Update: Sauron is not afraid of hobbits. He was unaware that hobbits existed up until very recently. he literally did not have time to be afraid of them, they went from a 0 to 100 threat level in twenty seconds. There he was, minding his own business worrying about the usual Elves and Men when suddenly these kids are on his lawn and now he’s dead, like just;
What did— who–
did I just get one-shotted by an infant how is this occurring
Honestly I have to love this whole thought process that the Fellowship must have cultivated in Sauron, like…
“These children have found the Ring! But they’re taking it to the elves, of course. I will simply have to catch them on the way.”
“Well, the elves are still not to be trifled with, it seems. It looks as though they have a group of intrepid heroes, how cute! Wait, who’s leading them? Aw, hell.”
“OKAY! Olorin’s out of the way, and now I can finally kill them all and reclaim the- OH DAMMIT, IT’S IN LOTHLORIEN.”
“Well, okay. They’ve taken it onward. Curunir says one of the halflings is still carrying the ring, so he’s going to capture them and we’ll see how this develops. Thankfully Olorin’s still out of the picture and their little group just shattered into pieces, so that’s one less thing to worry about.”
“Aaaaaand Curunir shat the bed. Excellent. Trees, who would have thought? Okay, so we’re back to plan A: conquer Gondor, because if the Ring’s going to be anywhere, it’ll be there.”
“Wait, who’s on the– Isildur’s WHAT? Ohhhh. Ohohoho. Oh now everything makes sense. Isildur’s Heir is back, and he’s here being all prideful again. That’s fine. Really. I’ll just crush him and his kingdom, and then nobody can stop me!”
“WHAT? FUCKING WHAT? THEY SENT HIM BACK? Ugh, alright, alright, I’m cool, I’m fine. He’s still got that stupid wizard costume on, and I’m still stronger than he ever was. It’s not like he can come toe to toe with me, even if he does have an army behind him. This’ll be fine.”
“They’re… actually marching on the Black Gate? Sweet lord, I didn’t think they’d actually do it! This is perfect, everyone’s right here! Olorin, the human princeling, most of the remaining fighting forces of Men, all I have to do is kill them now and– Wait. Someone just put on the Ring. Someone just– That’s a halfling. They’re inside the mouNTAIN OH GOD NAZGUL GO GO G–”
People don’t really care about Iran because of the things the western media has fed into their brains. I always say that pain, violence, suffering and sadness is no competition between human beings. That everyone suffering is valid and needs attention and help. And yet, when I look around so many people are quiet now. It’s a privilege not to talk about politics, suffering and killings. A privilege neither I nor so many people in Iran have. But it seems a lot of other people do.
This blog stands in full solidarity with the Iranian people as they risk their lives to liberate themselves from a tyrannical regime. Long live Iran, may we see a free Iran in our lifetime.
Listen. I grew up with these dogs. Im a cat person, no shame, but Great Pyrenees are hands down my most trusted domestic animal and are hardcore as fuck.
When I was a kid, between six and fifteen, one of our Pyrenees would escort me, off-leash, between my grandmother's house and mine. I'd just have to call him, and he'd show up and walk me there, placing himself between me and anything he considered threatening- Cranky farm animals, holes in the ground, bodies of water, etc.
That same dog found a (unfortunately deceased) lamb my grandfather had buried a few hours earlier, dug it up, realized it was cold and not breathing, and carefully carried it to our barn, where he covered it neck-deep in straw and tried to cuddle it warm again to bring it back to life.
One of our older dogs, at about sixteen years old (keep in mind, this breed tends to average out at about 12 years max) had arthritis in his hips, a bad back, and a respiratory issue, was fucking ancient and essentially palliative, but would still go stock-still out of nowhere, let out one subtle "boof", and then set out at an awkward-yet-speedy bunny-hop sprint at the slightest whiff of a cougar, bear, or wolf. Like, grampa would jump fences. Gentle geriatric giant would kick up to 7k to protect the family, never mind the three other, much younger fogs already on the case.
When I was a baby, like a literal in-diapers infant, he would lay on the ground and let me dress him up as a wizard and crawl all over him with zero complaint.
His nephew was 100lbs and often alarmed visitors who mistook him for a bear, yet never so much as bumped into a person in his life and feared only string and kittens.
A Great Pyrenees is not only the best dog, but I would argue that it is also the MOST dog
I think the Hunger Games series sits in a similar literary position to The Lord of the Rings, as a piece of literature (by a Catholic author) that sparked a whole new subgenre and then gets blamed for flaws that exist in the copycat books and aren’t actually part of the original.
Like, despite what parodies might say, Katniss is nowhere near the stereotypical “unqualified teenager chosen to lead a rebellion for no good reason”. The entire point is that she’s not leading the rebellion. She’s a traumatized teenager who has emotional reactions to the horrors in her society, and is constantly being reined in by more experienced adults who have to tell her, “No, this is not how you fight the government, you are going to get people killed.” She’s not the upstart teenager showing the brainless adults what to do–she’s a teenager being manipulated by smarter and more experienced adults. She has no power in the rebellion except as a useful piece of propaganda, and the entire trilogy is her straining against that role. It’s much more realistic and far more nuanced than anyone who dismisses it as “stereotypical YA dystopian” gives it credit for.
