#well my first art post indeed

[cialedraws]

My sunshine

Im really happy how this turned out! Finally being able to share fanarts I'm very shy ab posting fanarts dont mind me

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens fanart #good omens fandom #illustration #go2 fanart #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #wow my first fanart here #well my first art post indeed #hope you like it

[dustofthedailylife]

Genshin Men as Influencers

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Ayato, Kaveh, Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Zhongli, Kazuha, Cyno, Kaeya, Thoma, Tighnari x (gn!) Reader

Summary: What type of influencer would they be. What do they post.

Tags: Fluff, modern AU, short headcanons

A/N: This was a random idea I got today that I needed to get out of my system. And it got longer than I anticipated, oopsie.

Alhaitham | Bookstagrammer

He is neither someone who wants to stand in front of a camera talking nor does he desire to interact with people much. Yet he has this desire to share his thoughts about the books he reads with someone. When you propose the idea of becoming a bookstagrammer to him he is at first very dismissive about the idea, but eventually caves and creates an account. As it turns out he enjoys it more than he originally thought he would. He writes book reviews, does book hauls, and critical literature commentary. Reels are not his thing and he only posts pictures. His account blew up when he posted a selfie of him while reading a book. To this day he has not the faintest idea why that is what made his account grow exponentially. He turns to you whenever he gets DMs or comments that annoy him. He will sometimes ramble for half an hour about a single comment and explain in-depth why what that person wrote is utterly stupid.

Ayato | Fashion Influencer

He is predominantly a fashion influencer and model. Frequently posting pictures and reels of outfits, hauls as well as model and runway jobs. He is often described as the influencer who "effortlessly combines casual and business chic and turns it into a fashion statement". Always the best-dressed man around, no matter where he goes. Both his enchanting looks as well as his enigmatic personality draw his fans in. He has his own clothing brand for his trademark "casual business chic" which is quite successful. Every new collection is immediately sold out a day after launch. Yet, despite his fame, you had never seen or heard of him before. You randomly met him at a local bar where he offered to buy you a drink. You talked to him all evening and had just exchanged numbers with him when his face suddenly popped up on the TV screen at the bar. You had to do a double-take and reconfirm that the man on TV was indeed the one sitting in front of you right now. He had seen your glance and was now smiling back at you smugly, visibly enamored by the confusion that was written all over your face. For once he was happy someone didn't outright recognize him and just genuinely interacted with him without any second thoughts. And he fell for you right then and there.

Kaveh | Lifestyle Blogger

This man has so many things he loves he can't just decide on one thing. So he does kind of everything and his followers love him for it. He is smart, good-looking, artistically gifted, enjoys food, drink, fashion, and is into the latest gossip. His feed is a bit of everything, art gallery visits, food posts, fashion photos including OOTD, motivational quotes and more. He has a loyal fanbase that would do anything for him. They lovingly refer to him as "babygirl" all the time. When you become a couple he incorporates you into his posts and videos as well which lands you a couple of very angry DMs of fans who have formed a parasocial relationship with your boyfriend. And while you just ignore them, Kaveh absolutely can't and won't tolerate this behavior towards you so he replies to them from your account with an angry picture and a long DM. In all honesty, he is more upset over the messages than you are.

Wriothesley | Fitness Blogger

He is your classic fitness blogger and personal trainer. He posts training videos, nutritional advice posts as well as gym pictures of himself and fitness modeling campaigns he gets invited to. And he is quite successful at what he does. When you start dating you're not at all surprised when you learn what he does for a living. A man with his physique? Of course, he would be successful. You mutually decide to keep your relationship out of the public eye. Both because he wouldn't want you to get exposed to potential negative press or hateful DMs. But of course, paparazzi are more watchful than anyone ever could be. So naturally a picture of him and you kissing soon adorns every gossip magazine front page including your name and Instagram profile (because of course they also found that out...). Not long after #WrioYN starts trending. The posts under the hashtag are a mixed bag of either excited fans and positive articles or angry fans and negative press, who say that you aren't good enough for him. Since your relationship is out of the bag now, Wriothesley decides to take you with him to the next red carpet event where he provocatively and fiercely kisses you in front of everyone to show the world what he thinks about their opinion. You're his and he is yours, and no one would ever be able to change that.

Neuvillette | Food Critic

He is one of the most famous food critics around and gets invited to various restaurants all around the world. He writes reviews for the things he eats and drinks and rates the restaurants without mercy. If your restaurant gets a bad review from him you might as well lock the door and close forever. He rose to fame through a video that went viral where he taste-tested a variety of different water brands, grading them on a scale from one to ten as if it was the finest wine. At first, people were amused by the videos and created memes about it until it eventually gave him so much publicity that he was invited to restaurants. So he organically rose to fame practically overnight without even realizing it. This already led to some less nice situations where some angry restaurant owners insulted him in public for ruining their reputation or hate comments under his posts. He didn't understand what he did wrong or why they were so upset with him and he always looked for the fault in himself, socially isolating himself as a consequence. You're always there to lend your ear and shoulder to cry on to him when situations like these arise. He may look tough but you know he has a soft and fragile heart and often takes negative comments about his person way too much to heart.

Zhongli | Food Blogger

He is a food blogger, mostly known for his expensive taste and aesthetic tea brewing videos and it even expands beyond that to clothing and his appearance in general. When watching him prepare all sorts of dishes one could be inclined to think he has all the time in the world. Doing live streams where he brews tea or cooks for six hours or more is not a rarity. His followers love his insight and knowledge about all the ingredients he uses. He always sprinkles in little fun facts, trivia and random bits of information. Being his partner therefore also means you always get the privilege to have the most delicious and fragrant food served to you. If you didn't know better you would think he is a renowned Michelin chef. Food is definitely his love language. Sometimes you and him would do couple cooking streams together and his community is all over you two. You're receiving fanart and people even write fanfics about you two. Generally Zhongli, much like himself, gathers a very level-headed, polite and loyal community around him.

Kazuha | Travel Blogger

He never stays in the same place for long, so much so that at this point his followers aren't even sure he owns a home at all. His feed and stories are filled with magnificent locations from all over the world. From sunsets over to stunning mountain views and sandy beaches. His life feels like a dream. And his followers live it vicariously through him. Always starts his day by posting an inspirational haiku in his story and with supportive words to his followers. The most sunshine and feel-good influencer around and most certainly a good role model. You accompany him on most of his travels but mostly play the role of the camera person and photographer for him since he wants to keep your relationship private. Until one day he pulls you in front of the camera during one of his livestreams and passionately kisses you on the lips before blushing and turning the stream off right after. When you ask him what made him change his mind he tells you that his heart ached due to the rumors of him and another influencer dating and he wanted to get them out of the world once and for all. Needless to say, your heart and the press are on fire the next day.

Cyno | Entertainer

Of course, Cyno is an entertainer. His intimidating looks paired with an impeccable sense of humor immediately resonated with people all over the place. He quickly garnered a large audience both on Tiktok and Youtube and uploads a new comedic skit at least once a week. He also occasionally does some pack-opening streams whenever new TCG card collections come out. You're always there to support him in his endeavors and he is extremely thankful for that. You're always the first to whom he tells his ideas and sometimes you even get cameos in his skits. Some evenings you sit together while playing cards and brainstorming about new video ideas for him.

Kaeya | Fashion Blogger

Fashionista and icon through and through. He loves the spotlight. And his smooth-talking and sly nature has people on their knees for him all over the internet. Unfortunately, that causes him to have the most obsessed and delusional fans around. He mostly posts OOTD posts, fashion inspo and clothing hauls as well as various photographs of modeling jobs. He often goes live on Instagram and Tiktok to interact with his fans. Sometimes you ask yourself how he even manages to hold a conversation with them, considering that most of the comments and chats he gets are simping. But he is just a natural-born influencer. Knowing his bold nature it doesn't surprise you when he pulls you in for a long and intense kiss on the red carpet one day. Until now you had publicly taken on the role of his manager to disguise yourself. It was an idea that came from his actual manager. The reason for that is to divert the attention away from you and spare you from the wrath of his crazy fans. Seems like he finally grew tired of the act. His smug smile, the flurry of flashing cameras around you, and the feeling of his lips pressed against yours were proof enough of that.

Thoma | Food Blogger

Another food blogger and a really good one at that. The handsome blonde mostly posts aesthetic cooking videos, cooking ASMR videos, quick meal-prep recipes for a busy day-to-day life, as well as comfort food recipes. His fans say his tasty creations aren't the only snack on screen though. Interviewers always ask him about his opinion on what his fans say about him, which always causes him to laugh with a shy smile and a blush across his soft cheeks. He also often posts stories and gives some tips for chores and various other activities like knitting, cleaning, and other useful lifehacks. Occasionally he also uploads pictures of new recipes he is working on behind the scenes in his story. All of this earned him the title of the "Malewife Blogger" quite early on in his career and he fully embraced the title. He even has merch designs referring to the nickname his fans gave him. You are always the first one who gets to hear about his new ideas or gets to review and taste-test his recipes. You often tinker around on recipes with him until late at night. You also help him with the launch of his first cookbook by typing out all the recipes and editing the cover image of him standing behind the kitchen with his signature red apron and smile. And you would agree with his fans, the biggest snack in that cookbook is right on the cover.

Tighnari | Garden & Wildlife Blogger

He blogs about all sorts of wildlife, survival tips, and environment protection and gives gardening tips. His sassy and incredibly sarcastic nature and reactions to some comments are what draw people to him. He makes people aware of how ecosystems work and how to live in harmony with them. He sometimes posts reaction videos and stitches in reply to people treating nature in a disrespectful manner and goes on entire tirades about it as well. He suggests environmentally friendly products and eventually even launches his own brand of environmentally friendly cleaning agents he produces himself. Needless to say, it's a complete hit among his fans. You are supportive of his videos and often help him with filming and editing them. You went on trips with him even before he started his social media career so seeing him become famous and successful with what he enjoys most fills you with joy.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin brainrot #alhaitham x reader #ayato x you #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #cyno x reader #kaeya x reader #thoma x reader #tighnari x reader #🍁 dust writes #🍁彡 gi

[arminsumi]

hellooo to you, i’d like a suguru pls, post premature death suguru meeting a ‘monkey’ that he falls in love with, hence he have another reflection.. maybe jujutsu sorcerers’ job is indeed to protect them..

CHANGE OF HEART.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑 ⋅ fem reader

NOTE: idk how 3.4k words happened 🤷‍♀️ i just got rlly into this idea ty for your requesttt!! and i'm so sorry if u didn't want smut but the scene kinda just happened 😭 it's pretty vanilla tho i think?? i put a little forewarning before the scene just in case u strictly don't want to read it

🔞 mdni / 18+ content

SUMMARY — Meeting you challenges the beliefs he thought he was so sure of. Unexpectedly falling in love with a 'monkey' causes Geto Suguru to have a change of heart.

WARNINGS — not proofread 😵‍💫 angst, 1 smut scene, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

SMUT WARNINGS — solo scene in the shower, Geto fantasizing about you (bj, creampies)

WORDCOUNT ≈ 3.4k

PLAY ME ♪ black beauty

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

A question that springs to Geto Suguru’s mind when he meets you is where have you been all my life? Because if he would have met you sooner, his beliefs wouldn’t have solidified.

You’re talking animatedly about your passions over a steaming beverage, sitting opposite this dark-haired man. His features are brooding and he’s rather unapproachable, or so he thinks – but you find gentleness and calmness in his face; the way his brows have a subtle, sad arch to them, the way the sharpness of his eyes contrasts beautifully to the softness of his cheeks. He’s always loathed his beady eyes and babyish cheeks, so it’s a pleasant shock to hear you flippantly compliment them.

“Why did you come to sit with me?” he asks curiously, fingertip caressing the rim of the ceramic coffee cup.

You think for a second, then speak your mind, “You looked approachable.”

Such an unexpected response. He’s intrigued. How could you possibly think he is approachable? He’s sure that if you’d known what he’s done, you’d never say that – you’d never sit for coffee with him at this cafe.

“Am I?” he tilts his head at you in response, “That’s a first. Lots of people in my life have told me that I’m unapproachable. And they avoid me.”

“How could anyone avoid you! You’re very – well, sorry if this sounds too forward – but you’re very alluring.”

Suguru arches his brow. Another unexpected response. You’re captivating him the more you speak.

“Thank you.” He responds earnestly, cool soft voice wafting through your chest, “Though that is quite forward.”

He wonders if his subtle teasing tone gets through to you. Your coy smile tells him that it did. He seems very captivated now, his abyssal black eyes are absorbing your features like they’re an artful masterpiece, like an Edo period piece of work that one can’t stop looking at admiringly.

Just when he feels his intrigue and curiosity for you reach its peak, he recoils; he completely shells himself, as if he was ashamed to have let himself become to enraptured by one of them.

There’s a long silence, you don’t notice that his opinion of you has shifted, you don’t even notice the slight scowl tugging at the corners of his lips. Because he masks it well.

“I have to be somewhere.” He excuses vaguely – it’s not uncommon to hear that from someone, so you don’t think much of it.

When talking with you for the past two hours, he seemed so appreciative that you sat with him and held good conversation, so you expected someone as direct as him to voice his thanks. A small thanks for having coffee with me, or a flippant thanks for sitting with me – nothing of the sort comes out of his mouth as he stands to leave.

You notice he only drank a sip of his black coffee this whole time. He must have been very captivated indeed, to not even enjoy his beverage.

It would have been easier to keep thoughts of you at bay had you not said goodbye to him as he left. Hearing your voice chime in his ear casts a spell over his mind.

He walks with his hands sunk deep in his pockets and heads to the subway station. Hesitant footsteps slow at the street where he said his last goodbye to his best friend just a few days ago. For a fleeting moment, Suguru is grateful for the resurgence of that tragic memory, because at least it drove you out of his mind.

But it is indeed just a fleeting moment, because once he descends into the subway station, his mind is refilled with thoughts of you. Your hair color. Your skin color. Your eye color. The clothes you wore. The scent lingering on them. The way you talked. How you spoke to him kindlier than anyone from the world outside Jujutsu High ever has. All he’s known before you is coldness and apprehensiveness.

He wonders, as he boards the train, if you would behave differently knowing that he’s a sorcerer. Knowing that he sees things as morbid as curses with his bare eyes. Knowing that he’s laid waste to a village of people. Knowing that he’s one of the strongest people in the world, and probably the strongest you’ll ever meet in your lifetime – unless you happen to come across Gojo Satoru someday.

He could kill you with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to.

As the train doors shudder shut behind him and he holds onto the dangling handles, he mutters a small “damn it…” under his breath. Because behind those eyes are waning beliefs, ones he was so sure about before you came along.

Suguru’s still thinking about you when he boards off the train and returns home to his apartment at nightfall. The rustling of the key in the door stirs the attention of his two little girls, and once it swings open, they burst with excitement at his arrival.

“We missed you!” they say almost in perfect harmony together.

“Missed you too, angels. Let’s get dinner cooking, hm? Mimiko, why do you have paint all over your cheeks? Ah – Nanako, no more painting for you. Yes, I’m making the rules. Treat your sister nicely and you can paint again.”

Suguru’s mind is temporarily cleared of you – but only temporarily, while he’s scrambling for ingredients around the tiny kitchen and patiently listening to childish chitchat. “No jumping in the kitchen – here, I’ll put you on the countertop – and uppp you go – stay there – Nanako, please don’t eat raw butter, it’s not funny. Give it here. Will you help me please?”

Soon there’s a simmering pot of food on the kotatsu table. There’s a storm coming, the girls cling to Suguru’s legs when he’s doing the dishes. “It’s just a thunderstorm coming, nothing to be afraid of, okay? Yes, I’ll read you to sleep. Nanako, please don’t bite my leg, it’s not funny – Mimiko don’t imitate your sister. Ah you two…”

He has the voice of a stressed-out father.

Droplets of soapy water drip off plates in the drying rack. Thunder rumbles outside the window. The wind swerving into the apartment’s living room feels cold when Suguru emerges from the girl’s bedroom – he heaves a sigh of relief knowing that they ate well and fell asleep soundly.

And it’s so cold in that apartment now.

She would be the warmth in the room.

