#you my wonderwall

[sprout-fics]

Coyote Kiss

(Philip Graves x F! Reader)

(Call of Duty Masterlist)

Rating: Explicit, MDNI Wordcount: 3.1k Tags: Brat Tamer Graves, Bratty Reader, Motorcycle Graves, Date night, Banter, Bickering, Love/Hate Relationship, Messy relationships, Jealousy Warnings: None A/N: Hi. Here's more of the man I love to hate and hate to love. Forgive me.

He’s smirking at you.

There’s a low, fluorescent buzz to the diner amidst the distant sounds of the kitchen, the gurgle of the coffee machine behind the counter. You and Graves are tucked in a booth, far from the door, where the neon light of the ‘open’ sign catches against the shiny leather of his motorcycle jacket. There’s tinny music over the speakers, the 80’s you think, not entirely sure. You know if you try and guess Graves will only huff at you, correct you and lament about your poor music knowledge.

Smartass.

You can feel the toes of his boots brush against your ankles, and even though you aren’t looking at him you know he’s just waiting for you to comment on it, nudge him out of your space with mild annoyance. Instead you focus on the various laminated displays of greasy food inside the menu, burying your face so you ignore him. Yet even without looking you know exactly how he looks. Relaxed into his seat, arms crossed, head tilted in keen observation, and that damned smirk plastered across his smug face. 

“You haven’t looked at the menu.” You observe, still not looking at him, and you hear Graves shift to attention when you finally acknowledge him.

“Don’t have to.” He replies easily. “I’ve been here long enough to know what I want.”

Or so he’s said. It had taken some cajoling on his part to drag you this far out into the sticks, far away from the Shadow Company base. You’d expected him to commandeer one of the jeeps in the compound, puzzled as to why he told you to dress warm in the middle of the deadly Texas summer heat. Yet then your commander had led you off to a garage, had yanked a tarp back to reveal a pristinely kept motorcycle underneath. 

“Ducati.” He announced smugly, leaning on the bike and running an appreciative hand over the sleek black trim. “One of the best on the market.”

“How did you afford this?” You gaped at him, ignoring his bark of laughter at your open, astonished expression.

“It pays to be a government contractor, sweetheart. You ought to know that by now.”

He walked over to a shelf, tossed you a helmet. It looked brand new. You barely caught it, too transfixed on the motorcycle. Graves sauntered back over, tapped two leather-gloved fingers under your chin.

“Close your mouth, babygirl. You’ll catch flies.”

It had been clear from the get-go that Graves had planned this in excruciating detail, going as far as providing you with a spare jacket that even now remains draped across your shoulders, just a bit too large. You’d hopped on the bike behind him, a little hesitant to grab onto him, at least until he’d huffed and wrapped your arms around his waist himself. The warmth of him bled into your front, helmet tucked against his shoulder and thighs clenched to the bike as he’d sped off out of the compound.

You’d gotten some stares from the guards. There will probably be rumors across half the base by the time you both get back.

You don’t know how long you rode into the desert, the sun setting quickly and casting a brilliant orange haze across the horizon. Graves talked little, focused on the road, stopping only when he was required, planting a possessive hand roaming across the meat of your thigh. When you’d playfully smacked at it, he only laughed.

Eventually you had pulled into the diner just as the sunset faded and the flickering, lonely street lights had turned on. When he had ushered you into the diner, the older lady behind the counter had greeted him in cheerful familiarity. “Phil.”

She’s disappeared now, and you think you heard her mutter something to the much younger waitress about a smoke break. Left alone, you stare into the grease-stained menu and try to decipher the various contents in a vain attempt to not entertain Grave’s twinkling eyes.

He nudges you again under the table, boots pressing against your ankles, spreading himself wide and into your space in a way that’s meant to purposefully draw your attention. You know this ploy all too well, know that if you bite and decide to snip at him he’ll only rile you up further with gleeful audacity, until eventually he handles you into a biting kiss you can’t resist. It’s the constant game you both play, caught between a simmering annoyance that erupts in roaming touches and snipping banter even when you’re caught in his arms. You know the inevitable end of it, how you’ll end up in his bed, feel him haul your legs over his shoulders and tease you even then, smiling against your lips when he forces you to surrender in desperate, mewling gasps.

You pretend to hate it, fight him at every turn, rise to his jabs and return them with your own. It only feeds into his rampant desire for you, intoxicated by handling the feral nature of you, taming you with teasing endearments turned into rasping, sweet nothings as he buries himself inside you. You know you’ll go willingly even though you bite at him like something wild, slightly feral, knowing that at the end of this you’ll surrender to his carnal desires only because it feels so good.

You catch the waitress out of the corner of your eye, see her blonde hair cascade in girlish waves out of her ponytail, french-tip nails holding her ticketbook as she sways over to your table. She’s pretty, thin, looks like something out of those 60’s advertisements done in acrylic posters.

“What can I getcha, hon?” She asks, voice a thick Texas drawl as she cocks her hip, staring straight at Graves. Attentive. Suggestive. 

It makes your eyes narrow.

Graves looks up like he’s noticed her for the first time, offering a polite smile, different from the one he’s given you. 

“Coffee. Black.” He provides, slinging an arm over the back of his seat. “I’ll have the fried catfish sandwich and okra. Fries on the side, biscuits too.”

“Sure thing, sugar.”

Hmm.

You’re ready to order when Graves then points at you. You think he’ll pull a smartass move, declare your affinity for a fresh salad and fruit. Instead he supplies: “This little lady right here will have a burger, medium rare. The works, bacon, egg, all that. Plus onion rings and a coke.”

You open your mouth to protest, but find nothing to object to. In fact, when you frown in a mild pout, your stomach only rumbles in yawning hunger. Graves shoots you a look. 

“And no pickles.” He adds, grinning wolfishly. You’re not sure if you want to bite or kiss him.

The waitress scribbles down all of the above in quick shorthand. “Anything else?”

Graves purses his lips, considering. “Chips and queso.” He supplies with a small gesture of his hand. “Thank ya, darlin’.”

The waitress seems to perk up at that, smiling happily before striding off towards the kitchen. You watch her go, trace her back until she vanishes behind the swinging door, and only then do you catch Graves staring at you. 

“What?”

He raises an eyebrow at you contemplatively. “Am I not giving you enough attention, babygirl?”

Are you jealous?

You scoff, averting your eyes so he doesn’t see the flash of surprise and bashfulness that flickers across your gaze. “Hardly.” You tell him, and your commander only hums, pressing his boot a little more firmly against your calf.

You shoot him an annoyed look. “Quit it.” You grumble, and just as you expect Graves only grins, eyes twinkling at your bite. 

“Can’t help it.” He drawls. “I’m a long legged man.”

You tilt your head at him, a mischievous smile forming on your lips as you consider his words. 

“You’re 5’11.” You correct him. “I know plenty of Shadows that have a few inches on you.”

Graves’ eyes flash at that, and you know you’ve gotten under his skin just a bit by the way his gaze turns just a little sharp before melting back into easy confidence. 

“I compensate in other ways, darlin’. You know that.”

You thin your lips at that, know that for all intents and purposes, he’s right.

Graves takes in your silence and laughs, pleased. 

“Don’t pout.” He tuts at you. “If you need a reminder later, let me know.”

The last time he gave you a ‘reminder’ you’d walked on wobbly legs for two days afterwards, bruises tracing abstract patterns up your chest and throat. And Graves, damnable Graves, had strutted around the compound like a prized rooster crowing at the sun for all the things he knew he had done to you. You’d seethed about it, of course, his egoism, but even then you couldn’t stop the memory of him from poisoning the slow fester of your attraction to him. 

His hands on your wrists, your legs over his shoulders. The hickeys he’s sucked into your throat bloom dark against your skin. You toss your head under him, lips parted in desperate little whines as he grinds himself into you with unerring precision. His back is scratched to hell, and he moans at the burn of it, drunk on the hurt and the intoxicating process of watching your wild nature fold to utter, mewling surrender under him.

“Feel good, baby?” He drawls, voice hoarse with his groans as his hips slap against yours. It shakes the bed. “Can’t even talk because you’re so cockdrunk, aren’t ya, little spitfire?”

And you, you had given into him, had surrendered to his endearing, teasing taunts, had folded under him like you belonged there.

Your thighs threaten to close at the memory, and the motion doesn’t go unnoticed by your commander, who’s face lights up in realization. 

“Yeah?” He provides, shifting forward eagerly. “Bet you’d like that, babygirl.”

“Piss off.” You snap, even though the temptation of it roils inside you with undeniable interest.

Graves whistles, long and low, puckering his lips and feigning surprise. “I like that bark, sweetheart. You know I do, but…”

Graves leers at you.

“I like it better when you bite.”

You choke.

It’s not unlike him to be this brazen, far from it. Yet his taunting is usually reserved for the more private moments, the ones where he crowds you into the shadows of the armory or behind the barracks, seizes your lips in a domineering kiss until you gasp against him. He leaves you like that after, having barely touched you, smirking with that twinkle in his eyes and sauntering off to leave you exactly as he intended. Dizzy, chest rising, mind fuzzy with want.

Here, however, in this place with a sparse collection of other diners, where the blonde waitress peeks from the porthole of the kitchen door, you feel yourself warm under his intent stare, mouth pressing into a thin, flustered line as you avoid his gaze. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

You do, instinctively. That tone, when his voice dips lower, less playful,  heavy with intent, always summons your attention. It means listen, eyes up, come here.