And the misconceptions don’t end there. The Hunger Games has no “stereotypical YA love triangle”–yes, there are two potential love interests, but the romance is so not the point. There’s a war going on! Katniss has more important things to worry about than boys! The romance was never about her choosing between two hot boys–it’s about choosing between two diametrically opposed worldviews. Will she choose anger and war, or compassion and peace? Of course a trilogy filled with the horrors of war ends with her marriage to the peace-loving Peeta. Unlike some of the YA dystopian copycats, the romance here is part of the message, not just something to pacify readers who expect “hot love triangles” in their YA.
The worldbuilding in the Hunger Games trilogy is simplistic and not realistic, but unlike some of her imitators, Collins does this because she has something to say, not because she’s cobbling together a grim and gritty dystopia that’s “similar to the Hunger Games”. The worldbuilding has an allegorical function, kept simple so we can see beyond it to what Collins is really saying–and it’s nothing so comforting as “we need to fight the evil people who are ruining society”. The Capitol’s not just the powerful, greedy bad guys–the Capitol is us, First World America, living in luxury while we ignore the problems of the rest of the world, and thinking of other nations largely in terms of what resources we can get from them. This simplistic world is a sparsely set stage that lets us explore the larger themes about exploitation and war and the horrors people will commit for the sake of their bread and circuses, meant to make us think deeper about what separates a hero from a villain.
There’s a reason these books became a literary phenomenon. There’s a reason that dozens upon dozens of authors attempted to imitate them. But these imitators can’t capture that same genius, largely because they’re trying to imitate the trappings of another book, and failing to capture the larger and more meaningful message underneath. Make a copy of a copy of a copy, and you’ll wind up with something far removed from the original masterpiece. But we shouldn’t make the mistake of blaming those flaws on the original work.
ive never made a comic before so idk if this will be comprehensible, read it left to right if that helps
also this was originally meant to be like “wooah laios sensory issues!”/“what if kabru was with the party during the sauna!” but it became something much more… sinister…
also this might be a character assassination… idk… i havent read the manga… this is just the vibes ive gotten from how manga readers talk about Laios and Kabru
ALSO woah a slightly different version of the drawing i posted yesterday… cool… ill tell em… thanks…
Pegging Your Vampire Boyfriend: A Beginner's Guide
A/N: This is exactly what you think it is.
Kudos to @kittenintheden & Shaurbox for teasing this pegging idea with me over a month ago. It hasn't left my head since.
Rating: E, a very hard E
Words: 5.3k
Pairing: Spawn!Astarion/Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+, pegging, bdsm- soft!Dom Tav & sub!Astarion, bottom!Astarion, praise kink, ear play, size kink if you squint, inappropriate use of magical scrolls, oral sex - fellatio, anal fingering, anal sex, trauma mention, intimacy issues, verbalized consent, blood warning
Summary: Astarion has been on the receiving end before, but not since he's gotten with you. Wanting to try it again, he propositions you in a rather intimate way.
“Darling?”
A soft, questioning voice calls out from the living quarters of your shared home.
“I'm in the kitchen, love,” you respond. You're standing before the countertop, fileting a roast of beef into smaller portions for easier storage.
Wisps of bergamot fill your senses as the inquisitor reveals himself, arms wrapping gently around your waist. His nose dips into the crook of your neck, cool lips planting chaste kisses upon your skin.
“Oh, that smells divine,” he comments. Of course it does - it's a blood-soaked slab of beef. You laugh and lean your head into his, carefully slicing another steak from the meat. He covers the hand holding your knife and brings it carefully to his face, tongue lolling out to drag across the flat of the blade. He sighs in contentment as the blood soaks into his tongue, lavishing the flavor.
You wince as he releases the grip on your hand, gently placing the knife off to the side. I’ll need a new one, now, you comment to yourself.
“Is there something you needed, Astarion?” you ask him.
He hums low in his throat. “Hmm, yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.” He peels himself away from your back and stands straight. His hands are still on your hips and you feel his forehead fall against your back.
In a whisper, he asks, “How do you feel… about taking the reins?”
You turn your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow as you ask, “What do you mean? I was on top last time.”
Astarion laughs against your back, a puff of cool air passing over your clothed skin. “I know, love,” he begins. “I mean to suggest that… you play the part of me. And I… well, you.”
It takes your brain a few seconds to interpret his words, but once it finally comes together, you feel a blush beginning to creep up your chest.
“Oh!” you exclaim, now with full understanding. “A-are you sure? I'm not opposed to it, but I have to admit… I've never done it before.”
Astarion chuckles lightly, tightening his grip around your waist, placing soft kisses along the side of your neck. “Neither have I, my dear.”
You peel yourself out of his embrace, turning your whole body toward him. A scowl lines your face; you know of his history.
“Well, I-” he stammers. “I've been with men, yes; laid on my back a number of times for them.” Astarion casts his eyes to the floor before continuing, “I have never done… this, though. With a woman.”
Expression softening from his explanation, you turn your body again toward the counter, moving yourself over to the sink to begin washing your hands. “Are you sure you want to explore this?” you ask, concern evident. “That it won't bring back… memories?”
He leans against the opposite end of the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “There's no way to truly know unless we try,” he explains. “Though, I must admit, it's been on my mind incessantly, as of late.”
