#what do you mean nobody can touch the actual surface

[cassnottiel]

If I were a star wars character, coruscant would scare me so much

#what do you mean nobody can touch the actual surface #if i saw the peak of umate in real life i would throw up #like your city is so large that not only does it cover the entire surface of the planet and cover all the land and oceans #but also you needed to build UP???? #like miles up???? #i cant handle that

[feyascorner]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff

[grandlinedreams]

|| i regret nothing I need Cooper Howard viscerally both pre and post Ghoulification

|| notes: semi Canon compliant, spoiler-ish for end of s1, semi-shifting pov, Lucy is adorable but baby girl you will be chewed up and spat out pls grow more spine, Dogmeat has never done anything wrong ever, godbless Cooper having a southern accent bc that's my accent, yeah, gonna do a sequel to this and a prequel on Coop and reader's first meeting, ok bye

|| warnings: weapons supplier!reader, couple of allusions to cannibalism, reader is not specifically gendered, NSFW ㅡ fingering/touching

“Where are we going?”

Not for the first time today, or even the last week, Cooper questions why he's letting the Vaultie (“Lucy,” she informs him primly, “my name is Lucy.”) tag along. The dog, at least, is a good, reliable companion. Dogmeat trots dutifully at his side, her tail wagging as he stops to glare at Lucy.

“Supplies, Vaultie,” he tells her, relishes the flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Need supplies or we'll both be knee deep in shit.” He pauses. “More than we already are.” 

She mumbles something he doesn't care to catch as he resumes walking, rolling his eyes as he adjusts his hat. He knows he could stand to be a little more sympathetic with the bombshell she's still dealing with, but he can't bring himself to ㅡ not when his daughter might still be alive out there, somewhere. (And his ex-wife, who he's pointedly trying to not think about too much.) 

Lucy is blessedly quiet for a good while, all the way until they get closer to where they're going. Cooper doesn't need that piece of shit vault-tec device on her arm to know where he is, but Lucy says it anyways.

“It's a town,” she mumbles at the cluster of ramshackle buildings, surrounded by the clustering of trees so much like Filly ㅡ but isn't. “Is thisㅡ”

“Yes,” he answers, “now shut it and walk.”

Lucy huffs. “I don't know if you've realized neither of us have means to pay for anything,” she protests, “but the general rule ofㅡ” 

“Vaultie.” If looks could kill, she'd be six feet under. He's never had much patience, but she’s already reached the bottom of it and keeps digging. “Shut the fuck up about your goddamn rules. If you haven't noticed, nobody up here gives a damn about playing by what's wrong and what's right.” He gives her a meaningful look. “Now if you don't want me to leave your ass to whatever comes along next, you'll be quiet and let me handle it.” 

Lucy's mouth shuts with an audible click, and Cooper turns on his heel to resume walking, Dogmeat at his heels. 

Like Filly, the center of buildings bustle with the day to day of so many others, the cacophony of animal sounds along with chatter ㅡ Cooper spares Lucy a brief glance to watch her struggle to keep up and scoffs to himself, shaking his head as he continues.

He knows where he's going, a little shop shoved between two others, narrow but deeper than the other two, because he's been here before. Several times, actually. Which accounts for the familiarity with which he strolls over the threshold and leaves Lucy and Dogmeat to follow. 

There's the jingle of what might be a bell over Lucy's head when she follows, blinking at the interior. Neat and tidy, or at least as much as can pass for such things on the surface ㅡ rows of weapons and other assorted things on shelves and stands. 

Lucy watches The Ghoul rap his fist on the counter. “I know you're here,” he calls, “you never leave this damn place!”

She expects whoever it is to come scuttling out with the tone of voice he uses and being as accustomed to his rougher attitude, and she listens to the clatter of something further in the shop.

“If that's your greeting nowadays,” comes the answer, “you can fuck off.” 

To Lucy’s surprise, The Ghoul husks a laugh instead of offering another threat. Footsteps approach, and Lucy blinks at the person who rounds the corner. 

“You,” you accuse, finger almost into his chest, “thought I told you I was done dealing with you if you couldn't work on your manners.” 

Lucy stares, and watches as you turn towards her and raise an eyebrow, eyeing her with unrestrained curiosity, then at Dogmeat. “A vaultie and a dog,” you say, then glance back at The Ghoul. “So, taking in strays, huh?”

The Ghoul grimaces. “Guess so.” He clears his throat. “Need supplies again, sweetheart.”

“Figured as much,” you say, arms folding across your chest. Lucy decides she likes you, because you're standing up to him ㅡ and he's letting you. “Take it you have no way of paying, again.”

Lucy wants to tell The Ghoul I told you so, because he can shit on all her little rules all he likes but the surface still deals in keeping the scales balanced. You have to eat too, so it's fair that you're expecting payment in the nonexistent caps they have. The Ghoul, on the other hand, tries a different route. 

“Oh come on now sugar,” The Ghoul wheedles, tone almost what could be considered as sweet. Playing at a gentleman for the way he leans against the cobbled together counter, even goes as far as to take his hat off and place it down. “Don't be like that.”

“Don't you sugar me,” you counter with an attitude that honestly startles Lucy for both the lack of genuine bite or answering hostility from The Ghoul. This isn't the first time you've met, she realizes, and is also quietly a little horrified to register that this almost sounds like flirting. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”

The Ghoul almost grins. “At least I'm consistent. Besides, you know you miss me when I'm gone.” 

You snort, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. Lucy feels a tiny bit uncomfortable with the atmosphere, like she's watching something she shouldn't be privy to. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you answer, bustling around to shove several fabric wrapped packs into his chest and giving him a meaningful look. “You owe me.” 

It's definitely flirting now, Lucy notes as The Ghoul's face lights up in a way that's still entirely human, tracking your movements with something far softer than anything she's ever seen from him. 

The turn towards her and head jerk to her and Dogmeat is as clear as dismissal as she's ever seen, to make herself scarce ㅡ so she does, but not before she catches the peripheral glimpse of the way you let him reach for you, almost melting into him for the way he moves to undoubtedly murmur something. 

That something is not the sweet words of a long time lover, but it's probably about as close as you're going to get with things the way they are.

 

“Anyone causin’ you trouble lately?” 

You roll your eyes. “Besides you?” He gives you a look, and you shake your head. “No, and even if there was, you know I can handle myself.” You turn to throw him a teasing look over your shoulder. “Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, old man.” 

It's Cooper's turn to snort, even as he moves to follow you. There's a sort of peace to watching you sort through boxes of shell casings and bottles of powder, letting his gaze drift over your body. 

When you turn, he doesn't even bother to hide the way he's watching you, and you arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he returns. “Can't I admire you?”

You roll your eyes. “I'm too expensive for you, Cooper.” It's a playful taunt, one that incites a little flare of something in his eyes as he approaches, the jingle of his spurs as he comes to loom over you, cages you in against the shelves of “inventory”. 

“Really now,” he drawls, leans in, eyes predatory dark. A lifetime ago, you might have been scared. But the wastelands made no qualms about beating fear out of people just as quick as it snuffed out life all together. “Here I was thinkin’ I might get a discount.” He reaches, thumbs at your bottom lip with his gloved digit. “What's the askin’ price, sweetheart?” 

This close, he smells like the wastelands and sunbaked leather, with a little bit of blood ㅡ but you don't mind. Never have, not sure you ever will. Not when it comes to him, anyways.

He's a dangerous man. A man with a reputation that's well-earned, spoken in hushed whispers and anything but nice. But you let him slot a leg between yours, lean in, press his lips to your hair. You smell like gunpowder and hot metal, grease stained fingertips and more than a couple bruises and scars for your efforts. 

Sometimes Cooper contends with the idea he might need you just as much as he needs that chem that keeps him sane. Admits it here and there, quietly to himself when he wanders in, squashes it down that he makes the trips sometimes just to make sure you're still alive. Not like he'd know if you were, till he sees you. Not sure what he'd do if he someday came up and found you gone. No note, no goodbye ㅡ quick and quiet, the cruelty of the wastelands.  

“Didn't answer my question, darlin’.” He mumbles, lips to your cheeks now. Soft skin, kept carefully with rationed doses of radaway and a healthy heap of keeping your cute little self out of business that doesn't involve you. “Come on, I asked you real nicely.” 

You hook your fingers in the loops of his belt, pull him closer. He can feel the jump of your heartbeat under his lips, now at your jawline. A soft, shaky inhale. Selfishly, he wants to keep you. Steal you away, greedy to keep you for himself. Hates the idea of whatever scum that rolls in that you have to deal with on your own. You can handle yourself, he knows that. 

Doesn't stop that little piece of him that's still truly Cooper Howard from worrying. But he knows better than to think he can protect you, because he can't. So he does what he can.

Your skin is soft under his teeth, forgiving to the nip of them, the blooming blossom of pink that reminds him of strawberries. The noise you make is just as sweet, and he wonders if you'd taste like that, too. 

“I'm waiting,” he prompts between little nips, mouth curving against your flesh when you grip at him tighter. There's a lot he could do to you, and not a lot you wouldn't let him. “Don't tell me this big ol’ cat’s got your tongue, little songbird.” 

Your lips part, and he expects either a sparky response or a soft plea for what this is tilting towards, partaking of something far softer than anything he's used to nowadays ㅡ  but you’ve always had a taste for throwing him for a loop, and you do it now. 

“Take me with you.” 

That snaps him out of his little hazy, touch-greedy daze, enough that he pulls away to look at you properly. “Repeat that?”

“You heard me.” You tug at the loops of his belt, eyes steely, expression firm. “Take me with you. Tired of this shitty little outpost. Figure it's time to move before I get myself into trouble I can't get out of.”

Cooper laughs. “Think you're runnin’ straight into that fire by askin’ what you're askin’, sweet thing.” A warning and a plea, mixed mish-mash in his words. Part of him wants you to stay here. Concrete, much as it can be, where he knows where you are. Other part says it'd be easier to watch your back if he saw it all the time. 

“That's not an answer, Cooper.” 

He snorts, softens at the edges again, a little sadder as he reaches to stroke your jawline, leans to bump his forehead to yours ㅡ radiation warm against radaway cold. “Wanna make sure you know what you're asking for, darlin’. I ain't your babysitter. Got my own shit to do.”

“I know.” There's that fire in your voice, the kind he loves and hates at the same time. “Wasn't asking for you to babysit me.” 

He swallows roughly. Lets his hands drift up your sides, tug at the tuck of your shirt, underneath to drag sun-worn leather against the soft skin of your abdomen. Relishes the way you shiver, leaning into his touch. “Can't promise nothin’, you know that.” 

Your smile promises the same kind of heartbreak his own words do, the kind rooted in the reality that the world doesn't deal in any absolute but death, and sure as shit won't give happy endings. Not anymore. “I know.” 

Cooper can't think of what to say to that, at least anything he's ready to, so he kisses you. Your lips are too soft against his, the warmth of your mouth reigniting that greedy, needy, human thing inside him. He pulls, digs his fingers into your soft, pliant skin, and he takes.

Takes what you willingly give him, hand over hand with nothing but that pretty little smile of yours. He muffles your gasp as he wedges his leg a little firmer, coaxes the part of your legs with a rough husk of, “just like that, dollface,” and delights too much in the sound of you moaning for him.

Hushed, quiet enough that there's no reason for Dogmeat or Lucy to come back yet (he doesn't know what they're up to nor does he really fuckin’ care at the moment), he lets himself indulge in the pleasure of your body against his. The sweet little sounds, half-gasped as he mouths at your neck, hitched to something almost like music as his hands wander. 

Pauses long enough to bite at the tip of his glove and tug, one then two, the bare, radiation scarred wander of his fingers over your body. It's selfish, the way he covets every little twitch and jump of your muscles, the choked gasp as he guides you into rocking against his leg. 

“You're so sweet for me, sugar,” he coos, syrupy as he picks you apart meticulously, piece by piece. Fingers still far too good at what they do when he replaces his leg with the press of them against you, remnants of a past life for how well he gets you to whimper his name. “Like ambrosia.” 

His fingers stroke, deceptively gentle, working over your slick, too-hot, achy skin until you’re panting and gripping at him, pleading for a relief only he can give you. And that’s exactly how he wants you, where all you can see and think of is him. 

