as you did.

You keep one hand on him for balance as you sit upright.

The way that he watches you seems to have an air of hunger to it, and you aren’t sure if it’s literal or figurative, but you know you like the danger. Swallowing the dry lump in the back of your throat, you gently unwrap the leash off your forearm and set it to the side of you as you lift up the front of your sweatshirt, feeling the cool air hit your bare chest. The contrast between the warmth of your body and the chilly air as fall has set in gives you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard and the hair on your arms stand up. You haven’t even gotten the sweatshirt over your head entirely when you sense Art’s hand moving towards you, no doubt for the other end of the leash, and you can hear the chain jingle when he makes contact with it.

“Hey.” You say, and it’s in the tone of a warning. You feel Art’s hand retreat at that once he realizes he’s been caught. When you finally pull your sweater over your head, you toss it off to the side off the bed, where it hits the floor. You take hold of the lead again, wrapping it repeatedly around just your wrist this time. He thought he was being slick and now he’s showing off his impish grin from what he had just attempted.

“Nice try.”

Art extends his hands out now, wiggling his fingers at first in a pretty humorous way before hoping to make contact with you. You take both hands, guiding them to your waist. His nails scrape against your flesh as they drag up and down your sides. Slowly you move your hips, feeling his cock between your legs, using him as a means to stimulate yourself. You empty your lungs in one breath and fill them fully the next, glancing down at him as he’s watching you move atop him. His hands travel upwards to your chest, then back down to your waist, where he gives a squeeze and you give a gentle yelp in response. It was a little rough, but you didn’t mind it. He’s handsy, always has been. And he seems to find your reaction amusing, given his expression right now.

“Funny.” You tell him. His teeth are somewhat visible as he’s having a silent giggle to himself, the wrinkles present at the corner of his eyes from his smile. He really does think he’s hilarious.

The constant contact without penetration leaves you aching and empty, and you can feel the pulse of his cock between your thighs. He wants you just as bad as you want him. And whether by psychic connection or general understanding of being around him long enough, you can sense the slow rising impatience coming from Art. With that in mind, you’re very willing to oblige him with his needs as much as your own. Keeping him entertained was key. No matter how close the both of you were and how you think he might love you, you’re not willing to test how deep that theoretical love runs. That’s a life or death matter you’re not really wanting to explore.

Taking a moment to adjust yourself, you lift yourself just enough so that you can line yourself up on his now erect cock. You lower yourself down on the head, and you hold your breath as you slowly sink down on his entire length, taking him fairly easily, but only because this isn’t your first rodeo with this clown. He feels great inside you, despite being a little big, but you’ve since learned how to take him proper. You were sized for him now. The girth and the way that he stretches you out is what makes you melt each time, and this time was no different. You remember seeing how big he was the first time and not being sure if you could even take it.

“There.” You say, and you see how his eyes have since closed, smile gone, looking a little lost in the feeling of your warmth around him. His jaw is a little slack. You were tight. He loved the way you felt just as you loved the way he did. You begin to move your hips once you think he’s adjusted, keeping a slow and steady pace that’s not too fast.

“Feels good?” You ask him, and he responds with a silent nod, opening his eyes to meet yours, teeth faintly showing in a weaker smile than before.

You lean forward over him a second time as you keep a rhythm, focused on the feeling of the fire slowly rising within you. Your stomach twists as if he’s got his own hand inside your guts when you make eye contact with him, and the feeling of infatuation you have for him is enough to make you physically sick. He’s getting harder, and you’re getting wetter.

You’re staring down at him, and he’s staring up at you, watching your lips and how they’re parted slightly. Slowly, his hand reaches for your face, and you allow that, too. You let his thumb that’s now pressing against your lips slide in your mouth. His finger presses down on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around the digit and sigh. He presses his hand against your face as you nurse his thumb, and he seems thoroughly enthralled by how you’re taking him so sweetly. The only sound you can hear is yourself bouncing on his cock, your own stifled moans, and the jingling of his leash.