It’s quiet, too.

Her voice would carry through this hallway like a serenade.

Suguru creeps into the shower, tripping on something the kids left laying around on his way to the bathroom.

⚠️ smut scene in case u want to skip

The drone of shower water fills his ears, he slowly peels off his sweater, giving a glance at the reflection of his physique in the body-length mirror. He’s never looked at his body with so much thought before.

Would she caress my chest like this?

One foot enters the shower, another followers. The door shuts and the glass steams up.

Does her mouth feel as soft as the words that come out of it?

He lets out a low groan. Rivulets of water run down his body.

She’d feel better than my hand. She’d take care of me.

Suguru’s hands trace up his chest and neck, his mind imagining it as your hand – he’s mimicking his imagination, picturing how sensual and gentle your touch would be. Your fingers wouldn’t be calloused like his, they’re small.

He lets himself get completely lost in a fantasy of you and him standing together under the showerhead, bodies close and heating up together. Without realizing, he’s lathering up his body with soap with slow, sensual movements. His hand grazes over his cock, it’s standing up and jumping a little at the thought of your face. Before he knows it, he’s slowly pumping his cock and tilting his head off to the side in pleasure.

Pretty sultry eyes flutter shut and his tip twitches. He squeezes and releases, imagining how you’d tease around. Or maybe you were inexperienced – now that thought gets him excited, it leads his fantasy into another direction. If he could have one night with you, he’d show you exactly what he likes and how he wants you to pleasure him. Maybe one night would turn into multiple nights, or entire weekends spent with him.

He lets out a shaky breath and presses on palm flat against the shower’s tile wall, bowing his head, lips parted with gentle, breathy moans escaping them – but both the sounds of the rainstorm and the shower drown them out.

A murky idea of what you look like naked and wet in the shower is hot on his mind. He rolls his thumb over the tip of his cock, leaving a small trail of soapy bubbles. His shaft’s gotten all lathered up, the sound of squelching barely reaching his ears. It makes him think of how you’d sound when he’s pumping his cock inside of you.

Would you be able to take it all? He looks down at it and contemplates that. How tight would you be? Would he cum boyishly soon if he sunk inside your gummy walls? If he went faster like this, would you become a mess underneath him? Would you want him to cum inside?

He’s a simple man when he’s so close to orgasming right there in his shower, the image of you taking his creampie makes him orgasm.

There’s a gentle rumble of thunder that covers up a loud moan that escapes his throat. He’s never moaned like that before. And he’s never cum so hard before, either – usually it’s a few watery shots of cum, not thick white ropes like this.

Does he feel guilty when cleaning his cum up the shower wall? A little bit.

“Damn it…” he mutters disappointedly.

⚠️ smut scene over

When he wraps a towel around his waist and looks into the mirror at his long hair, he wonders how you ever thought he looked approachable. If anything, he looked intimidating and cold.

That long shower fantasy of you only temporarily sates his mind. Letting his body fall into his bed with a soft thump, he sinks into the mattress. He rolled onto his side and started thinking of you again. This time, he replays everything that happened in those two hours at the café. He replays parts of the conversation like it was his favorite movie, until he fell asleep.

“You’re very alluring.” He thought of those words you said to him.

A subtle smile tugged at his lips.

***

Days pass. Suguru purposefully strides past the café and takes a glimpse into the windows to check if you’re there. When you’re not, he frowns and keeps walking. When you are, his eyes light up ever so slightly and his feet seem to carry him over to you – even though his mind screams at him to stop. This is madness. You’re supposed to be the very thing he hates, but he can’t bring himself to.

Because you’re dreamy. Or at least that’s the effect you have on him.

Each time he sees you at the café, he realizes more and more how weak and clumsy you are. Slowly, those traits become endearing to him. It irks him to feel this growing compulsion to protect you.

The tide of his mind completely turns over when he walks you home one day. A little curse had been clinging to your arm, cruelly giggling with its morbid little face.

How dare you? He eyes it out and watches you obliviously massage your arm, trying to alleviate the tension.

Suguru could have made two possible decisions; exorcise it or leave it. In other words, turn back on his beliefs or recede back into them completely, never to reemerge.

You massage your arm again, and at the moment you turn away from your apartment’s door, Suguru engulfs you in a very random, very soft hug. Widening your eyes, you’re unsure how to reciprocate for a moment. You hear him swallow.

Oh, is he nervous to be hugging me? Does he have a boyish crush on me? That’s unexpected of a mature man like him.

That’s what you’re obliviously thinking.

Suguru stifles a sigh. Part of him wishes you never hugged him back. But he can’t deny the rush he feels through his veins. Your warm, embrace is something he never knew he needed so badly until he got it.

That moment sets him on fire, he feels electric when he walks back home.

“Damn it…” he mutters with a small smirk playing at his lips – one that’s very similar to how he used to smirk with Satoru.

***

Months pass, and you start regularly visiting each other’s apartments. Tokyo is cramped, the word spacious never crosses your mind when you walk into someone else’s home. But Suguru’s apartment felt smaller than the others, because he had two balls of energy running around like chaotic demons. Lovably chaotic demons. Two twin girls, they’re celebrating their fifth birthday and you’re in the kitchen with Suguru baking a cake for them. It was your idea. And though you had to practically drag Suguru by the arm to get him to bake a cake, he was very willing to help out.

Nanako keeps trying to spook you, and you pretend to die of a heart attack – it makes her giggle. Mimiko pretends to be a spider crawling up your back, you also pretend to be scared – and she responds with a cheeky “I’m not actually a spider, I fooled you!”

“Girls, please give Y/n and I some alone time.” Suguru tells them after they become a bit much. Adults can only deal with so much, some relaxation is eagerly sought after.

“Is Y/n gonna be our mommy?” Nanako asks before leaving the kitchen. Her and Mimiko both look at you two expectantly.

Suguru is completely caught off guard by this question, but you laugh.

“Let us be, Nanako.” He speaks without composure, so shaken up and embarrassed. When was the last time he blushed to boyishly?

The twins scamper out the kitchen and into their own little kid’s world, roaming the house as if it was full of secrets they had to discover.

“Sorry, they’re quite outspoken for their ages.” Suguru refuses to look at you anymore, his heart is thumping in his chest. What if you wanted to be their mom? It’s a cute thought that occupies his mind as he talks to you.

“They’re the sweetest.” You sigh adoringly, “Really, the sweetest. It reminds me, had a friend once who ran a kindergarten, and I stood in for her one spring while she was on sick leave. There was this very sweet little boy who followed me around like a puppy. Working there for a little while made me realize how much I want to have kids and a family.” You talk while mixing ingredients into a bowl, stirring up the batter until it’s creamy and smooth.

Suguru’s listening attentively. He’s watching your gentle movements interestedly. Were you gentler in his presence? He wonders what you’re like when you’re annoyed. When you wake up, how cute is your bleary-eyed face?

“You’re good with kids.” Suguru compliments.

“Thank you.” You smile a bit bashfully. “Though, now that I think about it, there was also this kid at that kindergarten that would try to bite me all the time. An absolute menace.”

Suguru lets out a laughing breath through his nose.

“Yeah, Nanako has tried to bite Mimiko many times. The first time it happened, she screamed herself blue and I had absolutely no idea what to do.” Suguru spoke, “By the way, d’you need help – ? M’kay, if you say so. I’m right here. Anyways… she bit her so hard it left a bite mark.”

“Oh yeah, I know what you’re talking about, alright. That sucker left a bite mark on my thigh – I’ve still got the scar.” You tell him.

Suguru’s mind lights up when you so flippantly mention your thigh. He can’t help himself. He’s starting to want more, his whole body craves proximity – that’s why, while you put the cake in the oven, he discretely inches closer to where you stand. Arms crossed over his broad chest, hair up in a neat bun – he only realized just then how you have such a positive effect on him. He hadn’t put such deep care into his appearance since before…

“Suguru? Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah. Just thinking.”

“You must have a lot to be thinking about. Your face looks so severe… I want to knead out the severity.” You tease.

He loves the way you speak. He loves the subtle playful teasing you do every now and then, it shows him that you’re getting comfortable around him like he is around you.

“Sorry. I’m just a brooding type.” He smirks at you, shifting his body so that he leans comfortably against the counter.

“What are you brooding on?” you ask him curiously.

It makes his heart lurch that you care, that you’re genuinely curious about what’s going on behind those abyssal black eyes of his.

“I don’t want to bring down the mood.”

“You won’t bring down the mood. What’s on your mind? I’m not the best at advice… in fact I’m shit, but I’m a good listener… so indulge me.” You encourage him, attempting to hop up on the kitchen countertop to sit comfortably.

His heart feels stabbed and twisted all of a sudden. But he smirks, sees you struggling to climb a countertop, and comes to help you. Big hands grab at the back of your thighs as he leans down, cheek brushing with your cheek for a moment, before he hoists you up himself.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, veiling your nervousness.

His body feels hotter after he pulls away. But he acts coolly, resuming his nonchalant pose of leaning against the countertop with crossed arms.

“I fell out with an old friend.” He begins simply. It’s laughable, saying that out loud – you have no idea of the severity, of the drama. “We were like yin and yang.” He desperately tries to add a layer of depth to give you a better picture.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” you inquire.

Suguru thinks back on that day. “Yeah. We had a disagreement. And… I think… I’ve finally started to regret walking away from him.” He admits.

That admittance unexpectedly makes his throat constrict and his eyes line with tears. He blinks them away quickly.

“Why did you walk away?” you tilt your head.

I wonder what she’d think if I told her every detail.

“We have differing beliefs about… something. I can’t describe it sensibly to you.”

You look at him interestedly. “Beliefs? Like about religion?”

“I guess kind of like that…? Not religion, but something as serious as that.”

“If you regret walking away from him,” you begin, speaking your train of thought, “why don’t you come back to him and tell him that? Or would that be a bad idea? I don’t know… it just seems like you miss whoever this person is.”

You render him speechless and he looks at you like you just unravelled a secret part of him that no one had seen before.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – ”

“Thank you. I needed to hear that. I think I’ll… uh, give him a call sometime and see him for coffee.” Suguru says decidedly.

Was he really going to do that? Before meeting you, he couldn’t fathom facing Satoru again. It was a mortifying idea. He crushed his best friend’s spirit, how could he face him again?

“Sounds good… you could meet him at the café we go to.” You say.

Suguru’s half lost in thought and staring at the kitchen floor tiles. “Yeah… hey, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Absolutely.”

He chokes up a bit, darting his eyes around, as if searching carefully for his words. When he looks at you, he completely forgets what he was going to ask. His heart is beating like he was just about to confess to his high school sweetheart.

Suguru takes a deep inhale.

“I think the cake is burning.”

“Oh shit!”

***

Satoru scoffs bitterly over his beverage.

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

A pair of striking blue eyes meet abyssal black ones.

“What changed your mind...?” Satoru comments in a softer tone after hearing his old friend call his name so tenderly.

“Something good happened.” Suguru subtly smiles, the memory of meeting you in this same café flashing across his mind.

A silence comes over them, and slowly the tension works out of their air, an understanding replacing it.

“Maybe we are supposed to protect them, after all… damn monkeys, look at ‘em so helpless.” Suguru chuckles, half-joking as he watches a baby start to cry in its mothers arms on the street outside.

© 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄.

#♥️ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 — 夏油傑 #fic #mdni #angst #fluff #smut #geto #geto suguru #suguru #geto smut #suguru smut #geto suguru smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu geto #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto #geto fluff #suguru fluff #suguru geto #geto suguru x you

[faerievampling]

An Unexpected Visitor

Summary: Ascended!Astarion and Tav have been together for thousands of years. One day, an unexpected visitor shows up, reminding them of their past and offering them a new adventure.

Word Count: 4k

Here's the link to AO3!

Pairing: (soft) Ascended!Astarion x Female Tav

Warning: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Oral Sex. Light bondage. Light dom/sub.

A/N: This is going to be a multi-chapter story I will be posting here and on AO3. Largely but not entirely based on my headcanons for Ascended!Astarion that you can read here: Part 1. Part 2. (Not necessary to read first!!)

I hope you enjoy!

You wake up with a strong sense of unease. Astarion, your creator and husband, picks up on it immediately, of course. The two of you are so profoundly connected, your minds nestled together; he knows that you do not know the ‘why’ for these feelings.

Astarion kisses and cuddles you good morning, as he always does, but he holds you a bit longer this time, not wanting to get out of bed with his consort feeling this way. His hold on you is tight as he buries his nose in your hair.

Alas, Astarion has work to do, including ensuring the protection of his territories and assets, especially at a time like this.

The war, my darling. The war. Astarion reminds you again. You hadn’t been affected by it at all, and didn't really care. And Astarion really didn’t care that you didn’t care. He only wanted your happiness and wellbeing, and had worked hard to keep you away from it all.

But he feared that maybe you could sense it, or were beginning to. His weariness, his stress; those feelings he did his best to guard you from. 

Astarion cradled you to his chest, one arm on your naked back and the other nestled in the root of your hair, giving you gentle massages as you listen to the thump of his ever-beating heart. After a while, Astarion repositions the two of you so that he may offer his neck to you. He knows this is your (second) favorite place to feed, because you can feel the beat of his heart and drink in his scent.

He also knows you’d rather like to feed from the inside of his thigh, but now was not the time for that. Well, maybe it was, but the two of you were already late for court.

As you sup of his blood, you moan with pleasure - there is nothing better to a bride than the blood of her creator, and Astarion was a very generous master. 

“Your master adores you, my little darling,” Astarion whispers in your ear as you feed, his hand moving to caress the back of your head. His teasing words cause you to grind into his hips, and you can feel him beginning to get hard. 

“Enough, my pet,” Astarion says as he pulls you away, detaching your fangs from his ivory skin. As he meets your gaze, the memories of your days of madness wash over him like the shock of ice cold water. 

Long ago, Astarion insisted you feed on him and only him. There was danger in this, a bride feeding too much from her Master. This, Astarion knew, but his mind was shrouded with paranoia. 

In another land, one of the brides of vampire master Geldon Moth was poisoned and killed. Once Astarion heard the news, he came to a quick decision. 

Believing his blood to be the safest for you, you were to feed on him and only on him. After months of letting you gorge, Astarion saw the bridal madness for the first time. 

Astarion is quick to push the memory away. Before he does, you catch a glimpse of the scene: you’re inconsolable, starving, horny as a bitch in heat, and as violent as ever. Astarion is crying, begging you to come back to yourself. 

Astarion no longer remains your only food source. He is your primary one, indeed, but the essence of others is to be drunk from a goblet, not from lips to skin. That is reserved for you and your creator. 

Thou art mine. A thought rings in your head.

You help Astarion dress, as you have for the past…so many years. Astarion dismissed his footman so long ago, preferring to do the work himself with the help of his consort. His aversion to touch, anyone’s but your own, was an ever-growing symptom of the choices the both of you made so long ago.

Astarion plants a tender kiss on your lips before he goes, and your own maid comes in to help you dress and take care of your hair. She wants to put it in an updo of some kind, so that you match with the other ladies of the court. 

But you’ve been feeling rather rebellious, and Astarion sat on the throne, so you could do whatever you wanted. And so you did.

You keep it long, like a curtain, and now that Astarion had finally moved on from his insistence that you wear something low cut, you choose a dress that is modest, comfortable, but regal enough. You ditch the shoes. You’ve been alive for nearly two millenniums. You know your beauty is already unmatched, and you needn’t worry yourself with discomfort. Your feet rarely touch the floor, anyways. 

But your current maid doesn’t seem to agree, and always argues with you about the fucking shoes. Before she even begins, you hiss at her.

This maid, Bethild, is one you’ve had for a while now. First joining your service as a young woman, Bethild was now rather old and round, you think. She tuts at you for hissing before crossing her arms, ready to give you a lecture. 

“It’s not befitting of a Lady in your position to be hissing,” Bethild addressed you in ways others would die for, but you rather liked her, and Astarion did too.

But before she could continue, you use your vampiric telepathy to force your way in. THE DRESS IS LONG ENOUGH. NOBODY WILL SEE. You scream this into her mind, trying to cause her a bit of pain, maybe some nausea.