The expression you make when he finally lets you come might truly be the most beautiful thing he’s seen in a very long time. Headier than the Jet, dizzying and making him swear as he jerks his clothed hips against yours, breath sharp in his chest. 

“Gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He bites at your neck, digs a little harder, scrapes his canines into your sweet, yielding flesh. He could devour you, take bite after sweet, sweet bite and actually test that theory about the strawberries. Crack the cage of your rib, feast on that beating yolk of heart that thumps so hard in your chest. 

“Gonna let me do it, sweet thing?” He rumbles against your ear. “Let me have it all?” 

Your eyes flash, lips pretty and swollen as they part to answer ㅡ and the bark of that damn mutt ruins it all. At least it's a warning for you both, because he's stepping back and letting you fix yourself with surprising speed as Lucy and Dogmeat return, an expectant look on the fuckin’ vaultie's face. 

“Well? Got what you need?"

Cooper snorts, tracks you instead of answering as you press your hand to his for a second, gone around the corner. Lucy frowns when you return, pistol strapped at your hip and a bandolier slung over your shoulder like his, broad pack strapped to your back. Like you planned for this.

And you did, he notes, but it hadn't been contingent on his agreement. Idly, he notes he never did answer you, not really. But he just hums, then turns towards Lucy, who looks between the two of you, confused. 

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “got what I need.”

#ㅡmine. #fallout series #fallout x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader

[disneyprincemuke]

you revitalise my fraying bones

oscar piastri x reader — series masterlist

1005.

you let out a breathy laugh as you look down at oscar, your lips spreading into a toothy smile. you’re balancing yourself up with your hands on his bare chest and his hands on your hips.

“oh, that was,” you feel a blush coming up your cheeks as you look down at him in the glory of his afterglow. “very nice.”

a soft laugh shakes oscar’s body, squeezing you at the hips as he looks up at you. his eyes slowly flutter open as he smiles. “it was. absolutely amazing,” he says in a breathy tone. “thank you.”

“no, thank you,” you giggle. you rest yourself on his torso, resting your weight on his chest as you lean forward. “freshen up then let’s head to dinner?”

“give me a minute,” oscar giggles, pulling you down to his body. your chests touch as he wraps his arms around your bare back. "let's just be like this for a little while. i really enjoy being with you."

you hum in agreement, resting your cheek on his chest. you can feel his heart beating in his chest as he runs his fingertips up and down your back tenderly.

the room is silent, taken over by the sounds of your heavy breathing from the activity you'd just pulled away from. your hand comes up to hold oscar's bicep with your fingers, squeezing them slightly with a smile. you've never felt so at peace anywhere.

previously, falling asleep that isn’t the comfort of your own bed is difficult. but with oscar, anywhere feels comforting. it feels like home, almost.

"hey!" you squeal, lifting your head with a frown. "i'm ticklish, oscar."

"oh," he laughs, pressing his lips into a thin line. "i'm sorry, baby. i hadn't meant to."

"no, it feels nice, actually," you say, dropping your head back onto his chest. "keep doing that."

“i have a spot i think would be great to have dinner at. you’ll love it. my parents and i go there all the time,” he hums. his touches are feather-like, barely grazing your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps at every surface. “shower, baby?”

“absolutely. i’m all sticky and disgusting,” you laugh. you push yourself up, wincing in pain after your knee had been compressed for the better part of five minutes.

oscar’s laugh mixes with yours as he massages the muscles around your knee while you complain. “you’ll be okay. i’m here.”

when you hop into the shower, he joins you shortly. he turns on the water stream, turning it away from you to avoid the cold water from hitting your skin. oscar keeps his hand under the running water, waiting for the heater to take effect.

“weird request,” oscar mutters, turning to you. “can i wash your hair?”

“huh?” your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you look at up at him. you tilt your head. “i’m capable of washing my own hair, you know. you’re so silly.”

oscar rolls his eyes, but a small embarrassed smile stretches his lips. redness creeps up on his cheeks as he tries to explain his predicament to you. “yeah, but isn’t it,” he looks away briefly, “such a romantic gesture?”

realistically, you hadn’t looked at it like that. after engaging in — for the lack of a better word — sex, it’s natural that you cleaned yourself up on your own.

“oh, when you put it that way, then i guess…”

“besides,” oscar says softly, his dry hand tenderly grabbing your cheek. you lean into his touch as his thumb caresses your skin. “you deserve the best. don’t you think so?”

“oscar,” you scoff sheepishly, looking down to avoid the intensity of his stare.

“my sweet girl,” he whispers, lifting your face up and forcing you to look into his eyes. he smiles when your eyes meet and he leans down to press a sloppy kiss on your nose. he sighs, shaking his head. “i don’t understand.”

you raise an eyebrow. “what do you mean?”

“how can anyone mistreat you,” he says softly, his thumb now tracing the shape of your lips. “you’re so easy to love.”

a breath passes your lips when he takes another step forward towards you. nobody has ever said that to you. it’s always “your standards are too high”, and “you make me feel so suffocated”.

nobody has ever told you that it’s this easy. it’s amazing how oscar never made your love feel like a chore. he would always take your complaints, and feedback, into his chest and properly reflect.

he’d eagerly partake in things that you love and gawk at things he doesn’t understand.

all because it’s got something to do with you.

you roll your eyes with a small smile. “okay, you can wash my hair.”

and oscar’s right, as much as you were embarrassed to admit. having someone, your partner, wash your hair and body after being intimate is an experience you never thought was necessary.

life changing, even.

and he massaged your head and washed your hair with a lot of care, careful not to tug on it that would hurt you.

then he helped you wash your body, despite your protests and insistent of being ticklish. it didn’t even seem to matter. every surface of skin oscar touched made you feel every open wound you had close and heal as he went over it.

oscar made you feel so full. everything around you seems to shine in a way that you’d never seen them before. it’s like he had brought about a certain hue of saturation when he walked into your dull life, colouring in the grey skies and your muted surroundings.

oscar wraps the towel around your body and presses a kiss on your shoulder. “i love you.”

you hold the towel against your body and look up at him, stepping out of the shower. you’ve got a hand on the glass that sectioned the wet part off. “i love you. thank you for this.”

“of course, my sweet girl. you deserve the world.”

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke iguyg

[laughableillusions]

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere��️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

#Jareth #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth 1986 #labyrinth #headcanon post #jareth x reader #my headcanons

[materassassino]

🐅💛🕊🗡✨️ for both luke and din

Oh, you spoil me!

Luke // Din

Characterisation: when he's tired or stressed his accent slips. Get him tired enough and he'll sound fresh off Tatooine and come out with something so hick, so desert rat, you'll do a double take.

Can hold his liquour like nobody's business. Don't believe the propaganda that this boy only drinks milk, he comes from Bumfuck Nowhere where the only things for teens to do are shoot womp rats, race speeder bikes and drink, and the Rebellion made it worse because you know those X-Wing pilots party hard.

Can cook, but as a means to survive. He can handle two recipes really well but the rest is just stews and soups because it's hard to get those wrong and they last for ages. However, he's pretty adept at following a recipe and when he does it comes out decent.

Is terrified of the day he'll be asked to choose between his family and the galaxy again, but refuses to even consider the possibility.

Has officially dropped the aloof Jedi facade almost entirely unless it's necessary for something mission-related. It was, he realised, an externalisation of his trauma, and thus he recognises its disappearance as him healing.

Doesn't have any hobbies at all. There was little encouragement of them in the covert, and now he's in his late thirties with a surprising amount of downtime and doesn't actually know how to fill it. Luke encourages him to try new things so he's seeing what sticks at the moment. He's found he actually enjoys overseeing the work to rebuild Mandalore, and he enjoys reading more than he thought he would.

Better cook than Luke, by a long shot. Handles the meals.

Has no actual idea what he looks like in the sense that he doesn't entirely comprehend what he looks like to others. Is he handsome? Is he ugly? Is he average? He genuinely has no idea what others make of him because he's only been seen by like four living adult people and one of them he's literally married to.

Familial relationships: Obviously very close to Leia. They were best friends before, but now there's just added depth, a rock-steady certainty that they will always, always have each other's back. Obi-Wan told him Leia was younger and he's vowed to never, ever tell her.

Tries very hard to both treat Grogu as impartially as possible as his master, but ultimately fails because Grogu is his son. Definitely less of a soft touch than Din, however. He will tell Grogu off if needed.

The closest thing he has to family outside Grogu and Luke is the covert, and that is now a fraught relationship, but the societal norms of the Children of the Watch don't lend themselves to building the deepest relationships. Considers the Armourer as close as realistically possible to a mother figure, consider Paz a brother, in a way, but there's no great depth there, and eventually he realises he feels more of a familial feeling towards Bo-Katan than Paz or the Armourer anymore. He's adrift, in that sense, and it's actually a relief that Luke's side accepts him so openly and generally easily. It's much easier to view Leia as a sister than it ever was to view Paz as a brother.

Platonic relationships: Is friends with all his exes: Han, Lando, Wedge... As for enemies, he does try not to hold grudges, but man he just fucking hates Boba Fett. Poor Din, caught in the middle! Also supremely good at making friends with whoever he meets.

Din's platonic relationships have all been developed extremely recently: Boba, Peli, Fennec, Cobb, Bo-Katan... he's still trying to navigate the concept of having friends. It's weird?

I have no fighting style headcanons for either of them. Just watch canon content? Luke is a powerhouse, Din is supremely competent and prone to head trauma.

Worldbuilding: the rebuilt Jedi Temple is on Mandalore, designed by Luke and built by the New Jedi Order. Eventually they discover a wellspring of the Living Waters on the surface, and they build a garden around it. Neither will live to see Mandalore become green again, but Grogu does.

headcanon ask game

#star wars #dinluke #luke skywalker #din djarin #the mandalorian #pixie answers #headcanons #character headcanon asks

[moonlightgrisha]

Everybody knows

Ch. 9 You decide to take your destiny into your own hands, even if it means disobeying the Darkling's orders. [Masterlist] Previous - Next

You have never been scared of darkness. It didn't scare you when it was a childish game with your cousins, and it still didn't when you grew up and faced long starless nights all by yourself.

But the darkness you dive in, this time, is different. It's thick and cold, and you won't remember anything once you wake up, but just a glimpse of the horror. Shadows. Monsters. Blood.

You finally wake up, and you are not in your tent. It takes you minutes to start recalling the events that led you here, on this unfamiliar bed, with a dry mouth and a strange feeling in you gut.

Your abdomen is bandaged, and when you pass your hand on the linen, it doesn't hurt as much as you expect. You had good healers, but they are not here anymore. You look around and see nobody.

You sit on the edge on the bed and things finally begin to fall into place. You recognize the sober furnishings, especially the war table, filled with papers and notes.

As you are wondering where the the host has gone, you turn to look behind your shoulders, and you see the Darkling lying on a couch. It's more of a bench, actually, and it's impressive how he can rest on such an uncomfortable surface. He seems fast asleep, though. You take your time, looking at him. He sleeps on his side, arms folded, and when you notice a scrap of paper in his hand, you realize that he probably had no intention to fall asleep whatsoever.

You also realize that it is his bed, the one you slept for... how long? You wish you knew. But you are not going to wake him up. The things you discussed - the things that happened - it's all coming back to you, and you have no idea how to deal with all of it.

Someone tried to kill you, and you killed them instead. No, it was his doing, actually. But you signed them up for the execution.

You stand up, feeling overwhelmed, then glance at the General once more. You also found peace in his arms, for a brief moment. Isn't that the scariest thing of all? And while you push away your desire for another embrace, you spot something on the paper in his hand. You bend and gently remove the paper from his hand. He doesn't even flinch, but you feel the touch of his breathing, so close, and conjure all your will not to get distracted.

It looks like a leaftlet, but it is actually a holy picture, like the ones you have seen all your life. But this one is different.

This Saint in the picture holds the full moon on her hands, and her figure is surrounded by pitch black darkness.

"You are awake".

His voice startles you. The Darkling is sitting up, looking at you with hope. No, not hope, relief. You are finally awake, that's what he means to say.

His hands filled with your blood, when he found you in the snow, and there are many things you could tell him. Instead you show him the image and ask: "What is this?"

"That is you, according to some". He stands up, and he would probably come even closer, if you'd let him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine". Right now you only care for this paper in your hand. "Please, explain this."