Feeling a little devious, you give a playful nip to Art’s finger and let him have his hand back as you sit up again. Both of his hands return to his sides, meanwhile you plant one of yours down on his abdomen, the other bunching up the length of the leash around your wrist entirely so that there’s zero slack to the chain now. Your orgasm is close, and you’re determined to chase it until the very end. He’s since gotten bigger inside of you–he must be close too.

You’ve learned to read his body language over time. The frequency of your intimacy has allowed you to see parts of the Miles County Clown that others would dare never think about, save for the inevitable fucked up few like yourself. You knew how to read his expressions beyond the standard obvious ones that he so energetically emoted—you got him down to the micro expressions, keeping count of any and all ways that the muscles on his face moved, whether it be the twitch of his eye or the slight curve at the corner of his lips. You caught it all. Nothing escaped you. You were the Art Whisperer—a self proclaimed title you gave yourself.

Art looks pained, like he’s in physical agony, as if you’re hurting him. No way that he could ever look so hurt by a weapon in the way that he is now. His head is turned, teeth bared like a feral animal, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight. His hands are balled into fists and you can see the flare of his nostrils from how heavy he’s breathing, and the deep rise and fall of his chest. It’s all something to behold, seeing someone so powerful and evoking the fear of many, stealing the lives of many, succumbing to the most basic drives that bound all living creatures together. He’s vulnerable, and he trusts you to see him in this way as he lets pleasure consume him.

“Come for me.” You tell him—Command him, even, giving a yank of his chain, and it’s like a domino effect. Art arches his back a bit, jaw opening wider as you see his teeth, though only briefly for a second, look more like the canines of a beast, the demon beneath you at your mercy as he surrenders silently. You feel a little satisfaction in that, but it doesn’t get to live long. Seeing him in this way makes you recognize the familiar creeping sensation that ambushes you.

His climax triggers your own, and your eyes almost roll back while your toes curl as you feel light and detached from your body. Whatever connection you have with this plane is severed in these fleeting moments, and behind closed eyes you see it, briefly in flashes. Flames. An inferno of fire and contorted demonic forms without any distinct visual appearance, cascades of bodies, blood, and jagged rocks. One of the flames hovers over you, and before you’re able to react, it falls down upon you.

The flames crash into your chest with the force of an ocean wave, nearly knocking you over as it nestles in your core before deviating outwards to your spine to reach your toes and fingertips. For those few seconds, you feel like you’re on fire and sparks are flying everywhere. Oddly enough, it doesn’t hurt, but it does leave you feeling overheated one second, then frigid the next when it fades. Then, you’re brought back into yourself, back in your bedroom, overtop of your clown companion, feeling immediately spent.

Overwhelmed and delicate, you gently collapse overtop of Art, whose arms wrap around you protectively, keeping you from harm. The way he’s enveloped around you could be a bit concerning given how tight his grip is right now, and how he could crush you to death if he wanted, but for now, the security of his warm embrace is comforting. Gradually, your senses flitter back to you, and the images of what you saw during your climax lingers in your thoughts.

Was he the reason for those visions? You can only assume so.

As you shift a bit in his hold, you take notice of the warmth of his release and how he’s filled you quite generously. You can feel some of it already leaking out when you disconnect from him, which he allows by loosening up his hold on you, so you can lay over top of him properly to rest. When you’re in your preferred spot, his arms return around you. It’s a beautiful physical union you both have, and you’d have liked to keep it as long as possible, but sleep is calling your name, and she’s got the most seductive voice. You’d like to be as comfortable as possible when you greet her. You unwrap your hold of the lead while you’re at it.

“I love you,” You mumble tiredly, and you’ve told him this before, but it’s always been worth repeating. Though you don’t see his face as your head is nestled against his chest, you feel the way he’s now rubbing circles on your back, and can tell that he’s satiated just as much as you are.

Fatigue works its way over you, and you feel the world around you begin to fade away. Your muscles relax, as does your breathing, and you eventually slip into that delightful state of unconsciousness.

Even in your dreams, you cannot escape Art. He’s there with you amid a place full of flames and fire, and when you extend your hand out for him, you have nails like claws, perfect for tearing and shredding. When he smiles at you, you smile back at him. You watch him through red eyes. Your skin is white, pale like a corpse, and your face is painted up quite similar to his.