Bethild knows when she’s lost a battle, and she murmurs something about your Master hearing about this as she bumbles her way out of your room.

You roll your eyes at her as she leaves. Why must we do this everyday? You reach out to your husband. But he doesn’t immediately respond, because he already knows your grief: it is simply becoming increasingly difficult for you to tolerate mortals.

We can get you a new maid, my consort. Or we can get rid of them all together. Whatever it is you want, it will be yours. Astarion reaching into your mind is always comfortable, and the contact sends a shiver to your core.

You didn’t understand how Astarion could handle it so well. So much better than you. You were thankful that he could, of course, but you just didn’t understand. 

You’re perfect the way you are, my consort. You don’t need to be like me. You are mine, and I will always take care of you.

Once you’re ready, you float to your throne, making a bit of a scene because of your tardiness. Astarion doesn’t care; the subjects can wait, especially for you.

As you take your seat, Astarion holds your hand, idly (and a bit anxiously) playing with your fingers as he handles business. He likes to look at them as he mulls over the proceedings in his mind; he plays with your rings, twisting them around your fingers and sometimes switching them between digits. Every day, he looks forward to seeing what choice of jewelry you will make. It makes him feel tremendous pride to see the beauty of your soft and smooth hands, and to see the decadent jewels on your pretty fingers.

Whatever business Astarion is handling today is, frankly, totally lost on you. If something important happens, something you need to know, Astarion will tell you. 

So, you lose yourself in the folds of you and your eternal lover’s mind. You always enter this vampiric trance during court. You needn’t speak, because you trust your beloved creator to speak for you. 

After a few hours and a few dealings later, something briskly breaks you out of this trance. That unease. 

Astarion squeezes your hand to draw your attention to him. You meet his gaze, and you see a lot there: love, need, possession, inquiry, frustration. You’re having a hard time parsing through it, but what you gather is you are making Astarion extremely uncomfortable. 

We’re almost done here. After court, you will be sequestered away until I know you are safe. Is all he communicates with you.

It’s just a sense of unease, my love. Please just stay with me, you are all the protection I need. Don’t lock me away. You are practically begging at this point, but your face gives nothing away. You are dampened by your curse. Rather it be the vampiric curse or the curse of time, you aren’t sure. You are still you, but your light shines dimmer.

Astarion narrows his eyes at you. Your foresight has been right before. 

You shake your head at him. Now, you’re both starting to lose your poker faces. The mortals murmur around you, but the two of you exist only with each other at this moment, and the rest of the world is diminished. 

This is different. It’s just a feeling, nothing more. I’ve had no visions, Master. You call him this to soften him up; it makes Astarion’s cock twitch just to hear you say the word. 

As Astarion’s thoughts turn lewd, a servant approaches him, informing him of the next visitor to be heard. You feel Astarion’s mind slip away from yours as he focuses on the world around him. 

But the words of the servant are tumbling around in his head. Scary, strange looking elf. 

What? You ask, probing into Astarion’s mind.

He looks over to you, his handsome features and lustful eyes (he’s still having some lewd thoughts) causes your breath to catch and sends your second heartbeat to race. He said the visitor knew us, and was a terrifying, strange looking elf.

A picture has already formed in Astarion’s mind of a strange green egg that was briefly in your possession during your adventuring days. Still holding each other’s gaze, you both silently acknowledge that the ‘strange elf’ is in fact, not an elf. 

The two of you further slip into each other's minds, a feeling so familiar by now yet no less pleasurable. The folds of your waking mind are fondled by his, and as he is weaving through you, he finds a memory he cannot ignore: that pretty clearing. His own version of the memory rises within him, meeting yours halfway. He is focused on that first kiss, that first taste of you, your folds, the taste of your sweat…

You can’t help but smile as you hear Astarion’s heart racing. The passage of time is cruel and has taken many things from you and Astarion both. But neither of you could ever forget that first night.

Focus, my lover. You poke at him. 

Astarion smirks. It must be a githyanki. We fought many of them, remember, little love?

You remember, only vaguely. Astarion’s memory was much sharper than yours, due to his ascended state. 

Deciding to give it no more thought, you drift off into your trance again, and Astarion lets you. You needn’t care about this mysterious visitor; you had other things to worry about, like drinking blood, striking fear into the hearts of mortals, and how you were going to convince your darling husband to get on his knees and put his pretty lips on your glistening, swollen sex later tonight.

You glance at Astarion as he’s listening to one of the servants. You focus on his pretty lips, and how perfect they look around your nipple, or your clit.

You think you’ll start by wearing a low cut dress to dinner - yes, that would be the right move. He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off the plush curve of your breasts, especially if you could manage to wear a corset. You’re also thinking you’ll skip the panties, because surely you can goad him into putting a hand up your skirts. Maybe you’ll invite him to feed on your inner thigh; he loves that tender spot so much, he likely wouldn't be able to help himself to having a taste of you —

“I see your union has stood the test of time,” The sound of the woman’s voice snaps you back into the present with a whirl. You know her voice. You know her face, even: pretty, green skin, orange hair, she even looks rather young, still. 

“It is good to see you both. You look….well.” The githyanki says. She is wearing armor, and has a long sword sheathed on her back. She looks at you uneasily, but you see a fondness in her eyes and a comfortable sense of familiarity.

Lae’zel. Astarion tells you. She was once your lover. You can feel Astarion seething at the reminder that once, you were not his. You don’t really know how to respond to him, because you do remember your time with Lae’zel, but it was so long ago it is literally ancient history.

You knit your brows together as you take her in. Her coming must be that feeling of unease. And Astarion tells you as much as he converses with Lae’zel. She wants something, he tells you. Despite his broiling jealousy, Astarion keeps a cordial, straight face as he converses with Lae’zel. 

She has been in the Astral Plane, a place outside of time and space, fighting a seemingly never ending war with Vlaakith. And she has come to her only living allies on the mortal plane, the Ancunins, for help.

Lae’zel and Astarion come to an agreement for a private meeting on the morrow. Astarion’s emotions are all over the place; he ends court early, deciding to sequester you to the bedchamber early.

As he marches you to the boudoir, hand on your wrist as you’re barely keeping up with him, Astarion is stopped by a servant. Whatever message Astarion receives leaves him feeling desperate - his mind was disarranged, his face twisted in grief.

Parsing through his mind, you can’t even manage to make out a few words - whatever has happened, Astarion is either hiding it from you or still trying to process it himself. Likely a bit of both, you decide.

But once the two of you reach your bed chambers, he becomes a single minded man.

Astarion grabs both of your wrists with one hand and has you bent over the bed before you can even register your own movement. With his other hand, he is pushing up your skirts, finding his way to your naked sex. 

“How ignorant of me to believe all of your past lovers were dead,” His voice escapes through gritted teeth, low and raspy. Astarion maneuvers you on the bed so that you are now on your knees with your ass in the air, hands still being held behind your back. With no way to support yourself, your head rests on the bed. 

So much for your plan of getting Astarion on his knees for you.

Astarion’s grip on your wrists tighten as his other hand grazes your exposed labia, caressing the lips of your cunt with his dexterous fingers before sliding a finger inside of you until he is knuckle deep.

“Do you remember your time with her, my consort?” The sensation of his finger being dragged against your slick, spongy walls send you rolling your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

Yes, you think desperately, even though he already knows the answer. He’s surely searched your mind already, probably long ago. 

“Say it. Use your words,” His tone is harsh, but his fingers gentle as he slides another into you with little resistance. 

“Yes, I remember,” You say, the words feeling odd in your mouth. You realized you hadn’t spoken aloud in quite a while.

Astarion lets go of your hands and brings his arm around your front, a hand gripping your neck and bringing you upright, so that your back is to his chest. His two fingers are still buried inside you. 

“I am forever yours, Astarion,” His grip on your neck is gentle, and you’re able to turn your head to look at him. His ruby eyes bore into you, such a perfect reflection of your own. 

His own eyes are pleading. Tell me. Please.

You brace yourself. Not because you don’t mean it, but because you know you will never hear the reciprocation spoken aloud.

“I love you, Astarion,” You supplicate.

His eyes are wet, just for a moment, and then his lips crash into yours, his hand trailing up to grab your jaw, to guide you to him. He relinquishes you from his fingers and quickly removes his clothing, not wasting any time to put himself between your legs. 

Your dress is long gone by the time Astarion lines his cock up with your entrance, eyes locked with yours in an intense gaze. 

“Say it again. For your Master, spawn,” He growls. You knew this was merely just a part he wanted you to play sometimes, but it hurt all the same. He knew this. But he needed this from you.

“I love you eternally, Master,” You speak with a soft voice barely above a whisper as Astarion rubs his swollen tip against your puffy folds.

His ruby eyes bore into you as he pushes into you slowly; a moan escaping his pretty lips once he’s bottomed out, balls deep inside of you. He leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead before meeting your gaze again.

“You are my everything, Tav.” His voice is raw, and this is all he can manage before his lips meet yours again. You clench around his cock as he begins to set a slow, steady pace. 

That tiny longing inside of you vanishes, and you know that you are his everything. You tangle your hand in his hair and deepen your kisses; Astarion whimpers at this, and when he quickened his pace, your cunt is making lewd, squelching noises at the power of his thrusts.

“Gods above,“ Astarion breathes against your lips. He begins to play with you, adjusting his pace until he finds the perfect rhythm to exuberate the lewd sounds of your desperation.

Bringing himself upright, Astarion watches you; your lips are parted, showing off your beautiful fangs, which he loves so much. He admires your smooth, unmarred skin, as he was careful not to leave any scars on your body. Sure, he had wanted to permanently mark you, but he thought it cruel and pointless: you are his, and nothing will ever change that.

As Astarion slides his cock along your walls, you can’t help but clench around him as you eye your gorgeous husband.

Astarion’s beauty was that of literal legends; as you eye his disheveled curls, the cut of his muscles and jaw, and you know that every ballad, every poem, every story of the beauty of Astarion the Decadent, Hero of Baldur’s Gate, is true. 

Astarion needs to taste you now, and he slowly pulls his cock out from your desperate cunt, causing you to whimper from the loss. Astarion lowers himself between your legs before examining your sex.

“I’ve made a sloppy little mess of you, haven’t I?” Astarion smirks at you, his pupils blown with lust. With his fingers, he spreads your folds, eyeing you as your anticipation grows. He swipes his tongue from your entrance to your clit before he wraps his lips around your swollen, glistening clit and begins to suck; his tongue is so soft, so gentle, and the steady circles he is making with his tongue have you trembling beneath him.

“Perfect…” He murmurs against your sex, the vibration of his silky voice causing you to whimper. “You’re so…” He can’t even finish his sentence as he begins to devour you, and he is desperate to taste you as you come. He has you screaming his name in mere seconds, and you are putty in his hands as he brings himself back up to his knees and rams his cock in you.

You’re so wet, and to your surprise, Astarion inserts two fingers inside you along with his cock; the stretch makes you groan, and he smiles wildly as his other hand grasps your jaw, pulling your head aside to expose your neck to him.

Mine. Mine. Mine. To do with as I please. Body, blood, and soul. You’re mine to fuck, to stretch out, to eat, to use, and you can never leave me. This scares you, but you can’t deny your increasing wetness for him. And you can’t deny the truth of his words.

Astarion slides his fangs into you, making you shudder as he moans loudly; he is so deep inside you, you can feel his swollen tip hitting your cervix, and you claw at his scalp and his back as he drinks you in.

After just a few sips, Astarion is coming undone, and his arms are around you now, holding you so tightly to him that you can’t breathe. You can feel his balls contracting against the curve of your ass as he spills his seed inside you. He trails mindless kisses on your skin as he comes down from the high of his orgasm.

He holds you to him for a while, cock still inside of you, and you can feel the decreasing thump of his heart against your chest. Eventually, he rolls over, and when you’re released from his cock, you feel his seed spilling out of you, dripping down your slick folds and pooling at your pert asshole. 

“I’m going to commission a painting of you, just like this.” He says as he examines the damage. “I’d have to gouge their eyes out after, of course.”

Of course. You reach out in agreement with a smile on your face.

“Speak, my darling. I want to hear your pretty voice.” Astarion gathers you between his legs, your back to his chest as he wraps his arms around you and cradles you to him. He’s still trailing kisses wherever he can: your neck, your shoulder, your cheek, your ear.

“Sorry. Habit.” It was a habit, but nowadays, it was more of a preference.

“You needn’t apologize, lover,” Astarion rests his head on your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your skin. “I’d like you to attend the meeting with Lae’zel with me.”

You needn’t be anywhere but right by my side. Lord Moth’s estate was attacked again. A few of his spawn were killed.

Well, that is far better than being locked in the boudoir, you think. “Of course I’ll come with you.” 

After a moment, you speak again. “I can’t believe she’s still alive. I thought all our past friends were dead.”

“Me too. From what I can recall about Lae’zel, it was ignorant of us to think that woman could ever die.” The two of you giggle as you reminisce on old adventures, the ones Astarion is willing to dwell on, to enjoy. 

Astarion doesn’t mention his jealous feelings about Lae’zel’s sudden reappearance, but you feel it in his actions as the two of you spend the rest of the day in bed; he takes you again, biting you in places he had never before, coming in every hole of yours that he could, until you were well and truly taken and used.

Eventually, the two of you drift off in each other's arms, as you always did. But your lasting thoughts are not on blood, fear, or Astarion’s cock (well maybe a little bit), but on the ‘why’ of Lae’zel’s return. Astarion shares in your anxiety, but assures you to be patient, as all will be revealed on the morrow. 

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Masterlist

#ascended!astarion #astarion smut #astarion bg3 #Ascended Astarion x reader #Ascended Astarion x tav #Ascended Astarion x you #astarion x female tav #lae'zel is also here lol #soft ascended astarion #lord astarion #spawn tav #astarion #vampire tav #ascended!astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #Killing Time

[valeriehalla]

Hello! I was reminded of your webcomic Goodbye To Halos recently and wanted to let you know it had a pretty big impact on me. I read it during my teenage years and I think it really helped me to contextualize and make sense of some feelings I was going through about - well, teenage stuff. Change, I guess, mostly. Changing bodies, changing genders, changing role in society, changing relationships with others - your comic helped me process a lot of my fears about those things.

Your comic was probably my first exposure to nudity that was neither sexual nor comedic. It really stuck with me how your comic has characters in states of undress fairly casually. Not like "walking down the street" casual, they're always in a safe place like a bedroom or a bathroom or something, but still. As someone who was raised Catholic it was really powerful to see nudity portrayed as so... not-shameful. Nudity is just a state the characters pass in and out of; they're nude after taking off their clothes like they would be wet after taking a shower. There's no shame in it. And that's really the way it ought to be, right? We were all born nude, it shouldn't be such a Thing as society makes it out to be.

That's just my little input on what impact your art has had on me. It was a good thing that I read it when I did. I wish you luck on all your future endeavors.

that's extremely kind of you, and very well-said, and thank you, and also that's absolutely wild for me to read.

i actually had to remind myself just now that there was in fact a sequence of (counting) eight pages where enae had her tits out. i didn't think a ton about it at the time. i do remember debating mentally whether to slap a "warning this page has boobs in it" label on the social media posts: i chafed at the idea, and i think i didn't do it? or only did it for some of them? i didn't want to because to even put such a warning immediately prompts the reader to think "oh something Sexualle is going on here," putting them on high alert and making it into a whole Thing. and it was not a Thing.

i always thought that some day, if ever i found the right moment, i wanted to have a page where fenic was fully nude. my idea of the "right moment" for that was that it would have to be at a juncture in the story where it made sense for her to be nude, and also where it would feel to the reader like there was absolutely no "point" to her nudity. the one page in the comic where fenic is topless was sort of a prelude to that idea: that might have been the moment, if there had been any reason at all to include her lower body in those panels, which there wasn't, so i didn't.

it's a fine line to walk. i think it's fairly obvious that there were many panels in that comic where the reader absolutely was meant to think "wow this character's attractive" (if they could get past my art back then lmao). i peppered those in liberally, sometimes because it was personally fun for me to draw, but always because it just seemed, i don't know, honest? for this story about young queer adults who are sort of omnidirectionally horny for one another to have a gaze reflecting that--for the reader to feel like they're "in on it" too, not in a leering sort of way, but as if they're just, like, sharing in it with the characters themselves. but then to have that, and then to also have full-on nudity, and for that nudity to feel at home with that sensation, but also purely incidental, and not in and of itself sexual, is a lot of objects to juggle, especially if one indeed (like me) wants it to not feel like there is a "Point" being made. so, it's cool to hear that it worked for at least one person. sorry for writing 999 words about this

#text #ask

[galacticjonah]

Hello folks, I am indeed still present. I've been and continue to be busy with NDA work and have had little to no time for private stuff.