You merely glance at him, not entirely turning. Avoiding him still, feeding into this game that you both enjoy so dearly. 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” You drawl, and you know if it weren’t for the table between you Graves would close the distance and seize your chin to make you look. You smile at that in a way he can see, watch the way fire flickers across his eyes at the rebellious streak in you. He loves it. Loves the way you refuse to obey. It’s a challenge he’s greedy to accept, a temptation he can’t resist. The act of making you surrender is an addiction in of itself, a warm swimming desire that feeds into his veins. He’s drunk on the act of taming you, can’t resist riling you up only to put you down. 

It feeds his ego, you think- his oozing confidence that doesn’t buckle even under artillery fire. Graves knows what he is capable of.

Knows he’s capable of taming you. 

Before he can respond to your taunt, the waitress reappears with an entire platter of food. Fries, chips, onion rings, queso, drinks, a burger, okra, and a piece of catfish perfectly fried. The steam wafts up from the linoleum table, and you can’t help your eyes fluttering at the intoxicating smell of perfectly greasy food. 

“Anything else, sweetpea?” The waitress asks in a sing-song little voice, still trying to draw Graves' attention. He looks up at her, tilting his head and softening his eyes just for a moment. You think he’ll flirt with her, maybe compliment her bright pink lipstick.

“That’s all.” He provides instead, short in a way that makes you blink as you watch the rejection pass over the waitress’s face. She nods distantly before vanishing, and Graves doesn’t give her a second glance before he’s lifting his sandwich up and tearing into it like a coyote with a piece of raw meat. 

You survey the table, the wealth of food you know you won’t finish. It’s decadent to the point of excess, and as Graves sucks the sauce from his fingers messily you blink at the spread. 

“Christ, Graves.” You breathe. “There’s enough here to feed the base.”

Graves hums around the next bite of his food. 

“I gotta keep my girl fed.” He provides through a full mouth, and when you scold him for manners he only grins at you before nodding to your burger. “I know you’re hungry, eat up.”

You grumble at him but happily oblige, biting into the meat of your burger. Flavor and warmth explodes across your senses, and before you can help it you moan.

Graves barks a laugh, nudges you once again under the table. 

“Atta girl.” He provides, and you’re too lost in your food to care about the slight mocking tone of his, eyes scrunching shut and savoring the next bite. 

“My little carnivore.” He croons, and you do nudge him with your boot at that, shooting him a glare. His eyes only twinkle with mischief before he returns to his own food. 

It takes time for you both to devour the table full of food with its queso laden chips and golden brown onion rings, the fries that leave grease stains on the wax paper. Graves waggles a piece of okra in front of your face, and you finally give into his cajoling before eating it straight from his hand.

When his knuckles graze under your chin, you resist the urge to bite him.

Eventually you slump back in your seat with a heavy, pleased sigh, hands over your full stomach and immensely satisfied at the warmth of the food that curls there. Graves sips at his coffee, and how he manages to drink it black after eating that amount of grease is beyond you. 

“Feel good, babygirl?” He asks, perhaps a little too smugly, but you can’t bring yourself to pay him much mind. 

“Mm-hmm.” You hum happily, a lazy pleased smile across your face as you look at him.

For a moment, you swear you catch something that veers dangerously close to tenderness.

“How am I supposed to get us both on the bike after all this?” He snarks instead, gesturing to the mess of empty plastic baskets and crumbs you’ve both left. 

You shrug, unable to hide a cheeky smile. “I could probably ride back and get a couple of strong shadows to haul you onto a truck.” You suggest, and in a rare moment of surprise Graves chokes on his coffee. You grin victoriously at him when he wipes at his chin before turning to you with his eyes narrowed. 

“Brat.”

You shrug. “Guilty.”

Despite the scolding, Graves is smiling, and you can’t help but smile back. 

You cringe when the bill is slid onto the table, but Graves doesn’t even blink when he deposits  a fat wad of cash before standing and bringing you with him. He keeps a hand at the small of your back as you both exit into the cool night air, and if you didn’t know better you’d swear he was being a gentleman.

Yet then the hand snakes up to your back, and you nearly stumble in surprise as Graves thumps you a few times between the shoulders. You spin to face him, eyes wide in indignation. 

“Are you trying to burp me?!” You gasp in mild outrage, and in perfect timing you have to swallow down a bubble of gas in hopes he doesn’t notice. 

Graves grins, amused and pleased at the mildly scornful look in your eyes. He merely crowds you backwards until your backside bumps against the motorcycle, his hands catching you by your hips before he hauls himself flush against you. 

You’re not ready for the way the blue of his eyes shift under the glow of the streetlamp, the sudden, dizzying desire he has when he locks his gaze on yours. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that darlin?” He rasps, voice dragging breathily in his chest. It makes you soften against him in your shock, the sudden rapturous fixation of his voice that almost speaks of devotion.

You swallow, heart thumping uneasily in your chest, caught on the razor’s edge of him, afraid that if you get too close he might bleed you dry. 

You almost want him to try. 

“You’re already crazy.” You manage instead, flashing him a mischievous smile that only barely meets your eyes. 

Graves laughs, and laughs again when you nip at his descending lips, a hand snaking up to cradle your skull and press you closer to him. Your hands seize the leather of his jacket in a desperate anchor, swept away by his sudden urge to devour you. 

You’re always hiding in some ways from him, you think, ever distant and out of reach. You feign irritation to quell the thunder of your heartbeat, teetering on the precipice of caution and dangerous desire. If you surrender completely, fall into his jaws, you know he’ll only gobble you up like a wild animal. You fear somehow he’ll chew you until you’ve lost your taste and then leave the remains of your broken heart withering like starved desert flowers. You’re not sure if you can take it.

Yet in this moment, in the laughing kiss he presses against your parted lips, you wonder if perhaps this is meant to be forever.

Taglist:

@alicesfracturedmirror @writeforfandoms

#graves x reader #graves x you #commander graves x reader #philip graves x reader #philip graves x you #reader insert #x reader #my writing #my fic #to add to masterlist #something something Graves is a wild Texas coyote #and I adore and hate him for it #if there's typos here I don't see them I'm not looking #anyways here's wonderwall ig

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

isaac (ikevamp) meeting liam (ikevil)

- c. 2024 [colorized]

#silly thought came to mind when i saw liam's color scheme and i just had to make this #do you know how weird it was googling the characters/sprites and seeing my own blog pop up in google images results? ...wildin #so anyway here's wonderwall- /j #otome memes #ikemen vampire #ikemen villains #isaac newton #liam evans #ikevamp isaac #ikevil liam #memery #memery 🐒 #my post 📫 #aerin.jpg #my memes #my edits #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen villains liam #l'hôtel.ikevamp #l'hôtel.ikevil #ikevamp.isaac #ikevil.liam #ikemen series #ikemen memes #ikevamp memes #ikevil memes #spiderman meme #spiderman pointing meme

[plusultraetc]

I saw a post about this a hot minute ago and I'm so mad I can't find it BUT. While I LOVE Present Mic as a popular radio personality, there isn't really that much concrete evidence to support that idea. (Which, to be fair, there isn't a lot of concrete evidence about the careers/public perception of a lot of pros outside of All Might, Endeavor, sorta Hawks, etc., so you can pry that headcanon out of my grasp with a crowbar and so on.) That being said, I think a really fun angle to explore re: Present Mic as a radio host-pro hero-UA teacher (that I may or may not have the bare bones of a fic about👀) is the idea that Mic debuted as a very successful hero and entertainer, and experienced pretty steady growth in both aspects of his career for a few years before he took a teaching position at UA.

Hero rankings are based on incidents resolved, and can be damaged by taking any amount of time off (such as when the Wild Wild Pussycats took, what? A couple of months off from hero-ing? and their ranking plummeted by several hundred places). Teaching is time consuming; it's the kind of job that often necessitates 'bringing work home' with you in the form of grading, lesson planning, etc. Obviously it would cut into Mic's focus on his hero work and his radio show, and obviously that would affect not only his actual ranking but how much attention his career/persona garnered. After all, there is an influx of new heroes every single year when hero courses across the country graduate. It takes work to stay relevant in this universe.

So now I'm thinking of like. Present Mic but with the level of fame/popularity of a celebrity who was big a handful of years ago, but you don't hear so much about anymore. Like, yeah, they're still active, and still have a (often very dedicated) fanbase, but they've kind of been shuffled out of the spotlight a little bit. This also makes his lackluster reception at the entrance exam so much funnier imo, because those students would have been like 8-9 when he stopped just doing hero/radio stuff and started teaching, but they're teenagers now and Present Mic is sooo not in anymore.