Both of you are donning black and white.

And as you sleep, you are positively beaming.

#art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #art the clown #terrifier #coulrophilia #slasher x you #slasher x reader #minors DNI #long post #I have stared at this fic for ... 4 hours. If there's any errors I'm just going to fix them tomorrow #I'm pressing post and running away because if I don't post it I never will #HRNNGHUGHHHHNNN #canon x reader

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oflostinfound · 2 months

Note

OOC: I apologize for bringing this up and I sympathize with everyone affected by Shiloh's behavior, though I have to ask if I can reblog the callout from you

I've seen some people in the Hazbin RP fandom interact with a couple of Shiloh's blogs, but I don't think they know it's the same person or what prompted Shiloh to queue those "I'm sorry, but I'm leaving Tumblr" posts every two hours on each of their blogs

Since everything happened in private messages and on a Discord server, it's news to us. But in the case of my mutuals who interacted with Shiloh, they definitely don't tolerate the behavior you and others have screenshots of

{ That's okay, for an ask asking to reblog I will make an exception in case people are curious:

Anyone is free to reblog the post as needed

That is all I will say }

#💚 || ask answered #alsrphub #⚜️ || ooc / ealinia #callout tw #drama tw #civic don't look

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partially-controlled-chaos · 4 months

Text

Simply Transactional pt. 2

Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav

Rating: M

Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, mentions of abuse/rape/violence

Summary: Astarion and Tav have an unexpected run-in one night in a clearing. After revealing part of her past, Tav realizes her relationship with Astarion might simply be a transactions for both parties. Pre-confession Astarion.

Both parts can be found Tumblr and on AO3! Part 1

Masterlist

“Oh, gods be damned.” Astarion thought to himself as he watched yet another companion occupy Tavriel’s time. It had been days since their spat in the woods and Astarion had yet to approach her to try and make amends. He needed to speak with her privately, away from prying eyes and ears of his campmates, but not a single opportune moment had presented itself to him since the argument. He knew he needed to act quickly. The more time he spent twiddling his thumbs about the situation, the worse the tension became and it was only a matter of time until Tavriel decided to pursue someone else; someone less manipulating.

Astarion stood outside his tent, absentmindedly scanning the pages of a book he had long lost interest in. He felt anxious, the book heavy in his hands as he silently hoped for the perfect moment to approach his favorite companion. His nails lightly scraped the binding of his book each time he glanced in her direction, only to see someone else talking with her. Yesterday it had been Karlach, the day before that it had been Wyll, and of course today it was Gale. Astarion couldn’t bring himself to think that anything the others were saying were nearly as important as what he had to say, but he bit his tongue and waited in the imaginary queue leading to Tavriel’s tent.

Ever since that night, Tavriel had done her best to avoid Astarion, unsure of what the next steps were. She was always volunteering to go out scouting to keep from milling around camp or, against her personal wishes, closing herself off in her tent to avoid everyone, particularly the vampire across camp. Tav didn’t like conflict, it was something she had done her best to avoid while she was under the thumb of her former master. She knew that conflict often resulted in pain and scarring, and this would be no different. Like Astarion, Tavriel stood in the threshold of her tent, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers as she tried her best to listen to Gale boast about his magical achievements. She couldn’t focus on the conversation at hand, however, her own mind wrapped about the one she would rather be having.

She was quick to anger the other night, reliving memories she had tried to forget brought out a streak of anger hidden well inside her, and she let that anger lash out at the one person who was realistically the most understanding about her pain. Astarion had suffered centuries of torture at the hands of a vampire lord and she knew that he, above anyone else, could sympathize with her. Not to mention that she had grown rather fond of her fanged companion. Despite his sultry facade and razor sharp tongue, Tavriel truly enjoyed his company. She had even found herself thinking more recently that she wouldn’t mind if they could be something more than what they were at the moment. If they could both take off their masks, end the transactional nature of their bond, and move towards something more genuine, then she thought that maybe they could both heal from their pasts. However, she decided that none of that would happen if she wouldn’t get moving and apologize for her outburst.

