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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago

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She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader

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tgmsunmontue · 6 months ago

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Saga of Solitude 4/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002)

CHAPTER FOUR – 2003

His summer at home is very different. He insists on looking after the girls every day that he’s home, making the most of his time with them. He works on their swimming with daily trips to the swimming pool, then the library or playground. Gets them out of the house so Ice can rest and Sarah and Melissa don’t have to worry about a day-camp for at least three weeks of the summer. He enjoys family dinners, watching movies with Ice, playing cards and just being at rest. Pete is off somewhere and Ice is tightlipped about it, and he wonders if they fought about it. Wonders if Maverick even knows about the operation. Mav hasn’t asked about Ice in any of their Saturday phone calls, which is unusual when he’s deployed and Bradley is home. He doesn’t know what to say or do though to make it better.

Tamsin and Petra are seven and five now, still think he’s the best thing ever and it’s nice to have people in his life who are so easy to please. He takes photos and sends them to Natasha, tells her he’ll see her soon on the carrier for their summer placement. He can’t wait, but also he doesn’t want to leave where he is right now. How actual parents do this he has no idea.

He doesn’t expect anything for his twentieth birthday, not with Ice’s health and Maverick being deployed but Ice tells him to get dressed and that he’s going out. Tamsin and Petra were already picked up by Melissa, her coming in and checking on Ice before decrying that he still needed to rest.

“Uncle Slider?”

“Hey kid. Come on. I’m taking you out.”

“Uh. Okay?”

“It’s fine. Ice and Maverick both know. This is a sanctioned mission.”

Bradley laughs then, follows him out to his car. They end up in a military bar, not definitively army or navy or air force but something of a mix, a neutral territory.

“Everyone, this here is Bradley Bradshaw. Goose’s boy.”

Oh. Holy shit.

These are all people who knew his dad. That definitely know Iceman and Maverick. Maybe not about them being a couple, and he’s not going to say anything. Names and callsigns, he doesn’t know what names belongs to who, but Wolfman, Merlin, Jester, Sundown, Chipper, Warlock. Nearly all of the 1986 Top Gun class his dad was part of and he feels Slider’s hand pat his shoulder as he goes up to get a round of drinks. The stories start then. and he understands the need for the alcohol now. And the neutral territory. They’ll all be able to walk out and leave this behind them.

He doesn’t say much, just listens intently and wishes he could take notes. His dad, his parents, have never felt so alive than they do right now, everyone talking about them. The jokes and pranks his dad played, his fierce loyalty, his patience. His mom’s ability to put them in their place with a look, but her sense of humor and love of life. Also her view that RIOs were better than pilots. He hasn’t ever heard Maverick or Ice say that, but then again this isn’t something they ever talk about. Apparently many of these men used to visit when he was little, and he hates having to admit that he doesn’t remember many of them, lost to childhood.

“Do you play?” the one Bradley thinks is Merlin asks, head jerking toward the piano.

“What?”

“Do you play the piano? Your old man was pretty talented. Pretty sure half the women Maverick picked up were only because he had Goose as his wingman.”

Slider coughs a sip of his beer and Bradley catches his eye. Slider knows and Maverick and Ice, he knows he does. The idea of Maverick picking up anyone that isn’t Ice sits in his gut oddly, even if they seem to ignore each other a lot of the time.

“Yeah… I can play. I’m part of the D’n’B, as well as the choir at USNA.”

“Oh great, come on then. Great Balls of Fire for us old timers aye?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

… … …

Later, when he lets them back into the house, Slider apparently staying in the guest room, he sets the coffee machine going when Slider accepts the offer of coffee.

“You seem pretty at home here.”

“It is home. Even more than Mav’s place really. Mav comes here more often than Ice goes there. There’s room for the girls and for me.”

“Ah yes. The girls,” Slider says, letting out a huff of breath which Bradley isn’t sure how to take. Disbelief, annoyance? He’s not sure. “The lengths Ice has gone to keep himself safe. Well. Him and Maverick I suppose.”

“Oh. Yeah. Widower and divorcee. Just friends…” Bradley mutters, because he knows now, now that he’s a bit older, that Maverick and his mom marrying tidied several things up legally, but also offered something for Pete to fall back on. Grieving widow not prepared to marry again, no woman will ever measure up to his late wife, Etc. etc. Slider hums, takes a sip of his coffee and studies Bradley over the rim of the mug.

“I know you’re at USNA and you’re keeping it quiet just how… entrenched your upbringing has been in the Navy, but I just thought I’d let you know you aren’t alone, no matter how it might feel. Tonight, thought I’d try and show you that level of brotherhood. Any one of those men would help you out.”

“Uh, thanks Uncle Slider.”

“Don’t mention it. Now. Have Ice and Mav pulled their heads out of their respective asses yet, or are they still not talking?”

“Oh. I thought that might be the case…” Bradley says, letting out a long sigh at having his suspicions confirmed,

“Neither of them have told you?”

“No.”

“Huh. Well. They’re both stubborn jackasses and can’t tell each other that they love each other with normal words.”

“What happened?”

“Maverick got new deployment orders, said he was going to put in a special request. Ice said he’d breakup with him if he did that. Which went as well as you can imagine. I didn’t hear the yelling, but Sarah tells me it was impressive.”

Bradley groans.

“Ice also said he wants to break up with him because he shouldn’t be burdening Mav with a dying man, which I thought was a bit melodramatic myself. Clearly he’s spending too much time with Maverick. Anyway, they said they’d talk when Mav got back.”

“God they’re idiots. And Ice isn’t dying. Melissa told me he’s going to be fine.”

“That they are. I wish I could say they’ve mellowed with age, but they haven’t. Gotten more stubborn. Your father and I used to despair of them getting their shit together.”

“Do you really think they have their shit together? Even now?”

Slider makes a you’ve got me there expression and shrugs his shoulders.

“At least they’re… more together than they were. Even if they have to deny they’re anything more than friends. Having to hear them make comments about being like brothers when someone questions how close they are… it’s all a bit messed up.”

“Yeah. it is.”

“How are you handling it all?”

“Handling what?”

Slider just gives him a look like he thinks Bradley is an idiot.

“Your step-father is deployed, your other father figure is sick. You’re about to start your third year at boat school all while… keeping a big part of your identity under wraps. Ice had me. Mav had your dad. Tell me you have someone.”

“Oh.”

“Oh is right kid. Hell. Neither of them did it alone. They had people who had their backs.”

“I don’t have anyone. But. I could. She’s…”

“She?”

“Yeah, wild concept I know, but they let women serve in the Navy now.”

Slider rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Lord you’re an ass. You’re both the best and worst of them all.”

“What do you mean?” Bradley asks.

“Your dad, your mom, Mav and Ice. You remind me of them all at different times. Just then you were all Ice, but earlier, all I could see was your Dad. And Carole. Then I see you with Tamsin and Petra and all I see is Maverick with you when you were little.”

“Oh.”

“Makes me feel old.”

“Surely getting old beats the alternative,” Bradley says, and he means it as a joke, before realizing that the alternative is death, and given his parents, and Ice’s cancer and Maverick currently being deployed it’s far too close to home.

“Shit kid, you’ve gone pale. Take a pew. It does beat the alternative. You’re right. It’s a privilege getting to watch you grow up. And my own kids. Maverick and Ice are proud of you. I hope they tell you that.”

“Uh, no. Not really. I want to make them proud though.”

“Well, they tell me every time I talk to them. They’re not the best with words.”

“Yeah. I do know that.”

“Try and be better than them. Trust someone.”

“I’ll try.”

… … …

His palms are clammy when he places the call, waiting for Natasha to pick up. She meant to be arriving Sunday afternoon, but if she can change her bus ticket then… he can try this whole trust thing.

“Hey Natasha.”

“Bradley. What’s with the phone call?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come and stay for a couple of nights before we start our stint on the carrier.”

“Seriously? You offering up accommodation?”

“Yeah. You want to meet my kid sisters?”

“They are the superior Bradshaws.”

“Ha. Yeah. Um.”

“Are you asking me out? Is this a weird date thing?”

“No! No. Just. Definitely not. Not a romantic thing. Not at all. I am definitely not interested in you like that at all. Ever. Never will be.”

“Wow. Okay. Thanks for that ego boost.”

“Shit. No. Look. You’re my best friend. Can we just… talk when you arrive?”

“There has to be a talk? For friends? Why… oh. Okay. Right. Holy shit. Of course. I’ll see you Friday. Can you pick me up from the bus station?”

“Yeah. Course.”

… … …

Later afternoon on the Friday he sees her step off the bus and grins, raises a hand in greeting and then she’s shoving her bag into his chest while she hitches her garment bag over her shoulder.

“Come on. Take me home sailor…”

“Ugh. Don’t say it like that.”

Natasha snickers at his expression and they talk about her visit to her cousin, which he understands is one of her few family members that talks to her. He’s not sure what she’s done exactly that has made them angry at her, but he’s hoping that they might be able to exchange stories, he just has to take that leap of faith and open up first.

He stops in driveway of Ice’s house, rests his hands on the steering wheel and wonders if he should say something. Prepare her. It’s not even been a month since they left boat school for their short three weeks of leave. Nothing has changed and yet he’s about to do something risky.

“I’ve sort of got a complicated family.”

“You and everyone else. You’re not special.”

“No. I know I’m not. I don’t want to be. Just… this is my uncle’s house. He’s the father of my sisters.”

“So, they’re actually your cousins?”

“Well. Tom isn’t related to me by blood at all. But he was my second legal guardian. I lived with him and his wife when my step-father was deployed.”

Her eye snap to him then and he licks his lips.

“Should we go inside? I can introduce you to my uncle. Uh. He’s got cancer, recovering from an operation from a few weeks ago.”

He doesn’t give her much choice, slides out of the car and grabs her bag, not going around to open her door because he wouldn’t for any of his friends and she is just that. Maybe the closest thing he’ll ever have to a grown adult sister if this whole weekend pans out like he’s hoping it will. She follows him and when he pushes the door open and kicks off his shoes Ice is in the kitchen making some tea, a herbal one that makes the kitchen smell earthy and sweet. Apparently one of the few things that helps the soreness in his throat.

“Hey Ice. This is my friend Natasha Trace. Natasha, this is my uncle Tom, also known as Rear Admiral Kazansky.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” Natasha says, smiling tightly and she shoots Bradley a small glare.

“And you Natasha. No titles inside the house necessary. Or out of uniform. Welcome. I’m sure Bradley will make you feel welcome and show you around. I’m just going to go and do some reading.”

“You’re meant to be resting,” Bradley states.

“Turning pages in a book isn’t exactly taxing Bradley,” Ice says, rolling his eyes. “Also why you’re on hosting duties. I’ll be in my study.”

He watches Ice walk away, glances to where Natasha is also watching him and then she’s turning to him, eyes flashing and stepping in close.

“Rear Admiral! Your uncle is a Rear Admiral!”

“I did say it was sort of complicated. Uh, and that isn’t all of it. You want a drink?”

“Do you have beer?”

“Sure,” Bradley states, because while he doesn’t drink very often, he knows Ice isn’t going to be angry if he offers a guest a bottle. First he shows her the guest bedroom so they can leave her gear, before leading her out to the back garden, both holding bottles of beer.

“So… if having a Rear Admiral as an uncle isn’t all of it, what is all of it?”

“Well. My stepfather is currently deployed. His full name is Captain Peter Mitchell, callsign Maverick.”

“The guy with the air-to-air kills. Oh my god. Ice is Iceman.”

“Yeah. There’s more. My dad was a RIO. He flew with Maverick. Um,” he swallows against the tightness in his throat. “He died in a training exercise. Nick Bradshaw, callsign Goose. I was three.”

“Holy shit. I just thought you were going to tell me you were gay.”

“Well. That too. But I figured I’d get the more shocking stuff out of the way first.”

She lets out a huff of amusement and Bradley knocks his shoulder against hers, his stomach churning with nerves.