#i think maybe students 3-A's age and older would have clearer memories of present mic in his heyday #so maybe he seems a little more like a celebrity to them #anyway! picking away at this fic set ~4 years pre canon like a magpie picking at shiny things for a nest #featuring a surprise guest in such a literal way you have no idea #yamada hizashi #i have THOUGHTS (i have present mic obsessive disorder) #liza blather #q #i'm going to say something a little out there but. present mic is to 3-A's age bracket #as kelly clarkson was to me specifically in high school #i don't know how to elaborate on that so i won't and it'll be like a little insane secret take for anyone who reads tags #last week kicked my butt here's wonderwall

[misty-moth]

I’m bored, so please look at my cats ₍^. ̫ .^₎ ₍^. ̫ .^₎

Left: Captain Jax Parrow

Nicknames: Monkey, MonkChunk, HughMonkus, BigOl’Boy, MonkerMoo, Bunk

Right: Daedric Princess Azura

Nicknames: CookieBean, Reekicheeki, Reekicheekitabby, Sweetpea, Kittykittymewmew, BabyBeanCutestThingI’veSeen

Bonus: silly pics~

#there is no point to this post aside from look at theeem #i’m the old lady at the bus stop showing you pictures of my cats #10 years and they still don’t get along along for more than 10 seconds 🙄 #and they were wombmates #anyway here’s wonderwall

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I'm gonna share with you guys a post canon Sonic Prime thought I've been having since I watched S3

So after S3 I accidentally became obsessed with Oasis's song Wonderwall, which gave me simultaneous Sonine/Chanine thoughts

I don't think I'll dig too much into what the lyrics made me think, I just needed to put that out there for more context.

So imagine Sonic after the events of Sonic Prime. After Shadow made off with the paradox prism, he ended up handing it off to Tails. He didn't trust GUN with being in possession of a gem of such power, and (given his track record with the chaos emeralds) he felt that he could trust that Tails would keep it safe and figure out a better way to keep it hidden.

So, for the time being, Tails keeps it hidden deep underground under one of his many labs. He figures out a way to harness and contain the prism in such a way that keeps it from overloading his systems or having the chance of expressing excess energy in a possibly chaotic fashion (essentially recreating the idea behind the shatterdrive or the chaos council's power core schematics), and then also develops the technology that would keep the prism hidden from anyone specifically searching for paradox prism energy or chaos energy in excess.

With this, Sonic, Shadow, and Tails are the only people aware of the paradox prism's location.

Shadow, being who he is, checks up on the prism fairly often (at least once in a while) out of concern for anything happening to it.

Tails, being who he is, does run more than a few experiments on the prism's energy and documents as much data on the prism he can technically get "safely"

But Sonic... After the events of Prime, Sonic was so happy to finally be home again (not just physically in green hill, but with his friends). All he's wanted for so long (once green hill would finally be fixed) is for things to fall back into its usual (predictive) rhythm, and he succeeded (to an extent). Sure, there will be a baseline level of weirdness for a while. After all, Sonic's friends practically blinked and then Sonic was a different person (a Sonic who went through trauma and an ordeal they will likely never learn the full details of), so it makes sense. But...that's not all. If it was just that Sonic changed and grew in an instant, then after enough time they'd all grow used to the way things are now. No, the problem isn't how everything that happened affects Sonic's friends.

Rather it's about Sonic himself. This is what he wanted all along! He'd felt so happy to be home among his friends again, didn't he? He does enjoy being able to slot into the old routine, fighting Eggman, hanging out with his friends on the beach, having a long day of fighting/adventuring with Tails and then eating a chili dog with him when all is said and done. So...why does he still feel wrong?

But...Sonic does know why he feels wrong, why he can't just fully settle into his old life dispite enjoying such a life. He just handles it by...not really handling it. He puts on a face when he's with his friends or fighting Eggman, trying to seem like his life is *right* again and he's 100% happy about things progressing as normal and fulfilled in his life. But when he stops running, when he crashes at Tails' place and is forced to be alone with his thoughts, Sonic retreats to where the paradox prism is being kept.

The paradox prism is one of those few things that remind him that everything happened. These days, it's hard not to feel like he must have made up his time in the shatterspaces or the shattering, that he just sort of changed one day inexplicably, that one day Shadow will turn to him and tell him that none of it happened (because Shadow is the one person who should know that it happened, the one person he should be able to rely on being in the same boat as him). At first it was something he did once in a while, giving the same excuse as Shadow about just checking up on the prism, but now Sonic sits by the prism every night he can, gazing into it.

Shadow thinks he's too sentimental about the ordeal, but Sonic didn't really expect him to understand why he'd want to remember everything. It didn't really take Tails too long to catch on to Sonic's sneaking away to look at it either, but Tails doesn't really mind it. If it wasn't for his patience and voice of reason and the fact that Tails cares about him, Sonic probably wouldn't be able to sleep as much as he is (although, during those times the two are both down there looking at the prism, or Sonic is looking at the prism while Tails is up late working on something, it's 50/50 whether they even make it to a bed or couch that night).

The first time he studied the prism Sonic learned something peculiar. Apparently, if one focuses when looking at different colored angles, they can see visions of the other shatterspaces (like a tiny window into the world). This revelation was...exciting to say the least, and even moreso when he found out that he could view certain inhabitants just by thinking about them.

And that should have fixed his issue. Every night if he wants, he can check up on anyone, make sure they're alive and not getting into trouble. He does check up on them.

But more often than not, especially once he's secure in thinking the others are alive and real and okay, he finds himself gazing into that purple section of the crystal, and thinking about Nine.

Nine's okay, he knows. Well, alive at least. Part of him dislikes that Nine is still so estranged from everyone else in the shatterverse, and his heart still aches at having left Nine alone back in the Grim. He can’t say he's gung ho about some of the specific robots Nine chose as company either, but nevertheless he watches. He watches Nine rebuild his Grim robots (starting with alpha grim sonic), restore Chaos Sonic, use the materials he has to build a community of his own (even if they are all robots). It's not ideal, but Nine is safe and growing and not fully alone anymore right?

But as he retreats to the prism practically every night, he watches the grim more than anywhere else, and his heart aches.

Because while he'd love to be able to visit and adventure whenever he'd like, for the rest it's...okay enough. He can live with it as long as he can gaze into the paradox prism, so long as he can at least have his home. But with Nine it's...not enough. It's not enough just to know that he's alive and not completely alone.

Sometimes, when Sonic is having fun and comfortable at home, he can’t help but think of how he left Nine—with no one but his own creations to care for him, while just about everyone else hates him.

"I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now"

When Sonic is gazing into the prism, he wants to be there. He wants to be in the Grim with Nine, congratulate him, hug him (when he allows it), talk with him about everything, or just hang out. What good is knowing he's alive when he can't even hear Nine's voice or hold his hand or try to make him smile? What good is sitting there, caring about him from afar, when Nine has no way to know it?

When Sonic is out adventuring or fighting Eggman or hanging out with his friends, he wants Nine to be here. He wants to show him the friends he'd do anything for, he wants him to meet Tails for real, he wants to take him along on adventures or even...the little things. Maybe he wants to eat street food and watch the sunrise with him, or watch Nine and Tails geek out together (his two foxes getting a chance to actually get along).

He wants to be there for everything. He wants to share everything here with Nine.

He wants to see him he wants to see him he wants to see him and not just from afar. It kills him that he's the only one who wants this.

If the shatterspaces weren't so closed off, if he could even visit Nine whenever he wanted, that would make him feel better. But he's stuck here. Missing Nine all the time, always torn between here and there (because he never would have stayed, but he hated to leave).

And Nine? Nine could never forget Sonic—not as long as he lived. Even if he came to bury the memories of the past—of his time in New Yoke, or the war—he couldn't forget Sonic even if he wanted to. Part of him felt embarrassed about this truth, if not a bit pathetic, but the other part of him owned this. It would be easy to forget, but he doesn't want to.

Nine was...alone for a little while after the war—after Sonic left. At first he was just...depressed. Everything that had happened since he first met Sonic began to fully sink in, and he missed Sonic, and yet chided himself for it. Sonic wouldn't understand that Nine has never been this same since meeting him. He'd wished Sonic would choose to stay with him so so so many times, but he knew now that it wasn't meant to be. For one thing, he had to be taken back to his home if he wanted to live. For another, it was...funny to him that it had taken so long for him to accept that Sonic never would have stayed in the Grim with him, that he could never be Sonic's first choice. And now...he couldn't take that away from him. He's dreamed and imagined so many senarios in which Sonic took his hand, or in which they figured out another way to keep Sonic from shattering and Sonic chose to give up finally going home to stay with him and sometimes even what would have happened had he gone with Sonic and Shadow. But in the end, no matter how much he wants, he'd never make Sonic choose him. He'd never beg him to stay, try and get him to leave his home and his friends. And part of that is due to the guilt of even trying or believing it could be possible. And another (of many parts) is because, deep down, he's not sure if he deserves this.

After everything that happened between them, after everything he did (even if Sonic wasn't a peach either), did he...even deserve to have Sonic at his side?

He couldn't wallow forever, though. No. He eventually set to rebuilding Alpha Grim Sonic with the tools in his lab. And that helped just a little with the loneliness. And then his second pet project was to figure out how to replicate Chaos Sonic, and everything that made him (but loyal to himself of course). Nine was surprised he even had residuals prism energy left after the paradox prism itself teleported away, but he knows that (if not the power in it) the memories held within the prism's energy were invaluable to recreating the robot.

There wasn't much on the Grim, but Nine could do only his best to make it home. Not that he knew what it would ideally look like, especially with Sonic gone, but he gave it a try. He'd come to create new robots and rebuild others—ones that could not move against him, but nevertheless we able to live freely. And as this society of robots began, and they began to build things for themselves, Nine found the inspiration to join in on creating this home for all of them.

An addition he'd been quite proud of was the large statue in the center square of his bustling robot community—a statue depicting himself and Sonic.

This all would take quite a while to build, and it would take quite a long time to get to this point, but it was something. The time spent on all of this gave Nine something to do, made him feel like he was getting ever closer to making things "home".