They had passed glances and perfected half-smiles to each other in the days since their argument. Each one always offering a morning greeting as they passed by the others tent, but never a normal conversation. Even the playful, flirting banter from Astarion had stopped since that night. He’d almost felt uneasy about whispering sweet words to her, now knowing what he knew about her past. Like himself, she had unresolved traumas and issues and he felt wrong for provoking. Although, the more time that passed, the more he couldn’t help but indulge in his own feelings of anger towards the elf. He had been manipulated by Tavriel just as he had done to her with the same motives. And this, as hypocritical as it may be, plucked away at his heart strings.

Astarion’s eyes flicked up from the pages of his book just in time to notice Tavriel’s gaze. She was almost staring a hole through him from across the camp, completely tuning out Gale’s nonstop babbling, but it was not a look filled with anger, as he had expected. Instead, she was conflicted; unsure if she should extend the first olive branch of peace in the situation. Their eyes met, neither daring to be the first to look away, waiting for the other to take the next step.

With a small sigh, Tavriel placed a hand on Gale’s arm, apologizing for having to cut the conversation short, and promised to get back with him as soon as possible. Gale took no offense as she side stepped him and made her way towards Astarion’s tent. Tavriel took a deep breath, silently grateful to step away from the wizard, but could also feel a sense of unease creep into her throat as she traversed the short distance across camp and finally came to rest next to Astarion.

“Darling!” Astarion loudly proclaimed with a smile as he tossed one hand in the air, “I was just thinking about you. About how we’ve had so little time to-”

“My offer still stands,” Tavriel bluntly cut him off, not intending to listen to his charades. She loosely crossed her arms across her midsection, mindlessly thumbing the buttons on her tunic sleeve.

“What?” Astarion’s brows came together, confusion rushing across his face. As usual, she had caught him off guard.

“My offer,” she repeated, “for you to feed from me. It still stands despite…this.” Tavriel waved a hand between them as she tried to form her words. An uneasy silence followed, neither party knowing what to do or say next.

“That’s very generous of you,” Astarion finally said, taken back by her offer, “I hadn’t expected you to be so kind after you very clearly stated how you felt about our little late night rendezvous. Unless, of course, you’re interested in something I can offer you in return.” Against his better judgement, Astarion was letting his festering anger come to the surface. For two centuries, he was used to taking advantage of others for his personal gain or survival. And even though these habits always left them with a knot in his throat and a sick feeling in his stomach when he was done, it was something he had grown accustomed to. But now, the tables had turned and he was the one being used. He hadn’t let his anger show much when they had their spat in the woods, but now, it was beginning to poke through. The fact that Tavriel was ready to go back to business as usual without so much as a thought towards them was enough set him off.

“Look,” Tav sighed, regretting her decision to strike up a conversation, “I know your hunts have been unsuccessful; the forests are empty of anything with a pulse. Hells, we’ve been living off beetroot and foliage for days now. You, on the other hand, have had nothing and I can tell; we all can. Believe me, I’m not offering my neck for my own benefit or pleasure, but for yours.” Astarion belted out a laugh, causing a few of the other camp members to glance in their direction.

“Oh! Concerned with my pleasure, are you? How very thoughtful of you, my dear. I almost don’t know what to do with myself.” Astarion seethed, his fangs faintly poking out from behind his lips. Tavriel narrowed her eyes as her grip on her elbows tightened. She couldn’t necessarily blame her companion for his anger, but she certainly didn’t appreciate the jabs when she was genuinely trying to be helpful.

“You are free to do as you please, Astarion,” her tone beginning to match his, “the choice is ultimately yours and makes no never mind to me, but I wanted to extend an invitation. If you choose to take me up on the offer, you know where to find me.” Without saying another word, Tavriel left Astarion and walked back towards her tent. She paused briefly, stepping inside the entrance to her abode to grab a small basket, before heading off into the woods. She called for Scratch, wanting some sort of companionship as she left to forage. The dog quickly caught up with her, tail wagging as they stepped into the tree line together.