It's your turn to laugh, grabbing a hand towel to dry your hands. “Really?” you ask. “You've been thinking about me fucking you?”
Astarion scoffs, a scowl forming on his face. “Must you be so vulgar?”
You smile, moving toward him to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I'd be your first?”
He sighs with an eye roll before saying, “Proverbially speaking, yes, you would be my first.” Astarion's hand comes up to hold your chin fast as he captures your lips in a chaste kiss. “My second first.”
You hum in satisfaction, wrapping your arms around his waist. He releases your chin and you rest your head against his chest. “So, how do we do this?” you inquire. “I wouldn't even know the first place to start.”
Leaning his cheek against the side of your forehead, he replies, “Not to worry, I've taken care of that already.”
“Astarion!” you exclaim, lifting your head from his chest.
He smiles as he meets your gaze. “I already told you I've been thinking about it!”
You lightly tap on his chest in a scolding manner before asking, “How did you know I'd even be okay with this idea?”
“I didn't,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “But even if you weren't, I'd still have something to play with later.”
Your face burns at his bold admission, images of him sinking said something into himself flooding your vision. You've never thought of him in that way before, but you quickly admit to yourself just how much it excites you.
“Hello?” Astarion asks innocently, waving his hand over your face. “Are you still with me? Have I given you too much to think about?”
“You're terrible,” you tease, peeling yourself from his embrace in a huff once again. Your face is as red as hot coals, head swimming. “When did you want to try this?”
Astarion cocks his head to one side in thought. “I was thinking tonight?” he answers. “Or sometime soon. Whatever works for you, love.”
Nodding your head in agreement, you say, “Alright, then. Tonight it is.”
Evening has fallen and you're fresh from the bath. You walk out into your shared bedroom, bathrobe wrapped snugly around your form as you dry your hair with a towel. Astarion bathed earlier as you cleaned the kitchen, telling you he would use the opportunity to prepare for your night ahead.
“Ah, there you are!” he exclaims in joy. “I've been waiting for you.” Dipping down into the drawer of the end table next to the bed, Astarion says, “There are a couple options we can choose from, darling.”
Astarion is dressed in nothing but his ruffled white shirt with the front laces undone, and his favorite pair of baby-blue and gold underwear. The hem of the shirt covers his underwear, giving off the illusion of wearing nothing underneath.
Standing up straight, he's now holding a tube of rolled parchment in one hand and a phallic toy in the other. “We have a scroll of Mystical Phallus,” Astarion explains, “or, your more traditional approach.”
You smirk as you run the towel through your damp hair, letting your bathrobe fall to the floor. Lifting your chin toward the direction of the parchment, you ask, “What's the deal with the scroll?”
Astarion clears his throat as the robe falls off your form, eyes quickly roaming over your newly exposed skin. He turns to place the toy back in the drawer, returning to meet your gaze before saying, “The shopkeeper explained it as ‘granting the caster a temporary phallus that's as close to the real thing.’ Not quite sure to what level it goes, but I'll admit - I am curious.”
“Alright, let's go with that one, then,” you decide, walking over to take the scroll from his hand.
You're not too familiar with magic, being a soldier and all, but you've used scrolls before. Opening the paper tube, you're relieved to find that the spell is a rather simple one.
As you recite the incantation etched within the scroll, a faint blue light envelops the room for a mere moment. The light fades, the scroll disintegrating, and you can't help but notice an unfamiliar heaviness between your thighs that wasn't there before.
“Oh,” Astarion comments, shifting his weight onto one hip, accompanied by a hand. “Well, that's rather generous.”
Looking down, your eyes drink in the source of your discomfort. Glowing blue, and well endowed, lay a cock. Your cock, at least for tonight. It juts up proudly in the air from between your thighs, seeming like an extension of your clitoris. Other parts, thankfully, have remained unchanged.
“...Oh,” is all you manage, continuing to survey the mystical length. “This… this is mine?”
Astarion walks over, lowering himself onto his knees in front of you. “It would appear as such,” he states. “And my, oh my, how beautiful it is.”
You scowl, meeting his gaze. You're suddenly uncomfortable, his eyes flitting between yours and your newly summoned appendage. “I don't know what to do, Astarion,” you admit in a hushed tone.
He chuckles lightly. “Touch it, love,” he says, reassuringly. “Don’t be afraid. It's your cock.”
Nodding your head, you bring a hand up hesitantly to brush over your new addition. “Ah!” you exclaim in shock, your fingertips passing over the bulbous tip. A familiar pulling sensation in your groin begins to stir as you bend slightly inward.
Astarion, looking up at you with wide eyes, asks, “So? How does it feel?”
You can feel everything, as if this has always been part of your anatomy. Each feathered touch sends sparks of electricity up and through you, snagging behind a peculiar spot in your lower stomach.
“Real, Astarion,” you sigh in disbelief, giving yourself a few more tentative touches along the shaft. “I feel like this is my cock.”
“Do you, now?” he quips in a sultry tone. “Is it okay if I do this, then?”
Your mind barely has time to register what he might be implying before Astarion drags the flat of his tongue up the underside of your ethereal summon. Your vision blanks from the sensation, nearly toppling over had Astarion not been bracing you.
“Wh-what was that?” you yell, nearly breathless.
