#But DESPERATELY wanted to carry that sword around. And I did!!

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut:

Anna/Elsa:

THE juggernaut Frozen ship, and I will never forget our glory days!! Anna's act of true love canonically saving Elsa, and then them having a bunch of children from Elsa's sneezes in the Frozen short… Iconic. They will ALWAYS be the most important thing in each other's lives (remember the time Kristoff was trying to propose to Anna, and she was like "Hmm did you see how Elsa was acting weird? I need to go investigate")

Staple for the incest and yuri fandom of the 2010s. Ridiculously romantic storyline of having the kind of true love that's stuff of legends, capable of trumping fear and breaking curses. They are willing to sacrifice anything for each other and we even have a dumbfounded person looking at how beautiful the other is atop of the stairs. Olaf is their baby I guess.

In their attempt to pander to homophobic fans and make a movie about sisterly love instead of lesbians, Disney accidentally made the most beautiful incestuous love story of all time. I just KNOW they were fantasizing about each other while Elsa was locked in her room for all those years. Yes, it's supposed to be a family-friendly princess movie. True sickos know that that's the point.

Elsa and Anna. Two sisters who are separated for thirteen years and yet those thirteen years only entangle them deeper – Anna haunting Elsa because Elsa will not let herself forget the night of the accident, holding Anna close as a child and sobbing… Elsa’s whole life after that moment defined by that moment, defined by protecting Anna and keeping her distance from Anna while yearning to be near to her as the years go by… Elsa sacrificing her everything in the desperate hope that Anna will be safe… If “love is putting someone else’s needs before yours,” then Elsa does that over and over for thirteen years even as she suffers from wanting all the time to be with her sister… – Elsa haunting Anna because Anna is separated from her sister but does not know why, separated from her sister but longing for her sister – and to both of them, the thought of the other becomes something to worship – until Anna gives her life to throw herself before Elsa and stop the falling sword – until Elsa can finally, finally touch Anna again but now Anna is frozen to solid ice, so the only thing Elsa can touch is the reminder that she killed the person she loves most in this world. And then Anna thaws and they cling to each other, united by love – by a desperate, all-consuming, true love that thaws Arendelle around them – and they still carry the thousand wounds from their childhood but they have each other, they love each other, they are in each other’s arms.

I cannot stress enough how intense the film’s focus on touch makes things for incest shippers. Not only are the sister’s separated, but Elsa cannot touch Anna skin to skin, must always wear the gloves, must always keep a barrier between herself and the one she most longs to hold, to touch. Imagine the exhilaration of that first embrace on the fjord. Being able to touch without fear for the first time in years. Imagine the relief.

I also want to cite this, from an anonymous submission to a headcanon blog:

"However, since protecting Anna also required her to stay away from Anna at all times, Anna became sacred, in a sense: something fragile and special to be watched over but never touched or spoken to. She would come to love Anna in much the same way people come to love religious icons: Anna had always been there and had never been there. She loved Elsa and did not know Elsa. She was warm and kind and dedicated and was under no circumstances to be tainted with Elsa’s presence unless she kept the tightest possible control over herself."

That fear of destroying Anna, of corrupting Anna by touching her, of letting loose the repressed part of herself - all of it comes together so exquisitely for an incest ship.

And after they rediscover each other, in Frozen 2? Their bond remains just as intense. The last word on Elsa’s lips before freezing is Anna’s name. Anna, when she realizes Elsa’s ��death,” sings a heartbreaking song that includes the lyrics:

“I can't find my direction, I'm all alone The only star that guided me was you How to rise from the floor When it's not you I'm rising for?”

Their pain is born of their love, and their love for each other drives them both forward."