“Don’t bother waiting up for me, dear,” he called after her, “I’m quite busy this evening, but will try to make time for you.” Astarion closed the book he had been holding and stepped inside his tent, closing the flap behind him. He groaned as he tossed his book to the pile of pillows near his bedroll, pinching the bridge of his nose as the tome landed quietly.

“Absolutely bloody stupid,” he muttered to himself as he began to pace the center of his tent, “You had a plan. An easy to follow, simple little plan.” Astarion was talking about himself, furious with himself for losing his senses just now. The moment he had been waiting for had finally come waltzing right up to his tent and he fell apart. What was even the point of spending days rehearsing his lines if he was going to throw them away the second there was a kink in the fabric of his plan? The pain that quickly shot through his stomach answered the question for him, though. He was starving, the hunger in his abdomen fogging his mind. There was no hope in hunting, not with Tavriel and the camp pet frolicking the forest just outside. Exhausted, Astarion made himself comfortable on his bedroll, hoping a quick bit of rest would be enough to satiate the growling in his stomach.

As night fell, Astarion desperately tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his abdomen. He was starving, aching to sink his fangs into anything warm blooded. Tav was right, he hadn’t eaten in days and even he was beginning to feel the effects. His mood, as foul as it normally was, had only worsened as his hunger grew. He tossed and turned in his bedroll, trying to shake the feeling pain creeping into his bones. He couldn’t think clearly while in this state; he needed to feed and soon. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to focus his thoughts.

The melodious sound of Tavriel’s laughter broke his concentration not too long after he tried to rest, his eyes snapping open at the sound. He sat up from his bedroll and quickly made his way to his feet. Sticking to the walls of his tent, he moved the flap to the entrance ever so slightly until he could peek out into the camp without alerting the others. Tavriel and the rest of their companions were seated in the middle of camp around the fire, laughing as they shared a bottle of wine and split the bounty Tav had managed to scrounge up. As much as the camp camaraderie typically made his skin crawl, he admittedly missed being part of it. Tavriel always made it a point to pull him into the fun. Pulling his sleeve until he sat next to her, the two of them sharing a bottle of wine as they listened to everyone try to one up each other with a better story, and frequently sharing juicy little secrets they had uncovered over the course of the day.

Gods, how he missed her company, her laugh, even her sickening need to help anyone they crossed paths with. There was nothing he wanted more than to be back in her good graces, to once again be presented with the gift of her companionship. But the nagging feeling of wanting something real with her couldn’t help but seep into his core. No more lies, no more trickery, he just wanted something real. He just wanted her. But in order for that to happen, they had to talk. They needed to sort things out to even attempt to make things work. Although, there was no hope of that happening according to Astarion’s plan if this hunger continued to plague him. He needed to feed first; to clear his head before making that leap of faith. He closed the flap to his tent, once again retreating to the darkness of his shelter.

The offer laid before him by Tavriel flooded his mind. Despite their now estranged friendship, she was still willing to let him feed from her. He was hesitant to accept her offer, not wanting to strain their delicate relationship further, but he couldn’t deny the primal need to feed. After another few rounds of pacing his tent, Astarion had finally made up his mind. Once the others had gone to bed, he would take Tavriel up on her offer and after he was finally clear minded, he would follow his well crafted script and make amends.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Once camp had settled down and everyone had finally gone to rest, Astarion slipped silently out of his tent and headed towards Tavriel’s. He stepped quickly, not wanting to alert anyone else to his movements. Not that it truly mattered, everyone knew he frequently fed from their leader, but tonight was different. There was a sense of uncertainty about the night. Astarion was unsure how the rest of the evening would go and if he and Tavriel could work through their newly discovered problems.