“It’s fine. I’m not telling anyone. So… your sisters are Kazansky’s kids?”

“Yeah. His ex-wife Sarah has them tonight, but she’s dropping them off tomorrow.”

“Okay, so it is a little complicated. I’ll give you that.”

They sit in silence for a bit but then he hears the roar of a bike and he stiffens, immediately alert. Then the front door is opening and he’s heading towards it, heart racing.

“Ice! I’m home. Bradley?”

Ice has beaten him, his study is closest to the front door and Bradley wonders if he knew Mav might be home early. He wasn’t meant to get back for months. Wasn’t meant to see Bradley, not that he’s paying any attention to him right now, his hands are on Ice’s face, pulling him down into a kiss, words being exchanged between them too quiet for him to hear. He glances back to see that Natasha has followed him, her eyes wide as she looks at Ice and Mav kissing in the hall. Bradley can’t help but look back. He’s never seen them like this, and he guesses it’s after a fight and a deployment, however short, and there’s definitely passion and depth of emotion there. Pretty sure there isn’t going to be any further talk of breaking up.

He turns to Natasha.

“We should go out for dinner. Come on. My shout.”

He can get Ice or Mav to pay him back later, pretty sure they’ll appreciate the alone time right now. He hugs Mav hello and goodbye, does the briefest of introductions and lets them know they’ll be back later.

… … …

“God I hate you for making you go,” Pete says, his lips placing soft kisses along his jaw. “I love you more than I hate you though.”

Tom lets his hands run down Pete’s chest, trembling slightly because as much as he’d pushed him to go, he’s so glad to have him back. He’s also glad that Bradley has just upped and left them alone, because he doesn’t think he has it in him to hold back and remain stoic in the face of Maverick safely returned to him once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you go. I just…”

“Don’t ever make me leave you again. Not when you need me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. But I’ll let you believe it if you need to.”

“Pete…” his voice sounds rough and broken to his own ears and he wraps his arm around him. “I’m sorry.”

“No more talking of setting me free, or being a burden okay? You are mine you hear me?”

Tom nods, throat tight.

He’s not going to ask how or why he’s back two months earlier than planned.

Doesn’t care.

… … …

He knows he made the right call when he and Natasha return a few hours later, having decided to also see a movie. He walks in and he does a double take, Ice and Mav were clearly lying with each other on the sofa, although they’re in the process of separating when they see them. He wants to tell them they don’t have to, that it doesn’t bother him, then he realizes that it maybe bothers them, having other people see them like that. They excuse themselves to bed and he guesses it’s too late for them to try and slip back into the closet with regards to Natasha knowing. He knows that wasn’t in the plan. Mav isn’t meant to be here, but he’s pretty sure Ice isn’t going to be sending him back to his own house anytime soon. He should let Slider know they pulled their heads out of their asses.

The next morning they’re sitting around the table, quietly drinking coffee and eating, discussing plans for the day when he hears the knock at the front door. Then it’s opening, he grins across at Ice and Mav, glances at Natasha with a smile on his face.

“Tamsin and Petra.”

That’s all the warning they get, there’s the sound of running feet, then excited gasps and…

“Papa! Papa! You’re home!”

Oh shit, he’d forgotten about Petra and Tamsin both calling Mav Papa. And of course they’re going to be excited to see him. Tamsin hops onto Ice’s lap and gives him a kiss on his cheek and he’s automatically pushing the hot drinks to the center of the table where they’re less likely to get knocked. Then Sarah and Melissa are walking in, looking tired and Melissa is still in scrubs. Bradley does the introductions, watches Natasha’s face as he deliberately drops and her wife Melissa. He’s pretty sure he’s just earnt the complicated family descriptor, because she’s looking at Maverick and Petra, then Ice and Tamsin, immediately seeing the resemblance he didn’t see until last year.

He knows everything is going to be fine though, Natasha compliments Tamsin’s t-shirt and Petra’s hair clips, and immediately the novelty of someone new to talk to is there, increasing the level of chatter. Natasha looks thrilled, immediately moving to sit on the ground so they can play with her hair. He looks up to find Ice and Mav both watching him and he mouths what at them, trying to figure out what they’re thinking.

They sure as hell know Natasha isn’t there as a potential girlfriend, although given that Tamsin has just asked that very question and Natasha has explained that no, she is definitely not Bradley’s girlfriend, just a friend of his from school. That’s when they make the connection of her being the one who drew the pictures and she’s dragged away to do coloring. He turns on them.

“What?”

“Just thinking that you’ve got the same luck we had in picking good friends is all,” Ice states, and Bradley glances to where Natasha has been taken by his kid sisters.

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

CHAPTER FIVE - 2004

#Saga of Solitude #IceMav #Hangster #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction

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crossroadsofchaos · 6 months ago

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Retired Leaders AU Info Masterpost

Figured I'd compile basic info about this AU into one big post.

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THE BASICS:

It's a "Good Uncle" kind of AU, where Belos is a better person. He actually tried to unite the realms, because he believed it would be beneficial for both, but it was doomed from the start and went horribly wrong. He has publicly admitted to and apologized for his wrongdoings and resigned from his position, and the Coven System was abolished. His family occupied leadership positions within his Coven and also left those roles behind, hence the AU's title.

I refer to the family as the Wolf Fam. It consists of Belos, Steven, Hunter and Kiki, along with their palismen. They all live together in a newly built house.

THE CHARACTERS:

This isn't a list of all characters that exist, just the Wolf Fam and a handful of others, mostly OCs.

Belos Wittebane (he/him; mid 410s): Former Lord of the Boiling Isles; now a palisman carver; husband of Steven.

Steven Bellamy (he/him; 53 y/o): Husband of Belos; former Head of the Lord's Coven; now a P.E. teacher at Hexside.

Hunter Wittebane (he/him; 17 y/o): Nephew of Belos, raised by him and Steven; former Golden Guard; now mainly focused on pursuing his interest in engineering and tech.

Kikimora Volk (she/her; mid 20s): A sort of adopted daughter to Belos and Steven and adopted sister to Hunter; former Secretary; now works at a history museum.

Crescent (they/them): A floating snow leopard palisman belonging to Belos.

Ash (he/him, they/them): A dark gray wolf palisman belonging to Steven.

Waffles (she/her, they/them): A winged red wolf palisman belonging to Hunter.

Grusha (she/her): A spotted hyena palisman belonging to Kiki.

Jasper Tholomule (he/him; 44 y/o): Younger half-brother of Steven; father of Matt; husband of Cass.

Cassidy "Cass" Tholomule (they/them, she/her; 44 y/o): Spouse of Jasper; stepparent of Matt.

Matthew "Matt" Tholomule (he/him; 13 y/o): Biological son of Jasper and stepson of Cass; nephew of Steven.

Leslie Bellamy (she/her; 80s): Mother of Steven and Jasper; grandmother of Matt; wife of Opal.

Opal Bellamy (she/her; 80s): Wife of Leslie; stepmother of Steven and biological mother of Jasper; grandmother of Matt.

Ren Kanemaru (they/them; 53 y/o): Steven's childhood friend; former scout.

Valerie "Val" Durand (she/her; 54 y/o): Best friend of Steven and Ren, who they met after joining the Lord's Coven; former scout.

Petra Barany (she/her; mid 20s): Best friend and former assistant of Kiki.

That's about enough I think, I won't be including the rest here. One thing to note is that the Collector doesn't exist in this version.

And you may have also noticed that "Steve" is a little different. I created this version back when we only had one scene with Steve and had no idea he was going to get a face reveal and more canon info, and I just chose not to change the name after that happened. So Steve technically exists, but it's not canon Steve. They do have some similarities though.

THE STORY:

Back in the 1600s, Philip did not kill Caleb, and reluctantly gave the Boiling Isles a chance. Though resisting it at every turn, he ultimately fell in love with it. He developed the belief that uniting the two realms would be beneficial for both, combining the less dangerous climate of Earth with the more open and progressive culture of the Isles. After Caleb died in an accident during the search for one of the ingredients for the portal door, Philip only became more committed to the idea.

He began to do extensive research into magic, digging for as much information as he could find, which included looking into lost and forbidden magic. The latter is how he discovered both Grimwalkers and a way to extend one's life by consuming palismen. As he formed a coherent plan for how to enact his goal, he began trying out his messaging on small groups of witches to see what works, as well as testing out Coven sigils on the earliest ones until they worked as intended. He also took the name Belos and began to wear a mask.

Slightly over 50 years ago he took power as the Lord of the Boiling Isles, becoming the chief religious figure and a sort of constitutional monarch, with his fourth Grimwalker nephew, Anthony, by his side as the Golden Guard. There was an elected government responsible for things like deciding on budgets and passing legislation unrelated to the Coven System, however Belos had ultimate authority and could override any decision. He largely stayed out of their affairs unless he thought what they were doing would undermine his ultimate goal.

However, his plan to unite the realms was doomed from the start. When he attempted to do it on the Day of Unity, it went horribly wrong and shattered his hopes. The Unification Spell didn't work and was simply draining people of magic. It ended abruptly once Belos's staff, through which the spell was channeled, exploded. He, Hunter and the Hexsquad barely escaped the blast by leaving through the portal door. They ended up stuck in the Human Realm for a time, before finding the same way back as they did in canon.

Belos publicly admitted that he had lied about speaking to the Titan, and that the plan to unite the realms was his own doomed idea. He apologized and resigned, with Steven, Hunter and Kiki following him. The Coven System was abolished, and the Isles became more of an actual democracy, without a single individual with ultimate authority being able to override the decisions of the elected government, which also became more transparent.

Belos helped with restoration efforts where damage had been caused on the Day of Unity, and he later took up palisman carving and caring for palismen in general to make up for consuming them to extend his own life. He also released many palismen souls that were previously trapped inside him, and is now aging at a more regular pace. Though some remain, in part because they have fused with his curse - he was cursed long ago, in a similar way to Eda, and his curse is a wolfcat. Both conditions have physically affected him, giving him scars, catlike pupils, sharp fangs, ability to purr, and making him much bigger than he was originally.

EXTRA:

spirituality on the Isles

Belos didn't invent a religion from scratch, but rather built on and expanded - or, to put it more harshly, exploited - already existing spiritual beliefs related to the Titan in order to achieve his goal of uniting the realms.

Before Belos, the Titan was rarely (if ever) viewed as a higher authority who, through messengers, gave witches rules to live by. He was mainly seen and respected as the origin of the Isles and all life on it. People thanked him for their existence, their magic, their harvests, etc. and payed tribute to him, but that was largely it. The prevalence of spirituality/religion has gone down over time.

Belos's rise to power with the claim of him being "the Titan's messenger" caused a resurgence of spirituality/religiosity, with him being seen as the authority on the matter by his followers. It has declined again once it was revealed that he hadn't actually spoken to the Titan.

glyphs

They were in frequent use by ancient witches, in part due to them having weaker natural magic and having to rely more on magical tools than modern witches. Over time, they fell out of common use and were limited to specific spiritual/religious rituals, and then only became more rare over time.

Disabled witches who had weak or no natural magic would simply rely on their staffs, due to which they wouldn't rediscover glyphs out of necessity. On top of that, when knowledge of glyphs was still more common, it may have been taboo to use them for non-spiritual/religious purposes.

Covens

There have been a number of different Coven systems throughout history. Some Covens were based around familial ties, some were based around what kinds of magic people specialized in, some were simply regional, etc. Though sigils had not been used before, and it was possible to move between Covens, with the level of difficulty depending on the type of Covens in question. Whether it was legal to be Covenless may have varied as well, with it being illegal in some places at some points in time. When Belos rose to power, he chose to use the specialization-based model of Covens to sort people into.

With Belos's system gone, the concept of Covens wasn't completely abandoned, but rather became non-official and based on voluntary participation, as opposed to a legally mandated system that also restricted what types of magic people could use.

the structure of Belos's government

As mentioned previously, it was a sort of constitutional monarchy. Belos was the Lord of the Boiling Isles, it's main religious figure and ultimate authority, but there was an elected government, responsible for things like budgets and passing legislation. Belos could override any decision they made.