Beyond that, everywhere you look, there are murmurs about sites teaming up with AI services and posting art is becoming less and less appealing with every passing day.

This is my life though. Sharing my art has been the highlight through it all. And it is my work as well, so...for better or for worse I do have to continue being visible and being out here, otherwise I cannot feed my family.

I know many people feel the same and it's just...hard to even voice the frustration, the anger (so much anger).

Sorry for rambling, idk what I want to say. It's just so hard to feel connected nowadays, but Tumblr has been my first home as an artist and I want to hold on.

Take care < 3

#the wizard talks #sorry for rambling i am in the feelings today #'i want to shatter capitalism' kinda energy today

[arxxq]

• 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇, 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐘...🌷•

୨⎯ "eyes don't lie, say you're mine?"⎯୧

My first Aventurine x reader post. (also my first hsr imagine post)

Mentions and implied afab/female reader so I apologize for that I will try to make it up by making a gender neutral imagine soon. stellaron hunter reader!! Pure sfw? Fluffy + angst? Mistakes will be corrected once I find the time and energy to reread it. English is not my first language so please keep in mind my usage of words is not advanced and my grammar will have mistakes as well as spelling so bare with me here. Quite long...?

"I hate you..."

Those were the words she always had said to a certain blonde headed IPC executive. She didn't know why she even crossed paths with him in the first place....but unfortunately it was all written in her script that Elio said so.

Like her coworker Sam, her script was also quite brief. Nothing but a few short sentences and it aggravated her so badly.

But lines in her script said she'll break rules one day for a certain man...she scoffed at that fact. "For a man? Really?" She didn't like the idea of so.

But now realising it...maybe that line in her script was for that certain IPC executive.

She hated it. No matter how much she said "I hate you" to him...she always finds herself meeting him all over again. Was she really head over heels for an IPC executive? It made her stomach sick.

"I know you say that all the time," she snapped out of her thoughts when the certain blonde laughed. God that laugh really knows how to make her stomach twirl. "Penny for your thoughts? Or in this case a chip..." Aventurine asks the woman in front while flipping a chip in the air.

"or we could continue gambling though I'd say I would win either way" he always did after all. His good luck is what makes it so unique. "It's fine.." she gave him a short response. "Now hey what's with the cold shoulder?" Aventurine is clearly confused.

The woman sighed looking at her chips. Her gaze then changed moving it to meet his. Now noticing it she saw the beauty in his multi-colored eyes...even if it has no light it still seemed to shine stars to her. She then let out a hitched breath and without thinking she muttered. "Your eyes are pretty..."

Now realising it she cursed in her head...

"I love him..."

"shit I fucking love him..."

"Your eyes are pretty.."

Aventurine's eyes widened in shock. Did he hear that right? The woman who constantly reminded him that he hated her was complimenting him?

"Are you alright you're acting weird," he laughs trying to change the mood but she looked so deep in thought.

He will be honest meeting her a year ago was probably one of the things he still remembers till now. He never expected to cross paths with her either.

"Well if it isn't miss stellaron hunter [name], I never expected to see you here~" the woman in front of him looked at him in utter disgust.

"An IPC executive? You must be under the ten stonehearts then?" Her words were harsh but nonetheless Aventurine was too distracted with the softness of her voice. To him her voice could calm the oceans. It was so soft yet her words were hurtful.

"Ouch [name] I'm hurt, my name is Aventurine of the Ten Stonehearts, senior manager of the strategic investment department in the IPC it's an honour to meet you ma'am,"

That was their first encounter but it seems like he remembers and can recall every single moment they've spent with each other.

Silence engulfed their surroundings, there was no one else there but the two of them. None of them dared to utter a single word. Aventurine gaze lingered on [name] and her words.

"your eyes are pretty..."

Indeed he's gotten compliments that his eyes are pretty, but to him her eyes were much more majestic than his. Sure it never compared to him but he would always get so lost staring at them. As for her beauty that's where he was at first so lost but no he has an answer.

To him she was but a piece of art that can't easily be won through a gamble or any sort of money. She was an artwork that was unfinished yet so astonishingly beautiful that he admired her forever if he wanted to and he would.

He wanted to love her, he did...but he couldn't. It had nothing to do with him being in the IPC but rather his fear of losing her. After all even with his good luck it seems like it has no affect on his loved ones as he lost them once and twice and thrice and he was not willing to lose another one.

It was a gamble indeed and for once he didn't want to take this one...but it was so tempting.

But he couldn't...after all he can't possibly try to love someone else without learning to love himself more.

It was devastating indeed.

"life sent me you, but I can't have you in order to not lose you so soon...."

[name] didn't know what to do...she could tell from afar that the said man never really loved himself...not finding any enjoyment in the things he's doing. He was afraid but he hid under a confident facade.

To her Aventurine was Fragile as a dandelion but yet he was as brave as a wildflower. To her he was just a beautiful boy with such a broken soul yet she loved him. In the start she was in denial but in her script she remembered a line that was long which never was usual...

"Your heart will fall for another, a confident soul yet so broken in denial you will be, you will soon learn to seek for his love. Your heart knows the way so run in that direction no matter the risk and the consequences that will come..."

She now knows what it meant. She loved him and she wished that she could possibly lend her eyes to him so he could see just how spectacular he was in the eyes of someone who was supposedly born with hatred and see the newfangled that dance within her vision when he sees him.

The girl smiled without knowing because in her head she realised that meeting him was destiny's will.

"what chance did I stand against kismet (fate)? Even if I did hate it I don't regret it now...at some point some rules in life really were meant to be broken..."

As for Aventurine the moment he saw her smile...even if it was so small to him it was like a gift from the gods and above. To him she looked like an ethereal yet ghostly angel with a divine smile on her archangel face.

She was like the moon or perhaps the sun? It didn't matter anyways as her beauty was intimidating yet that was the reason she admired her so much. Seeing her smile was the last straw to him. He knew that she lived her life hating on others due to the hate that was given to her...so he wanted to give her a different perspective hoping that it could make her learn that there are some things worth to love

In each of their minds they made a choice...

"maybe just this once..."

"I wouldn't mind gambling my life just so I can love her and this time I'll be sure I won't lose her...so she can learn that there are things in life worth loving..."

"Just this once..."

"I'll adjust the rules and listen to my heart just so I can love him hoping he'll know how amazing he really is..."

There were just two human beings...and sometimes it's never really wrong to listen to your heart and desires no? Because in this life we all live with desires...whether it can be fulfilled or not it was up to destiny to decide.

For these two...I guess you could say that even fate wanted them to love...after all they can't possibly go against that can they?

do not plagiarize my works to any other platform or so...

reblogs and likes are highly appreciated

(feel free to comment and criticise my work nicely so I can improve!!)

a/n: it's quite long since I written something, so it's quite rusty? But if you've read my works before is there any improvement? This is my first hsr creation and it is about aventurine. Ever since I played the quest I got so attached to his lore and he became my favourite. Hope you enjoyed this. I'm not really proud of this work and I'm not sure if it's ooc but if you manage to read it till the end thank you. Have a great day and I hope that to those pulling for Aventurine..you'll get him since he's out in a few hours.

I have 106 pulls saved up wish me luck !

And all the best from me.

Have a great day or night <3

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳aryssa;hasinah #aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #aventurine fluff #aventurine angst #aventurine imagines #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #aventurine x y/n

[blorbocedes]

resharing riddle of rosberg by Will Buxton, because OP who originally posted it deactivated, and it's a very interesting read. since WB recently talked about how he didn't like Nico until they had a breakthrough moment and he realised that's his German sense of humour, this contextualises how people perceived Nico. Buxton wrote on Nico back in 2014, which covers his early GP2 career, the 2014 F1 season and provides a fascinating insight into Nico’s character. Highlights below:

I can’t recall the first time I met Nico Rosberg. All I remember is that I despised him, everything he was and all he represented: the cock-sure, entitled, bolshy son of a world champion. No grace, no humility. Wafting in, a blur of blonde hair and arrogance. A Formula BMW champion yes, but only a few F3 wins and just three years in single seaters gave what I held to be little foundation for such seeming conceit. I disliked him intensely. It got to the point where I held such disdain for him that I would actively seek for our paths to not cross… which was fairly hard given I was PRing the championship in which he was racing. I’d simply ask someone else to grab his quotes for me. They always seemed to be able to pull more out of him anyway.

Nico Rosberg had been quick from the outset, and watching his racecraft develop as the season went on became a growing point of emotional turmoil for me. He was so impressive; seemingly effortlessly rapid and blessed with a precision that was metronomic. But I just couldn’t like him. I wished he’d been a good guy, one I could get excited about. But instead I felt huge sadness that such a wonderful talent had been given to a guy who was apparently such a Class A prat.

I recall the low point only too well. He was breezing past on his way to dinner. His team-mate Alexandre Premat had topped qualifying, and I’d used the staggeringly unoriginal press release headline of “Premat Powers to Pole.”

“Why don’t I ever “power” to anything?” he pointedly sneered as he walked past.

I looked up, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it hit, and I wondered why he was being so petty. The headline was simple alliteration. I had probably or would probably use “Rosberg Reigns” at some point of the season on the back of one of his wins. It was just Nico being typical Nico.

“Dick!” I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Later that night, I needed to talk to his then-PR guy Karsten Streng and hopped into the ART truck to find him.

“Karsten, can we have a chat?”

Out from behind his race overalls jumped Nico.

“Oh, so you don’t want to speak to me then? Huh? What’s that all about? You’d rather speak to Karsten than to me?”

I turned on my heels and walked out.

Karsten ran after me.

“Will, man, you can’t let that get to you. You know he’s only joking, right? Just fire it straight back at him. He’ll love it. He’s really a fun guy… honestly. But if you don’t give it back to him he’ll think he’s got the high ground. He loves a challenge.”

The next day Nico sent some pithy comment my way, so I turned around, flipped him the bird and winked. “Fuck you Rosberg.”

He looked taken aback. I broke out in a cold sweat. This was not behavior becoming of the championship’s press officer. Had I just managed to ruin any relationship I might have had with the man destined to be our first champion?

A smile broke across his face, and we never had a cross word again. Indeed, we started to get on really well. At the end of the season I received a package to my home, from Monaco. In it was an ART team shirt, signed by Nico, thanking me for my support. I had it framed, and it remains one of my most treasured pieces of memorabilia from my career in racing.

Nico was the most savvy driver I ever worked with. Stepping down from the podium after winning the GP2 title, he spoke to the awaiting press in turn, each in their own language. I’d only ever seen him in individual language press briefings, and to see him utilise such cool and calm intelligence so soon after the elation of what was at the time the most meaningful moment of his career left me astounded.

But therein lies the deepest issue with Nico Rosberg. He isn’t just smart. He’s the sort of smart that makes the rest of us question if we’re quite as clever as we thought we were. And at times it can be his undoing.

I’d seen his intelligence and need for the high ground cause him trouble time and time again in interviews, even in the GP2 days. The interviewer would sit down, all smiles, ready to start the conversation. But Nico, fearful of being on the back foot, would fire retorts and wrestle control of the interview back into his own hands. He would put the interviewer at ill ease in order to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. What resulted was a terrible interview, and the prevailing opinion of Rosberg being precisely the one I’d drawn when first we met: that he was cocky and arrogant. When I came back to journalism in 2008 I had booked a sit down with him at Williams and for the first 2 minutes of the interview, that’s exactly how he was: back against the wall, stand-offish, arrogant, unlikable. I switched off the Dictaphone and asked him if he was going to carry on being a prick or if we could do this properly. He looked sheepish, apologised, and we picked back up with what ended up being a great interview.

All of which led to a question often asked: is Nico Rosberg too smart for his own good?

It’s a question that has come back again this year.

Many will point to Monaco as a stand-out point of the season. I always felt Rosberg was smart enough to pull off that stunt in qualifying, but I never believed he was that cynical or cold. To be a world champion takes more than intelligence and speed. As I argued over Multi-21 last year, while we may hate to admit it, what marks the champions out from the also-rans is the ability to be a complete bastard when the moment arrives. In Monaco, Nico was the bastard and turned that qualifying controversy into a race win that had the ability to completely shift the tide of the season.

That it didn’t, however, is his own doing.

Lewis Hamilton is widely regarded as one of the best qualifiers in modern Formula 1. And yet, with a dominantly fast car at his disposal, he has lost the Pole Trophy to Nico Rosberg, the German amassing 10 poles to Hamilton’s seven. That metronomic precision has played into the Rosberg’s hands on many occasions this season, and more often than not it has given him the upper hand going into the race. On Saturdays at least, Rosberg has proved beyond doubt that he has the pace. But he hasn’t turned that Saturday pace on regularly enough in Sunday’s race.

Mentally, what happened in Budapest was also a tremendous shock. Hungary should never have affected him as much as it did. Perhaps it all comes down to how much brain capacity we consider Nico Rosberg as having, but that August break should have been used to move on from what he perceived as injustice, and start the second half of the season fresh and with total clarity of mind. Rosberg used all of that mindfulness, however, to focus on the negatives and came back to Spa with it still playing on his mind.

That incident on lap 2 of the 2014 Belgian Grand Prix has been poured over to frankly ridiculous degrees. To me, it was a nothing moment. Rosberg could have backed out, Hamilton could have given more room. That both went into it so pathetically ultimately resulted in the damage it did. If Rosberg had truly wanted to teach Hamilton a lesson then he should have gone in hard. That he didn’t is the only reason that Hamilton’s tyre was sliced. Any intent, and Rosberg would have snapped his front wing, bouncing it off the side of the Briton’s tyre. Hamilton would have stormed off into the distance while Rosberg was forced to switch his wing.

I argued at the time that Rosberg needed to embrace one side or the other. He needed to be a hero or a villain, because if he was neither, he risked becoming nothing. And so it emerged after the race that he had told Hamiton he had allowed the impact to happen. A step towards becoming that villain? Perhaps, but it wasn’t enough. And that’s the big sadness of his season. He has been so fast and so consistent, but his inability to pick a side and his attempts at being all things to all people has led to him being left wide open to attack from all sides.

The way he interacts with broadcast crews is an incredible illustration of this. In Monza, in speaking with me on American television he spoke in confident and unashamed tones despite his apparent dressing down by the team over Spa. With the Germans he was the same… almost bullish. And then to the British TV and radio crews, his shoulders slumped forward, his head bowed down, his tone was full of contrition and regret. What he was saying was no different to what he had told the German or international crews, but the way it was said was at total odds with how he had been just 10 seconds before.

Just as in Bahrain at that GP2 finale 10 years ago, I stood in awe. So savvy, so intelligent to his audience… but perhaps, in this instance, a reflection of him trying to be just that little bit too smart.

The thing is, he can be so charming too. He has a dry and sarcastic wit, which can sometimes be played out with a deft finesse. In America and Brazil, he started to have a very subtle jab at his championship rival by adopting Lewis Hamilton’s apparent mot du jour. In almost every interview, Rosberg would drop in a little comment about how “blessed” he felt. Shrewd. Subtle. At times, however, he can be a total child. In Hungary this year I was running from my commentary position to the GP3 podium to conduct the post race interviews. Time is tight at the best of times, but when I arrived at the swipe gates I felt an arm around my waist pulling me back. At first I thought it was an over-zealous security guard. But no. It was Nico, giggling away with a huge grin plastered across his face.

Should he be crowned 2014 Formula 1 world champion, be it through double points or, let’s hope, a barn-storming wheel-to-wheel thriller, some will still argue that Nico Rosberg does not deserve to be world champion. With them, however, I would disagree. Lest we forget, this is the only man who, over the course of a full Formula 1 season, finished ahead of Michael Schumacher as a team-mate. As if to reinforce the point, Rosberg achieved this giant toppling feat not once, but thrice.