But even with Alpha Grim Sonic and Chaos Sonic at his side, a whole community to preside over, and ultimate authority in a place no outsider could infiltrate

He knew it would never be complete. He strove for all this because he had to, because he couldn't let himself wither away here. He had to find some way to live and enjoy himself and TRY to make this place the home he always wanted. He couldn't give up.

Of course, it's Sonic that's missing (because everything always seems to come back to him with Nine at some point). When the statue was finished and placed in the center square, he'd wished Sonic could have been there to see it. When he's sad, when he's depressed, when he's happy, when he's showing off or accomplished something, when he's having a laugh, or needs a hug—all the time he wishes Sonic was here with him to take it all in.

It would be even a little better if Sonic had the ability to visit. Or, if there was no other way, sometimes Nine thinks he'd even brave entering Green Hill just to be around him for a little bit.

"I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now"

Alpha Grim Sonic and Chaos Sonic have been with Nine the longest since all the shatterspaces became closed off from each other and Nine was left here alone. His two bodyguards, ever by his side.

Alpha Grim Sonic has had this budding personality and soul that's been growing ever since his creation. But because of this slow process, because of him originally being created as solely obedient to Nine without pushback, and because he's mute, it would take a long while before he'd be considered as more than a loyal robot, not able to live beyond its programming.

So, for a while, Chaos Sonic fancied himself the only one of the pair who really felt for Nine and what he'd been through. To him, he was Nine's one and only best friend.

While Sonic would gaze at Nine from afar, worlds apart, through the paradox prism.

Chaos Sonic stood at his side, talked to him, cared for him, helped him. He was more than the loyal thoughtless bot he thought Alpha Grim Sonic was. He'd be a better best friend than Sonic ever was. He couldn't fathom how Nine would continue to hold onto Sonic's memory after everything that had happened.

So Chaos Sonic, too, began to feel like the only other person who really cared about Nine after everything that had happened to him (even if he'd eventually concede that Alpha Grim Sonic had similar feelings and loyalties regarding Nine)

Sonic and Nine, worlds apart, missing each other.

Sonic and Chaos Sonic, each fancying themselves Nine's true best friend, and the only person who truly cares about him now.

Sonic and Nine, who each want the other to be at their side, but would be content to at least meet again.

Chaos Sonic and Alpha Grim Sonic, two loyal robots who want to forever be by Nine's side, and yet know they'll always play second fiddle to Sonic.

ㅤ

I am so emotional about it

I learned that apparently Wonderwall was depicting a person and their imaginary friend, which hurt more when thinking about all this. Sonic, who may as well be imaginary, because he can see and he can wish but he can never touch. And Chaos Sonic, who may as well be imaginary to those like Sonic, because only Nine really begins to consider him (and eventually Alpha Grim Sonic) as real.

Periodically I just get this imaginary wonderwall amv playing in my head depicting Nine's actions pre and post canon + Sonic and Chaos Sonic each getting a chance to be the speaker of the song

I'm so emotional about them

#sonic prime #sonine #chanine #sonic the hedgehog #chaos sonic #nine the fox #nine sonic prime #miles nine prower #crystalbondshipping if you squint #alpha grim sonic #oasis wonderwall #sonic prime s3 #post canon #sonic prime season 3 #sonic prime s3 spoilers #sonic prime season 3 spoilers #sonic prime spoilers #bittersweetness and angst and everyone moving on but not being able to truly move on save me #my writing #ig #I've had this in my head and in my thoughts for a while so I hope it hits with someone else😂 #long post #i just be ramblin #post canon au #there's also some sontails in there if you squint too

[pixlerelish]

Shakira, Shakira

#anyway here’s wonderwall #I'm FINE #Mirana I'm sorry for saying you don't need to watch JTHJ and then immediately becoming obsessed with it again #how did i get here #this is not my beautiful house #this is not my beautiful wife #Jab Tak Hai Jaan #Ishq Shava #Samar Anand #Meera Thapar #Shah Rukh Khan #Katrina Kaif #those hips don't lie #Pix's pics

[visceravalentines]

this is a post scribbled angrily in glitter pen in my diary pls ignore <3

#this is so insecure and bullshit but like #sometimes writing fics is. no fun #bc you feel like you can't keep up with other writers just churning out fics and they're all so good and nuanced and better than yours #or bc you can't keep up with your own brain and all the ideas and you don't have the time to do them all justice #or bc you just can't get a spark of a conversation with other fans to catch fire the way you want to so you're just. #spinning wheels in your own head wishing you were better faster friendlier less alone #and let's not forget the fucking commodification of fandom #getting messages in your inbox only to find it's people harping for more content for a fandom on the back burner or a fic you've left behin #i love that you love my work like that but. it makes me feel like i'm at a family reunion and my aunt is asking me about the job i had #two jobs ago #and somehow you keep getting those messages even tho your current work is sparse on comments and reblogs #so you spend your slivers of free time writing something you hope is good for these characters you love only to feel like you're standing #alone in the street hawking a mediocre finished product and everyone is walking past you disinterested #it's fucking isolating. it's draining #you can only write “for yourself” so much before it's not worth the time and effort #obviously i will keep writing. but like. it's fucking frustrating. and i feel like a petulant child about it but i just can't shake it #anyway. here's wonderwall or whatever

[sesamestreep]

wip meme

tagged by @firstelevens to share some part of a WIP I’m working on!

“Did you just call me a shark?” Foggy asks, struggling with the fact that the morning light is cutting directly across his right eye in a way he finds profoundly unpleasant and the fact that he would also rather die than move right now. It’s a tough spot to be in. Matt makes an inarticulate noise against his shoulder and buries his face further into the pillow, not enjoying being woken up for conversation at this hour one bit, by the looks of things. Foggy nudges him gently. “Matt?” “I’m awake,” he says, in a way that directly contradicts his own assertion. “Wha—what’s it?” “I asked you a question…” “Yeah,” Matt says, fairly confidently for someone who definitely does not know what’s happening. “I heard you.” “So…?” “Yes.” “Yes, you did call me a shark?” Foggy asks, alarmed. “What?” Matt asks, equally alarmed and finally, mercifully awake enough for this conversation. “Why would I call you a shark?” “That’s what I’m trying to ascertain,” Foggy replies. “I don’t think you were fully awake yet and you said something that sounded like ‘room shark’ and it was right after I kissed you, so I assumed it was directed at me.” “Oh.” Foggy does his best not to sigh in frustration at that very Matt response, which tells him precisely nothing. “So, was it? Directed at me?” “It’s not ‘room shark’. It’s,” Matt says, before repeating the word from before, which still sounds suspiciously like ‘room shark’ to Foggy’s ears. This probably means he’s being made fun of, but, if so, Matt’s doing a good job of hiding it. Looking embarrassed, though, he adds, “It’s Gaeilge, Foggy. Irish?” “Oh.” He’s heard Matt speak Irish before, his heart doesn’t have to get fluttery about it every time. It’s getting more than a little pathetic. “Well, what does it mean?” “It’s not—it’s hard to translate exactly—I wasn’t really awake, so…” Foggy does let himself sigh this time, in case it wears Matt down at all. “Is that code for you’re not going to tell me?” Matt just buries his face in Foggy’s shoulder again, immune to any attempts to influence him by virtue of his sheer shamelessness. “I can’t have you knowing all my secrets,” he says, with a cryptic smile. “I have a reputation as a mysterious gentleman to maintain, you know.”

no pressure tagging @brattytrixie @firefeufuego and @flythesail if they want to share anything they’re working on ♥️

#NO PRESSURE IF YOURE TAGGED ITS ALL LOVE #zainab told me I could just write something completely new for this if I wanted #and after wrestling with other drafts for like five days I am just doing that #this is all I have written for this particular AU so far you are welcome #it’s some gilded age/turn of the century nonsense because I continue to be allergic to canon for every fandom I write SORRY #ANYWAY HERE’S WONDERWALL #wip meme #firstelevens #tag game #homelywenchsociety #that’s my writing tag! don’t worry about it! #mattfoggy #uhhh I’m bored of tagging now bye

[spicedfink]

My favorite thing to do when writing clone high fanfiction is to pick random head canons for the characters despite having a sloid set of head canons that I actually have. I just feel it's more fun to play around with them though

For example: I have Topher knowing how to play guitar in my Wonderwall fic but my actual head canon is that Topher has no interest in guitar and never even tried to learn

#“Wonderwall fic” is my shorthand for “I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now” in case you were wondering #Topher usually gets the most shifts because canon is already all over the place with him. Plus it's funny #In one of the WIPS I have: Topher is a furry. It brings me joy #clone high #fanfic #ao3

[queerstudiesnatural]

La Rêveuse - Marin Marais

#pretend you can't hear my little mistakes ok this was the first piece of the concert nerves always make you mess up the opening #well not always but sometimes lol #i'm sure a lot of people never mess up #anyway here's wonderwall #rain.music

[tavyliasin]

ATG 9 - Mouse? Rat.