Lestat/Gabrielle:

what if you were a 21 yo blonde guy turned into a vampire against your will and you turned your terminally ill emotionally unavailable 50 yo mother in a vampire also and she immediately started to dress as a beautiful man (she is eerily similar to you…) and you thought that you weren't alone finally and she would understand you and finally accept you and you made out nasty style but then she realized that she still doesn't really give a fuck about you. and ran away into the forest. to sleep in the dirt.

conversely what if you were a noblewoman that hates all of her children and feels completely and absolutely alone all of the time and trapped in a life you do not want but then your least hated son (who looks exactly like you and who you feel insanely jealous of because he is able to live the life you cannot) turns you into a vampire and for an evening you feel happiness and you experience true freedom until you realize that this new more powerful existence which frees you from the social norms of your time ALSO makes you unable to change anything about yourself so you can't even CUT YOUR HAIR LIKE THE MAN YOU ARE. and ALSO your annoying fucking crybaby son is there still and you hate him a little because despite being what you WISH you were he does not accept that freedom? and insists on living among humans? so you run away to live in the forest and sleep in the dirt

Flamboyant bi son and emotionally distant transmasc mom duo who bond to survive abusive circumstances and start making out after he turns her into a vampire (which technically makes him her dad as well). Lestat describes her boobs in lurid detail and literally refers to them as "lovers kissing" in canon. Gabrielle ends up abandoning her sonlover after a couple years on the road together, causing him to literally bury himself under a house out of sheer misery. If they try to smooth any of this over in the books I will riot.

freaky, freaky man and his genderqueer mother who he’s totally normal about. they kiss on the mouth many times and are described as lovers

[alatariel-galadriel]

thinking about redoing and improving my old Magik cosplay now that I’m an adult with mysterious things such as “disposable income” and “a willingness to wear a crop top” and “proximity to an event center”

[lacroixqueen]

you're too pretty to kill (18+, noncon)

deadpool x fem!reader

Summary: deadpool was hired to kidnap and kill reader but reader is just too cute so it puts him in a moral dilemma

Pairing: fem!reader x deadpool

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/Tags: bondage, brat, gun kink, gun play, praise kink

You loved days when you could just rollerblade around the city without so much as a care in the world. The feeling of the warm summer breeze running through your hair. Watching as the lights zipped by like dust lost in the wind. You wish you could do this forever. After all, it was your peace, your one true happy place. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Out of nowhere, you felt an arm wrap around your waist and a leather glove holding a handkerchief cover your nose and mouth. 

You tried your best to fight whoever your assailant was back, pulling on his wrist in a desperate attempt to rip it off your face. But before you knew it, you felt your vision blur and your head begin to spin. It felt like the world was melting right before your very eyes. 

Next thing you knew, you woke up to a sea of black. You could feel a piece of fabric cloaking your vision and tied securely behind your head. You tried to move your hand to hoist yourself up, only to find that both your hands were roped together behind your back. You tried to scream into the void, only to find that your mouth was sealed with a piece of tape.

“Mmfffhn!” you managed to sputter out, leaning against what felt like a cold, concrete wall. In fact, it was quite chilly wherever you were. Was it a basement? Warehouse? Regardless, you were shivering from head to toe. The tiny crop top and mini skirt you threw on this morning before going rollerblading was just not cutting it, unfortunately. 

You quickly snapped your head in the direction of what sounded like heavy footsteps and… clapping?

“Well, well, well,” a sly voice rumbled from the opposite end of the room. “Now what do we have here?” 

The unknown person gradually made his way over toward you, knelt before you, and removed your blindfold and gag. 

You looked up, only to lock eyes with what you could only describe as two white ellipses, narrowing ever so slightly amidst the shadows. Your eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness. 

“Such a shame,” your captor sighed to himself. “You’re so pretty too. As in, way prettier than most of my other victims. Normally my clients pay me big bucks to knock out assholes with beer bellies, bad breath, and a name on the registry but you.” He made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers as if to take your photograph. “You are perfect.”

“Wh-what are you going to do with me..?” you stammered, almost too afraid to ask. You never took your eyes off of him. He was tall, lanky, even. Dressed in all red and black. You took note of the gun in his holster and the two massive swords strapped behind his back.

“Oh, nothing to write home about,” he assured, ruffling up your hair like you two were childhood best friends. “Well, I guess if you are really dying to know. Someone important wants you dead. So I guess you could say, I, being one of if not the most popular hitmen on the black market, was hired to.. Uh, what’s the word, kill you! Yeahhhh, that sounds about right.”

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself. “All my life, I can’t think of a single thing I did that could possibly warrant this, I mean.. why me?”

“Oh how tragic,” Wade remarked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while a tear slowly rolled down your cheek. “I mean, who in their right mind would want to kill someone like you? You are the literal picture perfect definition of the girl next door who wouldn’t hurt a flea. It would take a psychopath to even dream of such a thing!”