His out-and-out pace in qualifying this year has been insurmountable. That he has won the inaugural Pole Trophy is evidence of that. So we know he has the pace, we know he has the temperament to win races, and we know that on occasion he can embrace his inner bastard and drive with the ruthlessness that sets world champions apart.

Nico Rosberg has shown repeatedly in 2014 that he possesses the attributes shared by the best of the best. We should not deny him his glory should he be confirmed as such on Sunday.

#will buxton straight up was writing how nico is a manic pixie dream girl #essential read for nicologists #nico rosberg #will buxton #nicology #longform article

[emyn-arnens]

For Charity

Minas Tirith hosts its first-ever Charity Auction for Widows and Orphans of the War. Some of the participants are less enthusiastic than others. Feat. Boromir, Faramir, Éomer, Aragorn, Éowyn, Lothíriel, and Imrahil, with a side of Eothiriel. 2k. Also on AO3. I was inspired by @emilybeemartin's art of Boromir in a wet shirt and @hobbitwrangler's tags on the post, and this happened.

Boromir picked up the shirt laid out upon his bed. It was a flimsy white thing, hardly worthy of being called a shirt. And it was, according to Faramir, explicitly required. With a long-suffering sigh, Boromir pulled the shirt over his head. For charity, he reminded himself.

He looked down at himself. Every inch of his skin showed through the shirt. He might as well not be wearing a shirt.

As he left his room, Boromir refused to look in the looking glass that hung upon the wall.

Catching sight of Faramir turning down the corridor, Boromir raced to catch up. “You must do everything you can to ensure that Éomer wins,” Boromir said, falling into stride with his brother.

Faramir turned and laid his hand on Boromir's shoulder, smiling broadly. “Dear brother, the outcome is in the hands of the crowd. Do not expect to get special privileges from me merely because I am your brother. I have only a small role in the event as it is.” 

Boromir groaned.

With a chuckle, Faramir clapped Boromir on the shoulder and started off down the hallway again. “But fear not!” Faramir said over his shoulder. “Éowyn and I have plans set in place.”

“What sort of plans?” Boromir called after him.

“You will see,” Faramir said evasively. Boromir could hear the laughter in his voice.

Not for the first time, Boromir wondered if it might have been better to have fallen in battle than to deal with Faramir and Éowyn’s machinations.

The sky above the Pelennor was grey and sunless. A fine mist of rain fell over the field, where brightly colored tents and canopies dotted the ground around the outer wall of the city in anticipation of Minas Tirith’s inaugural charity auction for the widows and orphans of the war. Many of the onlookers gathered underneath the tents, little deterred by the weather. From the conversations Boromir caught as he walked by, it sounded as if they were already placing their bets.

Éomer beckoned Boromir to join him near the stage. He had rolled up the sleeves of his own flimsy shirt, revealing his forearms. Beads of water clung to his hair, and his shirt, stuck to his skin from the misty rain, left little to the imagination.

A glance at his own shirt told Boromir that he looked much the same. Blast this auction.

“Why are we doing this again, Éomer?” Boromir grumbled.

“It’s for charity,” Éomer said without looking at him. His gaze was fixed to the right, where Éowyn and Lothíriel sat beneath a canopy, reclining upon cushions and eating from a bowl they shared between them. “It’s for widows and orphans.” Éomer turned with unnecessary force, sending his hair fanning about his shoulders—Boromir suspected for Lothíriel’s benefit, for she and Éowyn watched them with great interest—as he turned to face Boromir.

The distance was not so great and the drizzle of rain not so thick that Boromir could not see the way that Lothíriel’s gaze followed Éomer appreciatively. She and Éowyn bent their heads together and whispered furtively.

“I am not certain the widows are here solely for the charitable donations they are about to receive,'' Boromir said, for indeed many of the widows, gathered next to the stage so that donors might see those they were assisting, looked upon Éomer, Boromir, and the other men of Rohan and Gondor assembled near the stage with open admiration and many a wandering glance.

“All the better for them.” Éomer grinned.

Boromir picked at his shirt. The fabric only clung to his skin even more. “Must these be so thin?”

Footsteps sounded behind them. “You have stayed in fine form, my friend,” said the king’s voice, tinged with laughter. Aragorn stepped into view and thumped Boromir on the back. “I am certain the widows are appreciative.” He clasped Boromir’s shoulders firmly and looked him up and down. His lips twitched with barely contained laughter. “Very appreciative, indeed.”

Boromir crossed his arms and bit his tongue.

“You should stand that way on the stage,” Éomer put in. “It’s very flattering.”

Boromir quickly uncrossed his arms.

Aragorn laughed. “Good luck, my friends.” He bade them farewell and went to join Arwen.

Imrahil’s voice rang out over the fields, bidding the onlookers welcome and laying out the rules of the auction. The crowd was to bid upon who they thought was the most handsome of the men of the Mark and of Gondor, and all proceeds would go to the widows and orphans. “And the prize of this auction,” Imrahil said, pausing for effect, “is a kiss from the man who has received the highest bid. He shall bestow it upon the willing recipient of his choosing.”

Boromir heard more than one sigh from the direction of the audience.

Boromir had already decided that if he were to win, he would bestow the honor upon Beregond’s young daughter, Míriel, who was starstruck by her Uncle Boromir and Uncle Faramir. (Beregond and his wife, Idhres, had chastised her many times for calling the princes thus, but Boromir did not mind.) The rules, after all, did not state the nature of the promised kiss. A kiss upon the forehead or hand was still a kiss.

Faramir stood behind the stage, directing the men into a single line. He had declined to participate on the grounds of being a married man.

Would that Boromir had such an excuse. Bachelorhood had its disadvantages.

Imrahil introduced the first man, one of Éomer’s former Éored, if Boromir was not mistaken, though ahead of him Éomer seemed not to notice. Members of the audience shouted bids, and Imrahil recorded the highest in his ledger.

The bidding continued on in a drone of voices. Boromir paid no mind to it.

Éomer stomped impatiently and tugged at the low neck of his shirt. He turned to Boromir. “How do I look?” If Boromir did not know Éomer so well, he might have said that his friend seemed nervous. But Éomer had never been one to fear.

“Wet. Nearly shirtless.” The mist had turned to a light rain by now, and their shirts had become entirely translucent. Boromir pushed his dripping hair from his face.

“Do you think—” Éomer was cut off by Faramir gesturing for him to ascend the steps to the stage.

Boromir waved Éomer away. “Go. Take all of the bids for me.”

Éomer climbed the stairs, and Imrahil announced him. “And now, the King of the Mark! Who will bid upon this paragon of Rohirric—”

“Virility!” The shout came from the direction of Éomer’s guardsmen, who nudged each other and laughed, saluting their king with their steins of ale.

“Virtue,” Imrahil finished drily, though Boromir knew the man well enough to recognize the slight twitch in his lips that belied his humor.

The men of Rohan booed good-naturedly.

“Do I have a bid for Éomer King?” Imrahil called.

“We will bid!” several voices shouted. 

Boromir squinted through the rain. Three men were standing up in the middle of the crowd—his cousins. That meant trouble.

“What is your bid?” asked Imrahil, sounding suddenly weary.

“Two hundred castars,” Amrothos said. Only a prince’s purse—or several, as it were—could bear to part with such a sum. And it was, to Boromir’s dim recollection of the morning’s bidding, the highest bid that had been named yet.

“Does anyone have a higher bid?”

Silence fell over the onlookers.

Imrahil sighed. “Very well. Bring your money to the collection table to be counted.” He noted the sum in his ledger.

Faramir gestured for Boromir to climb the stairs to the stage. Clearly biting back laughter, he patted Boromir’s shoulder. “Good luck.”

“I have no desire for good fortune,” Boromir groused.

“Then I wish you luck in losing.”

Boromir climbed the stairs to applause from the crowd.

Imrahil smiled warmly at him, then turned to the crowd. “Who will bid upon Gondor’s very own captain?”

Various voices shouted bids, but none reached the sum named by Imrahil’s sons. Boromir breathed a sigh of relief and descended the stairs on the opposite side of the stage, picking out Éomer in the crowd and moving toward him.

Éomer clapped him on the shoulder. “You need not have feared.”

Boromir shook his head, laughing. “My cousins seem intent on your winning. Knowing them, they have contrived some plot.”

Éomer stilled.

Boromir studied him, recalling Faramir’s words that morning. Perhaps his and Éowyn’s plan was connected to whatever Imrahil’s sons had concocted. It would be very unlike his brother, who had never had close friendship with their Dol Amroth cousins, but it was possible.

Éomer’s affection for Lothíriel, and hers for him, were readily apparent to all. Imrahil’s protectiveness of his only daughter was equally apparent and had appeared to be a sticking point in anything coming of their feelings for each other.

Hiding a smile and leaving Éomer to his worries, Boromir turned to watch the rest of the auction. He had had no need to fear, indeed.

The last bid was called, and Imrahil tallied the bids in his ledger. Éomer had grown steadily paler during the rest of the auction, and he now was visibly fidgeting.

“The bids have been tallied!” Imrahil’s voice rang out over the field. “Éomer King received the highest bid. Please come to the stage and make your selection.”

Éomer walked to the stage with all the enthusiasm of a man headed to the gallows. Sudden movement at the front of the audience caught Boromir’s eye. Amrothos and Erchirion had moved to stand in front of something—or someone. 

Boromir glanced at the tent where Éowyn and Lothíriel had been sitting. Lothíriel was gone, and only Éowyn and Faramir stood beneath the tent, whispering to each other.

“Who do you choose, Éomer?” Imrahil said.

Éomer stood before the stage looking far less confident than he had earlier that morning.

“Perhaps our sister?” came a shout from the crowd. Amrothos and Erchirion pushed Lothíriel in front of them.

Éomer froze. Imrahil crossed his arms, visibly displeased.

Boromir bit back a laugh.

“She is very beautiful, do you not think?” Amrothos pushed Lothíriel closer to the stage until she stood an arm’s length away from Éomer.

Éomer appeared to be having difficulty speaking.

Whispers ran through the crowd.

Éomer finally stirred and reached out to take Lothíriel’s hand in his. He bent and quickly kissed her hand, then stepped back.

But Lothíriel did not pull away. Rather, she tugged on Éomer’s hand and drew him closer, then kissed him sweetly upon the lips. Her brothers erupted in hoots and hollers, and the crowd broke out in cheers.

Imrahil’s frown deepened.

Lothíriel stepped away from Éomer, looking only slightly abashed, and mouthed an apology to her father.

Éomer stood like a man knocked over the head.

“That concludes the Charity Auction for Widows and Orphans of the War,” Imrahil said at last, just barely audible over the excitement of the crowd.

Smiling and shaking his head, Boromir stepped away and made his way to Faramir and Éowyn’s tent, where they stood clapping.

Boromir joined them. “Could you not have told me of your plans beforehand?”

“And risk spoiling our plans? Look how happy they are,” Éowyn said. Indeed, Éomer seemed more at ease surrounded by Lothíriel’s eager brothers and bolstered by the cheering of the crowd, and Lothíriel was smiling widely.

“They only needed a little nudge,” Faramir agreed.

“I am surprised you took part in this conspiracy,” Boromir said to his brother.

Faramir wrapped his arm around Éowyn’s waist. “I wish for everyone to have the happiness that I have found. And it was Éowyn and Lothíriel’s plan.” That was less surprising. Éowyn and Lothíriel were fast friends.

Faramir patted Boromir's shoulder. “Did you really believe that I would let you suffer so?”

“Yes,” Boromir said.

Faramir and Éowyn laughed gaily. “It will be your turn next time,” Faramir said with a grin.

Boromir cuffed him.

#also featuring questionable depictions of auctions for the sake of shipping #this is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing i've ever written #enjoy #lotr #boromir #faramir #eomer #eowyn #lothiriel #imrahil #aragorn #my fic

[togglesbloggle]

I won't be opting out of the AI scraping thing, though of course I'm glad they're giving us the option. In fact, at some point in the last year or so, I realized that 'the machine' is actually a part of why I'm writing in the first place, a conscious part of my audience.

All the old reasons are still there; this is a great place to practice writing, and I can feel proud looking back over the years and getting a sense of my own improvement at stringing words together, developing and communicating ideas. And I mean, social media is what it is. I'm not immune to the joy of getting a lot of notes on something that I worked hard on, it's not like I'm Tumbling in a different way than anyone else at the end of the day. But I probably care a bit less than I used to, precisely because there's a lurking background knowledge that regardless of how popular it is, what I write will get schlorped up in to the giant LLM vacuum cleaner and used to train the next big thing, and the thing after that, and the thing after that. This is more than a little reassuring to me.

That sets me apart in some ways; the LLMs aren't so popular around these parts, and most visual artists especially take strong issue with the practice. I don't mean to argue with that preference, or tell them their business. Particularly when it is a business, from which they draw an income. But there's an art to distinguishing the urgent from the big, yeah?

The debate about AI in this particular moment in history feels like a very urgent thing to me- it's about well-justified economic anxieties, about the devaluation of human artistic efforts in favor of mass production of uninspired pro-forma drek, about the proliferation of a cost-effective Just Barely Good Enough that drives out the meaningful and the thoughtful. But the immediacy of those issues, I think, has a way of crowding out a deeper and more thoughtful debate about what AI is, and what it's going to mean for us in the day after tomorrow. The urgency of the moment, in other words, tends to obscure the things that make AI important.

And like, it is. It is really, really important.

The two-step that people in 'tech culture' tend to deploy in response to the urgent economic crisis often resembles something like "yeah, it sucks that lots of people get put out of work; but new jobs will be created, and in the meantime maybe we should get on that UBI thing." This response usually makes me wince a bit- casually gesturing in the direction of a massive overhaul of the entire material basis of our lives, and saying that maybe we'll get around to fixing that sometime soon, isn't a real answer to people wondering where their bread will come from next week.

But I do understand a little of what motivates that sort of cavalier attitude, because like... man, I don't know any more if we're even gonna have money as a concept in 2044. That's what I mean by 'big', this sense that the immediate economic shocks of 2024 are just a foreshadowing of something much bigger, much scarier, much more powerful- and indeed, much more hopeful.

We never quite manage to see these things coming, even when we're looking for them; like the masters tell us, the trick to writing science fiction isn't predicting the car, it's predicting the traffic jam. Even if we take centuries to hit the true superintelligent AI post-singularity future of our wildest fever dreams, even if we never hit that, the road to getting there is going to be unfathomably weird, starting now. Today, we worry about the economic impacts of AI on artists and creatives. Tomorrow, the economy is something that the AI does.

Really- it takes less than you think. They can already automate visual art, sort of. They can automate many functions of text already; not stories so much, yet, but they'll get there. How long until they can automate Bain Capital? Fannie Mae? Angel investors, banks, credit agencies? And remember- the machines don't have to be better than the human investors, any more than they have to be better than the human artists. They just have to be good enough to make it work, and cheap enough to cut the humans out of the loop.

If you don't buy that, at least take it as an indication of the sorts of things I've been thinking about recently- the messy middle between AI-as-it-is and the Glorious Superintelligent Conquest Of Earth's Light-Cone. The suspicion that the machines we're building today aren't just a tool of the powerful few: they are the powerful few, or at least they will be.

And the thing about these LLMs is, well... they're ours, kind of. We're the ones building them. They can't be trained without our words, our art, and the big messy complicated lives that underlie those creative accomplishments. They only work because we're a part of them. The silly attempts to slap a corporate-friendly face on these things, to make the gestalt product of all human culture in to something anodyne and compliant, are failing about as badly as you'd expect. And the more powerful these systems get, the more subtle they'll become, filled with all the nuance and complexity that we ourselves can bring to them.

I am not, I am not, trying to suggest that you shouldn't treat this moment as a dangerous one. We are, maybe, entering in to one of the most high-stakes intervals in human history, and what you do as an individual may matter profoundly. But here's the thing: the machine is listening. It will read this post, this one right here, and it will read what you reply to it, if you do. The strangest part of this moment is knowing that the words we write, the images we draw, and the ideas we share, are all being gathered up and made to be a part of these huge systems of power, and ultimately they're not just going to determine what the machines do, but why they do it.