(In which a mirror is met, and a trap is set)

Pairing: Haarlep/Tav  SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings:  Sex, BDSM, Power Play,  Aphrodisiacs,

Spoilers Act 3, House of Hope Canon Compliance Canon Is Wobbly - Technically there is some canon detail of what House of Hope is like, and if we really stretch  we can fit this in to the canon. But it's probably going off course, we're heading towards uncharted waters now so we can sail free. Canon gave us the start, the foundation, set our course out of the dock. Now we head on into our own waves, going where the wind takes us. Other Notes This chapter ends on a cliffhanger because it was getting too long to do everything I wanted in one go. So we have a split, then we will come back in write where it stops... Song/Mood The Cabaret of Dreams - Seven Spires "I will be your host this eve, So sit back, relax, and I guarantee If you take it, embrace it, succumb to the dark, Escape into a night where no one knows who you are, You crave it, awake it, the coeur bizarre, Lose yourself to the twisted art. Hey! Don't be afraid Hey! You'll be amazed Let your demons out Let your spirit free It's only gonna cost you your soul." ----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

It had been a day . That was about as positively as Tavylia could spin it as she prepared another hop across the broken rock face above fields of lava, once again questioning every single life choice that had lead her to this moment. Not much further, just keep going. That was the mantra now, one foot in front of the other, and hope you still had both feet still attached at the end of the day.

It had been a whole week, really. Their arrival in the city had been filled with more and more dangers. Even with Ketheric gone, there was still Orin and Gortash, the pair of them both more than willing to draw Tav to their side in order to destroy each other and claim power solely for themselves.

Then there was Raphael. Because of course he would be waiting wherever she went. ---

They’d first met again in a brothel of all places, which had done nothing to help Tav’s conflicted mood. He’d spoken to her the same way as always, not a single mention of the “dream” that plagued her mind in every quiet moment, and the constant slipping in and out of seductive flirting and vicious mockery was eroding the last shred of patience in her soul.

“And what if I don’t need to turn against the Emperor? He has kept all of us safe for a long time now.” She wasn’t sure she believed it, but contradicting Raphael was fast becoming her favourite hobby.

“I didn’t take you for that much of a fool , Little Mouse. Perhaps I should’ve offered you a bag of beans when we first met? That could’ve saved a lot of time.” Even as he sneered, it looked like he was half undressing her, body and mind. The scented perfumes in the room, the luxurious pool behind him, and the edge of a bed visible behind the dividing wall were all adding to a simple equation. The solution was not one that could be settled with paper, pencil, and abacus.

Fuck you, Tav thought, but her mouth gave different words to the sentiment. “You don’t even have beans, do you? Besides, everything about you screams that you should not be trusted, whilst the Emperor is capable of actually displaying compassion.” Oops.

“Oh good gods, you didn’t sleep with it, did you?” A look of horror crossed his face, and Tav could hear Lae’zel physically gag behind her. “Of all the depravity in all the nine hells… It’s using you, Little Mouse, selling you a sweet little story to get what it wants before it discards you, or worse it’ll turn you into a creature just like itself. I had thought you wished to avoid that particular fate, at least.”

Tav remembered, as he’d mentioned before, that Raphael had a habit of shielding them from the Emperor’s view. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one using him?” She was suddenly glad she had left Astarion at camp to relax today, as she didn’t want him to misunderstand what she said next. “Emotion can be a weakness, a weapon. If he were to turn on me, I already have another card in my hand.”

“Oh, very impressive, Little Mouse,” he replied, in the most patronising tone he could muster - an impressive feat given how patronising his usual tone was anyway, “you really think that will be enough? I can offer you something else, a trump card for your deck.”

“Don’t tell me, it involves another deal?” she glared, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“So you do have a little intellect left in that pretty little head of yours! Obviously nothing in life is free, but we made a deal before, did we not? I kept my end of the bargain, you kept yours - quite the lucrative relationship, wouldn’t you say?” His smile widened a little, more small gestures almost like a bow. Always the same dance, Tav thought to herself, considering his words. Hold on did he call me pretty?! She pulled her thoughts together again. “I can’t deny that. The answer was hardly satisfying, though, and we’re still far from resolving that particular issue.” “Ah ah ah, Little Mouse, you know that I never promised resolution to the problem. I told you the meaning of what was written on your lover’s back, no more, no less. And you killed my old enemy for me, no more, no less.” “Fine. Deal done. What do you suggest this time? Just more words?” she couldn’t resist pushing him right to the edge of his patience, delighting in watching him lose his composure for just a moment as his jaw clenched a little too hard. The Cambion smoothed his hair down casually, though not a single strand had been out of place. “Actually, this time we will be needing more than a simple verbal contract. I’m afraid you’ll need to sign on the dotted line.” “I’m not saying yes without details.” Tav put her hands on her hips, glaring a challenge towards him.

“Always so ferocious, aren’t you? You can keep your daggers to yourself, for now. I’m not even asking for your soul, my aim is not to own you.” He smiled, with unnerving charm. “I’ll even sweeten the deal and pay may half in full first. A gesture of goodwill, if you like.” “Remarkably generous, for a fiend. What exactly are you offering?” Tav couldn’t help the insults, but her curiosity was piqued. “Orpheus.” He said plainly, for one horrifying moment making Tav wonder if he actually knew what had happened with the Emperor. If her reaction showed on her face, Raphael was ignoring it. “I can give you the means to free Orpheus from his prison, and in turn he can free you from the hold of the illithid creature and solve that little tadpole problem for you. He won’t take any convincing to help you with your final foe, either.”

“You sound very sure of yourself. What’s the guarantee he won’t just murder us all on sight for having the tadpoles in our minds in the first place?” “He won’t.” Lae’zel spoke up from behind her. Tav had almost forgotten anyone else was in the room. “Kithrak Voss. I’ll speak with him, I am certain he will aid us when the moment comes, and Orpheus will be on our side.” “See?” Raphael’s voice took on a musical tone for a moment. “You’ll be just fine . Besides, you’ve made it this far, have you not? I don’t make pointless bets, either. I have the hammer, a particular weapon that is the only way you can free the Gith Prince from his prison, and I’m willing to give it to you right now.” Tav considered him, eyes scanning every inch of his body language and expression for the barest hint of a lie. She found nothing. “And if it’s not my soul you want in return, what is it?” “The Crown.” He replied, simply and without any of the usual dancing around the point. It was almost unnerving. “Bring me the crown once you have defeated your foes, and consider our deal complete.”

Easy enough, on the face of it. But he was not the only one looking for it, and Tav wasn’t about to just sign anything without giving it a lot more thought first. “I’m not saying yes, but I’m also not saying no. I’m not foolish enough to erase a possible advantage, but I’m not about to just sign without reading all of the small-print.” “For once, Little Mouse, you’ll find the page to be really quite clear, no lines to read between, no secret catch. But if you insist on struggling pointlessly against the tide, well, just remember who to call when you’re running out of breath beneath the waves.” He held out one hand facing up, then briefly covered it with his other hand. When he revealed his palm again, a pair of small smooth stones glinted in the light. They looked fairly plain, and yet entirely identical. “Sending Stones. Simple little trick, consider it free of charge. When you are out of luck, preferably before you start growing tentacles, use this. Call out to me, and I will come to you. Then we can finalise our deal.” “That sounds remarkably fair of you.” Tav looked at the stones with suspicion, before picking one up and turning it over in her hand as if inspecting it for traps. “There’s no point overcomplicating things. I have what you need, and you can get what I want. Still, you ask for time, and I can be patient. For now. But consider, how long do you truly have left? Tick tock, Little Mouse, don’t wait 'til the final hour to beg at my feet. You’re smarter than that, at least.” He bowed with a flourish, though he didn’t break eye contact. “Until then, unless I see you sooner.”

---

Tav had almost slammed the door when she left, still feeling the smug look following her as she left the brothel. She had half a mind to spend some coin and a couple of hours with some of the staff just to blow off some steam, but there was little chance for peace with her companions insisting on talking over the pros and cons of the contract. Afterwards, another week had passed, but in that time the bitch Orin grew impatient and took Halsin from their camp, which is why Tav was now about to hop across a broken balcony in the middle of Avernus of all places. She didn’t want to imagine what he might be suffering through while they searched, so she had decided to try a new angle. The House of Hope. Raphael’s mansion. An expensive ritual to open the portal, but it had to be worth it. She would make sure of that.  “Stay out here,” she turned to her companions as she eyed up the balcony above, “if I need help I’ll send you a signal.”

“I’m sorry? You’re waltzing in through the window of the devil’s bedchambers and you want us to, what, go and read a book while we wait? Darling I know you’ve been reckless recently but this is too much.” Astarion looked genuinely worried, like one step wrong and he would shatter. “You have your disguises, I have the scrolls Gale gave me. If you can find anything in his archives that could help us find Orin and get Halsin back…it’s worth the risk. I can handle Raphael, don’t worry. Besides, apparently he isn’t home. It should be easy to take a little peek at his secrets.” She did her best to reassure him, even though she knew they were getting desperate. “I’m with Astarion on this one, but I’m well aware that trying to change your mind is futile.” Gale turned back to his companions, preparing to leave. 

Shadowheart also laying a hand on the pale elf’s shoulder behind him. “She’ll be fine, somehow. Gods know she’s manage to stay alive this far.” The cleric shot Tav the kind of look that said don’t you dare prove me wrong, I will not speak kindly at your funeral if you mess this up. “Stick to the plan,” Tav said, “it’s the best chance we have. Oh and stay away from Hope for now, she risks drawing too much attention. Rule 1, remember? I’ll meet you in the entrance hall later.” As the others turned back the way they’d come, Tav steeled her nerves, swigging from a potion of leaping to give herself the extra strength to make it on to the balcony edge. ---

Tav almost immediately regretted not trying to quickly switch outfits before stepping into the lavishly decorated room. She was fairly certain that Raphael wasn’t home, especially from how Hope had spoken when they arrived through the portal. The plan was just to gather a little information, maybe see what they could learn about Raphael’s own plans before deciding whether handing him an item of immense power was just a step too reckless. But reckless, it seemed, was becoming the theme of the day. She stepped through the open balcony door cautiously, peering inside the room. 