You glared at him while he carried on his little performance. “Don’t mock me.”

“Oh.” Deadpool stopped mid-sentence as he lifted up your chin with the tip of his index finger. “So it’s going to be like that, then.”

He leaned back slowly, only to gingerly remove his pistol from its holster. 

“Tell me, Y/N..” he whispered softly. “Have you ever held a gun before?”

“I.. no..” you replied, gasping as he pressed the cold barrel against your cheek. 

“Would you say you’ve ever, oh I don’t know, felt it on your skin?” he teased, dragging it across your neck and collarbone. He took notice of how you swallowed the lump in your throat nervously, and the way your lip quivered ever so slightly. 

“Or what about in your mouth..” his voice suddenly took a dark turn as he shoved the front of the handgun in between your lips, forcing it into the back of your throat. 

You felt your blood run cold. At first, it all felt like some sort of a game. Like one sick, twisted joke. But now, it suddenly became real. 

Wade was absolutely giddy, watching your soft, plump lips part open and accept the icy metal. He liked seeing how your pink tongue was forced still and how you squirmed like a helpless animal he had total control over. And the adorable little noises you made when your mouth was full. It delighted him in a way even he couldn’t explain. 

“Would you say you’ve ever.. choked on one?” he said, barely being able to contain his laughter. Without another word, he pushed the pistol even deeper, causing it to squeeze against your uvula, eliciting your gag reflex. 

“Whghnnn..” you muffled out, trying your best to mentally distance yourself as far away from this entire ordeal as possible. Your mind was racing at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. You were trying to formulate a plan, something, anything to have him show you mercy. 

“Wow, you really are so good at this,” Wade mumbled, not relenting at all as he continued to shove the gun further down your throat. “Definitely better than I thought. Hey, do you like practice or something? Because God, you are a natural! If I weren’t about to kill you right now, I’d hire you on the spot.”

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo. 

Realizing he wasn’t getting any further reaction from you, Deadpool slowly removed the pistol from your lips, watching with glee as a string of saliva connected your tongue from the tip of the barrel. 

He then proceeded to drag the side of the handgun across your chest, over your bare stomach, and finally, resting on the waistband of your skirt. 

“So.. Y/N was it?” Deadpool rambled on, as he played with the pleats of your skirt with his free hand. “Right. You know, I would say I don’t have a lot of weaknesses in this world, wouldn’t you agree? So anyways, after I got mutated and all fucked up from that bastard Francis and became who I am now, there’s very little out there that truly phases me these days. But this..”

He gestured towards your pastel pink miniskirt. “This is something else.” 

And with that, he gently lifted up the cloth with the front of his gun to reveal your lacy magenta underwear.

“A thong! Boooold,” he commented, pressing the cold metal of the barrel right up against your labia. “I was wondering if you were wearing something underneath, and this answers the question. God, that’s hot. You know what’s hotter, though? One of my best friends, Logan. There’s just something so je ne sais quoi about that beautiful man. Anyways.”

Your breath hitched. Suddenly, a wave of goosebumps cascaded over your skin, and it was like the world just stopped making sense. Why did this suddenly feel sort of.. good? Minus the incessant yapping and endless sidetracked one-sided conversation, you wanted more. More of whatever this was. 

And Wade granted your wish. He pulled the fabric of your thong to the side with his other hand and gently prodded your clit with the tip of his pistol. 

He was taken aback when you moaned softly at the sensation. 

“Oh?” he said as he raised an eyebrow.

He pressed the gun even harder onto your pink pearl, eliciting another sigh. 

“Huh. Color me impressed,” he muttered. “This entire time I thought you were fighting for your life but you are actually enjoying this? You dirty little slut! And here I thought you were prim proper little miss perfect..”

“Why.. why are you stopping?” you breathed, a splash of pink brightening up your cheeks, causing him even more of a surprise. “Just keep.. Keep going.”

And to his own dismay, he obliged. 

“How would you feel if I did this?” Wade asked, but before you could even react, he had already shoved the barrel of the gun deep into your cunt. 

You tossed your head back in response, moaning helplessly as he pushed the pistol in and out of your swollen pussy.