"Rumors fly". You let him remove the paper from your hand, while he looks at you and says: "I'm afraid we cannot keep discretion any longer, although the King might wish otherwise. Your... spectacle, has been seen by the whole camp".

"I blew up my cover", you exhale.

"You survived", he points out.

You sit on the bed, searching for a place inside your mind for the reality you woke up in.

"Healers worked on you until this very morning", he explained. "That is why I would advise to take it slow".

"I do feel fine".

"I'm glad to hear it". His face suddenly clouds over, and for a moment he's about to speak, but he stops, like he changed his mind.

"What is it?"

"I must leave, now". He gets up and quickly wears his kefta, throwing his heavy black cape on top of it. "But my oprichniki are right oustide. You will be safe. We'll return to Os Alta in the morning".

"And then, what?"

He stops to stare at you. "I'm going to find out now".

There is something he's keeping from you and it makes you mad, but before you can enquire, he's back at your side. You stop breathing, expecting something you just once dared to dream about, and for a moment it seems he will make that dream come true. You feel his knuckles gently caressing your cheek, and it's all very fast, almost like you imagined it. He says nothing, and then he's gone.

You lie back on the bed and time slows down. Too many questions roam in your mind. You want to know who tried to take your life. You want to know where the Darkling is going right now. Are you now his guest, sleeping in his own bed, in his own tent, or are you back to being a prisoner, guarded by oprichniki?

You need to take charge of your own destiny.

When Genya suddenly enters the tent, you think you might have got also hallucinations, now. But she sits next to you and leans over to inspect your face, and you realize she is real.

"I thought worse", she says.

"What are you doing here?" you reply. "I mean, I'm so glad to see you. But shouldn't you be in Os Alta?"

"The King and Queen have moved to the Winter Palace in Ulensk for a few weeks" she explained. "Officially, it is a late winter vacation, but rumor is, it's about something else entirely".

The way she looks at you says more than her words.

"This can't possibly..." you begin, but you don't know how to end. Because Genya is right.

"Everybody knows", she adds. "Everybody is talking about it. The General himself was on his way to the palace, an hour ago. They are hosting a reception tonight, but I think there will not be any other topic of discussion than the Moon Summoner".

You instantly know what to do. "I must go".

Genya's lovely face turns a little pale. "I think you should not".

"These people are deciding my own fate, and I'm not even present".

"Listen". Genya's voice is just a whisper, now. "I am only telling you this so you understand how important it is that you stay here and follow the General's orders. Those men that attacked you... it seems they were Ravkan".

It is your turn to get pale, now.

You never had enemies. And nobody knew who you were, back at home. Except for...

Can it be? Is it such a shame, to have a Grisha in the royal family, that she would have you killed before anybody could find out? She must be so mad, that her plan had the opposite effect.

"Let me go to the Winter Palace", your voice tremble. "Let me look at the Queen in her eyes".

"I just told you this so that you would desist".

"And it didn't work".

"You don't have a proper dress for attending a reception".

"I do, actually. I brought one."

Genya's eyes open wide. "You brought a gown at the battlefront? Saints, why?!"

You feel yourself blushing. "I thought... If something happened to me... at least I'd have something decent to be buried with".

Genya hides her face in her hands, exasperated. "The General will kill me for this".

"I'll do it without your help, then".

She hesitates. She knows you mean it. Then, she gives you a long, assessing look.

"It would be a crime to let you go to the Winter Palace in this state".

This is the moment in which you know, you finally have a partner in crime. You know something inside Genya longs for taking her revenge on the Queen, the King and the whole rotten royal court. The two of you are on the same side, now, and maybe you've always been.

She helps you get ready and slip out of the tent unnoticed, right into her carriage. This is the trickiest part, but Genya knows how to make people see only what they want to see.

Now, on your way to the Winter Palace, you start to feel scared. What on Earth do you think you are doing? This is the most reckless thing you have ever done in your life. You could end up in a really bad place. Also, the Darkling won't like it. But when Genya says: "Maybe we should turn back", you immediately answer: "Not a chance".

And that's settled.

When you arrive at the palace, Genya lets you in the service entrance. She whispers a good luck, before vanishing into the grand hall. You take your time, before following her.

If you do this, there's to turning back. You become the Moon Summoner and you face the consequences.

But destiny is calling you. You hear it, now. It echoes with shadows, monsters and blood, with screams of mad men and whispers you have yet to decipher.

It is now or never.

You follow that call.

Entering the majestic grand hall, everyone turns to you. Some of them look horrified, others are in awe, some are mumbling: "Sankta". Everybody knows who you are.

You silently thank Genya for making you presentable and you march straight to the other side of the hall, where the King and Queen are seemingly conferring with the Darkling himself.

The look on his face when he sees you is indecipherable. He must have worked hard for all his long life, to prevent his emotions to come spilling out in situations like this.

But when you meet his gaze, just for a moment, you see a flash of blazing rage. It breaks your heart, and this is how you know this man has become to you more than you can handle.

You have no time to deal with your heart, now, shattered or not. You turn to the King and Queen, savoring their puzzled look, the utter fear in her Majesty's eyes. Then you give them the humblest smile and kneel. "My King. My Queen".

They definitely did not expect this.

"Raise", speaks the King. "We thought you were still recovering from your battle wound, as General Kirigan was just telling us".

"I feel much better, thank you, moy tsar", you respond. The Queen says nothing, and you take pleasure in her puzzlement, looking at her right in the eye.

It's the hardest part, now, as you shift your gaze to the Darkling, facing him, knowing so many things cannot be spoken, but hoping he will understand.

"I ask the General's forgiveness for disobeying his orders." He can't help but frown a little. You try to smile, but you know you won't charm him that easily. "He had indeed advised me to rest, but I felt compelled to be here today, in your presence."

"How thoughtful of you, dear cousin", the Queen has finally got up the courage to speak. She smiles, fake as her pretty lashes. "You shouldn't have bothered".

You turn to her, relieved to escape the Darkling's glare. "I didn't want to miss the chance to pledge my allegiance to Ravka's rulers, now that I found out I wield this great power"

"A great power?" The Queen does her best not to sound surprised, but she is not the actress she thinks.

"Please, let me show everybody". You gently raise your hand, and something does not go as you planned. The King's guard point their guns instantly, and someone in the crowd screams.

That's when the Darkling finally intervenes. He grabs your gloved hand, takes it down slowly. You look at him, hoping to find an ally, but he's cold as ice. "The Moon Summoner is only going to give a little demonstration", he says. "I assure you, it will be harmless".

His eyes are merciless. You swallow down the hard feeling of pain that just came from your heart, and nod.

He summons his shadows with a flick of his fingers, almost annoyed, giving you a black stage to perform on. You do your best to shape moonlight into a beautiful, gleaming globe. It is a miniature moon, slowly rotating above your head. A pretty trick you did sometimes in your room, as a kid.

The Darkling looks unimpressed. He called you 'Moon Summoner' without any sentiment. You feel something has broken, and while you are filled with wicked pleasure at the clapping of the crowd, you wish he would look at you like he used to. But dreams are useless, and you are in trouble.

You dissipate your moon without driving anyone mad, and the crowd is simply bewildered.

The King is much simpler than his consort, and somehow believes it a declaration of peace. He stands clapping, too. "We are honored to have such a great, rare power at our service."

"Let everybody know that I serve Ravka", you conclude. It is true. A half truth, actually.

The Queen stares at you with a little smile. Unlike her husband, she knows that this is war.

You bow to them while the crowd is still clapping.

As you and the Darkling take your leave, he whispers, so that nobody might hear, but only you. "Why did you come here?"

"You know why", you answer. "To take a stand".

"It was unwise and unnecessary. Also, you disobeyed my orders".

"I'm not your soldier".

"You are now". His words are as sharp as the night breeze that takes your breath away when you step outside. "You choose to fight, and you will fight. You will start training as soon as we reach the Little Palace".

He stops to stare at you, so full of contempt you almost burst in tears. "Welcome to the Second Army, princess".

He never talked to you like this before, and he never called you "princess", until now. You won a battle, tonight, but maybe you lost a war. And you feel so stupid that your dress, the beautiful gown you brought on the battlefield for your burial, worn on the night of your consecration, is black.

Taglist

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[misstodorokifreelance]

Saw your Boku No Hybrid Academia headcanons and wanted to know if you'd do something for Shinsou and Dabi (if that's possible; if not, just Shinsou).

Hey there Anon! Hybrid Headcanons for Dabi and Shinsou? Well you must have read my mind cause I just thinking about that recently. Both of these gorgeous men are a new territory for me, but I'm super happy you've given me reason to write more of these, so lets get right into some headcanons (I also added Iida and Hawks cause they were in my drafts.) And cause I keep forgetting, if you havent checked out the rest of my lil blog here's the link for you all; https://misstodorokifreelance.tumblr.com/

BNHA HYBRID HEAD-CANONS PART 2

TW: Non/con, definitely a little smutty when mentioning ruts and stuff along those lines, oral, mentions of choking, degradation, breeding kink, and all my stuff is 18+.

DABI

🔹Hybrid: Leopard (or another big wild cat)

General Headcanons:

🔹 Dabi is touch starved to the extreme, and quite often doesnt exactly know how to handle it, coming off as a hissing, biting yet oh so regal person. He knows he's handsome, but nobody who has ever touched him has been kind, so it'll take a while for him to get used to it. 🔹 Once he's gotten used to your touch, you best believe he'll find excuses to be near you. He'll be stalking up to you like a predator and gently closing in on you until you have no choice but to give him attention and affection, and you best believe the entire time he'll be acting like you're just doing his bidding but definitely secretly like it. 🔹 He loves lounging around watching you work about the house or do whatever it is you do. He surveys everything, smugly content that in this house he's the king. 🔹 He's VERY proud of his tail, and often carries it over one arm as if it's an accessory and not his actual tail with an air of smugness. 🔹Secretly he also LOVES and I mean LOOOOOVES you washing his hair. He'll lounge back in a bath against you, purring ever so slightly as he feels for nails against his scalp while you lather and rinse his wild hair. It`s the only time he seems actually relaxed. 🔹 Dabi is super super protective of you, to the point he just kinda hates other hybrids and other humans that come near you. After enough times of you telling him not to be so aggressive, he instead will get a wicked expression on his face and push you into the bedroom as soon as any guests are gone. Whether that's just him holding you as tightly in his arms (plus his tail wrapped around you) as he can, or him going straight for wanting to claim you and put you in your place really depends on the mood he's in that day. 🔹 He's very rough in showing any affection back to you, and he has a hard time not wording everything as if he owns you. Cause that's how it feels to him; he owns you now. He'll have you backed against a wall with his teeth at your neck, or a hand ready to choke you in a moment. 🔹 He has pet names for you, when you're good, but mostly even in casual conversation with him it's a little degrading; everything from 'Little Mouse' to 'Darling' will all have a tone that makes it sound like he's above you.

🔹 He would slaughter anyone who even looked at you funny, he doesn`t care. He's even more protective of you when you're in public with him, and he will definitely spoil you rotten in front of every passer by. 🔹 Some of leopard Dabi's favourite things include; Luxurious couches to lounge on, getting his hair washed, lazy nights, leather clothes (on both him and you 😉). Spicy Head-canons 🌶🌶🌶:

🔹 Oh boy oh BOY, you do not want to be near Dabi when he's in a rut. From day one he'll be almost feral, and he wont take no for an answer, grabbing you and dragging you to the nearest soft surface so he can rut against you till you're a sobbing, sloppy mess for him. 🔹 He doesn't care what you have to do that day or where you have to be, he's going to have you on your back or on your knees and he's going to be rough and feral with you until he's claimed you over and over and over. He loves seeing you filled up, it makes him feel so smugly proud of himself. 🔹 His degradation will be at maximum here, roughly slamming against you as hard as he can and purring out little praises here and there but mostly it's all degrading. He likes it when you cry, or beg him, and he goes rougher when you do it makes him even hornier. 🔹 He's finishing inside you everytime, you better be ready for that. He's a Todoroki after all, the breeding kink is right at the forefront of his mind and he's getting you full and him milked dry at every opportunity.