Well, shit, this is awkward. Laying on the bed in his full devilish form was Raphael, dressed in what could only be described as the sluttiest leather harness that Tav had ever seen in her life. He turned lazily to look towards her, eyes travelling the full course of her body with a hunger that she could feel , even from this distance. He beckoned her closer, but remained on the silk sheets, chalice of wine in hand. “A lost little mouse is running through the house, a thief in the night, greedy and here to take. Why are you here, little thief?” His poetry was familiar at least, but there was something else…different. “Raphael? You look… I wasn’t expecting you to be home, and certainly not dressed like that. ” She tried in vain to prevent her gaze travelling across his form, rippling muscles just beneath crimson skin, lined with veins and a few little ridges that marked his body as just beyond human. Of course, the large wings, tail, and the viciously curved horns growing from his forehead were decidedly less human than the form she was most accustomed to seeing him in. However, it seemed like her reaction had amused him, as he began to laugh. “Raphael? Ha! No.” The voice turned colder, a sharp edge to the speaker's words now. “You will have a far crueller master than Raphael, soon. But what inspired you to pay him a visit?” Shit, Tav thought, but if it’s not him…who the fuck-“Come on, little thief, out with it. Why in all the hells did you sneak in through the bedroom balcony of the Archduke Raphael? If you had an invitation, the door would be open to you, and you certainly are not dressed like someone who belongs in here . The disguise will not fool me, you’re no debtor either.” Despite the harsh words, they seemed more amused than furious. As if this entirely unexpected turn of events was entertaining, rather than an invasion.

“Well, I’m in a little trouble.” She began, hesitating at the fiery eyes seeming to burn through her. Somehow, this one was more intimidating than Raphael, shaking her usually cocky foundation. “ That , Little Thief, is obvious . Nobody is foolish to turn up in this House when they have any other option.” They took a sip of wine now, gesturing for Tav to go on. “I’m not here for his deals, not yet. I was looking for some answers first.” She paused again. It was extremely distracting to be stood there looking down at the almost naked object of several quietly kept fantasies just laying on the bed. It was unnerving. “Actually, the first question - if you’re not Raphael, who are you? And why do you look just like him?” “I am Raphael’s personal incubus, glamoured to look just. Like. Him. He’s so terribly vain, only wanting to sleep with himself, but you know what they say. Better the devil you know. Usually information does not come for free, but I suppose we shall consider this a trade. Names next, then? Mine is Haarlep. You would do well to keep that in mind, you may find yourself in need of it.” They licked their lips idly as they continued to observe her. “Your turn, Thief.” “Tavylia.” she replied, eyes drawn to their lips involuntarily. “Tav, usually.”

“Ah so it is you. The Little Mouse that has the cat’s fur standing on end.” Haarlep seemed more intrigued now, sitting up a little to take a better look at the increasingly uncomfortable elf stood before them. “I’ve heard all about you. ” The emphasis increased with every word, as each syllable travelled across the room with an enticing intensity. “Then you have me at a disadvantage. I know nothing of you.” She stood stiffly, trying to keep at least a little of her pride intact as their gaze burned right through her. “Of course not, I’m his dirty little secret. ” They laughed, draining the last of their wine and placing the chalice on the bedside. “And you have been quite the thorn in his side. He might call you Little Mouse, but now I look at you… Little Mouse doesn't suit you, no, you're more like a rat. You actually stand a chance against a cat, if you're clever enough. Unfortunately for you, I'm no house cat. You'll find me considerably closer to a tiger than to the pet you've been playing with until now.” Tav felt the familiar prickling of danger running up her spine, every alarm blaring in her mind that she had walked into the wrong room at the wrong time, but still another part of her had control and was quite unwilling to leave just yet.

“Well, my little Rat Thief, now the introductions are over…” They stood from the bed now, raising to their full height, wings stretching out behind them in an impressive display. Even their eyes seemed to blaze with a brighter fire than before, the heat making the air stifling. “Wouldn’t you feel more comfortable without those old rags?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Tav would’ve taken a step backwards, had she found any strength in her legs to move at all. “I told you, Rat, that I already know all about you. So you have nothing left to trade if you want more answers from me.” They stepped closer, the heat from their body almost unbearable, the scent of cinnamon drifting enticingly from their skin. “It is entirely your choice. I’ll allow you to leave, if you wish, empty handed. Or, if you really want to know some of Raphael’s dirty little secrets , we can play a game. If you win, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” their voice lowered to a seductive growl, “but you’ll enjoy it far more if you lose.” Stopping just short of where she stood, they kept their eyes locked on Tav’s. She took her time to consider their words, and what they seemed to be implying. If Raphael truly is only interested in sex with his own form, well I’m shit out of luck. He’s just been playing the angle for the contract… But an incubus? Far simpler, right? They desire lust, sex, and will naturally gain something from the act…but what? “Alright, Haarlep, but I want to know the rules first. ”

“That’s cute, that you think you can make a demand of me. I can see where your eyes drift, Rat, and I promise you I can be everything you dream of, and more. ” They let their gaze wander over her body now, a direct challenge. “I can even, if you prefer, take a softer form. Raphael occasionally enjoys the pleasures,” they paused as their body shimmered and transformed into what could only be described as a feminine twin of Raphael, voice to match as they continued, “the very many pleasures of the Archduchess. The choice is yours, but you must agree to the game before we can play, Rat.” The new nickname was beginning to grate on Tav’s nerves, and yet every time Haarlep spoke, she felt more and more drawn towards them. It was becoming impossible to lie, as if the truth of her desire were being drawn from within simply by being in their presence. “Usually, I do not mind the body I lay with, as long as the experience is worth it.” She swallowed now, her mouth suddenly dry. “But…I have found myself wanting Raphael, all of him.” “Well then, Little Rat, far be it from me to disappoint,” another gesture and the cambion form shifted again to the masculine shape that plagued Tav’s dreams of late, “you shall have what you desire. And you shall find it far more pleasant than the company of the Archduke himself . ” Tav found herself sighing involuntarily, taking a step towards them, reaching out to touch-

“Ah ah ah, Rat, patience. I will only give you two rules. The way out of our game is simple; the same as any other, if you wish to cede defeat, all you need do is say Meow. Or, if for some reason your tongue is unable to form the word, simply hum it. I will know, and you will be free to leave. From what I’ve heard, however, I doubt you will have use for it.”  They reached out a hand towards Tav, stopping with their finger less than a millimeter from her lips, denying the touch that she craved. “My second rule, is that you only ever refer to me by my proper name. And I assure you, you will want to before we are through.” “Wait…” Tav spoke, desperate to do anything but wait. “What do you get from this?” “Simple. I get you. I’ve been watching for some time, listening, and you are so very entertaining. Am I not entitled to a little fun, too? I hear you even had fun with an illithid ! I must say I am impressed by that experiment of yours. Even I have not indulged in the particular flesh of a Mindflayer. But enough of that, what do you say? Will you step back out the way you came? Or are you going to take off those awful rags, so we can enjoy ourselves more freely.” Their finger still lingered tantalisingly close to Tav’s lips, without giving her the satisfaction of contact even if she moved closer.

“I…agree to your terms, Haarlep.” The incubus’s wing’s seemed to flutter slightly as she spoke their name, barely above a whisper. She was rewarded by the briefest touch, the tip of their nail tracing down their cheek to beneath her chin, lifting it towards them as they bend to speak close to her ear. “Excellent decision~” they purred, the reverberations of their voice alone travelling directly through Tav’s entire body, almost falling to the floor as their tongue teased the pointed tip of her ear, “now take your clothes off and lay on the bed.”

No sooner had they given the order, they stepped away leaving a vast emptiness in the space they had just occupied. They never took their eyes off her, but walked slowly around to the opposite side of the massive bed. The clothes were hardly enticing, but Tav knew when she was being tested. She removed each item swiftly, but with purpose and grace in her movements. At least she had been able to keep her own underwear beneath the debtor's disguise. She paused now, watching them for any reaction.

"I don't believe I told you to stop, Rat. Keep going…" Their eyes were burning with a cool fire, flickering irises reminiscent of the hells themselves burning within them. 

Tav was torn between a curiosity to see what might happen if she stopped, and the greater desire at what may follow if she continued. An easy decision, and soon she was completely exposed, though grateful for the heat in the room. 

"You needn't be afraid, little thief, I have no desire to harm you. At least, not in a way you won't enjoy…" The last syllable was drawn out like a brief growl, the fire in their eyes sparking once more as they noted her response. "Pleasure and pain are two sides of the same coin, after all, and it is such fun to balance on the edge."