“Ah, ah~” you cried out, instinctively spreading your legs open to allow him even more access.

“Now that’s a good girl!” he encouraged, taking note of your subtle invitation and pushing it even harder and deeper than he did before. “Wow. You know, this has been truly enlightening, Y/N. I never in a million years would have guessed you of all people would turn out to be a freak! And you, my friend, are the freakiest of the freaks.”

“I-I am not!” you protested, gasping as you felt the cold steel pushing heartlessly against your walls. “I like normal things too.”

“Uh huh,” Wade said as he continued to fuck your insides relentlessly with his gun. “And I am a three-headed sabertooth tiger named Richard. See? We can all tell lies to ourselves! It’s fun.” 

You could feel yourself practically melting into his hands, your soul floating into the ceiling until you heard it. The click. 

“Well, it has been real Y/N,” Deadpool sighed, his index finger resting comfortably on the trigger. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell had the time of my life! Shit, if we didn’t meet under these circumstances, we absolutely would have hit it off in another reality. As in, I would have fucked you in a multitude of positions in a variety of exotic outdoor locations! Unfortunately, however, the fun and games have to come to an end somehow. I mean, wouldn’t you agree?”

You felt as if your heart was about to both break and jump out of your chest simultaneously. 

“B-but..” you tried to reason with him. Not that it was any use, of course. “I really liked this..”

“I know, babe,” Wade cooed, his free hand snaking up and gripping around your throat tightly. “But if I don’t kill you now, I probably never will because you are just too cute. And sometimes I just can’t help myself but make stupid decisions.”

“Please don’t kill me,” you begged, looking up at him. 

Wade was just about to pull the trigger until you caught his eye.

“Aw, FUCK!” he shouted, immediately removing the gun from your dripping snatch. “Don’t.. don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you inquired innocently, tilting your head to the side. 

“That!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards your face. “Looking up at me with those big, stupid adorable eyes. You know I can’t help myself when you do that.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you shrugged. “Besides, I thought you had already made up your mind. You sounded pretty sure of yourself after all.”

“You know, you really are a little shit, you know that?” Deadpool fired back, placing his hands on his hips. “God, and this was supposed to be sexy and dangerous, but you totally ruined the atmosphere.”

You smiled to yourself, self-assured in your victory. “Well, does that mean you are going to let me go?”

“Yeah, yeah, go fuck yourself,” Wade responded, untying your ropes and smacking you on the ass as you stood up. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Before you walked out of the warehouse, you stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek over his mask. “Thank you.”

“Go, GO!” he yelled, pushing you towards the exit of the dingy building. “And don’t come back.”

And as soon as you came, you were free. The moonlight poured through the cracks of the tree branches outside and lit up your face. The door slammed behind you in a dramatic fashion. And with that, you finally felt yourself settling into another moment of peace. 

[charliemwrites]

Hi :)

You should not be doing this.

It rings like church bells in the back of your mind. A funeral toll for each damning decision that is killing your divinity.

Finding the ritual. Dong!

Drawing the circle. Dong!

Spilling your own golden essence over a twisting sigil. Dong!

Tongue tripping over unfamiliar vowels and consonants. A language you know but have never spoken. Dong!

“Well,” a low, rough voice drawls, “isn’t this something special.”

You close your eyes, steel your spine. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your nerves. Tilt your head just enough to watch him from the corner of your eye, a dark and hulking shape. You’re almost startled by the size of him. Have never seen a demon like this before.

His horns curve back from his head, rams horns. You jolt a bit. A higher demon than you expected - than you meant to summon.

“Such a pretty thing,” he coos, stalking closer. “I haven’t eaten an angel in millennia….”

You nearly gasp as rough hands brush your wings. It almost burns. You twist, find him suddenly much closer than you thought. A massive hand captures your chin, jerks your head up to look at you this way and that.

“And here you serve yourself to me on a silver platter.”

He smirks, a hint of viciously sharp fang peeking out. You gather your courage, smack his hand away. The bracelets around your wrist chime.

“You are the one who’s here to serve,” you remind.

He moves faster than you can ever hope to match, crushing you to the wall, your wings pinned beneath you. A clawed hand is around your throat, tight enough to threaten oxygen if you needed it. Still you gasp, squirming and struggling, frightened by his strength. Why is he so much stronger than you?