HITOSHI SHINSO

🔸Hybrid: Cat

General Headcanons:

🔸 Hitoshi is a pretty laid back, if antisocial hybrid. He'd much rather just nap in your company, but he definitely appreciates his own space too. 🔸 He's very grateful whenever you bring him new blankets or cushions, setting them up wherever looks like a good place to take a quick nap, and quite often if you're not busy he may ask if you'll play with his hair while he sleeps. 🔸 Hitoshi actually quite likes helping with little chores around the house, especially sweeping or putting away groceries. It makes him feel productive, and he'll stand there quietly hoping you'll give him some affection for all the work he did just for you.

🔸 Not a massive fan of other hybrids, he at least tolerates some of them, though its from a distance. He'd prefer to not have to talk much, leaving his more conversational side for when he's with you and there's a bad reality or game show on TV you both can both judge heavily.

🔸 At night though, if you're going to bed he's going to be at your side no matter how he feels. He can't help but feel much more lonely at night, and he needs your warmth to remind him that he's got someone who loves him right there next to him. 🔸 He hates how running water feels on him, so he'll jump in a bath but he's avoiding the shower at all costs, but perhaps if you can convince him with many many MANY cuddles afterwards he'll at least sit with you while you shower and converse sleepily, and maybe dampen his hair under the splashes.

🔸 He`s luckily not a very picky eater, but he prefers to eat alone most nights, but he'll eat fast so as not to be away from you that long.

Spicy Head-canons 🌶🌶🌶:

🔸 Shinso in a rut isnt that much different than normal. He'd rather sleep through it than force you to humour his needs. He definitely feels it though, a sort of desperation to be touched, but he has a hard time explaining that so just tries to sleep. 🔸 Its a very different when he actually goes to sleep however, he's restless, tossing and turning and making quiet yowls until finally when you go to help him he wakes up, grateful for the touch and the relief. 🔸 He's rather be serviced than anything else, and likes watching you ride him in particular. He's also very into oral, it's probably one of his favourite ways to handle his ruts and he won't feel like he isn't both too restless, and too sleepy to return the favour. 🔸 One the few particularly rough days of his rut he's more awake, prowling around and just wanting to feel you against him. On these days, he has the energy to not only reciprocate but dominate you in his own way, probably wanting to be behind you and feel you on your knees backing into him. 🔸The days you aren`t there during his rut are a nightmare for him, and he'll be going around your things, especially clothes, underwear or pillows searching for where your scent is strongest and rub himself against it in a desperate attempt to relieve himself. Turns out he really does need to you to help him out, he can't exactly handle not having that as an outlet.

TENYA IIDA

🔹 Hybrid: Snake (some sorta python probably, that makes the most sense to me at least)

General Head-canons: 🔹 Tenya is the epitome of traditional and mature, always one to open the door for you, but he's not big on PDA, unless it's the odd hand holding. 🔹 You wouldn't know he's a hybrid unless you saw him without a shirt on, and he's insecure about that at the best of times, worried the scales down his back and neck are unattractive. Whenever you tell him he's handsome, he'll blush profusely and shower you in compliments of your own. 🔹 He has an uncanny ability to slip into impossible spaces (snakey boi be like.) 🔹 Tenya's calm and quiet on his own, and loves nothing more than studying quietly with you in the library or in his room with some classical music playing in the background. If it's raining even better, cause its the only time he'll pull his shirt off and let you watch the rain drip from his iridescent scales. 🔹 He likes things orderly and neat, including his own person. He'll shudder if he accidentally hisses when lecturing the more boisterous students, so be prepared to give him a tight hug when you next get a moment with him! 🔹 He keeps his bed more like a nest, curling up with cushions and blankets, all meticulously picked out, and he'll enthusiastically show it to you, wanting to hear your opinions and making any adjustments you feel are necessary. Don`t worry about thinking he needs approval, he just wants an excuse to hear your voice for a few moments more. 🔹 You're not just his Princess, his Star...you're his equal in everything. He wants you and everyone else to know that, so if anybody treats you wrong or makes fun of you they better watch out cause Tenya won't go easy on them. In fact, he'll get a bit worked up about it and won't even care if he's hissing or his irises become slits. Nobody can say shit about you and get away with it in front of Tenya. 🔹 Some of Snake Tenya's favourite things; classical music, rainy mornings, a little plushie snake Deku gave him, trips to the market or temples when he's feeling particularly traditional.

Spicy Head-canons 🌶🌶🌶:

🔹 Tenya doesn't enjoy being in a rut at all. It feels debaucherous, and he can't stand you feeling like you have to indulge him. Especially being what he is, he could get too in the mood and want to constrict you. 🔹 When he's really in the mood he won't be able to sit still, he'll be on edge, leaning up against you, wanting to twist his body around you and get his hands around your waist. He'll pull you against his body, kiss your neck and whisper sweet nothings to you.

🔹 Surprisingly, Tenya would be up to switching, he doesn't necessarily want to be dominant, merely charming. He wants you to make the first moves, to touch him where only he and you can bond as one. It's like a ritual, proof of his devotion to your well being. He also is up to try new things, provided you explain it to him first and he's sure you won't be in any negative pain. 🔹 First few days of spring, when his rut gets so bad he can't even focus in class is when he finally gives up, and is writhing and tense and unable to contain how badly he NEEDS it. Needs you. He'll steal you away for a day, try to be as gentle as he can. Want to share a bath first? Want to cuddle in his nest? He'll try not to seems as desperate as he is, but once it starts be prepared for HOURS cause he's still a master of self control....in that way. It'll be long and hella hypnotic!

KEIGO TAKAMI (Hawks)

🔸 Hybrid: Hawk (duh)

General Head-canons: 🔸 Hawks likes wearing baggy clothes when he's with you, whether or not you're taller or shorter than him it's all the same. He has hidden platforms in his boots, and whenever you're out with him he'll be fluffing up his wings to appear as big as he can.

🔸He's just naturally good with people, and they're drawn to his casual laid back nature (also the fact he gets everyone hot under the collar), but he needs a recharge every once in a while. At the end of the day all he wants is to cuddle up with you and wrap his wing around you so he can keep you safe. Maybe he'll get out a bottle of wine to share as well. 🔸 Usually such a smooth talker, he'd be surprise you have him flustered. From the first stutter, you'd have him obsessed, and he'd be perching on a rooftop if you were going out somewhere new just to make sure you're safe. If anything goes down he'll take care of it and then leave you too it, unless you want him to hang around of course. 🔸 He's gonna show you off! PDA? Yeah and? He doesn't care, you're his baby bird and the whole world is gonna know it! Kisses on the cheek, nose, forehead, lips. Holding your hand or waist in front of the swooning fans gives him a little rush every time you blush cause of it. 🔸 Unless you can fly, he'll take great pride in lifting you into the heavens so you can see the world how he does. It's almost as beautiful as you from up here.

🔸He's not all laidback and chill though. If he's in the mood then you'll know about it within minutes. He's more than up for games of cat and mouse (bird and mouse?), happy to chase you down with a hungry grin on his face before scooping you into the bedroom.

🔸He's a bit restless, flapping his wings or whistling little tunes whenever it gets too silent, hoping to catch your attention. Either you'll come over at cuddle him or start humming and he'll join in. He LOVES singing with you, if that's your thing. 🔸Some of Birdy Bois fave things include; sunset flying, baggy clothes, ironically watching bad dating shows, over the top public flirting with you.

Spicy Head-canons 🌶🌶🌶: 🔸 Hawks is a dom, and not just that but he's game to get out some handcuffs or other toys to play with. You'll be tied up with your legs wide and he'll be proud parading in front of you before stalking up to give you all his love. 🔸 He's very vocal, especially if he's in a rut. The odd chirp of pleasure here and there, but mostly just really really loud moaning to the point you better hope the neighbours aren't home! 🔸 Don't feel bad if he IS in a rut, because you're so gorgeous he could just get off to you standing in front of him in pretty red lingerie. Red gets him even more turned on, its his fave colour on you. He'll be open and honest about what he needs, and he'll sweep you off your feet and shower you in affection.

🔸

#bnha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha au #bnha dabi #bnha hybrid au #bnha hawks #hawks #iida x reader

[firenati0n]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you to @alasse9 @anchoredarchangel @myheartalivewrites @anincompletelist @cricketnationrise

@tailsbeth-writes @cha-melodius @ninzied for the tags! i am so so so behind on all tags and questions and asks and i am sorry for the delay!! <3 thank you for your patience :)

How many works do you have on ao3?

7 under my name, 1 anonymously

What's your total ao3 word count?

32,316

What fandoms do you write for?

rwrb :)

Top five fics by kudos:

An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat (5,094 words)

our world, mine and his alone (the midnight train to go) (2,970 words)

cause you're classic, and i'm reckless (5,422 words)

each time we touch / i wanna take too much (1,339 words)

who truly stuck the knife in first (3,697 words)

Do you respond to comments?

yes! i haven't replied to any on angel fic yet bc they make me cry LMAOOOO but i will get to them soon :) comments mean everything to me. receiving any is a privilege. connection is so lovely.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i would say who truly stuck the knife in first but it's not angsty, just open-ended. they're spies, so happiness for them at the moment is fleeting lol.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i always write happy endings but i think and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life aka the angel!henry fic is the sappiest. it's so sappy I'm giving it a sequel for more sappy endings. it's the happiest ending because it also makes me cry.

Do you get hate on fics?

not yet, thankfully. people have been very nice and welcoming, which has been a real blessing.

Do you write smut?

no lol i got into my M game with who truly stuck the knife in first (sexually charged wrestling), keep me up all night / i wanna scratch your surface (prosey fade to black), and each time we touch / i wanna take too much (fingers in mouths) but i don't think I'll be writing smut anytime soon.

i could barely handle arms and legs in spy fic (@cha-melodius knows how terribly i struggled jfalksdjflkjasdlkf). how the fuck am I supposed to factor dicks into the equation????

Craziest crossover:

none yet but i am cooking up a sci-fi thriller au that may never see the light of day based on Dark Matter by Blake Crouch but no promises jfalksjdlkfadsf

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not that i know of. I've had art and moodboards and a podfic but no translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i am writing one right now with [redacted] and it's going to be so fucking good y'all are not prepared for this AU fr

All time favorite ship?

firstprince forever. alex and henry are my babygirls. Close second is Sydney and Vaughn from Alias or Chuck and Sarah from Chuck.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a lot of docs with bullet points but typically if i start WRITING real words in a doc, i will be finishing it EVENTUALLY. it will either take me 4 months or 4 hours and there is no in between unfortunately, considering i write most of my fics between the hours of 2am - 7am in a fugue state. fatal flaw. all of my docs with actual snippets in them WILL be completed at some point. it's just going to take me. forever.

What are your writing strengths?

i hate perceiving shit like this bc i always think i sound like I'm blowing smoke up my own ass lmaoooo so I'll go with dialogue. i like the dialogue i write.

@anincompletelist also told me that I can "curate a VIBE and TONE like nobody’s BUSINESS" which is extremely kind (ily) and i think i agree. I do like experimenting with tone and atmosphere. I have been playing with genre and expression with each fic and i like what I've done so far.

i also just love a silly goose time fr ok i love my fun fics like amateur's guide and worm fic and actor au. they make me laugh.

What are your writing weaknesses?

i struggle to plot things out bc i get so caught up in dialogue and snippets of things i actually want to write LOL so weaving the snips together is always a pain for me. i am also a perfectionist so it takes me way longer to get over my mental hurdles and put words on the page. i also struggle to write angst sometimes like angst does not come as naturally to me as zippy banter. neither does prose. i have to work at those.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

love!!! i find it so beautiful.

First fandom you wrote in?

i do not count the 1d fanfic i wrote in my notes app as a mentally ill thirteen year old as actual writing, so let's go with RWRB :)

Favorite fic you've written?

and all i can taste is this moment, and all i can breathe is your life. it's my most personal and a fic I used as a coping mechanism to get through some yucky times. i also like the emotional beats in that one a lot. it is my least read / least popular but my favorite.

no pressure and open tags under the cut <3

@wordsofhoneydew @bigassbowlingballhead @eusuntgratie @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @magicandarchery

@getmehighonmagic @indestructibleheart @14carrotghoul @onward--upward @sparklepocalypse

@porcelainmortal @nontoxic-writes @piratefalls @dumbpeachjuice @clottedcreamfudge

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @orchidscript @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @smc-27 @everwitch-magiks

@kiwiana-writes @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @ships-to-sail @rmd-writes @welcometololaland

#tag game #roop writes #:)

[lorei-writes]

HC: The Way He Loves - Leon

xReader

Just casual ramblings to fill the time before the other idea is done marinating in my head.