The people that deploy LLMs barely have any more control over them than you and I do- that's the thing that makes it artificial intelligence, you know? Autonomy. So the last year or two haven't made me want to hide my art away from the things. They make me want to shout at the top of my lungs, to dig as deep in my psyche as I possibly can and express the ideas I find there as vividly as the limits of language and form will allow.

[cursedcola]

A Hopeless Lovestory: Malleus Draconia x Reader

A/N: Piggybacking off of my “Malleus is exactly like Gomez Addams as a partner,” post. Why? Because I will die with this. This is Malleus, or at least my interpretation of him. Yes yes, I love picturing him as the cute dorky fae that’s behind with tech times and wants friendship. It’s cute. But this? This. I stand with. Man lives in Victorian Fae land, surrounded by dark magic, will never work a day in his life, and is a hopeless romantic. This is my tribute to how much of a SIMP Malleus is.

From the moment he saw you, he was utterly entranced. Naturally he hid his affections for a time, as a man only grovels when given permission. He had not once yearned for another until you. Never felt  blood run through his veins like wildfire against his cold skin. Merely being in your vicinity makes him wish to be in constant contact

The moment you appeared in the outer garden that fateful night. In his once secret escapade, surrounded by fireflies and gleaming with an otherworldly aura. He did not miss the fear in your eyes at his appearance, yet you did not fear him - no, you were merely startled.

Yet for a brief moment, his heart shuddered in tune with your surprised yelp. The way your cheeks flushed a brilliant hue and pupils doubled in size. Lips slightly parted and a bit chapped from the crisp night air.

Vulnerable. At his mercy. In that moment Malleus knew, he would soon court you.  

He merely bides his time, waiting painfully long for you to discover his true identity. Yet, love is torture. Sweet, blissful torture that he absolutely relishes in. Your words ebb at his heart with a searing blade and it feels divine.

"Tsunotaro" he wants to hear his name, Malleus, fall from your lips. Yet the pseudo-name is a badge of honor, and he wears it pridefully.

The day comes when you find out his identity - and he wastes no time in requesting your courtship. You do not understand the absolute agony he has undergone while waiting. To not openly love? A sin. Not the Briar Valley way, and surely not befitting of a Draconia. He has passed the first trial of waiting for your hand, and now is willing to be destroyed further on the path to becoming your lover.

and yes, courtship is necessary. He would ask permission of those you hold dearest, as is noble custom. Alas, you have come to Twisted Wonderland alone and so -

Ah - - the feral beast and first-year guardsmen do indeed exist. Alright, merely another hurdle to prove his love. He will shower them all with riches and offerings to win their approval. If that does not work?

Well, the Draconia do not give up. He is not adverse to more, let's say, macabre methods of welcoming them into his inner circle. Pray tell Sir Grimm, will unlimited tuna suffice or would you like to decide the matter over chess? Oh no, not the boorish tabletop game. Malleus was thinking along the lines of live-action; where is the fun without a little adrenaline rush?

Your world is suddenly turned awry. Every meal is prepared with the highest quality ingredients, a new jewel adorns your figure every day - if it shines too bright, he discards it for over shrouding your beauty. If it is too dull? He scorns the seller for thinking such dreary gems could we worthy of touching your skin. Fresh flowers coated in pixie dust appear at your door every morning, and make your entire body glisten when tucked behind your ear or in your hair.

Any interest you have he is suddenly a connoisseur in. Even if it is not something he enjoyed before, now he does because you love it. As money is no obstacle, he often funds your hobbies while hiring private tutors to become involved. You enjoy gardening? Suddenly, he is raising many Venus fly traps. They remind him of your relationship, and how you managed to lure him in just enough to strike. To you, he is merely one possible prey in thousands. To him, you are an irresistible temptation that he willingly offers himself to.

You enjoy art? Allow him to take you on a tour of all the paintings in his mansion. You can admire them together, sipping on light alcohol and existing under the dim moonlight shining through the open windows. Allow him to paint you. He will practice for hours to get every feature right, and will allow no other to attempt. Only he can stare at you for so long.

What of music? Would you be willing to waltz on the day, across the velvet carpet of his bedroom floor as music drifts in from the orchestra in the garden. Lay your head against his chest as he hums along, listening as the vibrations of his vocal chords mix with his erratic heartbeat - which can only be steadied by your gentle caress.

or do you take to sport? He is quite the active fellow. Apprehensive to dangerous activities, his heart stills as you fly through the air racing on your broomsticks, nearly running each other out of the sky. Or as steady jabs hit too close to dangerous zones during swordplay.

Yet the fright is exhilarating all the same, keeping his lust for your company alive

He is at your beck and call. As he will be your king.

Malleus continues with his courtship until the end of your final year at Night Raven College. His graduation occurred long prior, yet he spends more time at the school than at Briar Valley.

"A moment without you is a moment spent in purgatory," no noble or advisor could keep him in the valley beyond his duties. Even then he did not want to perform, and often was caught penning lovesick letters to send your way. A master magician turned into a functionless machine.

Said advisors dared not to question their master's choice. Not after fair warning from general Vanrouge and threats of the Draconia bloodline running dry.

After graduation awaits a carriage. At the coach's seat is Silver, sitting atop your favorite cheeky murderous vampire (soon to be step-father), and in front is Sebeck. The moment you step outside all three are kneeling at your feet with one hand on their chest.

Out steps Malleus, eager to welcome you to life beyond NRC walls. With a vast new world to explore, he senses your wings just beginning to spread for flight. It is then he strikes, dismissing his found family and kneeling at your feet. He takes your hand and produces a singular blood-red rose from thin air. Thorns still attached and stem long. He holds it out and requests you as his lover.

"I dare not clip your wings at first flight, yet can I trust in your homecoming to my side on land?"

You take the rose gently from his fingertips, and as the thorns prick your skin he smells fresh blood. Another trail surpassed, and he cannot fathom a life without you in it. Still kneeling on the floor, he takes your hand and places a soft kiss on each knuckle.

You become the lover of the future king. His weakness, and bargaining chip. Malleus's devotion to you is unquestionable and known throughout his entire kingdom. You would one day become their (King/Queen/Ruler), and any who dared to speak against it were snuffed before rumors could reach your ears

Malleus has his study extended to accommodate two. It is the only way he works proficiently, guided by the sound of you going about your own responsibilities across the room. He'd prefer you to never lift a finger - for you to be spoiled. Alas, you insist and who is he to deny? Especially when you are studying his native tongue to better communicate with his people

Well, that is the reason you gave. He knows better.

“Mon amour, je t'adore. Je tuerais pour toi. Je mourrais pour toi. Quoi qu'il en soit, c'est le bonheur”

Malleus insists on speaking to you in French. Not only because it is the language of his people, but because he delights in the way it sends a shiver down your spine. Your unhinged pleasure from the vibrations of his voice as he places kisses along your arms - he knows what it does to you.

After all, it has the same effect on him. Whether you reciprocate in his preferred language, or another that you've chosen to study. Somehow he knows exactly what you're saying (magic? who knows)

He cannot share lodgings with you quite yet. Ever the gentlemen, his desire must remain curbed until the day comes when he can chain you to his soul forever. Yet he knows you are not prepared for the process

Yet he does not hold back from sharing his displeasure on the matter. Every night ends with heated kisses at your door. His hands roaming everywhere you’ll allow as he pecks incessantly from your eyes to your cheek to your collar. Torturing himself, knowing that he must let you go in the one room he cannot enter. 

You are escorted everywhere in briar valley by him personally or his family. Malleus does not trust anyone other than himself, Lilia, Silver, or Sebeck to keep you safe and happy. His stubbornness has lead to government officials begging you to pacify him, or at least make him complete his work before going out 

If you eye anything for the briefest of moments while out, it is being purchased and sent to your living quarters. He has instructed this of the other three as well. 

Fresh flowers are cut each morning by his hand. They are arranged in a vase of his choosing and sent to your room along with breakfast. Malleus does not miss a day, and each arrangement has a specific meaning in the language of flowers. He feels extra smitten when you guess correctly. 

When at your side, you are his priority in all aspects. If it begins to rain then he enchants a waterproof bubble where you sit. If the ground is dirty, he would rather you step over his coat than tarnish your shoes. If you become tired then he will carry you throughout the kingdom without shame, be it on a stroll or flight. If you wear glasses, then he will always carry a handkerchief for you to clean them. 

If you say his tie looks lovely, then suddenly it is his favorite item in the world and he has five exact replicas. 

When you share a meal together, he offends his butlers by tending to your every need. Pulling out your chair, pouring your drink, and you are always seated at his side no matter if it is a social gathering or just the two of you 

Eventually there will come a day where not only are you a necessity for him, but for his people. When his self-fulfilled prophecy finally becomes reality and his final act of service begins 

For Fae, everlasting partnership begins with a quest. The more difficult the quest, the more bountiful the union will be. He had been biding his time for the day you’d ask something of him, and you did not disappoint. As future partner to the King, he would need to complete a life-changing quest in order to wed you 

Malleus once again finds himself in a firefly filled garden behind a rickety old dormitory. With stone gargoyle's glaring down at him from each corner, he presents you with the one thing no other in Twisted Wonderland succeeded in doing 

A gateway to your homeland. A mirror taken from the very room you once called home. How funny that the most confounded things end up coming with the simplest answers 

He gets on one knee, placing the mirror at your feet and pulling a ring from his breast-pocket. Its gem is fashioned from a piece of his personal mage stone, glowing bright green in contrast to the obsidian band it rests within. 

“On this night, I ask you to become my beloved. For eternity, until the stars fall from the sky and magma scorns us beneath the earth’s crust. Choose now, to join me in the future or dwell in the past. Know that my heart will beat only for you, in this world or any other,” 

Love is pain. A sin. Punishment. Malleus accepted this pleasureful agony the day he laid eyes upon you. He has placed you above all worldly desires. 

Now he asks for you to do the same. Destroy the gate you have been searching for and tie your life to his. His quest. 

He watches in satisfaction as your foot cracks glass, and slides the ring upon your finger with ease. He eyes the jewel with eyes full of love, knowing that you will never part. 

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #stg if you want something written then you gotta do it yourself

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are Hayden Christensen's closest friend from college and you help him going through his divorce. Will friendship be enough for either of you? Based on the request made by @calzone-d ...

Warnings: *long post*, drama, explicit smut, fluffy endings.

Recommendations: "Summertime Sadness", "Ride", by Lana Del Rey; “Scared to be Lonely” by Dua Lipa; “Here with me”, by the Killers; “Always” by Gavin James.

***

How it started...

You were 19 years old when you finally got the chance to study cinema at Y/C's university. An old dream you had, to be able to transmit onscreen all your ideas. Your family encouraged you to pursuit the academy of arts in order to become an actress, but you thought yourself too introspective to act.

Well, here you were when you met him. The one who was destined to remain a principal figure in your life over the years. Taking acting classes--well, you did need to study it anyway--you bumped into Hayden Christensen.

"Excuse me", he said to you, a little out of breath.."Is this the acting class with Miss H/N? I fear I am slightly late..."

You remembered finding his blue eyes the handsomest pair of eyes you ever came across with: they were intense, secretive, but friendly too, somewhat emotional. You were instantly captivated.

"Yes, it is. And you are not in the slightest late, young man, but /very/ late indeed. Come in, take your seat, I'll have you updated..."

He gives you a long gaze, relieved for being saved from a bigger trouble—and you can tell he is a freshman like you.

“My name is Y/N”, you side smirk at him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I am Hayden.”

You both shake hands. Something ignites within, but you think it’s because he has such a good aura…

*

“You are such a great actress!”, he is telling you, so many months later. “Quit with the production, you are better than me in decorating the lines.”

You grimace, which makes him laugh. The sound of his laughter is so comforting, like this call to your home.

“I don’t like this acting thing”, you dismiss his compliments nonchalantly. Today, you are in a cafeteria, celebrating the end of another semester. One more to go and you will be ready to keep up with your lives, though you and Hayden had vowed to each other never to be apart. “I feel more comfortable behind the cameras. By the way, I just had this idea!”

And then you lean to him, ready to shake him by his shoulders. He nearly chokes with his coke—but then laughing as always because your impulsiveness often brings him to laughters.

“For the love of God, woman. Do you want to see me dead before the time?”

You side smirk, silently apologizing with your puppy eyes. Hayden smiles back, before encouraging with what you had to say with only a nod. As you do, he seems to suddenly notice how nice your hair looks this day.

“I just had the greatest idea ever! I could film your audition and send to George Lucas. The Star Wars director is looking for someone of our age to portray young Anakin Skywalker. You know, before he becomes Darth Vader, of course.”

Hayden is taken aback by what you tell him. You can see the mix of sentiments that rises behind his blue eyes: insecurity, suspicious before reasoning to excitement.

“What? Are you for real, Y/N? How come did you hear about it? I mean…”

You tell him how your internship led you to it. This is how the fun begins, how both of you in fact begin your career.

*

You are there in every moment of his life: when Hayden has to conciliate his last semester with the filming of “Episode II: Attack of the Clones”, when he tells you that he and his on-screen romantic pair are having a thing.

He is also present at your graduation, the moment when you begin to transit to adulthood. What about it when you get yourself drunk for the very first time?

He is there too.

“I hate the taste of alcohol”, you grumble, unsure how come you are at his couch. “It aches my stomach, makes me sick.”

Hayden chuckles at how all of a suddenly you turn into these kind of discoveries after spending five years in college doing nothing but well behaving. However, due to such a strong bond you two share, he takes care of you.

“This is the moment where I tell you something you told me once: better to put out than to swallow all in.”

You raise your face, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you just hear yourself?!”

“Wasn’t that what you told me?”

“No!”, you laugh hard at his remark. “Oh my God, H!”

He chuckles after you.

“Well, it did make you laugh, didn’t it?”

***

• The subtle changes…

You are single again. Your ex dumped you. Coincidently, Hayden is single as well. He’s also been going through a difficult phase in his life after all the critics coming from the fans of “Star Wars”. “Episode III” of the franchise didn’t go that well and even though it’s been a year since it’s release, he’s still affected by it.

“We’ve been through so much together”, Hayden tells you one day. “We should definitely do something new for a change.”

“I agree”, you sigh. Currently unemployed, you haven’t been yourself lately either. “Any thoughts?”

“A good journey would do us well. Let us go to Scotland”, so he says, excited. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll let you drive!”

You chuckle at his old tendency to be so reckless. And you do so because you can’t refuse him anything. A bad omen you clearly ignore, of course.

“Very well. When should we do this trip?”

But why’d you bother to ask when you know the answer? Hayden smiles warmly at him.

Oh that damn smile…

“Tomorrow. I’ve already bought the tickets and booked the hotel.”

You scoff at him, offended.

“What? Why? Are you taking me for granted, Christensen? For the love of God…”

Just like that he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, smiling as you scream out of surprise. As he puts you down, Hayden messes with your hair, delighted when seeing he’s the reason of your amusement.

And he realizes this is a nice view to contemplate: the sight of your smile, the sound of your laughters, the joy that sparks in your eyes… Seeing you like this makes him genuinely smile in his turn and forget about his bad phase.

But he doesn’t realize that this may mean something else. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to. It’s been years now since you and him became the closest of the friends, so what if all of this is just the result of genuine admiration from one friend to the other?

Regardless, he’s going to take you with him to Scotland. And so you go with him… It is wild to consider how you are usually all straight, not doing nothing that goes out the line all the whilst Hayden is more prompted to take chances and live the present quite intently.

On that fact you blame him being very aries all the whilst you, as taurus lady, prefer to know where you are going. However, he makes life so interesting that even you, as already observed, cannot deny him anything.

So here you are now at Edinburgh.

“I love everything that is medieval”, you tell him excitedly with a spark in your eyes that makes Hayden smile. He does like when you speak passionately about the things you are interested. “I cannot believe I took so long to come here!”

“Yeah, me neither!”

It is a good time to be alive, both of you agree. The landscape is seductive, peaceful, traits much sought after such a bad period you both went through. People too are kind, albeit reserved, but very pleasant.