“Mind yourself, dove,” he growls, eyes glowing like hot coals. “You may have summoned me, but that does not entitle you to my power.”

You grunt softly as he flicks at your halo, eyes stinging a bit. You’re unfamiliar with pain; Heaven is soft and kind.

“Please,” you manage.

His eyes narrow, a smirk turn to his lips. “That’s more like it. Now tell me, why would one of the host call upon a demon.”

“T-to make a deal.”

His eyebrows arch, but there’s a flicker of genuine fascination in his eyes now. The grip on your throat loosens a little, but he presses closer just a quickly, one burning line of inhuman muscle along your front.

“A deal…” His voice has dropped even lower somehow, rumbling in his chest. “Oh dove, you have no soul to sell. What did you plan to bargain with?”

“I-I don’t know,” you admit. The desperation that brought you here, made you do all this, yawns open inside you. “You name the price, but please.”

His laughter fills the room, genuine amusement this time. “You’ve no idea what you’re offering.”

You frown. “I do. I know… I know what it means. But what I’m asking for…”

He tilts his head. “And what are you asking for, angel?”

“There’s a man, a human man. When his mother passed I brought her soul to Heaven and she asked - she asked me to watch over her son…”

He arches his eyebrows. “You’re no guardian.”

“No,” you agree. Guardian angels are fierce and beautiful, a balance of warrior strength and guiding patience. They carry swords and shields, iron in their feathers. “But… I couldn’t deny her.”

“Let me guess, he’s slated for death now.”

“Hes a soldier.” Death then damnation. He has made himself a machine of suffering and it has charred his soul.

The demon hums with understanding. “You want me to save him.”

“From death,” you clarify, “the rest.., the rest I will try to do myself.”

The demon makes a little “ah” noise. “And so you’ll offer me anything to defy death. For one mortal?”

You can hear the disdain in his voice and it sparks your ire. The scent of ozone seeps into the room as your feathers ruffle.

“I don’t need to explain myself. Will you take the deal or not?” You demand. “I need to know if I should summon another - ah!”

You flinch as your head is wrenched back, throat exposed. Hot hair brushes the skin as he looms over you, fangs so so close.

“Your Heavenly Father didn’t bend you over his knee enough,” he snarls. “We’ll have to correct that.”

You swallow down a whimper, sense that it’s best you don’t push your luck.

“Very well, dove. You have your deal. I will keep your precious mortal alive.”

“And in exchange?” you ask.

He chuckles. “That is not for you concern yourself with.”

And then white hot pain explodes through your shoulder, fangs sunk deep into your shoulder. He moans at the taste of your blood on his tongue, hips jerking roughly against your stomach. It feels like a small eternity that he bites into you, leaving his mark. The contract of your unholy deal. His tongue laves cruelly over the marks as he pulls away. Gold drips from his chin as he grins at you.

“Fly home now, dove,” he says. “I will see you very soon.”

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 2 a: the deer stew scene

in early access, gale had two additional major scenes: the deer stew scene and the loss scene, both of which would happen during a long rest at camp.

the scenes in early access usually happened in this order:

-1: first night long rest scene (still in the final game) -2: mirror image scene (still in the final game) -3: deer stew scene (cut content / partially reused in act i) -4: weave scene (still in the final game) -5: loss scene (cut content) -6: tiefling party scene (ea version cut / partially reused in act ii last night alive scene)

the deer stew scene was supposed to show that gale had come to trust the protag throughout their time together and the actions they've taken, like saving arabella and mirkon, or trying to solve the tension between zevlor and aradin.

he would tell them about his condition and reveal that he needs magical artefacts of great power (idol of silvanus, sword of justice, staff of crones, shadow of menzoberranzan, etc.) in order to consume the weave within them to sate said condition. parts of that conversation have been reused and repurposed for the full release version of the game, though now this scene happens while travelling if you progress gale's approval enough.

you can watch a video of the deer stew scene here. below you'll find the transcript of the scene and all its outcomes.