Content Warnings: none

Receiving

Leon is not one to disregard conventional means of displaying affection. He is fond of having you reach out for him, of your kisses, of anything it may be that you're willing to give to him.

He appreciates heartfelt confessions just as much as teasing banter. Leon knows when to trust your words, and when to take them with a grain of salt -- if anything, it is almost unbelievable how well he matches your tone.

Shared experiences, gifts, favours, as long as its from you, he will cherish it. However, there is one thing in particular that Leon actively craves for himself.

He never feels more loved than when you actually see him. Him, not the front he puts up. Him, with all his past, with all the burdens he carries, all the things he never dared say out loud; with all of his sacrifices, feelings, desires that lurk at the back of his heart.

It may not seem like much, but it is invaluable. There is nobody else who can offer him just that, who can connect with him on that level.

He enjoys being your hero just as much as he wishes to be just the man you love. The acceptance in your gaze, your hands that reach to hold his, ears that are willing to listen to him, mind that hopes to understand, eyes that see below the surface -- in your presence, he's vulnerable. It is an odd experience to him, both soothing and thrilling... But he wishes to keep on living through it.

Leon may also hold onto another wish, although he is quite sure you've already granted it, and intend to continue doing so. It is quite simple: do not leave him.

Leon knows the bitterness of loneliness all too well. Now that you've replaced it with sweetness... He does not want to go back. Ever.

Also, please, cook for him and treat him gently, he's bound to love that. Spoil him a little -- read to him, stroke his hair, rub his back, offer a massage if he's sore after a long day of training, take care of any new blisters that may appear on his hands. He stands bravely on his own, but it is lovely to have somebody to lean on.

Giving

Leon is a fairly selfless lover. He's much more familiar with giving affection rather than receiving it.

He loves touching you, but he will never cross any of your boundaries. If you allow him to do just about anything, though? He will ruffle your hair. He will hold your hand plenty. If the crowd is thick, he is more than likely to have his arm around your waist. He will sneak in some kisses here and there -- to your hair, forehead, cheeks, chin, nose... and lips as well, of course.

He has no reservations about telling you that he loves you. He does! There's no lie there! And, more importantly... your reaction is fairly sweet. What can I say, he enjoys teasing, no?

Dates? You bet. Gifts? Well, if he finds something that you fancy... (He may obtain help in looking for something that you may enjoy, though. Remember, he's well appreciated by people around him -- if he asks, somebody's bound to offer him their expertise! And he will ask. Oh, he will.)

However, all of that is just embellishments. If due to some unexpected circumstances Leon was unable to do any of the above, you would not feel any less loved. Because there are much more meaningful ways in which his feelings show.

Leon cares for you deeply. As such, he looks out for you. He wants to be there for you, to support you and to remind you to stay grounded. Whatever it is you may be struggling with, he will be there for you.

He sees you for you, not for any role or trait, expectation, that may be attached to your name. You don't have to worry about losing yourself and your way -- he won't let you stray. He knows you, and will continue on knowing you even through your darkest days.

And lastly: he loves, therefore he wants to understand. He wants to share in your joy, to experience the things you cherish, to be infected by your passion. No matter how hard it all may be, he will give it a try. Because, for you? Of course, he will.

TagList: @cilokgoang @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86

#now kick my ass so that i can get the other idea down before it evaporates thank you very much #leon dompteur #ikepri leon #ikemen prince leon #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

[kaddyssammlung]

Is there a deeper meaning to this whole “our identities are unimportant” thing?!

Let’s start with one of those rare quotes that we have (taken from Loudersound)

“Our identities are unimportant. Music is marketed on who is or isn’t in a band; it’s pushed. prodded and moulded into something it isn’t.”

In my opinion this has something to do with our Ego. At least that is what I read into this.

In my understanding we have two different forms of “I”.

There is a "deeper I" and "the surface I".

The surface I is what most humans think they are. “The first is what I sometimes call the “surface I”—the person with a past and a future. This is your historical identity, which is relatively fragile because the past and future only exist as thought forms or concepts in the mind. Most people on the planet are completely identified with the “surface I.” (source)

In other words those are those typical boxes most humans think about themselves or others. To give you an example from my life: I am a lesbian but not really attached to this. You will never hear me say things: “ I neeeeeeeeed to do this because I am a lesbian” which would hint on a total identification with that concepts. To me these boxes that we put humans in are just mental concepts.  

That surface I is also kind of what Vessel hints on by saying that Music is marketed a certain way. It is seen as a brand actually. Every artist is its own brand with its unique selling point. Sleep Token’s unique selling point could be that nobody knows who they are. Or is it?

Let’s continue with Eckhart because he knows and also I trust him.

He explains our deeper I as: “The second dimension to who you are is what I like to call the “Deep I.” The most vital realization in your lifetime is to see that in addition to being a historical person or a “surface I,” you are more fundamentally the “Deep I.” This realization frees you from looking only to the “surface I” for your ultimate sense of identity—where it can never be found. It frees you from the frustrating sense that there’s always something missing or not quite right in life.” (source)

I never thought about not seeing someone’s face or seeing someone’s face and therefore only interacting with them on a surface level or their surface I. Vessel gets out of the way so we can see his deeper I.

If you are wondering why I am writing this….I had this thought this morning that maybe you could say that Vessel wants us to connect with his deeper I rather than with his surface I.

I feel like everything means something what he does. As if there was an extra layer to it. I kept thinking about what this layer could be and then this morning while I was meditating it hit me “think about Eckhart Tolle and what he would say.” Here we are.

Since I was already reading through some articles by Eckhart Tolle, I also found this and really liked it. It’s about music or art that comes from a deep place of consciousness

“When you ask, “Can art or music inform the ego of Presence?” – the ego doesn’t know anything about Presence, so it can’t do that. There needs to be some opening in the ego in order for you to be receptive to the power that is latent in music or art, that was created from that deep place. There’s a lot of music and art that’s not necessarily created from that deep place, but the ego is trying to be clever. Let’s talk about some piece of music or work of art that comes out of connectedness with Stillness, or Presence. To some extent, the work of art or the piece of music still carries that energy field. It can put a person in touch with the deeper dimension within. A there’s a little bit of an opening is required. If there’s only the density of the ego, then the transformational possibilities of art or music are not realized. A little opening is required in the viewer, or the listener, and then it can be quite a wonderful thing to listen to music or to contemplate a work of art. You can be transported, if only for a moment, into that alert stillness out of which it originally came. That’s a beautiful thing.” (source)

This is something that even I feel more and more. Whenever I play or sing and it’s coming from a deep place within me I can feel my spine being activated. Everything starts to feel warm and nice in some way. It’s hard to explain. As if my doing is supported by something higher, something divine. As if it speaks through me in a way. Coming back to the part about the unique selling point. I don’t think this is just a marketing scheme what they are doing. To me this is for us to connect with them on a deeper level.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #spirituality #spiritualgrowth #spiritual awakening #eckhart tolle #the ego #sleep token lore #just my opinion

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With the Same Title (5) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four

Appreciation - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Dan is the town’s successful, wealthy, irritable, but lonely, mortician and Phil is his gardener who has to deal with his bad day from work the best way he can.

Appreciation (ao3) - epsilonfive

Summary: "Shut up," Phil says, not looking away from the screen. "I have an actual week of stuff to sort through, and unless you want to take over, I'll just--" Phil stops short as he comes to a point in the footage where his ass is center view.

"Uhhh," Dan begins, wetting his lips as his cheeks heat up a little. "I can explain that, actually,"

"Mmhm,"

Blue - washedoutgay

Summary: based off this song. ‘You were red and you liked me because I was blue.’ Dan is an artist who sees people as colours and Phil needs money.

Blue (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: He needs to leave the table for a bit and calm himself down, this often happens on dates or crowded places. He excuses himself and goes to find the bathroom. He walks into the male toilets and is met with a sight that he hasn't seen before.

Someone bending over in purple lace panties.

Blue (ao3) - killingaesthetic

Summary: Dan hasn't been able to see the color blue for his entire life. Nobody can see the color of their soulmate's eyes until they and their soulmate touch. Dan has been longing to see the sky and the ocean, but he never really expects it to happen. But then he meets a boy who changes his entire world.

Butterflies and Hurricanes - phillestatos

Summary: Phil Lester, also known as AmazingPhil, ends up falling for the cute piano player who likes to play Muse on his recitals, even when he kept telling himself it would never happen. youtuber!Phil/pianoplayer!Dan

Butterflies and Hurricanes (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan Howell is head over heels for the endearingly strange boy with eyes like the ocean.

(Or: a small piece I wrote to get some 2009 Phan feelings out of my system. Read with caution - this is pure fluff.)

Butterflies and Hurricanes (ao3) - Rhensis

Summary: "You’ll never beat me. I’m best at moaning, I’m used to it. After all, I’m such a bad little cockslut, aren’t I? Come on, Phil, fuck me, fuck me so hard I can’t walk home," Dan turns around, just in time for Phil’s lips to be placed against his own, taking him by surprise. He feels someone pull his fingers out of himself, and Phil replaces them with his own, adding a third just to make sure that Dan isn’t hurt.

"I want," Dan starts, interrupting himself with a moan, "to ride you,"

"Oh, fuck,"

Fortune Cookies (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Dan gets a fortune cookie and it's been bugging him all day. But he's NOT superstitious.

fortune cookies (ao3) - oqua

Summary: Dan goes with Phil to celebrate Father's Day with the Lesters, and suddenly all his complicated feelings about his own parents come bubbling to the surface.

Basically 11k words of Dan being angsty and the Lesters being wonderful.

Not so Far Away (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan isn't okay, he hasn't been for a while. He's depressed and self-harming and he just can't be what his family wants him to be. Everything is shit until he sees a weirdly intriguing boy on Youtube. What happens when they finally meet?

Not everything can be perfect, it never will be, but that doesn't mean it can't be okay.

Set to begin around 2009.

Not So Far Away (ao3) - enthuzimuzzy

Summary: Phil decides to go on a walk.

Panic - jilliancares

Summary: Dan has a panic attack at a party but Phil’s there to help.

Panic (ao3) - GuineverePendragon

Summary: While onstage at Vidcon, Dan suffers from a panic attack. Only Phil knows how to calm him down- except, Phil's across the venue doing a whole different panel.

pretty (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: When Dan first sees the photoshoot of Ezra Miller in Playboy he stares for hours (minutes? who knows what time is) before he can even really consciously shape any thoughts around it.

Pretty (ao3) - Emptylester (timelordangel)

Summary: Dan buys himself something pretty to wear, and Phil happens to walk in while he's wearing it.

pretty (ao3) - cityofphanchester

Summary: The boxes sit piled in a jumble in the corner of Dan’s closet for weeks. Phil starts getting notifications for them in the days after Nashville, alerts of purchases off the credit card they don’t use often and then the packages themselves, one by one at the door.

(little dresses and fishnet stockings, 2022)

Santa Baby - philipsenpai-fics

Summary: I wrote a Christmas smut fic! hope you all like it, yay i love Christmas :)

Santa Baby (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: When Phil uncovers a real mess in the couple's Christmas decorations, he comes up with a sexual game to determine which one of them must deal with the mess. Phil challenges Dan to something impossible, but both men have fun trying to outwit and out-sex the other.

Stuck - dxnhowell

Summary: Dan becomes pregnant, and is desperate for a job. He needs money for the baby. Then, he gets a job at Phil’s company. It’s not the ideal job, but Dan’s desperate at this point.

Stuck (ao3) - xDeathMelodiesx

Summary: Dan gets stuck in his binder and Phil helps him get out of it.

stuck (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Phil supposes they're both prone to doing senseless things sometimes.

stuck (ao3) - watergator

Summary: prompt: “that’s starting to get annoying” & “good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

Stuck (ao3) - regionalatbest

Summary: Phil gets his head stuck

Stuck (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Sensory overload gets the best of Dan on the tour bus in the middle of the night.

Stuck (ao3) - expiredlove

Summary: The story of Phil being hollered at by 20 women in Brighton.