The Head Witches of the main nine Covens were originally appointed by Belos alone, but after Terra turned out to be a disastrous choice and had to be pushed out, he handed the appointment process over to the elected government, and would now simply confirm or deny their appointments. Those officials could be bribed, though, to appoint someone who shouldn't necessarily hold a position of power, like Adrian. Belos tried to keep an eye on such issues - or more so tasked others with doing so, but some still slipped through.

The Lord's Coven was a separate branch of government, entirely under Belos's control, though he tended to be somewhat reclusive, so day-to-day coordination and such was largely handled by other high-ranking members of the Coven.

The top leadership originally consisted of three positions: the Lord (Belos), the Secretary (first Winston, later Kiki) and the Golden Guard (first Anthony, later Hunter). The third position was later split into two, the Golden Guard and the Head of the Lord's Coven (first Lilith, later Steven), with the latter taking on some of the former's responsibilities, which allowed Belos to keep Hunter in the castle more for his safety.

The Lord's Coven was the Isles' military, and they performed other tasks and missions for Belos as well, such as finding abandoned palismen for him to consume as "medicine" - something he agreed was unfortunate, and claimed he was looking for an alternative to - and searching for Titan's Blood. Regular law enforcement was typically done by members of other Covens, though some scouts, mostly newer ones, could get the assignment. Usually, experienced scouts were only brought in for emergencies, or to deal with particularly powerful criminals.

the basilisks

The basilisks were not tortured and were generally treated better than in canon, but they were made to do things they didn't like, and were still kept in captivity, in part out of concern that they'd start attacking people if released out in the wild, and they were unhappy with their lives, so they still escaped.

The basilisk that attacked the schools in season 1 had always had behavior problems, possibly a combination of being the earliest and thus least correctly created, as well as being mishandled by those responsible for their care. They have since been treated, and are no longer dangerous.

Vee had complicated feelings about Belos, but was not terrified of him when she saw him in the Human Realm, especially once he made it clear he had no intention of forcing her to return to captivity.

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thefandomwritersblog · 6 months ago

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Ghost of the Ten

Horizon: Forbidden West

Hekarro x Fem!OldOne OC

Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 21

Part 3: Ghost of the Ten

"Hope is this thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all." --Emily Dickinson

Day Whatever The Fuck This Is,

I still think this whole diary thing is the stupidest thing on the planet, but….

Beta gets so proud every time she sees the charcoal stains on my hands. She says that she’s proud of me for trying, even if I do think this whole exercise is pointless. She’s a cute kid, her and her sister, though they couldn’t be anymore different than night and day. Beta’s a quiet kid, she likes to keep to herself, fiddle with little machines she tinkers with. She showed me a workshop that Petra set up for her in the Oseram Camp, she’s been helping them build the cranes the workers are gonna use to repair the crater walls.

Aloy’s the tough one, though. I can see it in her eyes; a hardness there that I know all too well. Like she had to build a wall between herself and the entire world. But when she’s with Beta I can see that wall soften, I can see the love and care they have for each other. It should make me angry; I don’t have that anymore. But all it does is just make me sad. Petra says that I’m incredible, but I just feel lost and lonely all the time despite how hard everyone is trying to keep me going. I wish they’d just stop.

It’d be so much easier to give up if they didn’t care.

The room was quiet aside from Victoria’s soft humming, who sat at her desk with a piece of charcoal in hand. Her fingers glided effortlessly over the parchment, leaving behind a trail of dark dust that she skillfully shaped into precise and purposeful strokes. As she worked, her gaze would occasionally drift to the delicate orchid sitting on the edge of her desk, its dewy petals glistening in the morning sun. She took a moment to appreciate its beauty before returning to her sketch. With each movement of the charcoal, she captured the intricate details of the flower's petals, carefully blending and shading to create depth and texture. She lost herself in the calming focus of her task until she finally leaned back to admire her work, the orchid nearly mirrored on the parchment.

It felt good to have some time for this again. She struggled to recall the last time she had sat and drawn; definitely before the Swarm. Victoria furrowed her brow as her gaze drifted to the wall above her desk. She remembered arguing with Maria then, though she couldn't quite recall what started the fight. She was home for the first time in months, sitting with a canvas and some paint in her apartment while her mama fussed around in the kitchen. Maria wanted her to take a break from her humanitarian work overseas - there had been a health scare and she just wanted their family together. But Victoria was always away, hardly ever returning for holidays or even calling (a guilt that still gnawed at her).

She had been determined not to budge. She finally found a career that brought fulfillment and purpose; something that made her feel like she was really making a difference.

It wasn't until after the Faro Plague reached its peak that Victoria spoke to Maria again, but even then it didn't feel like they had reconciled.

She should have spent more time with them. She should have been there.

Why are you alive and they’re not.

Closing her eyes, Victoria tried to block out the voices in her head.

“Victoria?” Hekarro called out from the other side of the curtained door, “May I come in?”

She frowned; he sounded sterner than usual. “Yeah.” she replied, “Sure.”

He ducked through, all dressed for business today in his armor and crown. He greeted her with a polite smile, but she could tell he was here for a purpose. Victoria then noticed the extra shuffle of feet and murmurs of voices outside the door, and then was surprised to see Dekka enter soon after Hekarro.

"I apologize for interrupting your peace, Victoria," Hekarro said with a slight bow and hand over his heart, “But I fear I must ask you to leave your room for a time.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"There is a storm approaching from the west," Hekarro explained, "and we need to prepare the Grove before it arrives. Your room needs to be secured as soon as possible."

Dekka stepped forward and offered her a smile, “I can imagine you don't want to share your space while others are working, so I thought I'd ask if you'd like to join me for breakfast until they're done."

Victoria hesitated for a moment before muttering, "Sure, why not?" She moved the journal aside and got up from her spot. Hekarro gave her another smile as she walked past him and out the door, with Dekka close behind. The Tenakth guards quickly averted their gazes when they saw Victoria, their conversation falling into an uneasy silence. Dekka motioned towards the left down the hallway leading to the crater. She looked up at the bright blue sky as they stepped onto the crater's edge, following it towards the Maw.

"Didn't Hekarro say there would be a storm?" she asked. Dekka nodded and shooed away some of the guards away from the gates.

"Don't be deceived by the clear sky. Even on the outskirts of the Lowlands, a storm can appear before you know it. But for those who are aware, there are signs that give away its approach. The winds have been picking up from the west, and it carries the scent of thunder and rain. Our luck also held with a messenger from Thornmarsh arriving to warn us beforehand."

They entered the dimly lit mess hall, which was mostly empty except for a small group of exhausted Tenakth gathered around a table in one corner. In the center of the room stood a large, well-stocked kitchen with a blazing fire and a boar roasting on a spit. The delicious aroma filled her senses as they approached the counter, where a small Tenakth woman was bustling around cleaning.

"Chaplain," the woman greeted, "I was wondering if you would come by this morning."

Dekka chuckled, "It's been quite a busy start to the day."

"I heard. Poor thing ran all the way here from Thornmarsh. I made sure to give him some food; he's sleeping now."

"Good. Two bowls for us this morning." Dekka paused, thinking for a moment. "And also the Strike board, if you don't mind."

The cook grinned, "Right away, Chaplain."

The woman set to work in an instant, bringing over an intriguing-looking board and a heavy leather bag for Dekka to take. Both were handed to Victoria and she was directed towards a table against the far wall. "Could you bring these over there?"

"Uhhhh, sure?" Victoria responded with a shrug, doing as she was told. Dekka followed closely behind, carrying two piping hot bowls of breakfast. Once they reached the table, Victoria settled into her seat while Dekka sat across from her, placing one of the bowls in front of her before turning her attention to the board. As she removed tile pieces from the bag and arranged them on the board, Victoria couldn't help but watch curiously as she ate her rice, meat, and eggs. “Am I allowed to ask what we’re doing?”

The older woman chuckled, "Of course, there are no secrets here." She pulled out what looked like game pieces from the bag. Victoria picked one up and immediately recognized it as a machine similar to the one Aloy had saved her from. "We're going to play Machine Strike, or Strike for short. It's a simple game played on this board with different landscape tiles that determine movement and defense. Since you're new to the game, we'll stick with grassland tiles which offer no penalties or advantages. Then we choose our pieces, each worth a certain number of setup points. If your opponent destroys your machine, they receive those points. Each set can only have pieces whose points add up to ten. The first player to reach seven points or eliminate all of their opponent's machines wins. Each piece also has its own attack and defense powers listed at the bottom. Any questions?"

Victoria shrugged, shifting in her seat for comfort and leaning forward. “No, but I learn better by doing anyway.”

Dekka smirked, “Then pick your pieces.”

They fell into a comfortable as Victoria carefully picked out her Strike pieces, eventually deciding on a few that caught her eye. Dekka instructed her on how to position the pieces on the board, humming softly as they set up the game. "Bristleback, Bellowback, and Scrapper. An interesting combination choice. Let's see how it plays out. You first.”

The game started slowly, with Victoria stumbling through her turns as Dekka patiently corrected and guided her. Predictably, Victoria lost the first game by a landslide. She was allowed to switch out some of her pieces for the second round, choosing a Leaplasher instead of the Bellowback and a Grazer instead of the burrower. This time, she put up more of a fight but still ended up losing. Dekka smiled at her as they both collected their pieces and returned them to their respective sides of the board, nearly forgetting about their bowls in the process.

"You catch on quickly," Dekka commented. "I'm impressed. But your tendency to rush blindly into battle won't do you any favors in a strategy game like this."

“Yeah, mi mama always used to tell me I was too hotheaded for my own good.” Victoria chuckled and began gathering up her pieces, adding the Burrower back on her side of the board.

“A trait that has its time and place,” Dekka replied, the game starting again. She hummed as Victoria moved across the board, hesitate, then looked up at her with a curious look in her eye, “How are you adjusting?”

“Fine,” Victoria shrugged, “I guess.”

“I'm glad to hear that. I'll admit I was worried about you for a while,” Dekka said, her focus back on the Strike board. “It's good to see that you've been going on more walks with Hekarro and Beta lately.”

“Well, it's not like they give me much of a choice,” Victoria grumped.

Dekka laughed heartily, “I suppose they don't. Beta can be quite stubborn in her own way. And I know the Chief well enough to know he wouldn't let you languish if he could help it.”

Victoria tried not to perk up at that and instead focused on her next move, frowning when Dekka's Plowhorn took out her Burrower. “You've known Hekarro for a long time then?”

"Since he was just a little boy. I still remember the day he was born, so small compared to his parents. Oh, how proud they would be of him now. He's become more of a legend than a mere man these days."

"Hekarro? Small?" Victoria couldn't help but smirk, and Dekka chuckled again.

"It's hard to believe, isn't it? There was a time when we were worried he wouldn't make it. Life was tough for the Clans back then. The Clan Wars claimed Hekarro's parents before he could even walk, so how could a young boy like that survive in our world? But even at such a young age, you could tell Hekarro was sharp. Much sharper than most people gave him credit for, much more adaptable. That served him well during those early years. And when he finally came into his own, after spending years at Fenrise, under the supervision of the Enduring, his cleverness only made him a force to be reckoned with.”

Victoria moved her Leaplasher closer to Dekka's Grazer, smirking as she destroyed Dekka's Scrounger. "So is that how Hekarro became chief?"

"In part," Dekka replied, retaliating by taking out the Leaplasher with her Plowhorn. "Hekarro was Commander of Thornmarsh before becoming chief. He led the Lowland Clan to numerous victories against the Desert and Sky Clans."

Victoria scowled at the game board. "You’d mentioned a Clan War."

"Exactly so," Dekka confirmed. "A war that lasted countless generations, since our tribe's founding. Differences in lifestyle and interpretations of the Visions found in the Grove led to conflicts, which only fueled more resentment and retaliation among the clans. It wasn't uncommon for Tenakth to die at a very young age back then."