Concern outlining his face, Astarion asks from below you, “Too much? We can stop, if you want.”
You shake your head in disagreement. “N-no,” you respond. “No, that's not it.” Placing a hand on his head, you brush his fallen curls out of his eyes, meeting them with yours. “If this is even remotely close to how you feel when it's me doing this,” you explain, “then I appreciate the level of self-control you maintain over yourself.”
Astarion hums in satisfaction, placing a quick kiss along your shaft before rising to his feet. “It's a lot, I'll admit,” he tells you. Your length jumps in response, and he smiles. “Especially how you suck my cock.”
You're barely able to respond before Astarion’s kissing you; soft, but passionate. His hands grab hold of your hips, drawing you in closer until your centers meet. You moan into his mouth as he repeats the motion a few times, your jaw going slack under his ministrations.
His arousal is evident through the fabric of his undergarments, though not quite there just yet. Slipping your tongue into his mouth, you roll your hips into his with vigor, a bolt of pleasure pulling behind your pubic bone. He groans, tangling his tongue with yours, and begins walking you back until you hit the wall behind you.
Astarion asks, “Do you want me to do that to you, darling?” breathily, breaking the kiss. A hand winds in your hair, pulling your head to the side as he licks a stripe up the side of your neck.
You shudder under his touch, grinding your length against his clothed erection again, searching for friction. “O-oooh-nly,” you groan, “i-if you want.”
Astarion pulls himself back entirely, tapping a finger lightly on your chest. “Ah-ah-ah,” he chides, “I asked you. I already know what I want.”
You close your eyes in frustration, hips involuntarily lurching forward in an attempt to catch more contact. You feel how heavy your cock is - painfully hard between your legs, desperate for release. It throbs in time with your clit, and you feel the wetness of your arousal beginning to gather at the apex of your thighs.
“Y-yes, please,” you gasp, thighs rubbing together in a hopeless quest for relief.
Satisfied, Astarion plants a kiss along your jaw, placing his hands on either side of your shoulders. “Good girl,” he purrs as he begins to kneel again. Tracing a line of kisses down your body, starting between the valley of your breasts, his hands move down to cup each within his palms.
Rolling the sensitive peaks of your nipples between his fingertips, your body jerks again, cock brushing ever so lightly against his chest as he continues kissing down the plane of your abdomen. Astarion, now sitting on his heels, braces his hands against your thighs.
He looks up to meet your eyes through full lashes. “Please tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he tells you, genuine concern lacing his tone.
You hum in agreement, a hand coming up to tangle within the silver locks atop his head. Watching as he closes his eyes, Astarion licks again at the underside of your cock, base to tip. You shudder as his hand wraps delicately around your shaft, peeling the foreskin back. He takes a few tentative passes with his tongue along your frenulum, meeting your eyes momentarily to gauge your reaction.
Your hips buck and stutter under his tongue, a string of pleasured gasps and guttural moans slipping past your lips. The hand in his hair tightens as he takes the head of you past his lips, suckling softly on the sensitive gland.
It takes a world of restraint not to shove the rest of yourself into the inviting cavern of his mouth. Astarion must know this, however, as the hand still planted on your thigh moves to your hip, holding you still. He doesn’t leave you wanting for long, passing as much of your length into his mouth as he can manage, his hand following you down to the base. He flattens his tongue on the way back up, hollowing out his cheeks as he reaches the tip, only to do it all over again.
Knees growing weak, you push your back into the wall behind you to hold yourself steady. The hand in his hair slips, pads of your fingers passing just over the tip of his ear. Astarion moans at the faint touch, the vibration shooting up through your cock and spreading like wildfire throughout your abdomen. You perform the same motion again, and Astarion begins craning his head into your touch.
“A-ah-” he gasps, pulling himself off of you. “Darling, if you keep doing that, I-”
His mouth falls open in a delicate pant, eyes flitting closed as he works his spittle over your length with his hand. You continue toying with the outer shell of his ear, intrigued at this new discovery, and he rests his forehead against your hip.
“I never knew you had such sensitive ears,” you comment as you look down, watching him rub his thighs together as his hips buck up and down into the air.
With a drawn out groan, Astarion explains, “I’m an elf, my love. We all have sensitive ears.”
“Noted,” you respond, shakily bringing a hand down to join him along your shaft. You softly peel off his touch, lacing your fingers together. “I-I think I want to try something else, now,” you admit.
Smiling, Astarion slowly rises to his feet, cradling your jaw within his hand. His lips, swollen and soft from his prior activity, find yours; his kiss is desperate - hungry. “What do you have in mind?” he questions between quickly stolen breaths.
A fire swells within your core, and you're suddenly met with the same raging intensity and desire displayed in Astarion's kiss.
Hand tangling within his mess of moonlit curls once again, you pull Astarion’s head back, exposing the marble column of his throat. He groans when you drag the flat of your tongue over the apple of his throat, hips jerking into yours.
“I want to try fucking you,” you whisper into his skin, grinding your conjured length against his concealed erection to punctuate your intent. The coiling in your core winds tighter, but not enough to snap just yet.
As his weight presses into you, his hands grip your biceps for stability. Another roll of his hips and he sighs, dropping his head down to catch your eyes. “Are you sure?” he questions, breathless. “Because I'd really like that.”