Stuck On You - howthemoonsuitsthenightsky

Summary: When Dan wakes up one morning with a mark on the back of his head, the reason that he is in love with Phil is revealed. Dan thinks that he cannot cope with the betrayal, but somehow his mind always takes him back to Phil.

stuck on you (ao3) - watergator

Summary: dan finds himself in a rather awkward predicament and phil ends up having to helping him

Sunshine (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: a grumpy!dan and sunshine!phil fic in which dan totally doesn’t have a crush on phil. not at all

Sunshine (ao3) - metus_noctis

Summary: In which Phil is a bright ray of sunshine creeping through the windows of Dan's heart.

Sunshine (ao3) - thewakeless

Summary: Summer sex (with consequences)

the man of my dreams (ao3) - mel_m_a_o

Summary: He first dreamed about this man maybe two months ago. The dream wasn’t really something out of the ordinary and Dan didn’t really remember what it was about, but it stuck out to him, because he wasn’t usually someone who remembered his dreams. He often thought he just doesn’t dream at all, but that certainly changed. He keeps dreaming about the same pale, black haired man and his bright eyes that make Dan wake up in a sweat. He starts to see the face everywhere all the time until he actually does.

the man of my dreams (ao3) - animad

Summary: Just over a year ago, he’d started to get Dreams, nearly every night for two weeks. Dreams, discerned from dreams by one common factor, a factor that has dark hair and black rimmed glasses.

Three's Company (ao3) - sherlocks_watson

Summary: With that, Phil surged forward and crashed his lips onto Dan's, coaxing his mouth open. Carefully, Dan maneuvered so his head was now on the pillow and Phil hovered over him, violating his mouth with his tongue.

---

Set during VidCon 2016

Three's Company (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: 2009 expect Phil is dating Jimmy and wants to date Dan too.

Trapped - placingglaciers

Summary: In which Dan marries his best friend, Phil, and realizes he made the hugest mistake in his life during their wedding night.

Trapped (ao3) - Junebug1312

Summary: Phil's a superhero, Dan's a super villain. Neither play nicely.

Yellow - washedoutgay

Summary: Please stop picking flowers from my garden au/ Dan really likes yellow and his cat really likes Phil

Yellow (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: A new boy moved in next to him, his ex-girlfriend broke up with him, and school was starting back after the holidays. What makes it worse, is that the new boy is kind of cute and Dan’s straight.

yellow (ao3) - awrfdnp

Summary: “You’re my yellow, Phil.”

#phanfic #phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfiction #dan and phil #samefic #samefic masterlist

[gingerbreadmonsters]

五二零

or: whoever said french was the language of love clearly never met vincent solaire.

gn!reader, no content warnings, hand-over-hand fluff and i won’t apologise. the 520 fic arrives at last!! let’s all make one thing very clear - i would both kill and die for rennie, rae’s lovely oc, she is my world the love of my life the girl of my dreams, okay? then you can consider this my love letter to her and my darling @sri-rachaa who singlehandedly revived this wip from the dead, our woman in STEM and absolute POWERHOUSE of chemistry - rae 加油！ oh, and of course some love for @ejunkiet for rallying hard for the east-asian vincent brigade - it’s canon to me and you lot are just going to have to deal with it, alright? a little bit of housekeeping before we get started: this fic does assume that lovely doesn't speak mandarin, but vincent does. vincent having a mindblank for just over 5200 words.

batsman: so you’re DEFINITELY free on friday?? like the whole day??

me: yeah he said we could move it to sunday

batsman: YESSS

me: ???? what’s happening on friday

batsman: nothing nothing

batsman: i just get to spend a whole day w you :DDD

me: :DDD

me: ok it’s starting now

me: see you when i get back

me: also i love you hehe

batsman: have fun little one!! 520

Vincent Solaire is up to something.

You're not sure what, and you don't really know why, but he's got that look - you know the one. The one he gets whenever he spies the final jam tart sitting unguarded on the table, whenever he notices William's left his instant camera unattended, whenever Sam says he's leaving you two alone with Fred and his partner, don't touch anything. It's the look that means he's plotting something nefarious again - one of his diabolical schemes that should send anyone with common sense running for the hills, and that probably means you either need to find your passport, renew your life insurance, or check the stability of every flat surface in the house.

(Actually, now that you think about it, how does life insurance work now that you're a vampire? Are there special empowered insurance providers? Do you get a payout if you get turned into a vampire? Are you or a loved one eligible for financial compensation? Mental note: ask William at tea on Sunday.)

He says it’s nothing. Yeah, right. You’d almost believe him if it weren’t for that cheeky grin he’s been sporting for the last week whenever he thinks you’re not looking, tapping away on his laptop of an evening like a man possessed, stifling a laugh every ten minutes or so. Meddling little so-and-so. He thinks he’s so slick, but you know better. Vincent Solaire has got something up his perfectly tailored, meticulously ironed, ridiculously expensive sleeve, and you are going to find out what it is.

You’ve got a pretty decent idea of where this particular scheme has come from, so that’s a good start. He was out with Gavin a few weeks ago, one of their little mothers’ meetings, and you’re sure whatever he’s planning is the product of that. The pair of them are terrible when they’re together - they gossip like you wouldn’t believe, wander round Dahlia charming the (thankfully metaphorical) pants off of everyone they meet, and they both drink like fishes if there’s nobody around to supervise. They’ll have cooked up one of their signature (read: stupid) ideas that sounded really good at the time, and now you and Gavin’s partner - who, let it be said, has the patience of an absolute saint when it comes to Vincent and Gavin’s collective bullshit - have to deal with the fallout. You know the drill.

(To be perfectly honest, you’re still not over last time - they’d come stumbling down the street at some ungodly hour, absolutely sloshed as usual, tottering arm in arm towards your front door and giggling uncontrollably at some half-baked joke Vincent was trying to remember. You and Gavin’s other half had been forced to pause your show for some emergency damage control when the dynamic duo finally managed to get the key in the door, and to this day you’re not sure how they managed to get Gavin safely out of those shoes and into pyjamas without some sort of divine intervention.)

Anyway, you have no doubt that they’ve come up with some Machiavellian (or, more likely, Rube Goldberg-ian) plan or other, the bastards, which probably means the only option is to brace for impact. Not to mention, if Gavin’s had anything to do with it, there could be literally anything at all coming your way. Vincent's already a menace all by himself, practically a force of nature, and he tends to get what he wants - the stranger the better, and he’s had some pretty strange ideas.

(Strange might be putting it a bit lightly. The day Sam stops reminding him about the roller skates incident is the day hell freezes over - you don’t even want to know how they managed to get the vampire-shaped dents out of the rear bumper.)

It shouldn’t be too bad though, whatever it turns out to be. Vincent is a lot of things, but mean-spirited isn’t one of them - you’re not worried about it being really embarrassing or stressful or something. He knows you, bless his little heart, and he knows what makes you uncomfortable. And to his credit, he’s never once done anything on purpose that he knew would push you too far, or that he wasn’t sure you’d be okay with. He asks, always asks. Is this alright? Would that be too much? How about this instead? Never pushy, never unwilling to back down. Do you like that? Can I hold you? May I kiss you? He plays it off as part of the charm, but you know better. He’s genuinely thoughtful, even when he doesn’t quite realise it, and he’s kinder than he gives himself credit for. He always has been, and he can’t hide it, least of all from you.

You’re not afraid. Never afraid, not of him. You’re just… suspicious.

Vincent, for his part, is not helping.

It’s been, what, a week now? And he’s been acting differently - it’s not a bad different, just suspicious different. He’s been very affectionate, even more so than usual (you hadn’t thought that was even possible), and he keeps being really… nice? Obviously, he’s always nice, but he keeps getting you glasses of water and offering you shoulder rubs and letting you decide which show to watch even when it’s his turn - all in the space of about five minutes. He’s even been playing that piece you’d said was your favourite of his on the piano whenever he’s in the front room, the one from that film you watched together ages ago. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s broken something by accident again and is trying to butter you up, but you’ve done a thorough check of all the major appliances, every light fixture, every picture frame, and every window in the house. Nothing is amiss, except for the fact that he definitely said he’d done the load of washing that’s still sitting in the laundry basket in the bathroom. (So that’s where that shirt had gone!)

The suitcases in the attic are still exactly where you left them, so he’s probably not planning on going anywhere. He likes to have things packed in advance, which is honestly a bit weird considering the general state of chaos that he tends to exist in when nobody’s looking. In any case, nothing’s been disturbed up here so he’s definitely not taking you anywhere very far away, if at all. Speaking of, is your passport still in date? Probably ought to check, actually. Vincent loves taking you to all sorts of places on holiday, seemingly at random, even though he’s not a huge fan of planes - which is a bit of a problem when everywhere he wants to take you is at least ten hours away.

(Aeroplanes are actually quite difficult for vampires, as has been gravely imparted to you - on several occasions, actually, pre and post-turning. You have to make sure it's night time when you leave and when you arrive, which can make managing timezones and travel itineraries very complicated - lest you accidentally end up like Vincent and Alexis, who once got stuck in an airport in France and were forced to wait five or six hours until sunset before they could leave, edging gingerly through the terminal as the sunlight moved across the floor.)

(William had to come and pick them up, and was met with a distinctly miserable pair of hungry, sleep-deprived progenies, grumbling about stupid massive windows, who even needs that much glass anyway? You’ve seen the photos - Vincent’s bedhead is bad at the best of times, but apparently it’s truly magnificent after eleven hours on the plane and six very tense hours creeping around the airport trying to avoid the sun - and although you’re sworn to secrecy, it hasn’t stopped you from taking the piss out of Vincent every time he tries to suggest going on holiday. Look, if he didn’t want you to make jokes, he shouldn’t have shown you the picture of him and Alexis, passed out and covered in sunscreen, piled up on top of the suitcases, being carted through the airport by William on a luggage trolley. Come on - the jokes write themselves!)

Honestly, the most frustrating question isn’t what he’s going to do - his little gremlin brain is far too bizarre for you to even begin to narrow down the list of things that might be on his radar, from the hilarious to the romantic to the just plain weird. The real question is why? He’s made a point of checking that you’re free for the whole of Friday, so you assume that that’s whenever he’s planning is going to happen. It’s only May, so your anniversary isn’t for a while, and you know it’s not a birthday thing… Is there something you’re missing? A clan thing or a vampire thing or some kind of empowered bank holiday that you don’t know about? That has to be it. But who could you ask to explain it to you?

me: ok can i ask a maybe stupid question

grandmaker: Of course. What would you like to ask about? I’m always happy to answer your questions.

grandmaker: (As long as it’s not about roller skates again. He’s still not allowed, and don’t let him bribe you into finding him another pair.)

me: it’s not about the roller skates dw

me: it’s just about vincent

grandmaker: What about him?

me: idk how to put it he’s like

me: he’s being really nice to me?? like nicer than normal?? and he’s definitely planning something for friday but he won’t say why?? idk what’s happening and i feel like i’m forgetting something

grandmaker: I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting you to say that the issue is “Vincent’s being too nice to me, his partner and progeny, who he loves very much and would do anything for, and it’s making me nervous”.

me: LOOK IT’S NOT A BAD THING

me: i just can’t figure out why he’s doing this NOW and i’m a bit worried i’m forgetting an anniversary or a holiday or something

me: is there a special clan thing coming up he hasn’t told me about? or an empowered thing that idk about? damn wasn’t very good at catching humanborns up to speed on stuff like that

grandmaker: I don’t think so. The next clan meeting isn’t until mid-June, and there aren’t any special events planned until the masquerade.

grandmaker: To my knowledge, there aren’t very many empowered-specific holidays or celebrations aside from the Solstices, and certainly none coming up immediately - the risk of breaking covert has, in my lifetime at least, rather stifled that sort of thing. Some, such as our friends in the Shaw Pack, will have their own more localised traditions, but historically it has been always difficult for empowered people to communicate and coordinate on a large enough scale to organise that sort of thing.

grandmaker: I would say that it has only really been possible for about fifty years or so, maybe less. Perhaps in the future this will change, but to answer your question - no, I can’t recall any special events coming up that Vincent might be planning to celebrate.

me: damn ok ty

me: guess he’s just having a moment then lmao

grandmaker: I suppose so. If you figure it out, do let me know - I’m curious as well, now.

me: cool i will

me: we’re still on for sunday right??

grandmaker: Yes, of course. I look forward to seeing you then. :)

me: :D

No luck with William, unfortunately, which is a bit of a blow. You’d hoped that he’d have some idea of what Vincent might be doing, seeing as he’s known him the longest, but alas. Looks like it’s time to bring out the big guns - it seems that drastic times call for drastic measures. Good thing you have a certain shifter’s number.

me: what’s he planning :) tell me :)

sandwich cullen: Hello to you too

me: ik he’s told you something i saw you two plotting together at the last clan meeting while fred was talking

me: i see all :))) you cannot hide :))) tell me what he’s planning

sandwich cullen: Who says we were planning something

sandwich cullen: We could have been talking about anything

me: ????? i have vampire ears now i could HEAR you talking about it

me: also your mate told me that he was at your house yesterday and you were booking something online together BUSTED

sandwich cullen: First of all rude

sandwich cullen: Maybe we were planning something for my mate

me: liar you weren’t your mate HATES surprises

me: if you were planning a surprise you would have at least told them that you were going to do SOMETHING

me: and i already asked them and they said you haven’t mentioned anything BUSTED

me: TELL ME

sandwich cullen: No

me: WHY :(((

sandwich cullen: Vincent would kill me I don’t need that

me: spoilsport :(

me: at least a hint??

sandwich cullen: No

sandwich cullen: It’s nothing bad and he says you’ll like it

me: …fine i see how it is

me: have fun when i invite your mate to the masquerade first and you have to turn up with vincent instead

sandwich cullen: WHAT

me: bc they WILL say yes

me: and you know how william gets about everybody entering in pairs

sandwich cullen: DONT YOU DARE

sandwich cullen: GET BACK HERE

sandwich cullen is typing…

Hmmm. A fruitful conversation to be sure, but just not in the way you were hoping, and no real new information gained.