"So, what? Hekarro was just a warlord then? How did he become chief if you all couldn't even get along? What changed?"

There was a long pause as Dekka strategized her next move with her Plowhorn, "Hekarro changed. Don't let his current demeanor fool you, Victoria. He is still a formidable warrior, and like all warriors, he had ambition. The Grove has always been sacred to us, even before the unification of the Tenakth. What better way for Hekarro to solidify his legacy and legend than by laying claim to something no one else ever could? And when he stood among the fallen in the aftermath of his victory, your Mother's Vision came to him alone. Anne Faraday's call for peace resonated with him, and it changed him. It changed all of us, and our lives have only been better because of it. Without her Vision, I doubt our tribe would still exist today."

Victoria moved her Grazer back and inched her Bellowback forward, “How so?”

“Not long after we united under Chief Hekarro, a tribe from the east began to lay waste to our Utaru allies across the mountains. This conflict became known as the Red Raids, and if we had been fighting amongst ourselves instead of joining the Utaru against a common enemy, it's likely we would have been wiped out. Then came the Derangement of the machines, the Blight, the Blood Choke… All of which we survived because we were stronger together as a Tribe, than apart as the Clans.”

Dekka emerged triumphant after the third round, taking the board and bowls to the counter while Victoria was lost in her own thoughts. The fact that she had slept for a thousand years hit her with full force once again. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the rich history of the tribe she coexisted with, and even harder to dismiss the impact her mother had on it all. She couldn't help but feel frustrated that even after a millennium and with Anne long gone, Victoria was still unable to escape her mother's shadow.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked over to see Hekarro entering the mess hall. The Tenakth in the corner immediately perked up, greeting their chief loudly as he walked past them. Hekarro stopped to chat with them, filling the room with laughter and his deep baritone voice. It was hard to reconcile this man with the image of a bloodthirsty warlord. While Hekarro could be stern when necessary, Victoria couldn't imagine him being terrifying or merciless when he had worried about her enough to force her to eat and accompany her on walks just so she wouldn't be alone. And hanging orchid vines above her bedroom tree because they made her happy? A warlord just… wouldn’t do something like that. Maybe, deep down, he had always had the capacity to care about others because people like what he was before hardly ever changed.

“Victoria?” Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up, surprised to see Hekarro's warm, honey-gold gaze. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed him approaching her. He tilted his head and smiled softly, “Is everything alright?”

She shook her head, “Yeah, sorry. My mind was somewhere else.”

“It is of no consequence, Victoria. We’ve finished securing your room, and are free to return to it when you want. Did you enjoy your morning with Dekka?”

Victoria shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. She taught me how to play Strike? And she taught me a little of your tribe’s history.”

Hekarro chuckled, “I fear much of our history is quite tedious across the generations.” He watched her as she stood, a curious look in his eye as he fell into an easy stride next to her. Victoria nodded as they left the mess hall and veered right towards the gates to the main road.

“Yeah, Dekka said you tribe suffered from Clan Wars and… the Red Raids?”

“Yes, we did. I suppose it must be ironic for you, considering your own experiences with this place. A monument to death and loss, as you called it. Something that the Tenakth can't seem to escape.”

"You're working towards a new name for it though. A different history.” As they walked down the road, she furrowed her brow and looked out at the ruins. “Maybe… maybe losing your past isn't entirely a bad thing."

“Why do you say that?”

"Well, sometimes it's easier to let go of a curse if you don't know its origins." She hesitated before adding, "This place used to bring you comfort, but now it's tainted because I can't let go of everything it took from me. You have the opportunity to give it a new purpose."

They paused to look over the museum—The Grove— and Hekarro hummed softly at her side, offering another smile that sent her nerves fluttering in her stomach, “A purpose, I should think, that I hope you get to see, Victoria. A poetic justice to see this monument turned from death and loss to one of hope.”

“Yeah…maybe…”

Day Whatever The Fuck This Is,

Note to self, learn how to play Strike better.

I challenged Petra to a match and got my ass kicked, and if I have to hear her gloat one more time over it, I’m gonna fucking lose it.

#horizon forbidden west #hekarro #hfw #chief hekarro #ghost of the ten #hzd #horizon zero dawn #my writing #hfw fanfic #old one oc

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year ago

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it's pribe :) nijien celebrating pride month hcs

no matter where you are or where you'd like to be; how loud you wear your colors or keep them close to your chest; to everyone that can take up the room, and to everyone that needs to be safe; the ones that have their identity down to a T to the ones that have questions to the ones that don't define themselves: we are siblings, and we are beautiful as is.

so here's some vtuber fanfic lol. stay safe and have a good pride everyone!

tags: no reader insert lol, just pure pride month celebrations, also EVERY SINGLE NIJIEN VTUBER this is gonna suck to tag

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

every day is a party and every moment is a treasure. they live unapologetically, and loud, loud, loud! they eat and drink as they please, with confetti in their hair and and glitter on their skin, the music of the parade drifting in and out as the streets paint colors under their footsteps:

doppio dropscythe, luca kaneshiro, nina kosaka, selen tatsuki, vox akuma

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

not so social, but joyous nonetheless. their workspace might boast a flag, or on other days they wear their colors themselves in accessories or outfits. a sticker on their belongings. it's intimate. there is love in the everyday, pride in normalcy. they are what they are and embrace it:

ike eveland, kotoka torahime, maria marionette, reimu endou, shu yamino

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it's with their friends that they feel most at home, and most themselves. small gatherings under the overhead light. one pours a drink for the rest of their chosen family. another tells stories of where they've been, how nice it is, their latest endeavor. we're safe and calm as we are. we're here:

alban knox, elira pendora, millie parfait, rosemi lovelock, scarle yonaguni

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

what they dream is more than what could ever be, and what they dream is beautiful. memories sculpt through art and thought becomes song. words are only as much as they feel, and even though the pen is dark on the paper, the spectrum of the rainbow bleeds through the margin. their creations are their own celebration:

aia amare, enna alouette, fulgur ovid, ren zotto, uki violeta

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

indulgence is the greatest form of celebration. they feel as they feel, and who are they to reject it? especially when they're surrounded by so many that think just like them. they connect with others. sometimes for a night. sometimes two. and sometimes for years as their relationship shifts with time, always cherished:

aster arcadia, finana ryugu, meloco kyoran, mysta rias, pomu rainpuff

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

it's almost just another day for them. there's a different air as they walk, but they act as if it were any other month. they go about their business as they always have, their mind set on their own goals, but the world around them morphs into flags and color. they continue. and when they see their own flags, a surge of happiness runs through them:

hex haywire, kyo kaneko, sonny brisko, petra gurin, ver vermillion

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

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ginger-grimm · 10 months ago

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INTRODUCING: PETRA MÜLLER

Full Name: Petra Rut Müller

Birthdate: December 19th, 1998

Hair Color: Light Brown

Eye Color: Brown

Species: Werewolf

Family: Red Riding Hood (Mother, deceased), Peter Müller (Father, deceased)

Love Interest: Willa Darling

Friends: Greer Grimm, Tee Wiley, Ben Beast, Doug Dwarf, Jane Godmother

Likes: Chopping wood, caramel candies, flannels, axes, dogs, thrillers, Jane's special cookies (which were made with a lot of love, as she claims), coffee, playing guitar, climbing trees, tulips, cherries

Dislikes: Most people, hot weather, most salty foods, gossipy people

Phobias: Loss of control

Style: Lots of flannels, sturdy worker boots, and jeans, Jane and Greer give her like twenty different BFF bracelets which she feels bad if she doesn't wear, other than that she doesn't wear much jewelry, has her mother's red cape which was imbued with magic to control her transformations during the full moon

Speech: American accent, somewhat gruff voice, likes to swear around people like Audrey because it's so "unladylike" and makes them gasp every time, not afraid to get into shouting matches

Physical Quirks/Scars: She has a giant scratchmark on her left calf from where the werewolf struck her, it's healed mostly but the scar remains nonetheless, she also walks with a slight limp on the left

Personality: Hard-working, pessimistic, adventurous, generous, independent, loyal, aggressive, impulsive, unpredictable

Background: Born in the woods surrounding Auradon, Petra was raised by Red Riding Hood and a villager named Peter. They lived in her great-grandmother's cottage after she passed. Petra was raised to be vigilant and cautious of the woods. Even with that fear instilled in her, little Petra loved to be in the woods. Climb trees, do woodwork, look at plants, anything she could discover in the woods, she was into it. At twelve years old, Red and Peter were murdered by the mate of the wolf who tried to kill Red all those years ago. Petra got away badly injured but was stuck in werewolf form for the next four years. Months before the VKs arrive at Auradon Prep, Petra wakes up at the gates of school - back in her human form. Ben convinces his parents to take a chance on Petra, despite her parents not having been of royal standing. She is taken into Auradon Prep and taken under the wing of Willa Darling, Wendy Darling's daughter. As Petra tries to find the wolf who turned her and the villain kids are being admitted into the school, she begins to realize just how much the people at Auradon Prep really mean to her - especially her mentor.

Faceclaim: Sophie Nelisse

TAGLIST: @waterloou @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @richitozier @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @lucys-chen @andromedalestrange @far-shores @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe

#ocappreciation #ocapp #disney descendants oc #oc: petra müller

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tiaramania · 2 years ago

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Tiara Highlights of 2022

2022 was the year of the tiara debut with three future queens and a bunch of other people wearing their first tiara. All of my highlight picks are first tiaras and this isn't even all of them! You can check out all of the tiaras (or at least the ones I was able to find pictures of) worn during 2022 here.

Princess Fadzilah of Brunei's Wedding

Princess Fadzilah wore two of Queen Saleha's tiaras for her wedding to Abdullah Al-Hashimi in January. Both of them are massive so I'm impressed with how well she wore them for her first time wearing a tiara. Princess Fadzilah wearing the blue and pink diamond toppers but not the diamond heart made me realize that Queen Saleha's Diamond Tiara and Queen Saleha's Diamond Heart Tiara have been the same tiara all along. Also, there was a royal wedding cat who attempted to steal the show.

Tommy Dorfman at the Met Gala

The Met Gala usually provides us with a few tiara sightings and this year had even more because of the 'Gilded Glamour' theme. While many of the attendees wore bigger or more impressive tiaras, even one made specifically for the event, I keep being drawn to Tommy Dorfman wearing a Regency Era, green paste, hair-comb from Fred Leighton. This is the perfect way to wear a tiara to a fashion event. It's simple and stunning and by wearing it backwards but still placed impeccably it provides just that bit of quirkiness to make it stand out. It's different in an interesting way not just for the sake of being different. Special mention should go to Léna Mahfouf who also wore a tiara very well at an event where we saw a lot of bad ones.

Princess Ingrid Alexandra of Norway's First Tiara

The pandemic caused a bit of a backup in newly of age princesses wearing their first tiara so Princess Ingrid Alexandra's postponed 18th birthday celebrations provided not just her but also two other future queens their first opportunity to wear a tiara. The birthday girl wore a pearl and diamond tiara by Boucheron that belonged to her great-great-grandmother and was left to her by her great-aunt. I thought the Norwegian royal family did a great job of emphasizing the historical and emotional connection of Princess Ingrid Alexandra wearing the tiara and of course she looked great in it.

Princess Elisabeth of Belgium's First Tiara

The biggest surprise in Norway was actually from Princess Elisabeth of Belgium, the Duchess of Brabant. She wore a new to the family tiara that is most likely one that was once owned by the Vestey family. The Belgian royals don't have a large jewelry collection and very rarely add new pieces so it was totally unexpected but very welcome.

Princess Catharina Amalia of the Netherlands' First Tiara

Princess Catharina Amalia, the Princess of Orange, choose the Star Button Tiara for her first tiara outing. It was the one worn by her mother, Queen Maxima, on her wedding day so a very sentimental choice that she wore beautifully. Princess Catharina Amalia has spoken more than once about her love of tiaras so I'm very interested to see her explore the large Dutch collection in the future.