It was an odd feeling, to say the least. Typically, Astarion wouldn’t care what others thought about him or put much weight to their options. Hells, he barely cared for the opinions of the rest of the camp he was sharing this adventure with. But Tavriel? Tavriel was different. Her approval was something he found himself craving like a hunger deeper and more aggressive than the sanguine lust that had plagued him for so long. Even though they had vastly different values, the more he was around her, the more he found himself being more kind and gracious. Giving thought and sympathy towards situations, and especially people, he normally wouldn’t give a second thought towards. It was driving him mad, but he also couldn’t stop chasing the feeling that stirred in his chest whenever she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder after a battle or when she would praise him for making a morally correct decision. However, those thoughts only fueled his uncertainty. He didn’t want to lose what little bit he had with Tavriel, but he also didn’t want to continue with a lie. But the uncertainty only deepened when he wondered what she wanted. He couldn’t say with confidence if she wanted something real as well or if she wanted to keep everything platonic. And that thought rattled him to his core.

Astarion took a deep breath, suddenly feeling uneasy about approaching her tent. He stopped, just outside of the entrance, listening for any movement. The entire camp, Tav’s tent included, was silent. At first he thought maybe she had fallen asleep, which caused even more unease. He truly didn’t want to wake her just to ask her for a meal and certainly wasn’t going to sink his teeth in while she was asleep, even though that thought alone had brought him so much excitement just days before. Thankfully, Tavriel had plenty of candles lit inside her dwelling space and he could see her shadow moving along the walls of the open tent as she quietly worked away inside. He took another step forward until he was able to peer inside. She hadn’t seen or heard him approach, still lost in her own world, and Astarion couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him.

Tav sat on the ground in her tent, meticulously sorting the flowers she had picked while foraging. Astarion felt entranced as he watched her work. Delicately, Tavriel pulled apart petals, adjusted leaves, and contorted the flowers she had collected to her whim before carefully placing them between the pages of the book she had splayed open in her lap. She often filled her tent with vibrant and fragrant flowers whenever she had the chance, frequently picking new specimens along their journey. Being a wood-elf, Tav had an innate connection to the outside world. However, a lifetime being kept in a dark cage underground had kept her apart from nature and the freedom it offered. Now that she had her freedom, as temporary as it may be, she stole every opportunity that she could to reconnect with her natural home. She loved the feeling of grass on her bare feet, the feeling of a gentle wind on her face, and the exhilarating sensation of submerging herself in a cool lake after a long day on the road.

Tavriel hummed as she worked; always picking the same melody. Astarion often feigned annoyance if she happened to be humming with him around, frequently calling it a bother. But if he was to be honest with himself, he was finding himself with the tune in his head more and more often, sometimes even straining to listen to her if she was just out of earshot. And, on very rare occasions, when he was alone in his tent, Astarion would find himself humming her silly little tune. He listened for a moment longer before regaining his composure, lifting his fist to his mouth before clearing his throat. Tavriel’s humming abruptly ended, her head snapping to the entrance of her tent. The initial look of fear that crossed her face quickly disappeared as she realized it was an ally standing in the threshold.

“Oh, hello.” She said softly. In all honesty, Tavriel hadn’t expected Astarion to come by, given his theatrics from earlier.

“Hello, Tav.” Astarion had to stop himself from calling her the typical pet names he threw at her, unsure if they would be accepted warmly or not.

“One moment,” she mumbled, suddenly remembering the pile of flowers she’d covered herself in. She hastily closed her book, mentally noting to return to it later and press the flowers properly, and scooped any untouched flowers back into her basket. As she worked, Astarion stepped inside, enjoying the warmth her tent had that his dwelling seemingly lacked. He closed the flap behind him not wanting anyone else to interrupt them as he indulged his appetites.

Astarion watched as Tavriel stretched along the length of her bedroll, her head resting on the pillow as she turned her chin, giving him wider access to her neck. Her hands were clasped on her abdomen, not wanting to get in his way. He wasted no time in coming to her, crawling over her warm body and assuming his usual feeding position above her. He slid one leg between hers with one arm by her side, pinning her in place. His dead heart almost thumped in his chest as he placed his other hand on the back of her head and gently swept her long hair out of the way; the anticipation of a long awaited meal coursed through him as he tilted her head even more. His hands trembled as he leaned forward, more than ready to fill the hunger that had been plaguing him. Scarlet eyes scanned the tender flesh of her neck, searching for the delicious pulse point he so favored. However, as he looked her neck over, his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