The most annoying part about it is that none of it is helping you figure out what he’s planning. He’s just being stupidly adorable, your golden retriever vampire boyfriend, and it’s too difficult to theorise when your heart is too busy melting right into his hands. It can’t be that bad, right? All you can do is cross your fingers and hope that whatever it is, it doesn’t involve roller skates. Please, never again.

-

“Morning, lovely.”

“...”

“...Lovely?” A voice. Vincent’s voice. Mmm, Vincent. He’s so cute. Where is he?

“Mm-hnnrg,” you reply eloquently, through a mouthful of pillow. Something’s wrong. Why is it so cold? “Hmm?” You blindly reach out towards his side of the bed when-

“Over here, baby. No, no- other side, this side!” From behind you, a warm hand settles on your exposed shoulder and gently tips you onto your back, slipping up to turn your chin so you can see the very familiar vampire perching on the bit of mattress by your hip. He’s smiling softly, backlit by the early moonlight streaming in through the window where he's pushed the blackout curtains open. “There you are.”

It doesn’t look like he’s been up for long, still in his pyjamas (the really soft ones that are good for stealing), dark hair still ruffled and sticking up on one side. Silver eyes a little heavy with sleep, pillow creases faintly visible on his cheek. tongue barely peeking out to lick his lips as he finishes yawning - oh, he is precious.

“Breakfast?”

He’s also looking remarkably pleased with himself, which is always a sign of danger. You sit up and take the offered blood bag warily, narrowing your eyes at him as you bite into the plastic, although your death glare is probably undercut by the fact that you keep having to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. He seems unaffected, giving you a big, innocent grin that you absolutely don’t believe for a second.

“Mmm, thank you,” You tip your head back to squeeze the last few drops out of the bag, before leaning over and dropping it in the bin by the bedside table. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Of course I did,” he chuckles, thumbing a stray drop of blood from the corner of your lip and popping it neatly in his mouth. “I had my lovely in my arms, didn’t I?”

Still a bit groggy from sleep and a little dazed by his soft smile, you’re caught without a comeback - in lieu of words, you make do by pulling at the hem of his shirt until he’s close enough to cuddle properly. You settle your face into his shoulder, turning your head just a little to kiss his neck as he sighs happily into your hair, and it would be so, so easy to fall back asleep.

Well, it would be, if he wasn’t doing that (adorably dorky, ridiculously cute) stupid thing where he pretends to play the piano across your back, pads of his fingers tapping lightly across your shoulderblades as you hazily try to figure out what he’s playing. The light pressure isn’t distracting enough to outweigh his general utility as a pillow though, so you make yourself comfy melting against his warmth, closing your eyes against the moonlight from the window.

A little while passes, until suddenly it hits you.

“Are you-” He really is a dork. “Are you playing Heart and Soul?”

“What? No!” The fingers on your back freeze for a moment, before resuming in a decidedly more complicated pattern than before. “I would never.”

Liar. “You were humming it yesterday while you were brushing your teeth.”

“Pure coincidence, I assure you,” he scoffs, giving up on his silent concert in favour of wrapping his arms snugly around your waist, crushing you against him. "You must be mistaken, little lovely. How could I possibly do such a thing when my heart and soul are already yours -aghh!"

The reward for his vast devotion is swift, silver-tongued bastard that he is - he yelps as you give him a teasing little nip just below his jaw, hard enough to leave a decent mark but not quite breaking the skin, scrambling away from you almost fast enough to hide the subtle flush spreading across his face. “Stop trying to eat me, you menace,” he whines, "Those fangs of yours get enough practice as it is!" Snickering, you watch as he busies himself tidying up the vanity, pointedly facing away from you all the while.

(Alas, he appears to have forgotten that vampires are not, in fact, invisible in mirrors. The blooming mark under his jaw and the giddy little smile his reflection wears are very, very pretty.)

"In any case, little leech, you'd better get dressed. We've got the whole day to ourselves, remember?"

"How could I forget? You wouldn't stop asking if I was free," you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "I take it you've got something in mind…?"

“Maybe, maybe not,” he says, which is Vincent-speak for I definitely have something in mind, and you’re going to be spoilt absolutely rotten if I have anything to say about it. “Doesn’t change the fact that today’s a special day, and I want to spend it with my lovely.”

“Flirt.”

“Oh, with pleasure. Anywhere in particular?”

“You know exactly what I meant, genius,” You shake your head good-naturedly, nudging him out of the way with your hip as you make for the wardrobe. “Although I am a little surprised. Normally, when we've got the whole day to ourselves, clothes don’t really factor into it."

“You-” What little of his blush that had receded comes back in full force, and he’s almost fast enough to hide it by making a hasty retreat to the safety of the kitchen, your laughter chasing him down the hallway. “Just- just get dressed!”

Still smiling, you turn back to the wardrobe. Looks like you have an ill-defined date night (do you really need to say night when you do everything at night nowadays?) to get ready for.

-

He’s lost it. Completely. Right here, right now, Vincent Solaire has gone absolutely, totally off his rocker.

Barring a few more intense moments, it had been a pretty normal date night - cuddles on the sofa, some lazy dancing in the kitchen, a liberal dose of kisses every time he thinks you’ve got too far (read: further than about two metres) away. You’d steamrollered him at Mario Kart, and he’d got you back with a surprise bout of tickles that had you squirming out of his lap and onto the floor in an unceremonious heap of laughter. Making fun of the TV, terrible innuendos, flicking water at him when you wash your hands. An ordinary date night, and you couldn’t possibly ask for more.

“It’s in the bedroom. Try it on for me?”

Vincent, however, has always been very good at more.

He watches you disappear around the corner, and as you open the bedroom door you can hear him fiddling around with something back in the living room. Oh, God, what on earth is he going to pull now? He’d better not be t-

Oh.

So that’s what he’s been hiding.

The garment bag isn’t entirely transparent, so you can’t make out the details, but you know exactly what’s inside. You remember seeing it online while shopping for potential masquerade outfits with Vincent, maybe six months ago? Seven? He’d offered to get it for you then, but you’d refused - it’s too expensive, I don’t really need it, I can find something else. However long it’s been, Vincent clearly hasn’t forgotten - sliding the hanger out of the bag reveals a very familiar silhouette, the fabric just as you remember it, and you’d bet that when you put it on, the size will be exactly as you wanted. As if that wasn’t enough, the box sitting next to it on the bed - yep, those are the shoes. How did he even find out about those? You swear you’d only told-

Damn. Of course. You’d told David’s mate, who must have told Sam, who must have snitched on you to Vincent. Ooh, you’re getting him back for this.

knuckle sandwich: yeah i can go to the masquerade with you

knuckle sandwich: what did he do this time

At least one of them has any sense. It doesn’t take you too long to get dressed, all things considered, and the knock at the door is very much welcome.

“Lovely? May I come in?”

You open the door, and are met with what you’re sure is the loveliest sight known to man (vampire?) - Vincent Solaire, in his goddamn Sunday best, a bunch of roses in one hand and a gentle smile on his face.

“You- oh, wow-”

Both of you stutter over each other, flustered hands struggling to settle and weight shifting from one foot to the other. Vincent manages to regain his composure slightly before you, folding your fingers around the bouquet and thankfully letting you hide your face in it. He’s all you want to look at, almond eyes crinkled into happy crescents and colour rising in his cheeks, but you worry that if you look too long, you’re seriously at risk of finding out if vampires can have heart attacks.

“Ready to go?” Wait, you’re going somewhere? That would explain why he’s all dolled up, but it’s, like, 1am - where on earth could he possibly be taking you that’s even open at this hour?

He must take your confused silence as a yes, linking his elbow with yours and taking you down to the garage. Before long, you’re racing into Dahlia proper, lights blurring past and music turned up, singing as loudly as you can to the CD - one of his early-2000s albums that seems to live permanently in the glovebox. It’s not a long drive, only a little more than half an hour, yet somehow he manages to get you out of the car and sitting at a very nice, very expensive table almost before you know what’s going on.

“How is this place even open?”, you hiss, hiding your face from the waiter with the excessively-tall menu. “It’s the middle of the night!”

Across from you, one dark eyebrow arches gracefully, but not unkindly. “Not for us, lovely. Cornerstone city, remember? All sorts of places are open for us, if you know where to look. Remember that gallery by the station? The one where the guy spilled his drink all over the floor?”

“That was your fault!” If there wasn’t anybody else here, you’d smack him with the menu - as it is, you settle for lightly knocking his shin with the side of your shoe under the table. “If you’d been able to keep your hands to yourself for five minutes-”

“Not my fault you couldn’t stay quiet!” He even has the nerve to stick his tongue out at you, the little menace.

“I’m not the one who wanted to start a tickle fight in the middle of an art gallery!”

“Okay, maybe I had something to do with it,” he admits, inclining his head towards the waiter who’s been patiently waiting just out of earshot for you two to decide what you want. “But you can’t say it wasn’t funny! And he was talking so loudly - honestly, I think we did everyone else in there a favour.”

“Th-” You’re about to retort when the waiter clears his throat unobtrusively, obviously trying to be polite, but really hoping you’re going to get on with it so he can go and do something else. “Uh, do you know what you’re going to have?”

“Mm, I don’t know…”

-

Dinner goes… well.

It’s a very nice dinner, to be sure - neither of you really need food any more, but that doesn’t stop it from being delicious. Once Vincent’s finished explaining the nighttime workings of Dahlia, the conversation lapses back into much more relaxed territory, and the hand-holding under the table doesn’t hurt either. The pleasant haze of his attention, the comfortable sway of his affection - behind the blackout windows of the restaurant, the silver evening becomes a golden early morning.

There’s only one question left to ask.

“...Vincent?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from where he’s toying with his credit card, spinning it between his fingers as you wait for the waiter to come back with the machine. “What is it, lovely?”

“Why are we, you know…” you start, unsure of how exactly to phrase it. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to go on dates with you, I like spending time with you and being with you and I love you so so much but-”

“What?” His hand on your cheek stops you in your tracks, and you can’t help but lean into the warmth of his palm. “But what, lovely?”

There’s no good way to say it - better just get it over with. “Is there something happening today that I’m meant to know about? Why did we, y’know, come here today?”

His hand freezes momentarily, fingers tensing almost imperceptibly against your face as his mouth drops open slightly, eyes widening. He looks… surprised, you think? It’s hard to tell, seeing as he almost immediately buries his face in his arms, groaning into the table in what looks like frustration.

“I knew I’d forgotten something!”

…Forgotten something?