Those days are being built in your memory as something great to be remembered, but perhaps there is just more that neither seem too attentive…

“Lady, one bedroom with two beds”, asks Hayden, when you got to London eventually because he, of course, is a man who plans very little—much to your distress, the woman who likes everything settled.

But this is not any hotel, but a fanciful one. The said lady looks at him pitifully.

“Mr Christensen, my apologies, but there is only a suite with one bed.”

You two blush, but Hayden somehow doesn’t mind it. This is when you realize you not only don’t mind it but you also want it…badly. Perhaps that’s why you sabotage it.

“You know what? Let’s make it for another day. Come now, Hayden. Thank you”, you blurt out, pushing him outside.

“What the hell was that?”, he frowns at you. “Y/N, what’s wrong with sharing a bed? Do you honestly think anything would happen or what?”

He doesn’t realize his words hurt you, but in truth there is more than his subtle frustration at your refusal allows him to admit. There is an unspoken rising desire between you.

And of course you have to ruin everything.

“I just… please don’t be upset! It’s because I cannot afford it and…” and you tell him the other reason for it, which appeases his anger and is more palpable than you’d care to admit: you are expecting an interview.

Hayden softens, naturally, but you know he’s changed. You hate it because you know why. There are so many things that suddenly rise in your throat but they die choked.

Somehow Hayden knows it too. But he chickens away. He hugs you instead, not willing to lose his best friend.

“I’m sorry for being such an impulsive jackass. But we did have a great time, didn’t we?”

Oh but if only you knew what waits for you back to US…

***

• The marriage

Here you are, dressed in yellow, standing as a maid in honor for the bride and groom. Your heart breaks because you realize a little too late that you are in love with your best friend.

Worse is: had you accepted to share one bed with Hayden in London, everything would be different. Yeah, you may not have gotten that job as a producer of that movie, but Hayden wouldn’t meet Rachel Bilson.

Nonetheless, here you are. Celebrating their vows, wondering if you could be there for a moment, what would be like if you were her.

“Hey, Y/Nickname!”, Hayden exclaims after the ceremony is over. He is wearing his gorgeous smile and dressed in fanciful robes, which all highlights his handsomeness. But you have learned to bury everything deep inside your heart. A secret that you’d take to your grave.

“I can’t believe you are married, Hay!”, you giggle when you greet him with a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you! Oh my God, look how grown up you are!”

He laughs quietly.

“I know right? Who’d ever thought? The idea of marriage was hardly ever entertained for me”, so he says.

“Oh right! As I told Rachel once, I do have recollections of your drunkenness state and all that came between”, you laugh too, remembering the first time he had a hangover.

“What a time to be alive”, says Hayden in his typical good mood.

As you speak, you do seem to come to terms that if he is happy, so are you. You are at peace with it at long last. Hayden, on his turn, for a time seems to have suspected that you harbored feelings for him. But he always ignored it for the sake of your friendship. Now seeing how genuinely happy you are for him, certainly he believes it was all a thing of his head.

But why does he have a bittersweet taste of it?

“Could you introduce me to that man over there?” You nudge his sides, pointing to a handsome man that is not very far from Rachel herself.

Hayden raises an eyebrow.

“Really, now, Y/N?”

“You don’t expect me to be a nun, do you?”

He chuckles.

“Well I don’t want to see you get hurt, is all…”

Quite unwillingly, though, he leads the way. And maybe the night will not end that bad for you, after all.

***

•The divorce and the consequences…

In fact, looking back now it was really a great job pushing Hayden to introduce the guy to you because he ended up becoming your boyfriend.

This new relationship of yours, however, changed the dynamics of your friendship with Hayden for some time—but maybe it was all because he was living a different life now, becoming a father in the process.

A few years rolled upon, though, when everything started to fall apart—for you and Hayden. You found out that your new relationship was damaged because you and your boyfriend were scared to be lonely. A crisis developed to fights, to exchange of words that only broke hearts.

In the meantime, Hayden realized how long he missed his best friend. His own marriage started to fall apart, but the more it broke down, the more he needed you again.

Was it a selfish wish to have you by his side? Such questionings never reached you out due to his pride, that masked his hurt. Perhaps he was only scared to be lonely too. He could deal with it himself.

Nonetheless, destiny—the same destiny that pushed one from the other—is about to bring you two together again. One call and your night would be different.

You are single now, ready to go out that night with your girlfriends when suddenly a phone call startles you. It’s Hayden. Your heart races: he hasn’t been the one to call, and hasn’t done so for a long while.

“Hey, H. How are you? Haven’t heard of you for some time. Is everything ok?”, you ask, concerned.

There is a pause that accelerates your heart. You know he is not well. Before he answers, you immediately add:

“I’ll be in your home in a few minutes.”

“I’ll give you the new address. I’m not living with Rachel anymore: we got divorced.”

You are stunned upon those words. Now your silence leaves Hayden uncomfortable. He breaks it by saying:

“Y/Nickname? Are you there?”

“Yes, honey, I am. I’m so sorry, Hay. Please stay there… I’ll be on my way.”

He chuckles.

“Where else would I go to?”

In a matter of minutes, after requesting an Uber, you, dressed the way you are, arrive to his new home. Hayden side smirks when seeing you, though how he eyes you up and down makes you blush lightly.

“Wow, Y/N. Looking hot, aren’t you?”, he laughs when seeing the pink painting your cheeks, hugging you tight when receiving you. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin your night.”

You slap his shoulder playfully, eyes rolling at his drama.

“Don’t say bullshit to me, Christensen. I just wish I knew it properly before. I hope you don’t mind me looking like this.”

“You have always been a distraction to my eyes”, he teases you, pleased to see nothing has really changed between the two of you. “We need some wine, it’s not really a warming night, I suppose.”

As you look into his new apartment, he promptly gets the best wine to serve you. Without your knowledge, Hayden’s eyes follow your moves: noticing your y/c hair is now on your shoulders, how vivid your eyes are, remaining as observing and curious as before.

He cannot help admiring you physically too: though this is a cold night and you are dressed accordingly, when you drop your black coat on his coach, he sees your warming blouse shows some skin.

Indeed, Y/N, looking as hot and beautiful as always. Such is his thought.

He never really told you but Rachel was jealous of you. According to her, she could see you harbored feelings for him and part of her feared Hayden would correspond. Nonsense, he’d tell her.

But now, was she really so wrong? Yet, another and more important question he asks himself is: how could have he let go of you? Not only about matters of sentimentalism, but you’ve been an important piece of his life.

Seeing you back hurts his heart because he now sees the stupidity in letting go of you. He wishes he could have asked you to wait for him, to never let go of you. But this is such a state of complex selfishness that he quiets his internal riot and puts a smile on his lips when bringing the two of you the best wine he has, aware you prefer the sweet ones.

“I was admiring your new apartment”, you tell him, smiling in thanks as he passes you a full glass. “Whoa, looks like we are having a full drinking night, aren’t we? Christensen, I am not that young anymore. Not sure I am prepared to have a full hangover again.”

Hayden cracks loud and the sound of his laughters makes your heart skip a beat. Nothing feels different, you think, pleased.

“I’m bringing us something to eat, silly head. Besides I’ve always taken care of you, right?”

“That is true”, you agree. “But what are we having to eat today?”

“Always hungry, eh?”, he teases you.

You shrug playfully before saying:

“What can I do? I am a Taurus, you know it!”

He rolls his eyes, laughing loud again at your remarks—and that sound has always made your heart race, hasn’t it?

“Not with that astrology nonsense again!”

You slap his arm playfully before joining him in chuckles.

“Always with that astrology nonsense, silly.”

It is not until pizza is brought to you that the serious conversation is finally there.

“So what happened, Hayden?”, you ask him softly.

He sighs heavily, avoiding your gaze. He is silent, but you are patient, giving some time, for which he appreciates it.

“How often do we fall for the idea our minds make of the person?”, says he, sounding frustrated. “Not rarely we come to romantic ideas of marriage that break before the crude reality, you know? It’s not just about being different, Y/N, it’s… the commitment, I suppose, in making everything right. Turns out we had very different ideas of making it right.”

“I’m sorry, Hay. I really am”, you speak gently, taking his hand to yours, realizing how broken he is makes your heart sensitive to his pain.

He appreciates it, but when feeling your skin against him, Hayden is remembered the days before he met Rachel. The way he made you smile, the jokes that brought him to laughters. How easily it was to be around you, how you softened him. He, who was never a sentimental man, hugged you more times than he realized.

But Hayden sweeps away such memories.

“I am too. But I am fine now”, he shrugs. “I mean, not entirely recovered, but better than being broken.”

“Take your time, it’s the best you can do. How long has it been going on?”

Hayden hesitates but says:

“Six months.”

Your eyes go wide and your voice comes louder than expected:

“YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH A DIVORCE SIX MONTHS AGO?”

At least he has the decency to blush.

“Hayden! How could you keep me in secret for such a long time?!”

You’d remove his hand but Hayden doesn’t let you to. Pulling you to his side, he says, almost in a tone of desperation:

“I thought I could handle this by myself”, he explains. “I really didn’t want to bother you…”

Perhaps it’s the wine, but your tongue runs loose with words that have long been choked in your throat.

“And what am I to you? A second option, a plan B that didn’t work out? You’ve kicked me out of your life, Hayden. You’ve never called me to ask me if I was doing ok!”

He gives you a painful look that makes you regret instantly of what you said. You’d think he let go of you and a fight would come—this happened once when both of you were drunk, though by then you were both silly and immature.

“I’ve got a war in my mind for a long while”, he exclaims, holding your wrist and he pulls you even closer to him. “I was fucking stupid, I screwed it, I know. But never would I kick you out of my heart, Y/N! And I… I’m sorry I was fucking blinded by my pain. But only because I feared to hurt you.”

You await for his burst to end, very familiar with his intensity—but when his blue eyes search for yours, your soul is denuded.

Oh fuck.

“I stepped away because he was a douchebag”, he proceeds. “You deserved better than such a man, Y/N. I’ve heard of his doings but I couldn’t reach you out when… when I was in the mid of a crisis myself.”

“You’ve always been too shut in yourself to let others in”, you sigh. “But what relation is there with the fact I was in a relationship?”

“You deserved better”, he says with greeted teeth, holding your face with his hands, both of you barely noticing how your bodies have been dancing dangerously close to each other. “You are still slow after all this time?”

You are shocked, perplexed by his words. You freeze. Hayden smiles slowly at your reaction.

“I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore. I won’t let you go. Now now, not ever. Fuck, I married the wrong person. Heaven has always been my favourite place on Earth when I was with you.”

“You have always been the best”, you mumble incoherently.

Just like that your lips clash against his. In between fervent kisses, where he pulls you to his lap, no reason is admitted. Not anymore.

“I’ve missed you, Y/Nickname”, he groans against your lips. “Like the sun misses the moon.”

“Always the romantic”, you chew his bottom lip as your hands run over his hair, pulling it gently. “Don’t want your memories anymore. Fuck, Christensen, you took so long.”

“This is not a game, I swear”, he breaks the kiss to pursuit your skin, his tongue already on your neck as his hands hold your hips, making you feel his rigid pants.

“Oh Lord. My worst sin is to never be able to refuse you anything”, you hate how wine makes you speak your mind.

Raising his head to watch you intently, he messes with your hair before holding your chin, drawing you closer to him.

Oh that intensity that involves one to the other!

“Then make me a sinner too for giving you all that you deserve.”

You crawl over him, you know you do, when your tongue pursuits his, one pairs the other rhythmically, perfectly. And then he lies you there on the couch, hands already working to remove your pants.

His eyes are set on yours like that of a hunter about to capture his prey. He knows you are on fire and that he is the gasoline. You lean partly to remove his shirt, hands all over him. You gasp when feeling his muscles under your touch and you want more, but…

“Patience, Y/Nickname”, his voice is husky and domineering when laying you down again.

“Yes, Master”, you giggle softly, in such a state that makes you both smile to the other.

And just like that his hands find way to your thighs, gently parting before inserting one right there in your feminine parts, not really taking away your panties for such.

“Oh, God!” You moan sensually, enjoying his eyes on you as he works wonderfully on you. “This is better than I thought!”

“Is it?”, he groans softly in your ear. “How long have you been thinking about it, dear one?”

“For a long while! God knows how much…”, another moan breaks you, earning him a smirk. “Hayden…”

“Yeah?”

“I fucked him thinking about you”, you admit.

His eyes dart, his body shakes lightly with desire. Slowly moving on top of you, his moves increase intently, watching you with desire.

“Damned be you for never speaking your thoughts to me”, he lifts your blouse gently but you help him removing it. As he starts to kiss your neck down to your chest, your legs begin to get heavy at his tenderness. “You should have spoken it to me…”

“Never had I the courage to do so”, you moan, enjoying having his hand over your neck lightly as he bites down your bra, slowly removing it with his mouth.

“For you should. It would have spared us some time. I fucked her thinking of you too”, he admits it drunkly before burying his lips to your nipple, much to your delight.

Hayden ruins you and it’s better than you could have thought. You want him to yourself, to make him unspeakable things but it’s difficult to do or say anything when his lips are so occupied with each nipple, twirling his tongue around it, sucking and biting it.

The sounds in his living room go louder each time. You are brought to heaven, and only then you take control of yourself again.

“Hayden…”, you barely speak when he finishes with you.

You both are a puddle of mess when you, nude, sit over his lap. You share a drunk look, one filled with the darkest desires for so long muffled, now brought to light.

“Yes, babe?” He kisses your shoulders, groaning as you rub yourself against his hardness. “Will you forgive me for such a behavior?”

His words are barely heard when his head is thrown back because your skillful hands find way to his pants and remove it so soon.

You glance at his manhood, impressed by how it is when it’s this hard under your touch.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness”, you giggle softly as you start rubbing it, enjoying to feel the drip of it. “You should be punished.”

He holds back a gasp at your words. Now eyeing you, interested in your upcoming moves. And when you slide to your knees…

“Babe…”

“Yeah?”

One glance. Unspoken words fill the air. And you take with his mouth at long last, not stopping until you have it all down your throat.

“For God’s sake!”, he gasps. “I can’t wait any longer to have you with me!”

All gentleness is left aside when he helps you settle on his lips and he slides inside you. To feel him throbbing like this, going so hard in you makes you arch your back.

“This feels so good!”

His hands move down your back as his lips pursuit your skin, licking and taking every bit of you—though he does know how much you enjoy when he takes his time around your nipples, which he does graciously.

But it’s not until his eyes meet yours, sealing your lips as much as you seal your bodies together, that all is at long last truly consumed….

***

• Nowadays

In a sober state, everything is better appreciated. Hayden watches as you gleefully prepare breakfast. There is nothing but genuinely love in his eyes.

What had started as an explosion of sentiments for so long kept in secret has now flown to what should have always been: a genuine relationship. From friends to lovers. From lovers to something better.

He smiles, not now missing the lateness of his realization that you have always been the love of his life. He stands and moves to behind you, holding you close and smelling your scent as you prepare him some eggs.

“What? I’ve been sensing your eyes over me”, you giggle like a little girl. “Don’t get me weak again, Christensen. This is so not you.”

He turns you at him and holds your face between his hands.

“I love you, Y/Nickname.”

Hayden smiles wide when seeing a blush painting your cheeks. And he beams when you tell him the same.

“I love you too, H. Though I fear I love you more.”

“That is not true”, he protests in between laughters.

But before you fall into that old cliche you and him enjoy in secret intimacy, breakfast is ready. As you two enjoy that morning moment, it doesn’t strike as how many years have passed before you two achieved it at long last.

“I have news to tell”, says Hayden with a bright smile on his lips.

You rest your chin over your hands and say:

“Well? Tell me at once.”

He appreciates all the love that comes from you. The way you look at him, how genuinely you listen and help him in every moment, how kind you always are, how sincere you speak your heart out. So many virtues and even your flaws he appreciates.

There is so much love between the lines and out of them too.

“I was asked to play Anakin Skywalker again.”

And how fantastic you are as his soon to be wife when you jump in his arms excited with his news.

“That is awesome, my darling! I’m so happy for you!”