Given the nature of the fabric of her night shirt, the neckline had slipped over the curve of her shoulder as he adjusted her head, leaving both her shoulder and part of her back exposed. From his position above Tavriel, his eyes couldn’t help but focus on her bare skin. Despite having bedded each other twice by this point, Astarion had never taken the time to study her body. It was never a priority to him, after all. Until recently, he had been treating their relationship as a means to an end and had no reason to drink in her form. It wasn’t important. And until now, as he was hovering over her like a predator to prey, he had never noticed the scarring that adorned her body.

His eyes locked onto the space surrounding her shoulder blades, shuddering as saw the large, deep puncture wounds around the bone. Flesh had been ripped and torn, the wounds jagged as if something had been pulled through her skin. His eyes traveled upwards, setting their sights on the back of her neck. More scarring, more wounds he had not taken the time to notice. His fingers ghosted over the scars to her neck, noting that these were more of a branding than puncture, and was written in an elven dialect. From his position he couldn’t quite tell what the message said, but knew it wasn’t going to be a term of endearment. As the hand that cradled her head moved back into position, the tips of his fingers grazed yet another wound. This one was hidden in her hairline, and from what he could tell, ran along both sides of her skull. His eyes continued their journey upwards, desperately trying to follow the ring of scarring to her head. His heart sank into his stomach when his eyes finally landed on her face.

“I would just lay there, emotionless, getting lost in my own thoughts until everything was over.” Her words echoed in his mind as he recalled the comment she had made days before. Even then, it was something that had resonated with him because he himself would do the same. With the countless times he had been forced to bed someone for his master, Astarion had learned to mentally pull himself away from the acts, offering some sense of relief from the torture of luring people to their deaths. And yet, here in the safety of her own tent, Tavriel was doing the same. Her body was limp in his grasp, a dead weight as his arms fully supported her upper half. Her head was turned to the side, void of all emotion has her eyes stared into the distance, almost glossy from the lack of thought behind them.

Astarion was frozen in place, his mouth centimeters from her neck and her deliciously rich blood. However, despite the intoxicating warmth that graced his lips from her neck, he couldn’t move. As much as he wanted to plunge his teeth into her throat and drink until she was on the brink of death, finally seeing the evidence of her torment on her skin stirred something deep inside him.

“Gods, darling,” he thought has he cradled Tavriel in his arms, “How could I miss this?” Astarion’s thoughts continued to spiral as he thought about the horrors she had previously unveiled to him as well as the evidence of her tortures.

“Are you still there, Astarion?” Tavriel’s whisper broke him out of his trance, her words mirroring his question to her a few days ago. She turned her head backs towards her companion, eyes scanning his face for any sign of consciousness. She had anticipated his teeth sinking into her neck for what felt like hours, but they never came. The lack of an icy sting snapped her out of her trance and she was surprised to see him hovering over her, completely lost in his own thoughts.

Astarion’s gaze finally met hers, his hands still lightly shaking as he carefully placed her head back on her pillow before releasing her. He pulled away from her, sitting in the dirt by her bedroll, as he remained silent. Tavriel sat up as well, concern washing across her face as she readjusted the neckline of her tunic.

“Do you have a moment?” he asked quickly, cutting her off before she could say anything, “I-I think we need to talk.”

“Are you all right?” Tavriel moved closer to Astarion, worried that he would tell her any relationship or friendship between them was unreconcilable.

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” he confessed with almost a laugh, “I just…feel awful.” Tavriel tilted her head, the unease in her stomach only growing stronger.

“Look,” Astarion said, “I had a plan. A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy. Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart. You…you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.” If it was still functional, Astarion’s heart could beat out of his chest. Everything he had rehearsed to tell Tavriel was completely ignored and he was acting on impulse. But he was satisfied. This wasn’t a well crafted or even planned confession, but instead came from a place of truth and sincerity. He was nervous, his voice trembling as he opened his heart to her. He was finally being brutally honest with his beloved and with himself.