Sultanah Nur Diana Petra of Kelantan's First Tiara

This summer Nur Diana was elevated to the rank of Sultanah or Queen of Kelantan and in November we finally saw her in her first tiara. She choose Queen Zainab's Diamond Tiara which features the state emblem of Kelantan. I think she'll wear this one the most in the future but hopefully she wears some of the other tiaras belonging to the Kelantan royal family too.

Le Bal

There are usually tiaras at Le Bal des Débutantes in Paris every year but this year the official jeweler was an antique/estate jeweler with a huge collection of historical items instead of a contemporary jeweler which made the event so much more exciting. Six of the attendees wore a tiara or aigrette for the first time. In the top row are Leah Isadora Behn, Archduchess Sophia of Habsburg-Lorraine, and Wenhao Cai and the bottom row are Bristol Fales Hill, Princess Hélène of Orleans, and Princess Inayatinder Kaur of Patiala.

What was your favorite tiara moment of 2022?

#Tiara Talk #Princess Fadzilah #Tommy Dorfman #Princess Ingrid Alexandra #Princess Elisabeth #Princess Catharina Amalia #Sultanah Nur Diana #Leah Isadora Behn #Archduchess Sophia of Habsburg Lorraine #First Tiara #Wenhao Cai #Bristol Fales Hill #Princess Helene #Princess Inayatinder #Met Gala #Le Bal des Debutantes

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upgradeurlosersoftware · 1 month ago

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Monet Issues

ooc// okay so uh,, this one is a little different! It's a series of related scenes inspired by the song "Monet Issues" by Chase Petra (which I have deemed,, Egret's song). It is kinda dark- hehe its a bsd oc so,,, So, if I tagged you and you're not comfortable reading, then don't feel pressured to read It's much more important to me that ppl are comfortable- so pay attention to tws and plz be safe!!

tws: fighting, injury, drug abuse, neglect, child abuse, suicide, self harm (neither are exactly described in detail but they are not subtle either!), cheating, toxic/abusive family dynamics

"Disown me, don't owe me / I don't want your money / Spent too many years finding / Myself in the / Wreckage under rubble / I got myself in trouble / Offering up rebuttals / That only I can hear"

His parents stared at him with contempt. When had their expressions changed? When did fragile love crumble?

Maybe it always had been, slowly but surely falling apart and chipping away- like the ugliest ice sculpture.

"You're not listening to me-"

When had they ever? He's been saying things for forever now. Did they care?

Why didn't they see that this was wrong- their family was wrong.

Further than just the inherent brokenness of a cheating lying father and a doting ignorant mother.

"And what are we supposed for be listening to- are you really saying that it was an accident? That that sweet kid started the fight-? You broke his arm Egret-!" His father said, a suffocating disappointment permeating every word.

He learned to shut up- to stop trying to defend himself. If they wanted a son that got into fights then that's what he would do.

"'Cause blood doesn't mean a thing / When you cannot fucking breathe / And you lose yourself completely / Said blood doesn't mean a thing / When vitriol haunts your sleep / And permeates your family"

The water invading his senses was a relief. It meant things would end soon. He would be gone.

Maybe then his father would care, maybe then his mother would see the truth in front of her eyes.

Something's wrong, he's wrong, their family is wrong. Every single party full of rich snobs, every friendship- fragile and fleeting- is wrong.

As the water stains red and his lungs fill with ice cold water he thinks about this.

About his fuzzy memories from his childhood, about his family's willful ignorance, about the pills he's seen his mom take, about the women he's seen his dad take to bed.

Would this change anything? Maybe not, maybe so, either way it didn't matter- he wouldn't be there.

Then he heard shouting, and blacked out only to awaken staring at an empty white room and an empty white ceiling.

He learned that no one would be there but him. He was alone in this world- a sad truth that felt wrong.

"Giving me a name, then handing me the blame / I won't be changed"

Nothing was the same after that. Not that it had ever been right before.

But their eyes held more contempt, their words and worried stares were more oppressive than anything else.

They wanted to get rid of him. He wanted to leave. Every day of rotting away in his room to avoid his mother and getting high to forget the stares- the wrongness- was too much for him.

So he left- not that he had to work particularly hard, school was easy enough and his parents were just waiting to ship him off.

When he left, with little more than a nod from his father and a painfully tight hug and tears from his mother- which felt all too intentional with the mascara smearing down her cheeks and a faint dainty hug that would look delicate to the neighbors- he brought his life lessons with him.

He decided that he didn't need to let go of that anger, he didn't need to let go of the squirming ball of discontent that never left his chest. He would let it fester, and never allow anyone that couldn't see through that get close.

If someone wanted to be his friend, they could be that with teeth marks and open wounds that matched his own.

Except he knew no one wanted that- so he'd say that he preferred isolation.

---

tags!! @respiratory-kristem @doakarma @oscarsgallery @ezra-dark-shadow @justsigma-bsd

#bsd rp #bsd rp blog #bsd rp oc #bsd roleplay #bungo gay dogs #bungo stray dogs rp #unreality #tw sui attempt #tw sh implied #tw sh #tw parental neglect #toxic family dymanics #abusive family dynamics #tw drug abuse #tw drug mention #tw injury

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ask-missparker · 7 months ago

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It’s been a long long time… / OUAT season 2

Pairings: Michelle x Rochelle, Bella x Alice

Bromance: Nikolai & Jeremy

Extra characters: Petra, Liane and Joshua

Continuing this fic (the second half of episode 2)

——

“I can explain!”

“Michelle?”

“Nicholas?”

The brunette and the blonde frozen in sight of seeing in each other. For Nikolai it felt like years, meanwhile Michelle had been alone in this world for what seemed to be weeks for her. Within a second later, the two of them pulled each other into a hug. Jeremy lowered his sword and grinned slowly leading the others inside the safe house.

Alice was watching Bella as she half smile entering the room. Joshua was holding Liane up as the women rolled her eyes, noticing her daughter was secretly crushing on the girl. To say Joshua was a little flabbergasted was an insult to his expression. He read the books, remembering the words of his father’s small home but never expected for it, to be like this.

Then again there was someone living here now, someone named Michelle. He lowered Liane on the chair near the entrance, as she thanked him for helping. Petra sat on the other side of the room finding comfort in the warmth and smells coming from the kitchen.

Nikolai pulled away from the hug and asked, “Michelle, darling, how are—I thought you were washed away by the curse?”

“No, no I wasn’t. The curse isn’t didn’t hit every single part of the land.” Michelle said, taking another bite of bread.

“But how?”

“Well..long story short, when the curse hit I was helping other folks cover for shelter and promising our friends I would be at the castle in time..and then..”

“..then you weren’t. I am so sorry you were left behind.”

“It’s alright, I had faith the curse would be lifted and I can return home sooner than later. And I was right! Where’s my wife and kids?”

Nikolai winces at the question and responds, “Well that’s the thing, they aren’t here. But don’t worry they’re safe at the other realm with our friends. Now I’m making it a priority to all get home. You included!”

Michelle’s facial expressions changes in milliseconds from sad to wishful as she heard that last sentence of his statement. Of course she was coming along to see her family again, she looked over her shoulder to see the others. Liane looked way different just tired, Jeremy was still grinning like the cheeky pirate he is and she recognized Princess Petra.

However the other 3 were not in her eyesight. She had no idea who they were.

Bella was too busy making eyes contact with Alice to notice Michelle was looking at them, Joshua had to gently elbow the Latina to get her attention. Bella grunted and glared at her friend meanwhile Alice held back a small chuckle. It was the first time the brunette has seen his friend so—well so damn distracted!

He rolled his eyes and smiled decided to introduce himself to the tall blonde as he spoke, “Hi. I’m Joshua. And the two girls being eyes at another another are Bella and Alice.”

Michelle shook his hand and chuckled, “It’s alright, let them have their fun. Wait..did you say, Joshua?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Holy—Oh my god! You’re my nephew!”

“You’re what now?”

That got a giggle from Liane as Nikolai softly chuckled, hearing Michelle’s reaction to finally meeting her nephew. Michelle went a mini ramble on how she planned on being the first one to hold him when he was born, play games together, take him horseback riding and use a freaking sword. Hell her rambles were so sweet, it made Joshua finally crack a smile this whole trip.

It was then Joshua remembered the research about Cinderella, how Michelle and Rochelle became head over heels in love, as their wedding was celebrated across the land for a damn long week. With Michelle being the loud speaker of the pair and Rochelle being a bit more quiet about things. He could see where the twins got their perspectives from.

Liane yawned and spoke up after a moment, “Uh, Michelle, can we stay here for a little while..or do we have to sign up for an all star break?”

Michelle smiled, “Well it’s Nik’s home and seeing how you guys are here, I don’t see why not! And you’re in luck, I got food to last us a couple of weeks.”

“We don’t need weeks. Just a couple of days and to plan a way out of here without the Orges attacking us.”

“And you need a nap.”

“Hey!”

Bella turned around and faced her mother, “Yeah mom, you do.”

“Oh now you want to talk!” Liane remarked, huffing and noticed Petra took pride in her distress, “What you looking up, Princess?”

“You’re bags under your eyes.” Petra replied half grinned.

The blonde crossed her arms and huffed once again, “I hate all of you.”

Joshua sighed and offered his hand, taking Liane to one of the bedroom. He asked his father which one was suitable for her, as Nikolai pointed to the one in the behind the stairs. He nodded, leading Liane to the back room and helped her crawl into bed, opening the window to bring in some fresh air as the blonde rested her head on the pillow.

Liane wondered why he was being so nice to him but decided to leave that question to ponder herself, requesting for Joshua to stay close by for she can fall asleep. She lied a bit saying she didn’t sleep well in new places, but she was just scared to fall asleep period, thankfully the teenager nodded silently. Joshua sat down in the chair beside the bed crossing his arms and looked around the room, as his gaze fell every so often on the blonde who closed her eyes.

He looked around in awe of the safe house and all his little quirks from the flooring to the walls with framed pictures. He noticed a few drawings and some figurines on tables nearby as well.

“Wow..” He muttered to himself, wondering how his parents lived their days together in this place. God he had so many questions but was shy to ask them.

———

Outside of the bedroom, the group were discussing living plans. There wasn’t much room, so some of them might have to bunk together. Jeremy and Petra didn’t mind the couch, Nikolai assumed he would retake his bedroom unless Michelle wanted it and Joshua or Bella might take the mattress upstairs.

Alice and Bella soon realized they might have to share a room together which led to awkward silence and tiny hints of blushing being seen. Michelle snorted seeing that, remembering her and Rochelle were the same way. She took those moments help Nikolai and Jeremy serve lunch, which basically meant bread and cheese with fresh water.

The trio missed their chats, hell they miss their adventures.

Michelle took that moment to ask, “So how is everyone back uh, home?”

Jeremy sipped water and responded, “Well my husband lied for starters, as he broke the spell bringing magic and had us running around like idiots afterwards..”

“Besides that dummy! I mean how are our people?”

“Ohh! Well King Alexander is out of commission, so great for us and bad for him. Rochelle and Cass are fine, missing you. Uhh, I think I saw some couples making out on the streets after the curse broke.”

“Damn I missed that! How our my babies? Last I saw them they were 4 years old.”

“Well, time was frozen more or less for everyone, but the kids grow up at a slow rate, so that means your twins are 7 years old now.”

“7?! That means are in school now?! Who’s teaching those ankle bitters?”

“Don’t worry, Charles is their teacher and Erik is one of the officers there, so they don’t get into much trouble. More or less.”

“More or less?! My babies are insane, I should know I’m a little nuts.”

Nikolai walked in after checking on the girls and hissed, “Shh! I forgot how loud you are. I see Jeremy is catching you up on things. I am surprised he hasn’t shown you the cell phones yet.”