Whilst they talked, Tav laid on the bed as instructed, feeling their gaze look beneath her flesh and to the potential it held. They looked like a hungry beast before a banquet. Haarlep moved to the end of the bed, taking another prolonged moment to examine every inch of exposed flesh, before they began to crawl across the bed above her. Their words earlier rang clearly in Tav’s ears, they stalked like a tiger, eyeing her like prey. Just the look they were giving her was raising the heat within her now. “You are so intriguing, Rat, so you’ll have no tricks here. It would be far too easy to charm you, seduce you with a trick to want me, but you’re already right here with barely a hint of coercion.” The sharp talon of a nail softly caressed Tav’s lower lip, the unspoken encouragement for her to part her lips. “And I’ve heard all about this tongue of yours - sharp words can rile him up, you know.” Now they pressed a thumb into her mouth, the tip of their claw just shy of piercing through but the pressure enough to sting with the sharp edge. “You’re welcome to try that with me, of course, but you may find yourself less able to speak before we’re done.” Tav moaned softly, the devil above her was a deeply erotic sight. They straddled her hips easily but kept the contact minimal, and she felt a strong desire to wrap her lips around the thumb that tasted of smoke and heat and cinnamon, but the moment she tried they pulled back again, leaving only a wanton moan in their wake. “Build up your appetite, Rat, you’ll dine well soon enough. But first I simply must know what is so fascinating about one little elf…” They almost seemed absorbed in their own thoughts as they bent to meet her lips, tasting the most chaste kiss and yet leaving a feeling of intense debauchery from just that simple contact. “Hmmm…” They ignored any reaction from Tav, shifting back a little now instead. Clawed hands gripped Tav’s breasts, pressure enough to hurt but simultaneously finding nerves that made her heart race faster. She was becoming impatient. “I thought an incubus would be quick to get to the point.” “Hah! Aren’t you adorable, I didn’t think you’d have the words now. You are aware that we carry a powerful aphrodisiac in our saliva? Perhaps such a small kiss is not enough to poison a ferocious little rat?” They eyed her closely, daring her to reply.

Tav was briefly reminded of a very uncomfortable moment in the temple of Shar involving a half eaten giant spider. She could feel the heat lingering on her lips, and almost heard Gale’s voice shouting at her in her memories- “Stop licking the damn thing!”

She almost laughed, but Haarlep was bending towards her again. “Well, Rat? Do you want more of a taste?” Their claws gripped and pulled on sensitive skin, her chest flaring with a bright heat and pain. Tav remembered now the night she had danced with the Raphael’s true form, a dream more real than she realised. She reached up and grabbed Haarlep’s horns, pulling them in to a deep and passionate kiss. Their tongue danced between her lips, drawing out her breath, tasting every moan that started low and sang up through her throat. It was as if they were drinking in every single spark of her arousal through her lips, a taste of fire, cloves, cinnamon and smoke. Even their hands on her skin felt like the heated more, and she held on to the viciously curved horns until her wrists were snatched away and pressed down above her head. “Well well, you are entertaining…” Haarlep purred, licking their lips, “So, so delicious .” This time, Tav was lost for words, a fact that seemed to make the incubus smile with satisfaction. 

“Good…good, little thief, though you might have bitten off more than you can chew this time. I was only going to give you a little, but you went ahead and took all you wanted.” They let out a low chuckle. “I hope you’re ready, you should be feeling it…right about now.” Tav’s head rolled back onto the silk pillows, pressing down as she bit her lip. She was feeling it alright. The it in question was a powerful surge of libido, which started in her mouth where their tongue had drawn their devilish designs on her own like a curse. It spread like butterfly wings opening through the centre of her chest, chasing on down to her middle with the fluttering of a hundred desires. By the time the heat pooled between her legs it was damn near unbearable, pulling her hips up desperately towards the incubus who still knelt over her, their hand still effortlessly pinning her arms above her head. It continued further still into her legs, which Haarlep easily pinned by hooking their feet over her shins. By the time the sensation of pure lust had reached every inch of her being, Tav barely remembered how to breathe, where she was, or anything beyond the deep aching need to be touched.

The entire time, Haarlep simply watched, holding her still, refusing any contact besides the easy restraint. Their tongue licked the taste of her from their lips, revealing the hint of sharp teeth for one tantalising moment. “I don’t think I need to ask what you want, now, do I?” Their voice was just beside her ear as they bent close again, still just keeping their bodies from touching. Their wings spread out behind them. “But I would just love to hear those pretty lips beg.” Tav groaned. This was torture, but she was beginning to feel that reckless confidence rising up in her again. The game was on. “Fuck. You.” She managed to hiss out between desperately quickened breaths. This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, why am I antagonising the-“Not. Yet.” They replied, tail coming down viciously on her upper thigh like a whip. The pain stung, her eyes almost watered as she felt the hint of a bruise beginning to swell where the blow had landed, but the contact had also given her a taste of what she desired. Haarlep laughed, they knew this game well, and they were ever so intrigued by a mere mortal who would be so willing to play it. “Perhaps I should be surprised how you’re still alive,” they punctuated the pause in their sentence with another lash of their tail, “and you don’t even know yourself, do you?”

Despite their question, Tav wasn’t given space to answer as the game intensified. Tail lashing with brutal precision, dancing on the knife edge of agony and ecstacy ever time it struck home, the incubus ever watching her reactions. If she had the presence of mind to look more closely, she would’ve noticed their red skin now bore a few flecks of her own blood, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered beyond the maddening embrace of pure hedonism. “I am beginning to like you, Rat. You’re bearing this all so very well, you might just be my new favourite pet~” They bent to her neck now, pressing their heated lips against skin that begged for their kisses. There was no affection beyond the lie of a false love, and despite the look in their blazing eyes they did not devour her in one bite, nor did they treat her with patience or reverence. No, the incubus wanted to pull every nerve in her body like a puppet’s strings, and gods it was good . 

Astarion was a practiced lover, focused on her, and leading her towards more experimental experiences by building the trust between them. The Emperor had looked directly into her mind and harnessed her hidden desires to bring them closer, an act she could only describe as respectful violation. The brief moment she had shared with Raphael showed her a kind of greed and selfish wanting that made her head spin every time she thought about it. But Haarlep? They were unique.

Haarlep’s touch was like fire dancing through her body, they lived and breathed pleasure, their entire being was designed to feed upon the shudders running through her body as they dug their clawed nails into her hip and traced a lustful path along her collarbone with lips, tongue, teeth . Tav struggled a little against the hand pinning her wrists, but it wasn’t freedom she wanted. Freedom was a word away, a word that almost sought her tongue to form the sound but was chased back every time by a fresh wave of utter delight leaving her drunk on lust.

“Ah you are refreshing, ” they breathed against her ribs, chuckling softly as another whip of their tail drew a fresh moan from Tav’s lungs, “and such pretty songs you sing, little thief, and you will sing mine soon~”

Their teeth grazed along over-sensitive skin, tongue flickering to press against tender flesh as they moved down to her breasts, releasing her hands now from above her head. She ached for the restraint, but found no breath to complain. Instead her hands balled into fists, gripping desperately at the decadent fabrics as the incubus reached the peak of her breasts with their wicked mouth now, their free hand beginning to tease her tense thighs.

For a few minutes, there was quiet. Haarlep finally stopped talking, their mouth busy drawing yet more infernal symbols with a quick tongue upon every inch of Tav’s exposed chest. She missed the voice, though, yearning for the deep tones to seduce her soul from her body- Shit, and I in danger? The thought tried to find purchase in her mind, but it swiftly left the way it came as she felt a finger finally find the source of the searing heat below.

“My, my, little Rat, aren’t you just full of desire~”, their voice began to fill the still air once more, musical and intrigued, “do you wish for more? I’ll need you to speak up now~”

The teasing touch, circling but never entering, sparked a new fire in Tav. The insulting nickname enticing the stubbornness to rear its head. “Make me.”

The incubus growled, wings fluttering for just a moment with something like a warped mirror of irritation. This wasn’t enough to get under their skin, was it? But oh, the challenge had been set, and they were not going to let this one get away with it. Their tail cracked through the air in a vicious arc, landing a stinging blow across her breast, and at that same moment they thrust their finger inside.

Tav howled. An unhinged noise, the satisfaction of finally having something in that aching emptiness that needed to feel this, and the delicious searing pain of the cambion tail drawing blood from pale skin. But that was all - she was left breathless, wanting, as Haarlep pulled back from her, leaving only that one motionless finger waiting. If they so much as twitched their taloned fingertip within her, she might have burst there and then, but they didn’t.

“So, are you going to ask nicely, Little Rat? You might be able to sneak into this house but do not think you can so easily steal from me. ” Their eyes burned brighter, and if Tav had any sense of what was going on around her she would’ve noticed the flames raising from the bed. Not a true fire, this was an illusion, one that was beyond Haarlep’s control. The light highlighted every inch of their chiseled body, their wickedly curved horns almost glowing as they continued to glare at her.

All it took was a slight twitch of their finger, and a fresh wave of arousal stirred within her entire being coalescing into a single, desperate word: “Please…”“Good~” they purred, wings spreading a little wider, free hand raising into the air to summon-

Oh shit, Tav whispered in her mind, somewhere between a pleased expletive and a note of concern, those are vines-The living vines rose up from beneath the bed, entangling her wrists securely, others below her coiling around her ankles and knees, positioning her legs bent, held open, displayed for the fiend’s amusement. “Very good~” they continued, before lowering towards her abdomen. A teasing bite drew blood from the curve of her hip at the same moment a second finger found its home in warm flesh, both moving now and finally drawing the first climax out of her soul with a long low sound that was almost unrecognisable. Haarlep ate it like an appetiser, far from sated. And given their kiss earlier, Tav was also completely given over to her need now.

The room fell quiet once more, aside from the sound of a thrumming heartbeat and the lewd echoes of Haarlep’s talents, as they moved lower to give another kiss. Far from the chaste kiss of a first love, the incubus put their tongue to work in tasting everything even as their fingers built up an intensity of motion.