the deer stew scene

Gale: Ah, there you are. How did you enjoy my deer stew this evening? Old family recipe. Protag (Option 1): It was delicious. Gale: Good. I tend to season it with spices from Kara-Tur, but given what's available to us, good old rosemary had to see us through. Not that I mean to regale you with my culinary exploits. Gale: There's, er... Well, there's actually something quite different I'd like to discuss. Protag (Option 2): I didn't have any actually. Gale: Curious time to be dieting. Especially with a chef like myself around. -> Then same as Option 1 Protag (Option 3): Should have kept it in the family. Gale: Can't argue with taste. Or the lack thereof. -> Then same as Option 1

Protag (Option 1): By all means.  Gale: We've been... -> See Option 3 Protag (Option 2): Why so tense all of a sudden? Gale: Some things are easier to explain than others. But first let me say this: We've been... -> See Option 3 Protag (Option 3):  Whatever it is, make it brief. Gale: As you wish. Gale: We've been travelling together for a while now, and during those travels I've been observing you. I want you to know that I like what I see.  The way you handled Nettie when she poisoned you. The way you defused the tension between Zevlor and Aradin. The way you got Kagha to release the girl. The way you saved that boy out of a harpy's clutches. In short: I've grown to trust you.

Protag (Option 1): That's very gratifying to hear  Gale: Now I need you to place your trust in me. Protag (Option 2): Enough of flattery. Where is this going? Gale: An exchange. I expressed my trust in you, now I need you to place your trust in me.  Protag (Option 3): Can't say the feeling's mutual.  Gale: And yet I need you to place your trust in me in turn. Gale: Our journey together is bound to last a while still. As such I feel compelled to speak. I say this because there is something I desperately need, but while I'll tell you what that something is, I won't tell you why. I have to ask you to agree to this before carrying on with this conversation.

Protag (Option 1): Very well, I agree Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand. You see, I have a... condition. A condition different from the tadpole, but just as deadly. The only way to appease Protag (Option 2): No. It's unfair to demand blind faith in you. Gale: I understand that I'm asking for a lot, but I can't tell you everything. Not yet anyway. Please, reconsider. Protag (Option 3): [Wisdom] You sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Failure] Gale: I'm afraid that's not going to work on me. Look, I appreciate your curiosity, but don't pursue this path.  Let's agree in actions first and explanations later, yes?

Protag (Option 1):  Fine, have it your  way. / Fine, I reconsider. Tell me what you need.  Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand... Protag (Option 2): I'm still going to say no. / No, I won't. And that's final. Gale: That's... truly disappointing. I see now that I misjudged you, so we'll dwell on the matter no longer. And at least I know where I stand. This is a part of the journey I must walk alone. Good night. Protag (Option 3): [Wisdom] you sense secrecy and danger. Use your tadpole to probe Gale's thoughts. [Success] Narrator: You become one with Gale's mind and you can feel something sinister oppressing you. It's... inside of you, a mighty darkness radiating from your chest. You could try to push further, but your hold over Gale feels brittle. It won't be easy delving deeper without him noticing. Delve deeper: [Failure] Gale: What are you... You're using the tadpole against me? This is a breach of trust that... And to think I thought you trustworthy in the first place! I'm leaving. I cannot stand to be around such betrayal a moment longer. 

Tav: [Insight] You are in mortal danger twice over. To leave would be foolish, and you are no fool.  [Failure] Gale: I am a fool. A fool to have trusted you. [Gale leaves the party permanently] Delve deeper: [Success] Narrator: You see through Gale's eyes, staring down the corridor of a dread memory. A book, bound, then suddenly opened. Inside there are no pages, only a swirling mass of blackest Weave that pounces. It's teeth, it's claws, it's unstoppable as it digs through you and become part of you. And Gods, is it ever-hungry.

Gale: Keeping me in suspense, are you? Come on, tell me, do we have an agreement or not? It's s simple question, isn't  it? What gives you pause? Protag (Option 1): Yes, I agree. Gale: Thank you. I see I did well to trust you. Now to the matter at hand... Protag (Option 1 / Dependent on Tadpole Use): Risk telling Gale what the tadpole showed you. Gale: What? You used that thing against me? And you saw! After I told you.... This is a breach of trust that... And to think I thought you trustworthy in the first place! I'm leaving. I cannot stand to be around such betrayal a moment longer.  Protag (Option 1): [Persuasion] Be reasonable, Gale. I'm responsible for our party. I had to know.  Gale: [Success] The need remains debatable, but I recognise your responsibility. Perhaps I spoke in haste, it's just that... there are things... things I cannot speak of. Besides, what you saw... You read the opening line of a very big book, no more. The darkness you perceived, that is my primary condition. A condition different from the tadpole, but just as deadly.