“What did you forget?” In the corner of your eye, the poor waiter can very clearly tell that now isn’t a great time, and retreats to the safety of the kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“No!” he mumbles, half-muffled by his sleeve. Reaching over to ruffle his hair in silent comfort, you wait for him to actually tell you what the problem is. “I thought I’d told you already - I think I just kind of assumed that you’d know, and Gavin said that he’d heard about it so then I didn’t really think about it, but he’s, like, a million years old and knows everything about this stuff, so-”

He takes a deep breath, sitting up and gently detangling your hand from his hair. “Do you know what date it is today?”

“The twentieth, right? No, the twenty-first.”

“No, you’re right, it’s the twentieth. May twentieth. Does that date mean anything to you?”

You shake your head, utterly lost. “...Should it?”

“Fuck, I really did forget,” he mutters to himself. “Lovely, you know when I text you, I always say something at the end, right?”

“Yeah, the numbers. Five-two-zero. I thought it was, like, one of your 90s emoticon things, isn’t it?”

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say - he looks even more embarrassed now. “No, it’s- it’s not. It’s a Chinese thing.”

Nope, that… doesn’t explain it. Your expression clearly tells him as much, as he starts to ramble. “So, like, the way to say I love you in Mandarin is wo ai ni, you know? Like, wo means I, ai means love - you know what I mean, I say that to you a lot, right?”

Now that he says it, it sounds familiar. “Right.”

“Well, it’s kind of like acronyms in English, I guess, like when you text? Short, fast ways of saying a phrase? Chinese has the same thing, but obviously they’re a bit different - I love you isn’t the letters I-L-Y, it’s the numbers 5-2-0. Five-two-zero is wu er ling, which sounds like wo ai ni when you say it fast.”

“Okay…?” It takes a second for it to make sense, but you think you get it. Also, now that you think about it, this recontextualises a lot of his texts to you. “And that has something to do with today?”

He doesn’t answer, instead reaching into his inside pocket and switching on his phone, sliding it across the table to face you. Right there on the display, above the picture of you asleep on his shoulder (wait, when did he take that?), it reads 02:50AM, 05.20.23.

“Today, the twentieth, is kind of like a Valentine’s Day for Chinese people.”

Oh. May twentieth. 5.20. I love you.

(He also does a bit of a double take at the time, but doesn’t explain this one. “Er bai wu… yeah, that sounds about right.” It’s probably not anything very polite, if you had to guess.)

You’re not exactly sure where to go with this, but there’s one option that always seems to work. You slip your hand under his jaw, pressing just slightly on the mark you left there earlier, and tilt his face to yours for a kiss. It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up, but when it does he reciprocates in full, eyes falling blissfully shut as his tongue traces across your lip.

When you finally remember where you are, you pull away just enough to breathe, dodging his petulant attempt to chase your lips by ducking your head to the side for a second. He catches your cheek instead, whining softly when you press your palm to his chest to get his attention.

“Happy Valentine’s-in-May, pretty boy.” Your voice is low and quiet, but he hears you all the same, giving you that big fangy grin that makes your mind go all fizzy, entirely charmed. “I love you, Vincent Solaire.”

(He doesn’t reply in English, but you know exactly what he means.)

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fluff #redacted vincent #redacted lovely #ginger posting twice in two days??? what madness is this #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

[comicavalcade]

Submariner Summer 8

Hey Namor Nation, its time: part 8 of #SubmarinerSummer read through--Tales to Astonish #77, To Walk Amonst MEN! Hulk gets the cover, and frankly from here on Hulk and Namor will alternate the covers pretty much. Should I not post the Hulk covers? Let me know if you think so!

Still, it may not have been a Namor cover, but the title page is a banger. Regal af frfr, Gene Colan ate, etc etc. Clearly Stan was inspired to get fancy with the words when he saw that page

Anyway, Namor informs his council he's going to the surface to take care of the disaster at the source. The Council isn't thrilled, worried about the danger to him from the surfacers, though Vashti backs him up. Only Namor alone can save Atlantis! Imperius Rex!

Meanwhile, the people continue to suffer, crying out for their Prince to act. But not Dorma, she wants to go with Namor; Namor, of course, says no, firstly because he doesn't want her in danger, but also because she has to watch for The Behemoth, a mysterious weaponized monster created by Atlantis for a doomsday scenario

So off to the surface Namor jets, soon encountering a massive drill that's causing the destruction. At least it wasn't nukes this time 😀👍

Then we cut to the surface and...oh oh oh of course. Dr. Hank Pym, the human science disaster himself. (also Jan!)

At any rate, Namor makes sure the drill stops hurting his people, then goes to tell the surfacers to *not* destroy the indigenous people of the place. Which, of course, means its time for the US to attack; nobody tells 'Merica what to do

And, lets be serious: Namor is always ready to let the surfacers fuck around, because he will let them find out. Oh, sorry, I mean: "If it is battle they seek...it is battle they shall get!"

Even still, he actually slips into the US ship rather than just destroy it outright, but he's in no mood for diplomacy; its his way or the seaway and he commands a halt. Dr Pym isn't having it though, he's got a job to do. And...we've reached our cliffhanger!

This issue is cooking for sure. A touch of Atlantean politics, a bit of exposition with Namor and Dorma foreshadowing a threat, and then a classic "the surface goads Namor into hostility" scenario with a reveal of Avengers Ant-Man and the Wasp themselves in their civilian identities.

The title and end pages are both especially good, great book-ending. Colan really continues to deliver on this series. And so come back for the next installment--Tales to Astonish #78: The Prince and the Puppet!

#submariner summer #namor #submariner #sub mariner #namor the sub mariner #namor of atlantis #namor the first #lady dorma #dorma #lord vashti #vashti #atlantis #hank pym #janet van dyne #antman #ant man #the wasp #to walk among men #tales to astonish #marvel comics #marvel

[terra-luna-nike]

"Offer"

The rough click of the door latch echoes through the wide concrete room. My acoustic sensors function perfectly; I can tell exactly where she is with every step she takes, catch the occasional heartbeat even at this distance. I can’t *see* her, not yet. The floodlights standing on the floor and hanging from the ceiling around me are far too bright, and my inorganic optical array has been compromised for some time now– rather crudely but effectively, with what appears to be electrical tape. 

I shake my head to demonstrate wakefulness. I’ve found my captors to be far more bold when they believe that I sleep, especially on a regular cycle. The floodlights dim and I engage my organic optical array– I open my eyes.

A cheap trick. In less than a quarter second the lights flare to full power again and I am forced to close my eyes. I gain no useful information. She’s reached the unadorned metal desk that she had moved to my cell. The equally austere wooden chair howls on the rough concrete as she drags it back to sit down. Rough noises, and ugly surroundings. I actually prefer this, but I can’t tell them that.

“You never put anything pretty in here for me to look at.” I lead with my false complaint, before she can take conversational initiative. “Only plain things that make ugly noises when you touch them. Soon I’ll have to hear you writing your little notes in *ballpoint pen.*”

“As previously discussed, the only reason we let you see anything in here at all is because blindfolding you was deemed inhumane, as was keeping the lights on when nobody’s in here with you.” And there’s the click of said ballpoint pen. I smile wide, showing all my teeth. The game begins.

“Ah, but if we’re so caught up on making sure I have my humanity, aren’t I entitled to a little human connection? It would make me so happy to finally see *you*, ma’am!”

“That will not be happening, for a number of reasons.”

“Think of all the fun we could have together! The things we could accomplish! The murders I could show you!”

She sighs, and the scratching of that pen picks up. A point for me.

“Do you mean that you have not yet been completely disarmed, Seven-Zero-Two?” It’s funny how the last three digits of my serial painted on my chest plating turn into my entire name when met with someone who doesn’t know how to talk to me– But I can’t just tell her my name, that would be too easy! *But* I digress.

“Give me my mask back and I’ll tell you.”

“Denied.”

“What will you even do if I don’t tell you? Cut my neck up fishing for antenna coils again? Fillet my arms and legs again looking for one more blade? We could go back to the waterboarding, or the electric shocks, or…” I realize I’ve been straining at my bonds and let myself go limp in the chains suspending me from the ceiling.

She has used my outburst, my moment of weakness, to close the gap. She’s standing right in front of me, infuriatingly, and like a blessing from above, the lights dim. I want so badly to open my eyes but I won’t give her that satisfaction again.

“So you *can* be taught…” She purrs, teeth-grindingly smug, daring me to open my eyes, to challenge her on that. To spit in her face, inches from my own. I wait.

She touches my cheek.

I gasp, not ready for the contact on an unarmored surface, expecting it to turn out to be a cattle prod, or a switchblade, or the barrel of her service weapon. Her fingers are cool– the rest of the facility must be as cold as this room, and I find myself wondering if she’s dressed warmly, my thoughts drift to long coats, fur collars– and I can hear her heart pounding in her chest. I’m digressing again.

I wonder if she knows exactly what she’s doing. I hope I can’t hear the smile in her voice.

“We’ve got the soldier who brought you in. You’re still our only living example. She’s agreed to start visiting to spar with you, if you start cooperating with the testing. Maybe we’ll even let you have one or two blades back.”

I shut my mouth so I don’t look like an idiot. I make no movements while I consider it. It’s been a long time since I got a signal from headquarters. We *were* losing the war.

I nod mutely.

She laughs.

…Maybe she does know how to talk to me.

[daylighteclipsed]

(i'm the anon you just answered) thank you for taking the time to give me such an in depth response. gave me much to think about :] you make a great point about sora revisiting castle oblivion on coded and accepting the fact that he's losing his memories while also being confident that he can work through it and gain them back. i never pieced that together on my own and it's very interesting!

Of course! And you know, it’s something Coded actually touches on even before Data Castle Oblivion. Before Data Sora and Data Riku are reset, Data Sora tells Mickey, Donald, and Goofy that he’s okay with losing his memories because he’s still got them as friends. “As long as you remember us and everything that we’ve been through together… Well then, who knows?”

The sentiment’s then echoed in Data Castle Oblivion, as a parallel to CoM. Mickey tells Data Sora, “Inside your heart, the adventures you shared with the friends you made in the datascape will always live on. And you know what? I’ll bet that’s also true for all the time you spent with the folks that those cards showed to you.”

Data Sora realizes the fact that he feels pain over forgetting his friends means that his heart’s still connected to these friends, and so it’s possible to recall these memories by using the pain he feels, rather than despair over the loss of them. He’s in pain because love is still there. That pain is the key.

Then, a little less related, the fight with Data Roxas, which is about empathy and compassion. The ability to feel for others hurting because you have experienced pain. And I would argue, this also parallels reality — this is the message the real Roxas and Sora reflect. While Sora doesn’t need to be taught compassion, he does fail to show sympathy towards Roxas until he realizes Roxas has a heart/is hurting deeply.

Anyway, fast forward a bit. Data Sora meets Namine who tells him we can wipe our pain away on the surface, “but there’s also a pain that always stays with you.” Once again, returning to that CoM parallel.

She then tells Data Sora the other crucial part of this lesson: “And if it happens that the hurt is too great for you to bear it alone, well, then you turn to a friend close to your heart.” You open up and let others help you with your pain, something the real Sora — while he will absolutely criticize others (like Riku) for not doing — desperately needs to do himself.

And that’s true! While nobody likes to go through tough times, we all do and sharing our pain is another way of connecting with others. Trusting others to help us with the hard stuff does strengthen our bonds with them. :)

All in all, I more or less see this as the arc Sora was supposed to go through because of CoM. This is the personal growth we should’ve seen from him, and we can see that it mirrors Riku’s arc. But Sora’s unable to face his pain head-on and accept it. Instead, he forgets/represses his memories of CoM and the pain attached to them, so his character’s kind of stunted, with his pain just building and building over each game, with each bad experience, the longer he avoids facing and accepting it…

I think it’s all coming to a head in KH4. I’m hoping Sora will remember CoM (especially since that game featured Marluxia and now Sora’s with Strelitzia), but either way. Sora’s friends can extend a hand, but he’s the one who has to take it. He has to choose to help himself, to save himself.

#kingdom hearts #sora #I’m a big fan of the toxic selflessness we’re seeing addressed in kid heroes nowadays #having so little value for your own life is not cool actually! #caring about yourself is healthy and important #sometimes making the choice to help yourself is the hardest and bravest thing you can do #if that’s the direction nomura’s going in i mean. it seems like it