With a nod of your head, your hands travel up under the hem of his shirt to settle on strong, narrow hips. Your lips meet again, the kiss just as ravenous as before, and begin walking you both toward the bed. When Astarion’s knees hit the edge of the bed, he gently falls back, with you quickly closing the distance above him.
“You needn’t worry about preparation,” he reveals as you lavish attention on his neck. “I took care of that earlier.”
He shudders beneath you as you mouth his scars. “Isn’t that part of this whole process?” you ask while hooking your hands into the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging them down.
Astarion lifts his hips up and laughs, providing enough space for you to slide the cotton fabric down and off his form. “It is, but I figured it was gracious enough of you to entertain this idea,” he explains. “Prep for this is… well, intimate.” He averts your gaze for a brief moment, drawing a large breath in before continuing, “I would understand if it didn’t appeal to you.”
Removing yourself from his reach, you sit back over your legs. His face shifts uneasily at your sudden withdrawal. “Astarion,” you begin to tell him, “I’m not ashamed of your body. I want to explore this as a couple.” He’s drawn his legs together in a likely attempt at covering himself. You place a hand atop one knee, rubbing soft circles as you say reassuringly, “All of it, together. So, please. Let me?”
Astarion sits up with a smile, and rests his forehead over yours. “If you keep being this nice to me, I may just return the favor,” he says, light-heartedly.
“You already do, Astarion,” you tell him with a laugh. “Always the gentleman.”
His kiss is a quick peck over your lips as he tells you, “There's a bottle of oil in the bedside drawer. Grab it, and I'll show you what to do.”
You nod, sliding off the mattress and doing as instructed. Astarion moves himself higher into the center of the bed, sinking into the comforter and pillows. The bed dips below him as you climb back on, bottle of viscous liquid in hand.
“Pour some into one palm and rub your hands together, love,” he instructs. “This helps warm the oil.”
Popping the stopper off the bottle, you pour the cool, thick, opaque fluid out into your hand. You reapply the cork, placing it face up on top of the bedside drawer, rubbing the palms of your hands together. It takes a bit, but inevitably your body heat begins to seep into the oil.
Astarion lay before you, eyes beginning to hood over as he follows your hands. His legs fall silently open as his breath hitches for a mere moment. “Good,” he says encouragingly, his voice an octave lower. “Now, come here. Between my legs.”
You move in closer and note how the hem of his shirt is obscuring his cock from view. You can just make it out, though - it pushes against the fabric of the shirt, tenting it slightly and you swear you see a small darkened spot right where the tip of his cock lay hidden. Looking up, your eyes drink in how his collar has fallen to one side, sliding down and off his right shoulder, exposing his collar bone. Astarion normally wears this shirt with the sleeves rolled up tight, yet today, he's chosen to wear them loose.
His hands, half covered by the cuffs of his sleeves, envelop yours in a gentle embrace as he guides your slickened fingers to his core. Astarion stills for a moment, and you look up to find him staring back at you.
There's an expression on his face that you’re not immediately familiar with - it's not fear, excitement, or lust, really. Yet, the longer you study him, recognition begins to dawn over you.
It's the same look you've given him countless times before on this very bed, having thrown caution to the wind as you entwine the very fabric of your souls together.
Astarion is… submitting himself. To you.
Something majorly delicate, knowing his past.
You know of what he was forced to endure while being compelled into submission.
The barrage of lovers who cared not for the person below them; who saw him only as a means to an end. A quick pump, a cheap lay, a tool to scratch a nagging itch.
“Some people refer to the moment of climax as ‘a little death,’” he’d once told you. That was before you knew just how many he'd lead to their actual deaths.
True to form, Astarion's words are often double-edged blades. His mind dances constantly on the edge of pleasure and shame. You see it in his face, now. He’s standing on that precipice, knowing not whether to jump head first or step back.
You swallow thickly and stare back at him, unblinking, before saying, “You can always tell me if it becomes too much, and I will stop.” You pause for a brief moment before adding, “Pleasure is my only intent, Astarion.”
A smile graces his lips as he welcomes your fingers to make first contact with his entrance. “Oh, my dear,” he says with a sigh, “I’ve never doubted that about you.”
Leaning over him as you press the pads of two fingers teasingly against his tight ring of muscle, you kiss him. Astarion groans softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face as he arches into the kiss. He’s grinding down lightly into your fingers, meeting each of your chaste touches against him.
“How many should I start with?” you ask softly, breaking the kiss for a brief moment.
“Two,” he answers, voice but a whisper against your lips. “Whichever ones you want.”
Humming into his mouth, you begin pushing your fingers into his entrance. Astarion’s breath hitches as you breach the perimeter, shoving his head back against the pillows. He instinctively tries closing his legs around you, though you hold one open with your free hand.
You still your movements, giving him a chance to adjust to the intrusion. “Is it alright?” you ask him.
Astarion nods his head as he moves a hand under his shirt to toy with a nipple. “Yes,” he huffs out. “I'm more than fine, love.”
Emboldened to the task at hand, you move, gently pushing and pulling your fingers within him. You feel his muscles contract around you and you briefly wonder if this is what he feels when he's inside of you. The thought sends a bolt of pleasure to your cunt, reverberating as a twitch of your cock.