“What’s a cell phone?” Michelle questioned, raising an eyebrow at the item he mentioned.

“I’ll explain to you later.”

“What other things are in that realm?”

“Well you have movies you can watch on Netflix.”

“What’s Netflix? Is it some sort of note taker?”

“Oh geez Michelle…you are gonna experience a lot of new things.”

“Speaking of new things, since when does Mal have a kid?”

Alice yelled softly from her chair, “That’s what I said!”

“Al hush!” Petra shouted, sitting next to her.

Michelle muttered, “But she’s white..”

Jeremy almost crooked on his blueberry at Michelle’s comment.

“You know that’s my mom you’re talking about, right?” Bella remarked eating her sandwich.

“Did Liane remarry?!” Michelle exclaimed with a gasp, “Did Ethan cheat? I swear I’mma murder him if he-”

“No, I’m adopted! And no, dad was under the curse somewhat, my biological mother is god knows where.”

“Whew! And here I thought I was gonna have to kill your daddy.”

“Go ahead, he’s not the smartest man. But I love him.”

Michelle and Bella shared a humorous moment together, chuckling. Joshua soon joined the others, Liane was asleep, as he sat down next to Jeremy stealing a blueberry from his plate. He heard the others throwing comments about the current state of their crew and he chuckled hearing Bella’s latest statement.

Joshua then had to ask, “Michelle..uh, how did you know that the cabin would be empty and safe to stay in?”

“Well, honestly I figured it would be better than staying in a hostel cave for weeks. I used to visit this area for shelter when I was single, me and the guys would come over here and just hang out.” Michelle explained smiling.

“What about the creatures outside?”

“Easy.” She added grinning, “I slayed their asses.”

“Cool!” Joshua says sounded very impressed.

“How about you kid? Slay any beasts yet?”

“No, but I have met a few.”

“Don’t worry, one week with me and you will know how to flip your sword over and throw it into a dragon’s chest.”

“Okay, you’re officially the cool one.”

Jeremy’s eyes widen, “The fu-?”

Nikolai patted his shoulder and said, “Don’t sweat it, man.”

“Wait if she is Liane’s kid?” Said Alice had a clueless expression on her face pointing to Bella and then pointed to Joshua, “Then who’s he?”

“His.” Joshua replied pointing to Nikolai with a small awkward half smile.

“How?! You guys ALL look young?! Did you guys find the fountain of youth or something?”

“..yup, she really is Alice from Alice in Wonderland..”

“And other places! I swear, take a one way trip and that’s all anyone ever knows about you.”

Bella smiled softly to herself finding her kinda cute, as it earned a small humorous eye roll from Joshua. It’s crazy, they land in the Enchanted Forest for the first time and the first thing Bella does it find herself an instant tiny crush on a blonde from Wonderland. Honestly, Joshua was happy for her and definitely was gonna tease her later for it.

Meanwhile the adults decide to take the lead in planning a new plan in order to avoid being caught here any longer. Petra suggested a magic bean, Nikolai mentioned the original wardrobes from years back could be another option, meanwhile Michelle planned on the best route to get there. Either the dust from the warehouses or the magic bean.

Jeremy pointed out that both options were good but needed a possible alternative route to leave, such as another portal.

He figured they can probably find his pirate ship and use whatever option from their plan to sail out of there, then appear in the shipping docks of Fighter-Town. He was just hoping that his ships would be ready to operate and not washed away during a storm.

Fingers crossed things went smoothly.

——

———

Ahh this is the last fic for the month (I think 🧐 unless I get more ideas!)

Anyways let me know what you think 💭

✨ Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh

#ouat au #jeremy michaelis #michroch #once upon a time au #ouat s2 #liane felton #joshua & bella #thomas doherty #amanda seyfried icons #ouat rewatch #ouat fic

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teamdilf · 8 months ago

Note

for the wip ask game i’d love to hear about your DA/BG3 Crossover!

Ooh, so the crossover takes place many years post Dragon Age: Inquisition, following my post-canon longfic. Iris Lavellan, Solas and Dorian are in the Deep Roads deactivating eluvians and blow up the eluvian that Petra and Astarion just so happened to wander through while they were exploring after dismantling a vampire coven. Trapped in the Deep Roads, Petra and Astarion reluctantly ally with Iris and Solas (and find Dorian to be absolutely delightful and perfect in every way), and spend a lot of time bickering with Solas. Iris, who is nearing a nervous breakdown, on account of all she's been through over the last decade, does not get along with Petra, often taking her frustration out on the woman, leading to further tension.

This was meant to be a comedy in my head, but it turns out Iris is dealing with a lot, and a heavier drama with some comic relief was more the speed of the story I was looking to tell!

A snippet:

“I have no expectations of being remembered with anything resembling fondness, and have grown used to the venom spewed my way," Solas says.

“How it must sting at your pride to be so thoroughly loathed by both the people of the world you broke and the people of the contemporary world that you broke again.”

Probably not a polite thing to say, but [Petra] is hardly going to treat this man with kid gloves, given all he’s accomplished.

Solas says nothing, turning his attention over to Astarion. “You are resilient, having spent lifetimes bathed in pain and blood. You break the chains of your kin, yet do so in search of wealth. For one who survived enslavement, you would think you would be more eager to help.”

She grits her teeth, but allows Astarion to take the lead in his own defence. “Haven’t spent much time around vampires, have you? Because if you had, you’d know not to turn your back on one - and that my generosity only extends so far.”

“You have an opportunity to make a difference.”

“And I do: by ruthlessly slaughtering vampire lords and knaves as a bounty hunter.”

“Killing should not be celebrated.”

Astarion laughs at this. “But it’s so much fun, darling.”

“Those you kill were real people, with lives and loves. Even if their deaths were well-deserved, they are unfortunate.”

“Funny, to be lectured about killing from a man who destroyed the world - twice,” she mumbles under her breath.

“You know, I do believe the position of ‘arrogant magic nerd’ has been filled in my life and truly, I do not care what you think of me,” Astarion retorts. “Also, all that,” he gestures up and down at Solas, “and all you do with it is brood and put up fancy magical curtains? What a waste of power.”

“You speak like an oppressor when you were the oppressed. If you had some compassion…”

Now, Astarion’s eyes grow cold and he turns, stepping towards the man, sneering at him. “Compassion is weakness. Compassion gets you and yours killed. I protect myself and I protect my family - everyone else can go hang as far as I’m concerned, unless they have something useful to offer me.”

#ask games #Thank you!#j's fics #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #Solavellan #solavellan fanfic #Astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x female tav #BG3/Dragon Age Crossover

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loregoddess · 4 months ago

Note

Bernadetta for the character breakdown?

How I feel about this character LOVE HER, she's one of my favorite characters actually. I enjoyed all of her supports in Houses, and I appreciated that her characterization was consistent across all the routes. Despite her anxiety getting played for laughs a bit, I felt like there was actually a decent amount of depth to her character overall after I had finished playing all the routes and reading all her supports.

Hopes...did her a bit dirty (although all the BE characters--except Hubert, Petra, and most of Caspar's writing--got kinda shafted in Hopes, although NOT to the same degree that the Church characters got shafted). I do appreciate that she's one of the "you can recruit her on every route" characters in Hopes, because the fact that she is extremely good at surviving does fit with pre-established characterization. Hopes leaned more heavily into her anxiety and made it even more of a joke, whereas with some of the later supports/monastery convos in Houses it felt more like Bernie's extreme expression of her anxiety was a genuine response to a traumatic childhood rather than just "haha, look at this girl who is afraid of everything" so take that as you will. I still love her lots though.

All the people I ship romantically with this character Finally a shipping question I can sorta answer, bc FE is one of the few games with ships I enjoy. I'm partial to her paired endings in Houses with Raphael and Yuri (love, love, love the idea of her taking a commoner spouse to spite her father), and Bernadetta is my favorite paired ending for Hubert. So I'm overall partial to those ships from Houses.

Hopes doesn't have paired endings, but her supports with Marianne are SO GOOD and I think the two would make a lovely couple. Her supports with Hapi are excellent too, but I see the two more as besties afterwards, although I wouldn't be averse to the ship either.

She doesn't have any supports with Ignatz, but they're both artists who're nervous around other people to various degrees, so I could see them working well as a pairing, either romantically or platonically. (Yes, Ignatz is the most "doesn't have supports with this character, but would make a great partner for them" character in 3H, no I don't know why I think this, he just has a lot of untapped potential relationships, and he and Bernie WOULD get along really well methinks, bonus points bc he's a commoner).

My non-romantic OTP for this character Love Bernadetta's friendships with Petra, Dorothea, and Leonie in Houses. I think Bernadetta and Ingrid would eventually get along as friends even though their supports kinda nosedived (to make a joke about Ingrid's character though)--but like, Ingrid clearly sees a lot of Bernie's strengths and respects those strengths, so if the writers had just leaned into that more instead of "Ingrid is fanatical about training and will drag everyone else into it", I think the two would have had a super interesting dynamic.

As noted above, per Hopes I think Bernie and Hapi become besties for sure, even if their approach to carnivorous plants is very different.

I loved her supports with Alois in Houses as well, and I think--given Alois's nature--that he would act as a surrogate uncle-figure to Bernadetta, and the two would have a good uncle-niece -esque relationship overall. I also really enjoyed her supports with Seteth, but I prefer to think of the two as weird friends afterwards (even if their paired ending has the two eventually married, I just see them being platonic "weird found family" to each other, moreso than romantic).

I have...a lot of mixed thoughts and feelings on Sylvain as a character, but I do think his supports with Bernadetta were good, and I also think their supports could have been a lot deeper if the writers had given them more thought, bc Bernie--like Mercedes--had a fucked up childhood bc of her Crest and, my trying to untangle what is going on with Sylvain aside, I think he would have empathy for Bernie's situation, and probably offer to kill her dad as well. So, even if only in the version of 3H where I start reworking things in my head, I think the two would be weird friends as well. Like, in my head Sylvain is her #1 fan when it comes to her writing and art, but also feels for her situation and is lowkey protective of her as a result.

She also has supports with Dimitri in Hopes which are...okay. They could have been so much better though. I think the two would get along as extremely weird friends, and by extension I think Bernadetta could have had really interesting supports/friendships with Dedue, Ashe, and potentially Rodrigue (although he would have been another weird "surrogate uncle" for her in Hopes at least).

Bernie doesn't have supports in either game, but I think she would get along well with Mercedes and Annette too--maybe even Constance as well, although Bernie would have an easier time around Constance's "daylight" side as compared to her "night" side. I think Bernie would also get along with Flayn (re: weird found family dynamics), Cyril in a weird way (partly bc of your fic, but you're right they would get along in a weird way), and Rhea as well (again, bc of your fic).

Bernadetta deserves All The Friends honestly.

My unpopular opinion about this character Uh, well my general interpretation of and feelings towards 3H (both Houses and Hopes) are a bit contrary to a lot of popular fanon, but I feel like Bernie gets reduced down to her "uwu, girl with anxiety" traits more by fandom than in canon, whether that be fans doubling down on the trait as a joke (which is, I will note, rare), or more commonly fans criticizing her writing bc of her anxiety getting treated like a joke (valid, but also there is SO much more to her character than that, like? did we play the same game? why are critiques of her writing or arguments about whether her anxiety was or wasn't well-written the ONLY discussion points I see get brought up frequently? this girl has an entire range of skills and other character traits to discuss?).

Also I do get the jokes of "Bernie writes smutty romance fic" which is a very popular fanon HC for the types of stories she writes, but it just doesn't jive for me, both bc there's no canon text to really back that irrefutably, and also bc it just doesn't feel like it fits her characterization. I think she probably writes adventure stories, ironically, as a way to travel the world without having to leave her safe spaces (Bernadetta IS very excited to see Brigid's plants and scenery in her shared paralogue with Petra, and Petra even states that she brought Bernie along to see the plants, so I think Bernie would love traveling and seeing new plants and scenery if it weren't for her anxiety).