Tavriel was dumbfounded, but elated. She expected Astarion to be angry with her, like she had been with him, fly off the handle and tell her to rot in all the hells, maybe even leave the group. But instead, he was open and vulnerable, but more importantly, truthful. Her entire life, she had been fed lie after lie coated in silky smooth words and promises, so she knew how to spot lies and deceit in people. She’d picked it up instantly with Astarion, but ran with it anyway. But now, for the first time since knowing the silver tongued elf, she couldn’t see manipulation. Instead, she heard sincerity in his words and saw the truth behind his eyes. And she wanted to run with it, with him, as far as he would take her. She craved genuine love and affection, more than life itself.

“So do I,” she said, almost breathlessly, “More than anything.” A smile tugged at the corners of Astarion’s lips. Those six little words seemed to wash away all doubt in what he was doing, but he had to continue to be honest.

“I just don’t know what real looks like,” he said after a moment, his hands wringing themselves as he spoke, “Not after two hundred years of playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels…tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.” Tavriel felt like she was looking in a mirror. Their lives, as vastly different as they were, still had so many similarities that it was almost scary. Astarion had spent two centuries being controlled by his master in every way possible. His body had been taken from his and used like a marionette for someone else.

It was something Tav could resonate with. For years, how many exactly she wasn’t sure, her body and her mind were not hers. She had been broken mentally, reduced to a cowering, screaming shell of the girl she once was. Every waking moment of her life was nothing but fear and pain. She didn’t know how to think for herself most of the time. Her body hadn’t been hers for so long. Her own master had claimed it as his own, doing what he wanted to her at his own delight. Her skin crawled at the thought of Oaklarth’s calloused hands caressing her intimate areas or his lips on her skin. She had belonged to him, but not anymore. She wanted to give herself to the person of her own choosing, but only when she felt comfortable doing so.

“I just don’t know how else to be with someone,” Astarion continued, “No matter how much I’d like to.”

“I don’t either,” Tavriel finally said, “But I care about you, Astarion. Deeply.”

“Really?” He remained hopeful, praying to whatever gods that would listen that this could work. Tavriel said nothing, but instead closed the gap between them. Still seated, she wrapped her arms under his and around his back, her head resting between his neck and shoulder as she squeezed. Astarion froze momentarily, genuinely surprised at her sudden affections, but soon eased into the hug. Wrapping his own arms around her slender frame, he placed his hands along her back, relishing the warmth of her skin. His head lowered so his cheek rested on her head, sighing contently as he felt her melt into him. For both of them, this was the first genuine contact they could remember receiving in so long that it was almost euphoric. They held onto each other, onto the new feelings that were ignited in them both, and drank in every glorious second.

“Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next,” he held onto her tighter, afraid of letting go, “but I know that this? This is nice.”

“It is,” Tavriel whispered, “it’s very nice.” They sat there, intertwined in one another in silence for what felt like hours. It wasn’t until Tavriel felt the deep rumbles of Astarion’s hunger that the silence was broken.

“You know,” she said as she pulled away slightly, “my offer still stands.” She swept her hair over her shoulder, once again exposing her neck to Astarion.

“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.” he said with a smile. Astarion held onto her firmly as he finally sunk his teeth into her lovely neck. Tavriel gasped slightly, the initial sting of his teeth making her jump. One of his hands came up to support her head as he drank, not wanting to lose the right angle. His pupils dilated as he took long drinks from her neck, her warm blood coated his mouth and finally soothed the gnawing hunger in his stomach.

He often told himself that nothing could compare to the feeling of feeding from Tavriel the first time. The first time he’d tasted her, a thinking creature, was absolute bliss and something he would never forget. Every other subsequent feeding had always been enjoyable, but nothing could compare to that first high he had experienced. Until tonight. Tonight surpassed that feeling in every way and he was over the moon. Although the blood had not changed, the circumstances had. Tavriel was mentally present, unlike before, her fingers twirling ringlets of his hair as he drank from her. They were no longer transactional, no longer a means to an end. They meant something to each other, something glorious and beautiful, but more importantly, they were real.

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