You look down to watch your fingers as they work him open, and finally see his cock laying against the plane of his abdomen. Compared to the pallor of the rest of him, his length is flushed pink and red, and you can make out the labored beating of his undead heart as his cock thumps softly against his stomach. Pre-fluid seeps from his tip, gathering in a small puddle just below his navel. Bending down, you catch a small rivulet rolling off his hip with your tongue, tracing it back to the source. Astarion shudders under you, threading his free hand through your hair as he pushes down onto your fingers.
You're beginning to understand that this isn't too different from your usual sexual encounters with one another. It's truly just a mirroring of your typical positions. Out of curiosity, you curl your fingers upward in one particular pass, and his entire body spasms beneath you.
“Fuck, darling, yes… You've found it,” Astarion groans out, labored. The grip in your hair tightens and he begins fucking himself in earnest on your fingers, a string of moans falling from his lips as he passes that same spot over and over again.
Your cunt aches and your cock throbs watching the scene before you. To see him unraveling before you, submitting himself to the pleasure of the moment is intoxicating. His legs have fallen open again and you watch, diligently, at how easily your fingers glide in and out of his core.
“I- I need more,” Astarion suddenly chokes out. You meet his gaze and through lust-hooded eyes, he says, “Please… let me ride you.”
He's pleading, you notice. Begging. Your eyes travel down his form again, drinking in the wanton display of him splitting himself open over your fingers. Your cunt throbs; you think of nothing else in that moment but pulling out your fingers and replacing them with your cock.
To hear the delicious whines, the sobs, the cries that would surely tumble freely from Astarion's lips as he came undone around you. You want this, just as much as he does.
Pulling your hand free from his entrance, Astarion sobs as you crash your lips into his. “I'd love that,” you tell him, honestly.
Astarion begins to sit up, concentrating on never breaking the kiss you share as he aids you both in switching positions. You lay back, him straddling your lap mere moments later. He grinds his taint against your conjured appendage, your shafts brushing, and he cries out in a gentle moan against your lips. He breaks the kiss, reaching for the bottle of oil on the bedside table, dribbling some onto your cock.
With a few languid strokes of your mystical length to spread the oil and he lines himself up over you. Your eyes meet and you hiss through clenched teeth as your tip kisses his entrance, feeling the pressure slide over your glans as he slowly begins to take you.
“A-ahh,” Astarion pants from above you, still holding your cock steady in one hand. You sigh as you feel yourself push past the first ring of muscle, throwing your head back against the pillows. Your hands grip at his thighs as the sensation threatens to overwhelm you, fingertips likely to leave bruises that will be gone come morning.
Once he feels confident that you're nestled far enough inside, he releases his hold on your shaft, resting the palms of his hands against your lower stomach. He continues to slowly take you further in, words in a language you're unfamiliar with spilling from his mouth, until he's flush against your thighs.
Both of you freeze in that moment - you struggle to control your ragged breathing as he flutters around you, Astarion taking a moment to adjust to this foreign, but not unpleasant, sensation.
“H-how do I feel?” he asks in a hushed voice.
Truthfully? He feels… astounding. Tight, wet, and warmer than you would have thought for a vampire. When he lifts his hips, you feel the air being pulled out of your lungs. His walls drag deliciously along your shaft, and a nagging pull starts to build behind your navel.
Your mouth drops open in a silent gasp as your eyes meet his through hooded lids. “A-amazing,” you pant out. “You feel so good, Astarion.”
He moans above you, his head falling to one side as he rolls his hips over your cock. His shirt hangs off one shoulder, the hem obscuring his cock again from view. Though, you feel its weight slap against your stomach with each lift and drop of his hips.
Astarion’s voice comes out strained when he says, “Tell me again… please.”
You feel your cock twitch within him; he clenches around you as he locks eyes with you, waiting patiently for a response. Strands of sweat-soaked hair stick to his face, and on one particular stroke of his hips, you brush up against that place inside of him that forces his vision to blur at the edges. His mouth begins to salivate.
“Please, please, please,” he begs impatiently, voice an octave higher now. He's practically sobbing, spearing himself over your cock so each roll is angled to hit his prostate. You meet his thrusts from below, coil winding tighter within your abdomen as his walls continue to massage your cock.
You're not going to last much longer.
“You're so good for me, Astarion,” you say, obliging him. “You're being such a good boy.”
Astarion's mouth drops open as he bows his head forward, his entire body dipping down over you as a shudder passes through him. “Yes,” he whines, rocking back on your hips with renewed vigor. You feel his cock lay flat against your abdomen in this new position. It drags over your stomach, pre-fluid dripping from his tip and onto your skin providing an easier surface.
I am! And beautiful - not enough people mention that.
His words from long ago echo in your mind as you drink in his expression. He's gorgeous above you; handsome to begin with, but as he slips further toward toppling over the Cliff's edge, his beauty is quickly becoming amplified as he continues to lose composure.
“You’re beautiful like this,” you coo to him, lifting a hand from his thigh to rub over an ear.
Astarion's body is wracked by yet another tremor as he cries, “Darling, if you don’t-, I will-, I'm going-!” His head nestles into the hand toying with his ear and his hips pump erratically over your cock, having lost his prior rhythm.
You suck in a sharp breath, jaw clenched as Astarion becomes impossibly tighter around your shaft, and you groan. You're so close, so very close that all you need is one more thing to push yourself over the edge.