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon. I don't actually have too many complaints about Bernadetta's writing in Houses, aside from maybe toning down how her anxiety gets treated as a joke on occasion, but she really is one of the most consistently written characters in Houses, and given how inconsistent some of the writing is, I always take that as a win.

Hopes on the other hand...could have used some polish for her writing. Specifically, it's possible for her to fight and even kill her father in the final battle of the AG route, but their in-battle conversation is...lacking? for want of a better word? Like, I'm fine with Bernadetta not necessarily wanting to kill him so much as she doesn't want him in her life at all, but I think there should have been more emotion of some sort in their exchange of words. Gregoire's characterization in Hopes wasn't that interesting in my opinion though, I felt like the writers should have done something different to really show a character who would treat their Crested child as a political tool to vie for more power, rather than making him a copy of Bernadetta. I suppose if I were to ever do anything with my "merge Houses and Hopes, make it into the forbidden golden route AU" idea, I'd just entirely rewrite his character and actually explore Bernadetta's family dynamics in general a bit more, but that's just me.

Also, and this is more of a nitpick with the general writing (both games), but Bernie's family is in charge of "religious affairs" in the Empire, and I feel like this should have been explored more? Like what ARE Bernadetta's thoughts on the Seiros religion? This would of course require the CoS to not be one of the weakest parts of all the games' writing, and have some actual worldbuilding, which is definitely asking too much of IntSys. But that's a me problem with the general writing rather than a problem with Bernie's writing.

#I actually have So Many Thoughts about 3H and 3H characters #I just never talk about them bc a fair portion of the 3H fandom is *vaguely gestures* Like That #and I don't need stupid online arguments about fiction media in my life #but anyhow. Bernadetta. Bernie. Girl of All Time. love her #unsuspecting-person #ask game #I still don't have an ask tag

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venusiananthology · 2 months ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Le piège˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Life on Olympus has been treating me fairly, the graces attend me at every hour and meet my every need. They feed me ambrosia and grapes and dress me in the morning with new robes of different colors decorated with floral embellishments and ruffles every day. They read with me in the mornings and we discuss human politics and philosophy, it is all so rich!

In the afternoon I read scrolls sent to Olympus by Hermes which represent the prayers of my worshippers. So far I have only received scrolls sent from Cyprus, but my cult is growing rapidly and I am told I have become a staple on the island. I read stories of love and amorous meetings at night, lovers separated by birth or family or distance. I answer their prayers and guide them toward one another with my magical touch and invisible hand. I look down upon Earth from mount olympus through my personal looking glass and watch as my granted prayers are fulfilled. Oh how I adore love.

Speaking of love, I have found none of it in my own marriage. Hephaestus works from dawn until dusk in his forge and only returns at night to his bed, our bed, to sleep for the next day of work. The forge is his mistress, and I am extremely jealous of her. I may not find Hephaestus attractive, and I may not find him to be the most interesting, but I am jealous on the account of principle. I am his wife, I should be his priority, yet I am not. And I do not think I will ever be.

Our bedchambers however are stately and grand. Our bed is surrounded on all sides by columns painted red with black detailing and our floor is of a beautiful marble. The bed itself is extremely comfortable and the sheets are Egyptian linen. There is a skylight within our room that reaches upward like the steeple of a temple and incense burns in all corners of the room, attended by the graces. I am never alone it seems, for I am with my ladies in waiting at all hours of the day and lay in bed at night with my husband.

I do wish to be alone sometimes, to ponder the world of my own volition and create my own opinions separate from those around me. The graces take much time from their day to educate me in the going ons of the world and how the world came to be.

They explain to me that before everything, there was chaos, and that chaos was a great force of creation which spouted out all sorts of children, but that most of them failed to form properly. Finally, after eons of failed children, Chaos spouted out Nyx, Gaia, Tartarus, and Eros. It was the birth of Eros that caused the others to procreate and form the rest of the universe.

From Gaia’s bosom one day lept Ouranos, and he was a cruel creation. He kept Gaia all to himself and impregnated her with 12 children, the titans. The Olympians live on Mount Olympus whereas the titans reside on Mount Othrys. Gaia grew tired of Ouranos having her all to himself so she beckoned her children and asked which of them would like to be the savior of her and their siblings. Cronus, the titan of time, was the only one to step forth. Gaia fashioned a sickle from the sharpest metal of her body and gave it to him, instructing him that the next time Ouranos comes for coitus, he should use it and castrate him.

Hours passed and Ouranos finally came, pulling up his robe and readying himself to penetrate Gaia. From behind a tree Cronus lept and slashed off the penis of his father. He took the penis and threw it high into the air, where it eventually landed in the ocean. Apparently, this is the part where I come in.

When the genitalia landed in the ocean it sank to the depths, and from it foam and semen arose in the waters. That is when the stone of Petra Tou Romiou formed from the whiteness, and I was eventually born after twenty long years of waiting.

I appreciate my education from the graces, but I must admit I would rather be on the earth as a living goddess experiencing life with my people and nurturing them in the flesh. My center of worship so far in Cyprus is Paphos, where they call me Paphia lovingly. Unlike some of the meaner gods of Olympus who refer to me as Philommedes, meaning genital lover. Of all things! Just because I was born of a penis does not mean I should be referred to as genital lover! Although it is a bit funny, I will admit. I can take a joke, of course.

I often take my looking glass and look down on my temple in Paphos. I see worshippers bowing in front of statues painted to resemble my skin tone and hair color. They light incense for me, but that is not the most exciting of their offerings. It seems once a week, a young couple will come to my altar in the dark of the night and sacrifice to me their virginities. I find this extremely devotional to my domain, and I grant them the promise of a long life together. I also enjoy when my followers offer me meat on the pyres of sacrifice, as smelling of the smoke fills my belly and keeps me nice and warm.

Although I appreciate such a sacrificial offering in my name, It saddens me to think that I could experience such love from another if I wasn’t bound to Hephaestus. Every night, while I am in bed, I imagine myself in the arms of a lover. Some nights I imagine the great Ares waging bloody war and coming home to me with spoils of battle taken in my name. I imagine him taking me harshly and loving me in a way Hephaestus never could, or never would.

Other nights I imagine myself in the throes of love with the strong and agile Artemis. She kisses me softly and I am taken with sensation at the thoughts of her sculpted, firm hands and arms. She would bring me home spoils from her hunts that she claims at the side of her nymph sport-partners. I feel ashamed for imagining myself in such a position with Artemis, seeing as how she is bound to Calliope, but I cannot help myself. I cannot help but love.

In late July I am surprised to find that there is a festival being held in my name! It seems the people of Paphos have dedicated a day to me where they lay offerings at the feet of my statues and whisper sweet nothings into the ears of one another celebrating my name and domain over the soft and sensual.

I was given a mask of illusory faces by the graces, an item which allows me to hide myself in the mortal world as a beautiful woman. It seems that every person who looks upon me while the mask is on views a different woman who meets their every secret desire. Some may look upon me and see me nearly as I am, a tall blonde sun-kissed woman with curves and rolls aplenty, while others may look upon me and see a lean Nubian goddess with braids running down my back, and others may see me as a strong Han amazonian of a woman with raven curls gracing my shoulders. It all depends on the beauty desired within the beholder.

I take the mask of illusory faces and sneak out from Olympus, walking down the winding peak and making my way to the chariot stables. The most grand of the chariots is large and steel with thunderbolts carved into the sides, it is driven by eight winged horses whose fur is of the brightest white. My personal favorite of the chariots, besides my own of course, is carved from wood and painted with shades of deep purple and emerald green. It is attached to three peacocks whose feathers reach high into the sky. After passing dozens of stables with chariots of all shapes and sizes led by all manners of mythical creatures, I finally make it to my own chariot which is made of crystalline rose quartz, a beautiful, lustrous sight indeed! It is attached to two large doves that pull it with ease. I notice that Ares' chariot is gone, curious indeed. What business would he have on earth during the day of my festival?

I mount my chariot for the very first time and set off into the sky, feeling the breeze gust through my hair. As I fly through the sky, I see the faces of the four winds adoring me from afar, as they have not seen me since I was first born. I blow them a kiss, and they almost melt into the clouds behind them. I set off towards Cyprus and lower the chariot to the level of the sea. I touch my hand to the waters and giggle as it sprays back on me. Oh, for I have missed the ocean!

The chariot finally finds its way to the beach of Cyprus where I was first born and it stops once it makes its way to the shoreline. I step down onto the ocean surface and walk the rest of the way until I feel the sand between my toes.

There is a group of young girls who stare at me in awe as I cross over the ocean. They gasp with shock as they see flowers sprouting from beneath my toes when I walk along the sand. They ask me if I am she who they celebrate. I bring a finger up to my mouth in a shushing position and give them a wink. I pick a flower from the flora under my feet and put it in the hair of the first girl who approaches. I say to her: a blessing, my child, for you will always possess the beauty of this radiant rose.

They watch as I put on my mask of illusory faces and I once again giggle as I see their jaws drop almost as if to the floor. I imagine the women they must be seeing, and wonder what differences I possess now that I wear the mask.

Walking down the beach, my legs make long strides down the shoreline as I get closer and closer to Paphos. I watch the coast as towns and cities pass me by. Many men on the beach approach me, but I snap my fingers and make them forget as they walk away, leaving me to my travels. One fishing boat even collided into another, distracted, watching me as I pass them by. In this state I am of a height expected of a mortal woman, yet somehow I seem to be spotted from every distance imaginable.

I finally find my way to Paphos, and it is now deep in the evening, the day's festivities are almost to a close, and the nighttime festivities, the private festivities, are about to begin. Walking through the stone streets I look around at the beautiful grecian blue-painted homes surrounding me which lead to a freshly constructed temple in my name. The people dance in groups with flowers in their hair and drummers beat their instruments in a melodious symphony. Lovers kiss one another in locked embraces and I am saddened that I am not in attendance with another.

Seeing that I am distressed, a beautiful man approaches me in a blood red toga decorated with golden embellishments. There is a laurel about his curly brown hair and his face is distinguished by a sharp jawline that I almost feel would cut me should I caress it. He asks me what a gorgeous woman like myself is doing looking so depressed on the day of celebration for the goddess of love. I respond that my husband is at home, taken with his work, and unable to celebrate with me. He invites me for a walk and we make our way into the forest as we stroll along a trail dented within the grass.

He discusses his life with me and goes into the nitty gritty details of his childhood as son to the archon of Paphos. He has lived a luxurious, privileged life where he does not wonder where the food should come from that sits upon the table before him. He explains that he would like to live on his own terms and join the Greek military, which I encourage enthusiastically. He asks me about my own life and I am anxious to respond, as I must make up a lie to tell to this beautiful mortal. I tell him that I am daughter to a cruel man who was an astronomer scholar by trade. He asks me about my mother and I respond that I never knew her. However, my siblings took me away at an early age so I should not be raised by the cruel man we call father.

The man stops in his tracks and puts a hand on my face, he tells me that his name is Aphneius and that while our time together may be short, he thinks he may love me. I respond that my name is Pandemos, and that I may in fact love him too. He pushes his face against mine in a passionate kiss and we lock our arms in one another’s embrace as we are taken with the purest, the sweetest, the most sacred of love. We fall softly to the leafy ground and he and I form into one being as our sexualities merge. Oh, it is glorious! I am finally loved!

We rise to our feet and I again take him in a hug and we stand there rocking back and forth taking in the scent and energy of one another. But as soon as he steps back, he reaches a hand up to his chin and tears off his face!

Before me stands the mighty Ares who looks down upon me from nine feet in height. Thunder rages in the sky as he smiles down, looking upon me with a wicked grin. He announces: fear not and hear me now mortal woman, for I am Ares, god of all battle that is glorious and great. Our love has produced a child which will grow in strength to rival the gods. Take our child and raise it well, for very soon, I will be back to claim it. I now take my leave from you, sweetest of doves.