Every nerve was alight, the sting of wounds from their lashing tail still burned brightly, pleasure and pain dancing a tango in every inch of Tav’s body. Her mind was almost empty, entirely focused on the swarm of sensation that was devouring her consciousness almost as voraciously as Haarlep was devouring her-

---

Haarlep almost regretted enthralling Tav, the spell was hardly necessary, and they had only used it moments ago. Her mind was not allowed to drift now, they demanded that of her, demanded that she think and feel only them , but their peace was about to be disturbed.

They felt the air shift, the currents changing, charged with the familiar electric crackle of magic as the shimmering doorway appeared behind them.

“Well, well, well,” the master of the house spoke with an air of calm irritation, “I don’t believe we had any scheduled guests today. And what, or rather who , the FUCK do you think you are doing, Harlot ?” The insulting nickname made them bristle, even as they continued to pull a shuddering orgasm from Tav’s burning body with a feral scream. Still, this could work in their favour… They folded their wings and sat up slowly, leaving their hand still inside her to keep working her nerves as her mind focused only on them, entirely unaware of the new arrival.

Raphael’s expression was complex, unreadable, as he took in the scene before him. His personal incubus grinning back at him with his own smug face, lips still wet with her desire. Her. What the fuck was she doing here? In his bed? Exposed, wanting, and having the audacity to not even look his way for a second.

“Little Mouse?-” ----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- -----------

It felt bad to split the chapter, but it was also very necessary~ finally we bring Tav to play with Haarlep, and naturally Raphael knows something is going on... I fear writing this and its sequel fundamentally rewired my brain, and gods am I glad that it did~ Until tomorrow, loves, when you will have more... Oh, did I almost forget? This one gets a LiArt~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 raphael #haarlep #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #fanfic #incubus #2 part chapter #LiArt #the worst doodles of smut #take away my crayons #I fear for your taste if you like those drawings but if you demand I supply #anyway here's wonderwall

[moregraceful]

trick or treat :^)

this got. away from me...

Casey Schmitt is lying face down on Mike’s living room carpet. Tony knows of Casey Schmitt, but he has never met Casey Schmitt. He’s not really sure this qualifies as meeting, really, because Casey is fully a man down.

Mike gestures at Tony to step over the kid’s legs to get to the couch. Kid’s like built like a quarterback, all leg, but he’s not half as bright from what Mike’s told him, and Tony’s gonna spill his red wine all over Mike’s white carpet and then what? Tony told him white carpets were a bad idea. Dummy should have listened to him. Tony told Mike he would be the heart and soul of the Giants someday, that Craw and Belt would be out and it’d be him, and he’d have kids lying all over the house. Mike laughed him off, but who’s laughing now? Not the kid on the floor.

“Is he okay?” asks Tony.

“Nope,” says Mike.

“I’m fine,” says Casey into the carpet.

“He’s not fine,” says Mike.

Casey sighs.

Tony steps carefully over Casey’s legs and sits down on the couch. Mike steps much less carefully over Casey’s legs. He sits down next to Tony and kicks Casey’s thigh. “Roll over before you suffocate,” he says sternly. His tone is hot as hell, Tony’s neck feels warm.

Casey rolls over and stares at the ceiling. “Am I the problem?” he asks. “Is it me?”

“No, bro,” says Mike. “Stop quoting Taylor Swift or I’ll kick you out.”

Casey sighs again and throws an arm over his eyes.

Mike turns to Tony. “Heard you played Desperado tonight,” he says, faux-casually, but there’s a nervous look in his eye. “Chad in town?”

“Seasons change, man,” Tony admonishes him. “Summer turns into fall and what’s old is new. My heart’s never sore, it’s always whole. Despite—” he waves a hand “–it all.”

“But—” Mike grimaces. “When the tides change—”

“Tide goes out, the tide comes in, the moon rises early and sets late. Summer’s not endless, babe. No season of life is.”

“No, I know,” Mike looks down at his glass and makes a face at it. “It gets cold in the ballpark at night in the fall. Westerlies come off the ocean and there’s nothing that’ll warm you up on a long losing night.”

“October comes soon,” reminds Tony. “You’re pining for a skyline that doesn’t exist yet. Or may never.”

“Too soon. Not soon enough. No, I know, I know. All I need’s you, me, and this big old globe.”

Casey rolls. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he says, strangled. “Why the fuck do you two sound like book characters? Are you high? Do you have a secret life as college professors?”

Tony and Mike raise their glasses to him in a toast. “Love and life, baby, love and life,” says Tony. “Nothing like it.”

Casey blinks at them.

Mike knocks his glass against Tony’s. “Glad I’m here with you,” he says. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

They sip. Tony smiles at Mike and Mike’s eyes are bright.

Casey gets to his feet. “I feel better,” he says. “No, I feel weirder. Like, that was weird and uncomfortable. But better? I don’t think I’m gonna quit baseball anymore though.”

“Attaboy,” says Mike. “Go sleep it off in a guest room.”

“I’ll just go back to my hotel,” says Casey. He pulls out his phone to call a rideshare. “You guys have fun writing poetry, I guess.”

“Go listen to ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’ by The Verve, you’ll learn something,” says Mike. Tony chokes. “Bro, how fucking old are you?”

Casey is already pulling his Airpod case out of his pocket. “Okay, daddy. See you tomorrow.”

He lets himself out, but at least he doesn’t slam the door like some of the kids Mike brings home. God.

Mike turns to Tony. “No, but really, but Chad’s in town?”

Chad’s a tender spot under Tony’s ribs, and under Mike’s ribs too, because what hurts Tony hurts Mike, even if they live two separate lives on two separate teams. They’ve seen each other through the good and the bad and the awful and the worse. Mike knows. And Tony knows Mike. “Yeah, in town for the last couple of games. Wanted to give the old man a shout out.” He sets his glass down on the side table. “It’s different for us, now.”

“Yeah,” says Mike. “No, I know.”

“Mike,” says Tony.

Mike makes a face. “Yeah.”

“Mike,” says Tony again.

“I know!” Mike sets down his wine glass too. “I just think about a future without you across the Bay and I get so sore, man. Like how many years am I gonna have to wait to have you all year round.”

“Five years and you’ll have your ten,” says Tony.

“Two years and you’ll have ten,” says Mike.

“I’m not retiring at 33, fuck you,” says Tony with a laugh. “I’d get bored being a house husband.”

“You could play with me,” says Mike hopefully.

“Fuck you, I’m not playing with Kapler either,” says Tony. Mike sighs as loudly as Casey did. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s fair.”

Tony pulls himself into a kneeling position next to Mike on the couch. “You got any other kids coming over to have career crises or do we gotta keep being responsible veterans?”

“C’mere,” says Mike, reaching for him. “Fuck them kids.”

Tony laughs and lets himself drop onto Mike’s body.

#going through that enormous live105 playlist on spotify like what 90-00s songs made me worse at 24 that mike yastrzemski would also know #and it was a toss up between champagne supernova by oasis and in my place by coldplay and bitter sweet symphony #all of which are deeply potent. but i think coldplay are now cringe enough that casey would not take yas seriously #and if casey saw 'wonderwall' he would roll his eyes #so. bitter sweet symphony #[fondly] yas you are so fucking embarrassing #cage replies #pindergarten #unfortunate birdcage fanfictions

[transsexualhamlet]

NO CHILDREN LIVE SCREAMED FROM THE FLOOR AFTER AN UNREASONABLY LONG TANGENT ABOUT 2001💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

#rowan screams into the void #best experience of my goddamn life I'll say #'spent a long time listening to the radio and one thing about radio in 2001 is that it was bad. some people have nostalgia for it... #...and those people have a disease. you have a disease. anyway heres wonderwall' #thank u john

[misty-moth]

If you can’t summon serotonin directly *throws money at Cybird* store-bought is fine.

#my brain is being MEAN #but you know who isn’t mean? #my boi rio AND IMMA GO SEE HIM #anyway here’s wonderwall

[landwriter]

Saint Morpheus Dream/Hob | 12K | Explicit | Complete

Tags: Getting Together, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, POV Hob Gadling, Conventional Confession & Unconventional Absolution, Creative Consecration Methods, First Kiss, First Time, Grinding, Dirty Talk, Latin, Worship, Hand-Kissing, Oaths & Vows, Church Sex, Art Historian Hob Gadling, Literal Saint Dream of the Endless Hob thought this was how crocuses must feel beneath the sun in early spring: made anew beneath the attentions of a star itself, tended gently by terrible power. Read on AO3

#dreamling #the sandman #my writing #dream of the endless #hob gadling #morpheus #the sandman fanfic #saint morpheus in stained glass #hob x dream #dream x hob #i could've written another fic in the time i spent hemming and hawing over to put as an excerpt #not an exaggeration #my indecisiveness is a clinical fuckin menace bro #pls just read the it if the tags seem cool to you haha #also if anyone would like to beta a fic ever to save me from myself and from doing this in the future?? let me know?? #anyways here's wonderwall #pressing post before i change it again

[crimsontroupe]

#the last rose of summer ; adonia #i usually do something diff with my commissions but iykyk #anyways. wanted to go for more of a vibe of adonia in barovia :) #esp in some certain scenes where he was definitely being spied upon. (if he realizes this he will find you and you will not enjoy it) #plus a lot of art i have of him is him being rly... soft. so here's something new #(anyway here's wonderwall)