“Let go, Astarion,” you say, somehow finding the rhythm in his desperate rutting. The sound of skin slapping roughly fills the room as your hips meet his on his downstroke. You wrap a hand around the outline of his cock tenting his shirt, and jerk him in tempo with your thrusts.
He’s sobbing, loud and unabashedly. With one particular pass of your fingers over the outer tip of his ear, Astarion suddenly unwinds. He yells his pleasure above you, collapsing onto your chest as wave after wave overcomes him. You feel his spend seep into the fabric of his shirt and onto the skin of your abdomen in a small warm pool.
It doesn't take long for the involuntary spasming of his core over your cock to send you spiraling into your own completion. Moans slip freely past your lips and you feel your folds become soaked, drippinh down the cleft of your ass as your relief washes over you. You bury your face against Astarion's hair, breathing in his soft silver curls and the signature cologne you know so well.
As you both begin to come down off your highs, you wrap your arms around his back and hold him tightly against your chest. You feel the spell of the phallus lift, Astarion whimpering softly as it vanishes from within him. You both lay on the bed, panting, trying to catch your breath for what feels like ages.
Astarion is first to lift up his head and say, “That… that was amazing.”
“Mm,” you hum in agreement. You can barely open your eyes as fatigue begins to set in.
Taking a finger, Astarion traces circles absentmindedly into your skin as he rests his head back down over your chest. “Darling?” he asks softly. “May I tell you something?”
Sleep almost has its claws in you when you jolt back awake, forcing your eyes to snap open and find Astarion. “Hmm?” you groan in question.
With a quick huff, Astarion says, “I just wanted to thank you for doing this with me.” He places a quick peck below your jawbone before adding, “It was really nice.”
You sigh audibly, and say “It was, we should do this again.” Your eyelids are impossibly heavy; sleep is threatening to claim you and will do so in mere moments. “I love you,” you manage to mumble out before slipping gently out of consciousness.
Astarion smiles into your skin as he says, “I love you, too,”
Welcome to samdalri and Doctor slump are very very special because both represent the genre of people who basically sacrificed their youth trying to achieve the next big thing and then they DID smash every milestone they ever set for themselves but instead of being able to ride that high, all that effort, all the running, the one track pathway only lead to burnout and exhaustion and the idea that all good things only come to those who wait is fucking absurd because you have to, have to find the good in everything, everyday and every single experience life gives you.
It’s perfectly okay to have big dreams but there is nothing in this world that will ever be worth a damn if you don’t take care of yourself along the way and sometimes, sometimes, when you’re going too fast and you know you’re headed for a crash, it’s better to slow down and reassess your priorities because if you, your happiness and your mental and physical health aren’t at the tippy top of that list of priorities then you have no business driving that fast. The steeper the climb, the harder the fall; and you can only stand at the top of the Everest if you don’t die in the process
One of my friends got into audio drama and I just sent them a whole list of recommendations to go through, I thought someone who follows these tags might also appreciate it and perhaps have some more to throw in.
I resisted the urge to throw in the little blurb about audio dramas as a weird little medium and their tropes that I wrote up. It was something to the effect of nodding at how the medium has rapidly been improving since Welcome to Nightvale started, also how a lot of the tropes that tie the medium together are products of the indie podcast scene being accessible and primarily based in audio. Also at how well horror works in the format. Those paragraphs went unsaved but writing first about the medium in general helped me to reflect on a lot of the things that make audiodramas appealing or repulsive to me for discussing each show in brief beyond just explaining what they're about.
All recommendations are tagged for the tldr.
Fiction podcast recommendations in no particular order:
The Magnus Archives
Horror
The biggest criticism I ever had of this podcast’s voice acting from episode 1 turned out to be a relevant plot point. This thing is probably the best of the best, but I would never recommend it to someone unfamiliar with podcasts because the listener only notices a plot hook somewhere between episodes 20-40 and that’s daunting in the face of a 200 episode show. Getting sucked in rewards you with 200 episodes of thoughtful content and a great explanation for most of the weird things this show chooses to incorporate.
Old Gods of Appalachia
Horror
Fantastic production quality on this ongoing show. Many seasons with interconnected lore and a hell of a narrator. It’s not my personal favorite but it’s quite excellent.
Red Valley
Found footage mystery
One of the newer shows I’ve gotten into, Red Valley is well-crafted. It becomes compelling very quickly with a rapid pace that slows down to land in a neat spot for a while so you can savor the cool parts. The production quality is excellent and the two main voice actors have excellent chemistry. The third and final season is currently being produced.
The Silt Verses
Horror
Often compared to American Gods, this newer podcast made by an experienced team is doing a lot of creative and fresh things at once. The magnificently fucked up religious system of The Silt Verses is both a neat plot vehicle and cleanly works as a criticism of late stage capitalism, where many podcasts like to jab at capitalism this one is much more pointed in its commentary. Episodes are long and very well produced. All the credits in the third season have been mostly diegetic and add flavor to the world.
Archive 81
Found footage horror
Slow to start but by season 2 the production quality and plot are among the best in the game. Unfortunately, on an extended hiatus.