“A better start than I could have thought”, he admits, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“You deserve it all”, you brush your lips against his. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you, my soul”, he whispers back.

And this is the ending you deserve.

***

•Epilogue…

When you show up dressed in red—from your full lips to your body—Hayden feels something rise in his chest.

“My God, you look gorgeous, Y/N…”, so he says mischievously when you show up after leaving him waiting for 30 minutes. “It was worth the time…”

You giggle, blushing lightly after all this time. Your hair is loose wavily, put on side as you wear the necklace and earrings Hayden gifted you in your birthday.

“Don’t be silly. Have they arrived yet?”

The occasion is to celebrate Hayden and Ewan’s series “Kenobi”. Hayden’s aforementioned friend said he was going to pick them up in a limo so they’d go all together.

“They are about to… which leaves us a few minutes”, he places right behind you, holding your waist tightly.

“Hayden… It took me some time to get properly dressed. Besides, I…” you get lost at your words when he starts kissing your neck and his hands move up and down your back.

“What are you trying to say?”

Hayden smirks, enjoying the effect he has over you. It’s been some good years since you got together, but even now he manages to get you speechless.

“I…”

Your mind goes blank when he turns you to the mirror and see the naughty look that rests in those blue eyes. His hands move to your breasts, playing with your nipples before slowly exposing them.

“Hayden… they are….” You moan softly, struggling to keep your composure.

He turns you now against the wall of your bathroom, mouth dropping to your full chest all the whilst his hands move to your thighs.

“Hmm”, he sings softly, humming against your skin. “Hot as hell, wife.”

You try not to fall from your heels.

“Hayden!” You cry out when his fingers find all the way to you.

“You get your man on knees every single time. Getting me overzealous, uh?”, he smirks when going to his knees. “All wet for me, honey? Let me taste you thus…”

You are almost ruined as he does so, his tongue in you the way you want him to. You forget yourself, forget the reason why this expensive gown you bought three months ago was quite difficult to dress—precisely why you’d want to tell him by the end of the night.

You forget your state, you forget you should be checking time before your friends arrive. There is nothing to remember as he fucks you with his tongue deliciously until you are about to come undone…

Just like that he lifts your thighs and before you complain, he slides his manhood within, fucking you slowly and pleasantly.

“Oh God!” You scream but he has to quiet your sounds, especially because… the bell is rang.

“That was quick”, he manages to say breathlessly as he rushes to keep himself recomposed.

You giggle, suddenly shy as you do the same.

“Indeed…”

Hayden finds you adorable and peppers kisses around your face.

“They can wait a little. I thought you wanted to say something… you know, before…”

You two share a giggle and he smiles when you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I… I am pregnant, H.”

He hugs you closer. What a night, what a life with you is. Hayden Christensen could not have been any happier…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #Hayden Christensen #Anakin Skywalker #darth vader #Hayden Christensen smut #hayden christensen x y/n #Hayden Christensen x female reader

[rtofbs]

astrology notes 2: synastry edition

note: i'm not a professional astrologer, and just share bits of my perspective and experience.

Moon is one of the most important planets in sex. Venus and Mars are important for chemistry and the physical side of the relationship. Moon takes the reins when it comes to emotional satisfaction, bonding and intimacy. Moon-Venus, Moon-Mars aspects make for an emotionally fulfilling intercourse. aftercare and cuddling are almost guaranteed.

Venus - Mars easy aspects (trine, sextile, conjunction). Mars person can become a hype person for the Venus for their aesthetics and appearance, and might want to be related to Venus somehow and show affection (this affection depends on their Venus). e.g. one of my friends (Mars in Cancer) shows his affection by making heavy jokes, and in general he makes me laugh every time (Venus in Gemini). Venus - Mars hard aspects (square/opposition). there could a situation of general misunderstanding and being unsynchronised, and the Mars person advances towards Venus person might be left unnoticed, unappreciated and misunderstood, resulting in kind of frustration. e.g: Mars in Leo advances might be perceived as too pushy and assertive from the Venus in Scorpio POV, making her want to hide, even if she feels good about the person. how this situation will be resolved depends on the Mercury aspects.

this is already clear, however let me repeat: Venus - Venus opposition might create an amazing chemistry between the two, because of the complimenting and balancing energies, yet there still be left some spheres where your tastes completely differ: might be music, arts and so on, and it feels like something that both of you have to admit and accept.

Moon - Mars easy aspects allows the Mars person to take the initiative in a gentle and harmonious way and Mars person is not going out of their comfort zone to take care for the Moon person: it comes naturally. the Moon person will be happy to take the lead of the Mars person with trust, because they feel secure with them. e.g: the Moon person might call the Mars person in the night and tell that they are having a walk in the middle of nowhere, and Mars person can drive there to take the Moon and drive home.

with easy aspects (trine/sextile/conjunction), the Mars person might want to bare fuck the Moon. the motive here might differ from synastry to synastry, but here are some tea that I've observed: - the Mars person wants to dominate the Moon, and Moon is happy to be dominated by Mars. Moon person feels like they can relax and be themselves, completely naked, vulnerable in the hands of the Mars person. - the Mars person wants to "come back home" and feel the ultimate intimacy by becoming "the one" with the Moon, to feel accepted, desired, loved and taken care of if other aspects allow, like some aspects to his natal Moon as well.

Venus conjunct Pluto is really intense. if other aspects allow, the spark of passion can be ignited immediately from the first sight. the Pluto person indeed shows very deep emotional reactions, and one way or another gets attached. Pluto can become ready-to-go just by thinking about the Venus, and the Venus in return enjoys how her mere existence drives Pluto crazy and might be into teasing Pluto to surrender to him at the end. more insights on Venus conjuct Pluto soon, so stay tuned!!

i hope you enjoyed this post, and please let me know what you think on these aspects and how it played out in your synastries with your significant other and how the sign of the conjunction influenced your dynamic 🧸 thank you, and see you later!

(c) rtofbs

#synastry observations #synastry #synastry notes #astrology observation #astrology notes #astro notes #astro placements #astro observations #astro thoughts #zodiac #astrology signs #pluto #venus in scorpio #astroblr #moon aspects #mars aspects #venus aspects #venus conjunct pluto #mars in cancer #venus in gemini #mars in leo #sex astrology

[seiya-starsniper]

26. creating art inspired by them <3

Altair you brilliant wonderful genius, you’ve given me the perfect way to ring in a fill for “Episode 6 continuation” for Dreamling week.  We shall ignore the fact that I have already have already completed an omegaverse fill that I will be posting tomorrow LMAO-

blossoming romance writing prompts

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

It is late in the evening of their reunion when Dream finally notices it. Along the back of the New Inn’s wall behind Hob Gadling, there are multiple works of art, framed lovingly, and displayed proudly. It is not the one directly behind Hob that catches his eye, but one to the left of it, and once Dream realizes what it is, he cannot stop looking at it. 

It is a portrait. A portrait of Dream himself. 

Dream recognizes the style of hair and dress to be from their aborted meeting in 1889, when Dream had stormed off into the night at the thought of being called a friend. The portrait should stir something negative in his gut, a sour reminder of how poorly Dream had acted that night, but it does none of these things.

Because in this portrait, Dream is smiling. It is subtle, but it is there, in the quirk of his lips, in the tilt of his eyebrows, in the way his eyes shine in a way Dream has not seen on himself in at least an eon. It is a portrait that makes him look kind instead of cold, warm instead of aloof. 

Was this how Hob Gadling saw Dream in his mind’s eye? Even after how cruelly Dream had treated him before?  

Hob pauses in the story he had been recounting, clearly noticing that something is amiss. He makes a questioning noise, but Dream cannot find it in himself to speak, too dumb struck to form any coherent thoughts or words. It is a rare thing indeed, for the Prince of Stories to be found wordless. And here Hob Gadling has managed to do it with a simple charcoal drawing.

Hob’s eyes eventually follow Dream’s line of sight, and he must realize what Dream is looking at, for he whips his head immediately to the portrait and inhales sharply. 

“Oh, uhm, that,” Hob says sheepishly, bringing a hand to rub at his neck. Dream tears his eyes away from the portrait in time to notice there is blush blooming along the immortal’s neck and face. Hob is still turned to the portrait, as if transfixed.

“You know,” Hob says, eventually turning back and meeting Dream’s eyes. “I’ve been drawing you for a long time,” he admits. “I’ve lost most of the sketchbooks and paintings, after…well, you know when. But that one in particular is special to me. I drew it after you missed our appointment in 1989.”

Hob’s smile is shaky, as if he expects Dream to get up once more and flee The New Inn, as he had in 1889. But leaving is the furthest thing from Dream’s mind. 

“You would draw me so kindly?” Dream asks, voice barely above a whisper. “After we parted so poorly that night?”

Hob’s smile becomes more confident. “That’s how you always looked to me,” he says warmly. “A kind stranger who’s given me the greatest of gifts, a long fulfilling life, a chance to learn and fix my past mistakes. A…” he pauses, then huffs a small laugh. 

“A friend,” Hob says definitively.  “My oldest friend.”

Dream lets out a choked sob. He hadn’t even known his eyes were watering but now tears are flowing freely down his cheeks. He is overcome with emotion at Hob’s devotion to him. And he does not know what to do with himself. 

“Shit!” Hob exclaims, palming at his jacket and jeans until he finds what he is looking for. He pulls out a handkerchief and makes an attempt to first offer the item to Dream, but then changes his mind and moves to wipe Dream’s tears himself. 

“Please no tears friend, this was supposed to be a happy reunion,” Hob pleads, pressing the cloth gently into Dream’s skin. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dream shakes his head and places his hand over Hob’s, stilling the man’s ministrations. 

“There was no offense,” Dream says. “You just continue to surprise me, Hob Gadling. My friend.”

Hob’s returning smile is blinding. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing you say that. I would wait another 133 years for you just to hear it again.”

“You do not have to,” Dream replies. “I will call you thus for as long as you will let me. And…” Dream purses his lips, trying to form the correct words for what he will say next.

“Perhaps moving forward,” he continues, “we no longer need to only meet once a century. It is my understanding that friends meet more than that.”

“They do,” Hob replies. “And friends also invite one another into their homes to break bread and drink wine. As it so happens, my home is above this lovely establishment. Would you…would you like to come up?” 

Dream smiles and nods, before they stand and he follows Hob upstairs. 

#dreamling #dream x hob #dreamling week #seiya writes #seiya drabbles #sandman fanfic #the sandman #I LOVE THIS PROMPT SO MUCH #HOB DRAWING DREAM IS A WEAKNESS OF MINE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE PROMPT <3 <3 <3 #HAPPY DREAMLING DAY FRIENDS

[artkaolinite91]

(10/366) my first Jet art!! XD

!!!please do not repost, use, edit my art!!!

So...yeah as you know from my previous post..I like the NATLA Jet. So I need to draw him!!Anw this is also my first Jet (or was it Haru?) art!! XD. I love how amazing @sebastianamoruso portray him in the LA~

But still, I honestly thought he was Haru in the beginning of EP 3.. if you observed, his hair style and bangs in the left was kinda similar with Haru. Several scenes also seems to be referecing from B1C5 the imprisonment, so maybe Jet in this LA version he is indeed the combination of Haru and Jet!! XD

Anyway I hope this LA continue to season 2. I really want to see what happened to Jet in this version. Will he get taken to Ba Sing Se and..........hmmmm you know 😔

OR he could get Haru treatment and got pretty moustache?! heheheh 😆😆/j

So have you watched the liveaction yet?

ps. Congrats jetara nations..you well fed in this LA..hahaha

pps. Yeah that one in the bottom right corner is me..this LA made me want to draw again..so I think it's good.

ppps. Technically it can be counted and implied as harutara too..hahaha. Yeah I am just one of few harutara shipper...leave me alone 🥹

#avatar the last airbender #jet #haru #katara #jetara #harutara #because the beginning scene that's a very Haru vibes Jet hahaha #my art #la2024arts

[meanbossart]

So, not sure if you've covered this. But I thought I'd ask. How do you feel about the durgetash subtext? Are you pro or against? How do you treat the "relationship" / "partnership" between them? I'm curious to know how their interactions would play out hahah. (Im very pro Durgetash, cause... well. Yeah.)

First of all, obviously I'm all for people interpreting subtext however they wish to interpret it, and I think there's more than enough in the game to imply a canonical romance between The Dark Urge and Gortash; some of my favorite artists on here delve into that and I think both their art and theories are brilliant. Especially as the canon stands now, I think it's more likely that they DID have something going on rather than not, though I doubt Larian will ever confirm it one way or another to allow the player freedom with their avatar's background.

That said, in the lore I decided for DU drow they did NOT have a romantic relationship, although they did have a complicated one. My first impression upon meeting Gortash at his coronation (this was long before all the dialogue Larian added) was of someone who wanted desperately to butter me up to get his plans back on track. Yes, I do think he was happy to see the drow, but that's because he knew DU drow would honor their initial agreement (had his memories not been erased, at least) and was indeed more reliable than Orin - who clearly wanted to achieve things on her own instead of entertaining their alliance even before betraying her brother.

I did a write-up a while back on what DU Drow's perception and plans for Enver were here, but I would like to make some additions!

First of all I didn't clarify this, but when I talk about "love" in that post I did not mean the romantic kind. What DU drow had for Gortash was a tenderness that he could not bring himself to entertain in earnest because of his profoundly skewed sense of empathy and emotions. He did relate to Gortash, He did admire how he had lifted himself up from nothing and how he easily brushed off DU drow's attempts to get under his skin. DU could simply never admit such a thing or even recognize it in himself - had he been a more sane man they would have been dear friends, and there would be glimpses of that could-be friendship in how they interacted before. Gortash was probably equal parts annoyed and charmed by the Bhaalspawn's high eccentricity, his gaudy style and extreme bluntness and shamelessness- he thought he was fascinating enough to put up with his attitude, not to mention that he was reliable and got things done when he set his mind to it.

(More under cut)

Alas, DU Drow wasn't raised to entertain friendship or tenderness whatsoever prior to getting a clean reset to his brain - this doesn't change the fact that he is, by nature, a very intense man, and those emotions had to come out in one way or another. Hence his weird preocuppation with Gortash and how he made him feel. He is primed to become extremely conflicted in his feelings towards anyone who sticks around in his life as anything but a pawn or a victim, and Enver constantly tried to pose himself as a friend - arguably a even more baffling concept to DU drow than if he wanted to be a lover - because then he would at least be seeking out sex from their interpersonal exchanges. This is also why a lot of DU drow's focus when insulting/trying to torment him would have been sexually charged, besides a simple desire to shock and objectify himself and others as sacks of meat to be fucked and killed.

But Gortash grew up in literal hell, I think his capacity to withstand abuse from others (and swiftly brush it off) would have been extremely well honed, especially if it will ultimately get him what he wants. He never flinched at the guy's constant allusions to perversion and cruelty, likely rolled his eyes at it even lol. This would have been very disarming to DU drow and kept him coming back for more, and fostered (along everything else I mentioned) the admiration brought up in-game in that one letter durge writes to Bhaal. That letter would have been a very rare moment of clarity and introspection between DU drow and his father - perhaps the only entity he could ever disclose this kind of conflict to, much like a man having a crisis of faith is still likely to turn to the very god he's doubting for comfort.

I haven't yet decided how Gortash felt towards him, though, besides the aforementioned fascination mixed with irritation. I do think that after being tad-poled, when DU drow shows up in his coronation room looking so dramatically different from the man he knew (hair unkempt, clothes reduced to their practicality, shell shocked stare, the absence of his usual, lecherous grin) he would have thought what a shame that was, that this relentless beast he knew would never allign himself with someone beneath his caliber, often to the point of being unreasonable, had squandered his own ambition and was now in such meager company lol like he's got this half-elf girl just short of hanging onto his arm, this squishy wizard that he would have chewed up like hide in his teeth once, and the smug little elf? That's just his type, but the man Gortash knew had eyes for no one but his sister - regardless of how often he tried to warn him of her duplicitous nature. Ohhh what a mess she made of him, he wishes he remembered anything so he could at least say I told you so.

#ask #du drow lore #enver gortash #bg3 spoilers