Before he manages to leave, I am taken with giggles and laughter. I fall to the ground rolling in the leaves because I am so taken with entertainment at the display before me. Ares looks down and cocks an eyebrow, he asks if I am a madwoman. I reply that no, I am simply a delighted one. I reach down to my own chin and rip off the mask of illusory faces. I morph back into my own natural form and height and Ares looks down at me on the ground in horror. He responds: speak of this to no one. Should word of our affair make its way to Olympus, we shall be smited by the wrath of our father.

Suddenly my stomach drops, and I am taken with fear at the prospect of angering Zeus. I am too shaky to make my way back to the chariot, so I simply snap my fingers and find myself back on the peak of Mount Olympus. It is night now, so I make my way back into my bedchambers where I find Hephaestus sleeping. Dammit all, he has returned to the bedchambers before I could make my way back to my bed!

I lie down beside him, creeping into the sheets, and am startled to hear him speak when I relax in the prone. He tells me: Wife, my cheating, unfaithful wife. Eos visited me tonight and told me of your transgressions. Prepare yourself, for once he hears of this, father shall not be happy.

I am scared and I feel alone despite the fact my husband lies next to me. A tear rolls down my face as I try to accept my fate, one that is sure to be grim and full of hardship.

#aphrodite #greek deities #greek gods #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #greek pantheon #short story #fiction #creative writing

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kerra-and-company · 2 years ago

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yes post minei lore

hehehehe :3

Minei lore be upon ye, lovely folks of Tumblr! (At least early Minei lore, up to her joining the Vigil, which is already a lot! :D ) Under the cut because it is LONG.

Minei was born in DR to two parents who both worked for the Shining Blade. For the first four years of her life (as far as she can remember, she was of course Very Small), they were happy--and then people came into their house in the middle of the night and attacked the three of them. Minei’s parents put up a hell of a fight, but both were killed. When the remaining assassins then went after Minei to take out that last loose end, this very small child, who was almost entirely untrained in anything to do with magic yet, lashed out in grief and confusion and fear and anger with every bit of power she had—and with zero restraint. She destroyed the assassins, blew apart a decent chunk of the house, and certainly would have killed herself in the process as well if it wasn’t for the blessing Grenth gave her. She actually remembers meeting the god himself, but she questions this years down the line (surely he would have left Tyria by then?). Whatever happened, though, that blessing was enough to keep her alive, and she wakes up three days later in the hospital.

Her parents had no extended family to take care of her, as far as anyone can find out, so Minei ends up in an orphanage. It’s…not a good place. The woman in charge is cruel, and the other children are cruel in turn in a desperate attempt to avoid getting hurt that never works. Minei keeps to herself as much as she can and starts practicing her necromantic magic on her own, just because it’s something that makes her happy and something she knows she’s good at, even if others try to say different. She turns to Grenth in this period of time as almost. like. an imaginary friend? She talks to him because she has no one to talk to, but not because she expects him to save her. Stop her from dying? Maybe, sure. Get her out of a shitty situation? If he could do that, then she wouldn’t be there in the first place.

She runs away from the orphanage when she’s nine and ends up running smack-dab into another nine-year-old girl. Her name’s Petra. She thinks that the fact that Minei just brought a rat “back to life” as a undead little critter is the coolest thing she’s ever seen. Petra brings Minei home with her, in all her nine-year-old-ness of “look Dad this is my new best friend and also she doesn’t have somewhere to stay so can she stay with us please please please”, and her dad is very much “oh boy, okay, um—”. After a while and various shenanigans, Minei does actually end up staying with them, and (eventually) gets officially adopted as Andrew’s daughter and Petra’s sister.

The ensuing five to six years are probably the happiest of Minei’s life. She has family in her life, people who love her and people she can talk to and people she trusts. She goes all in with training her necromancy as much as she can, partially in homage to the god who saved her and partially because it’s something she enjoys and something she’s made hers. She has a pretty good time at school. She slowly starts becoming aware of the way the city works. Jennah is still relatively new to the throne; the Dragonbrand is formed the year she turns ten. The Ministry Guard, as far as she can tell, strut around looking important and don’t do much—except maybe for the ministers, none of whom she knows. The Seraph are fighting the centaurs and holding posts around DR; she sees recruiting posters more and more, has friends who talk excitedly about joining someday. And the Shining Blade is doing mysterious things for the queen, she supposes.

(Sometimes she feels like she’s being watched. I’m sure that’s not related.)

It should be noted that, at this point, she doesn’t know anything about what her parents did for a living. She was way too young when they died to remember details that they might have mentioned offhand, and far too young for them to have ever tried to explain in detail. She has a vague memory of seeing the Shining Blade symbol a long time ago, but she doesn’t connect this to her parents at all.

Her first real encounter with the Seraph, outside of chance/brief interactions, is when she’s out in Queensdale picking up supplies for the inn that her adoptive dad runs. On her way back, she passes by Shaemoor—right as centaurs are attacking. And the Seraph there are struggling, she can tell. And she’s never actually been in combat in her life, but she knows how to make necromantic constructs, and she knows basic defense magic, and she knows the feeling of life force enough to pull it out of someone.

She fights with Logan Thackeray and the Seraph, and they win, and she wakes up in the hospital for the second time in her life. This time, it’s with Andrew and Petra by her side, and with people calling her the Hero of Shaemoor, and a message from Logan asking her to come by the Seraph office when she’s back on her feet. He commends her on her skill and thanks her for her help, and offers her a spot training with the Seraph recruits if she wants it. Minei, who is Very aware that it was her magical skill and not martial training that meant that she could assist at all, and is at this point feeling like learning how to improve her skill isn’t going to hurt (not to mention that if she did end up joining the Seraph afterwards, the additional money would help her family stay above water) says yes.

She does train with them and with Logan, and she does learn. She likes Logan! he’s always friendly to her even when he gets exasperated, and he praises her progress. Most of the recruits look at her in a positive light, if slightly jealous, because she has some combat experience. She feels special, and she starts truly considering joining the Seraph. But she also starts wondering, a bit. Because between the Seraph and everyone else dedicated to keeping DR and the whole of Kryta safe, and all the posters and recruits and everything, if this is really something that’s working and functional, then how has the centaur threat gotten worse? She can’t remember an attack like that on Shaemoor before.

(And a small piece of her says: if they’re as good at their jobs as they say, then what happened to my parents?)

A month goes by.

A group ends up in the bar at the inn. Bandits, probably, but at first they’re no worse than most regular customers. Then they start getting rowdy, and Andrew cuts them off.

Things get bad.

Andrew’s stabbed, badly, with a dagger, and Minei (and Petra, with her bat) deal with the group on their own as best they can. A few patrons run and try to find Seraph in the area and end up pulling the Ministry Guard first. Commander Serentine sweeps in and blindly asserts that everyone there is under arrest, which only doesn’t happen because Logan shows up—and because he knows Minei. That personal relationship is the only reason that there’s no arrest, and the only reason that Minei and Petra even get a chance at getting the medicine their father needs to survive, which is too expensive for them to acquire otherwise. And that is suddenly and abruptly clear to Minei. What is just as clear is that she can’t afford not to take advantage of the system if she wants a chance at saving her father’s life in that moment, so she calls in her marker with Logan and goes after the medicine. It’s not close enough and not easy enough to get, even with everything else, and the wound is worse than originally anticipated. Andrew doesn’t survive.

Minei helps Logan figure out what’s up with the bandits and the Ministry Guard, because that at least is something she can do to get some kind of revenge*, and she finishes the level 10 personal story grieving the second time she’s lost her parent(s) and incredibly angry. She still comes to training, but she’s asking questions now, of Logan and of any books she can find and of instructors she trusts at school. When you were talking about a “higher class of criminal”, do you usually only arrest people who aren’t higher class? Are there any forms of accountability for the Ministry Guard or the Seraph—or the Shining Blade—without having someone go entirely off the rails in a way that's impossible to ignore? Why is medicine so expensive? Why are the Seraph spread out so widely? Have you considered any of this before?

Another month goes by, and Minei has another throwback. Assassins: Two! She gets the letter with the second half of her amulet and goes to meet the informant alone (though Petra tries to accompany her). She’s attacked by the informant and rescued by the Shining Blade, who tell her a story about the White Mantle being the ones to want her dead, thanks to things her parents were involved in (also with the Blade). And that the Mantle were the ones responsible for her parents’ deaths--to which her immediate response is something along the lines of so you’re saying it’s your job to stop them and you didn’t, then.

They deflect a bit and ask her if she wants to come help them take out the Mantle cell who tried to take her out, and Minei doesn’t fully trust them but she wants to hit back at someone so badly. And so she does--she goes with them, and they take out a Mantle cell. She doesn’t see the informant who escaped back in DR, and the exemplars promise they’ll track him down. She says something about being glad the cell is gone at least, and one of the exemplars cautions her about becoming too embroiled in her anger.

As Countess Anise often reminds us, vengeance makes a fine leash.

That makes Minei stop short, because yes, it is. And it’s the leash that they just pulled to get her to do what they wanted.

She asks the exemplars if she can accompany them to visit Anise, who appears frustrated with them for pulling Minei into their business. At the same time, the countess seems slightly taken aback that Minei’s only request is for the Blade to show her where her parents are buried. They do, and that’s the end of that, for the moment.

Minei pulls back from official Seraph training and tries her best to stay under the radar. She feels eyes on her more than ever, but she spends time with Petra, and they both do their best to maintain the inn/tavern with the help of a few extended family members. She goes back to practicing on her own on a regular basis, this time both with necromancy and swordplay. She teaches her sister the latter.

She stays in touch with Logan, who’s worried about her, but doesn’t go to see him. The next time she does see him face-to-face is when she’s called to act as the Advocate of the Crown and help manage the orders of Tyria, who can’t agree on what to do about the Risen. (She supposes she was tapped for the position because of her persistent reputation, but doesn’t know what she’s ever done to give the impression that she’s good at being a leader.)

The bickering gets on her nerves, but they listen to her. And she talks to Crusader Hiroki--a lot.

Minei knows she can fight. She knows she’s powerful. She knows that she has some sort of status, now, too. She knows that the Seraph would love to make use of that skillset**, and maybe so would the Shining Blade. But the Vigil pays well enough for her to help Petra, too, and she’d much rather fight the elder dragons than end up any more of a pawn in whatever is going on in DR than she already has been.

So she fulfills her duties as Advocate and protects the queen from Kellach and the Risen, and she leaves. It means leaving Petra, too, but they can send letters and she can come home to visit, and this is the best route that she can see going forward, and she’ll hopefully be doing something that will actually help people.

She's fifteen years old (and lying about it) when she joins the Vigil.

Notes for the starred things: *Minei is Extremely Not Kind in her revenge, here, to the point that I could easily see the remaining bandits putting a price on her head. **She doesn't think Logan, specifically, wants to use her. She has a weird cocktail of mixed emotions in his direction because of the events that have occurred in the period she's been getting to know him, but she does believe he genuinely cares about her. She also believes that that doesn't really matter, in the sense that she still feels she has to get away from everything in DR. And Logan's very attached (in both an emotional and magical sense) to Jennah, so leaving DR means leaving him. For a couple more details, during the specific time Minei trains with the Seraph, she comes to view Logan as a mentor and (vaguely) an older sibling figure, and he considers her a protege and (slightly less vaguely) a younger sibling of a sort. But Petra and Andrew were and always will be the most important people to Minei, and Logan was both the reason she had a chance to save Andrew and part of the system that made it far from a sure thing that Andrew would be saved at all. And he did, in fact, die, and was not saved...so. (Worth noting also, Minei considers the two of them to have parted on significantly worse terms than Logan does when she leaves for the Vigil.)

#gw2 #mineille #notpockets #hawkepockets #you've read most of this before ellie but thanks for the encouragement to post it asljkdf :)#minei lore be upon ye #i am. weirdly self-conscious about posting this for some reason. maybe just cause it's so much info. but i'ma do it :)#i care for my fictional necromancer child so y'all get some of her story

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