Ars Paradoxica
Science fiction, historical
Very well produced considering its age, this is a highly regarded show among people who follow the medium. Excellent time travel mechanics here. The plot drags a bit by the end because time travel stories must violently contort themselves into a conclusion, but the first season or two are fantastic and it’s always nice to have an ending instead of interminable hiatus.
Caravan
Gay demons n stuff
Showed up, did magic and gay shit, disappeared and went on hiatus probably with some kinda unsatisfying cliffhanger seeing as I don’t remember the plot. Could I recommend it in good faith? Not until they at least cough up season 2. I don’t remember it being bad and that alone is notable for the medium.
Mabel
Gothic horror
This is the deepest cut on the list except for maybe Caravan. Lesbians pine at each other for increasingly complicated reasons, eventually devolving into them doing datura and then spewing cryptic poetry together for the rest of their days. The production quality is fair. The slow windup and creepy house are American-gothic af. This show has had a few hiatuses, but each time it comes back significantly more intriguing.
Welcome to Nightvale
Goofy spooky news broadcast
Old and iconic, not very consistent. Sometimes explores emotional, tense, spooky, or funny scenes well, but the show is really focused on being local news for an ooky spooky desert town because Cecil is damn good at his job. Don’t come here looking for plot, it’s a fun vibe and I don’t know that anybody’s ripped it off and notably improved on this classic. Above average production quality for its time which improved through the years.
Alice isn’t Dead
USA road trip, horror
Made by at least one of the Nightvale writers, totally different show with a lesbian trucker making wry observations of some magnificently twisted shit seen around the United States. The producers know how to run a show, so the production is pretty good.
Tanis
Found footage horror
Tanis is not good. However, it was the first fiction podcast to make me ask “Is this real?” and hesitantly believe it for a frankly embarrassing number of episodes. The stories in the first season were interesting and the lore is just some big-tent conspiracy style of cramming a bunch of fun Wikipedia research into what turns out to be an increasingly nonsensical plot. Every season after the second, I return to hate-listen and am gaslit into thinking the show might low-key rock a few episodes before the finale, which is routinely frustrating and makes sure to throw out any good plot points Terry Miles comes up with. The acting is routinely terrible, and the frame narrative allows lazy and frequent retcons, ruining what I think is a good premise. Also it’s incomplete.
The Black Tapes
Horror
Terry Miles started this show before Tanis began releasing about 5 months later. I think of it as one of his earlier works because it behaves like Tanis with an added layer of cringe from a time waster of an awkward romance(?) between the two main characters. I couldn’t finish this show. You won’t see this recommended as often as it used to be online because there’s many better shows now, but this used to be a big deal. There’s a bunch of memes making fun of the annoying cadence of the characters’ speech and iconic sponsorship reads in both this and Tanis. If you’re interested in some cringe atop your creepypasta podcast, the two are interchangeable.
Rabbits
ARG investigation
Not as horror focused as Terry Miles’ other shows, the cringe is dialed down and the show is better for it. Tanis and The Black Tapes are more well known, I think the only reason more people don’t think about this one is because the first two don’t inspire trust in the production or narrative quality of this show, but I remember it being fine for a season. I have not gone back to catch up now that more is out.
Malevolent
Horror
Inspired by The King in Yellow, one man performs two voices and verbally abuses himself with aplomb. Having a blind main character with an extra voice in his head is a frame story I haven’t heard yet (unless it came up in the magnus archives and I don’t remember), the concept works out great for the frame of a podcast to deploy the environmental imagery that foley cannot communicate. It also prevents the podcast trope of lengthy exposition about visual surroundings from sounding awkward or potentially impacting someone’s character development to show setting.
Wolf 359
Comedy, science fiction
A crew of whacky characters is stuck in deep space, hanging out and researching a star. Since that’s not actually very interesting they crack jokes and fuck around for a slow burn until interesting stuff happens. Good but not great, this one is long and satisfying and a bit less heavy than all the horror this medium often focuses on. Decent production quality.
The White Vault
Found footage horror
I lost patience with this podcast even though the overarching story seemed very cool – it progresses very slowly yet appears to grow bigger and more confusing instead of deigning to answer basic questions for a frustratingly long drag through the first four seasons. I worry that this frustration may be the point and the Patreon gated stories are the drivers for this tendency towards the confusing patchwork of ideas this show communicates. The production quality is good though.
The Left Right Game
Found footage horror
Genuinely great reddit creepypasta got turned into an overproduced podcast – I say “over” in comparison to the voice acting quality because it’s kind of impossible to sell some of the lines, which makes sense considering the source. Brief, complete, punchy, interesting, and just a little odd to hear such a clean production but a creepypasta this fun deserves the effort.
Wooden Overcoats
Comedy
Surprisingly good production quality for its age, and also a refresher from the usual tropes of the medium. Just a chill sitcom about a funeral parlor in a small town. I haven’t finished this 4 season show yet but its good.
The Black List Table Reads
Movie script readings
Some movie scripts just short of making the cut to be turned into a full Hollywood production were well liked enough by a group of film nerds that sat down to act them out as a podcast. Half of the episodes are interviews with screenwriters, and the other half see a script read all the way through by actors. They’re all rejected for different reasons so there’s a pretty broad spread of genres. My favorites were Blood From a Stone and Balls Out.
ellievsbear
amandla
gamechangershow
stormborns
theartofmadeline
titsay