Protag (Option 2): [Inisght] You are in mortal danger twice over. To leave would be foolish, and you aren't fool. Gale: [Success] I have to admit, you are right about that. Besides, what you saw... Gale: [Failure] I am a fool. A fool to have trusted you. This is where we part ways. Protag (Option 3): So be it. Gale: So be it. This is where we part ways.

Gale: The only way to “appease” said condition is for me to take powerful magical artefact and absorb the Weave inside. It's been days since I last consumed an artefact, before we were abducted. It is time. By that I mean it's Imperative that I find and consume powerful strands of Weave at the earliest possible juncture. Protag (Option 1): Tell me more about that condition of yours [Saw with the Tadpole] Gale: You've already seen more than I was willing to share, remember? Best leave the darkness in darkness for now. [Did not use the Tadpole] Gale: That's part of the 'why' you agreed not to discuss. Wouldn't want to make an oath breaker out of you. Protag (Option 2): Where are we supposed to find the kind of artefacts you need? Gale: We already done the finding. The Idol of Silvanus is such an artefact. Protag (Option 1):  Are you crazy? There's no way I'm stealing the druids' idol. Gale: I'm not saying we should – I'm just pointing out it happens to be exactly the sort of thing I'm looking for. Of course we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 2): That sounds like more trouble than it's worth. Gale: And it might well be. It's a holy relic after all, and taking it would enrage the druids to no end. Not that I'd say no, but we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 3): Then let's go get it.  Gale: I'm not so sure that's advisable. It's a holy relic after all, and taking it would enrage the druids to no end. Not that I'd say no, but we're bound to come across more artefacts during our travels. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Protag (Option 4):  What happens if you don't consume any artefact? Gale: Catastrophe. Protag (Option 5): This is all madness. Gale: Define it as you will, the semantics aren't important, the condition's conditions are: I am in need of artefacts. That's all there's to it. -> Continue to As luck would have it... Gale: As luck would have it, Faerûn is full of them, though I do feel obliged to point out that items of power tend to be in the hands of the powerful. There will be danger involved – or great cost.

Protag (Option 6): So Astarion wants to suck blood and you want to suck magic. What's next? Gale: We all have our eccentricities. Ours are just more eccentric than most.  Astarion: As a matter of fact, you should feel lucky to be travelling with men of taste. -> Continue to As luck would have it...

Protag (Option 1): Danger? I wouldn't have it any other way.  Gale: Good. A bit of boldness will serve us well. -> Continue to I know the allure... Protag (Option 2): So you're saying I need to risk my life for you.  Gale: I know the allure these artefacts hold. I understand their value and their power. All this to say: I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may so bold: it's for a good cause indeed. I hope I can count on you.  Protag (Option 3): When I acquire powerful magic items, I'm not so sure I'll choose you over them.  Gale: That's your decision to make. I expect you to make the right one. Much is at stake. More than my own meagre life alone. Protag (Option 4): I can tell you right now I don't care at all for this wild Gale chase.  Gale: That's your decision to make. I expect you to make the right one. Much is at stake. More than my own meagre life alone. Gale: I know the allure these artefacts hold. I understand their value and their power. All this to say: I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may so bold: it's for a good cause indeed. I hope I can count on you.  Gale: [if the tadpole was used and told] Oh, and as far as that tadpole trickery goes, I really do trust you'll not be so untoward again.

coming up next:

-part 1: the three tadpole dreams -> completed

-part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene -> completed with this post & the loss scene -> will be posted next

-part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony

-part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever, @a-psychopathic-dream

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, please let me know!

[iceandpeaches]

mad at the gods; luke castellan

pairings: luke castellan x fem!reader (implied demeter kid)

warnings: fighting, betrayal, possible angst?, not proofread

summary: what if y/n had betrayed camp instead of luke...

a/n: short blurb because assignments have been keeping me busy lately.. i have so many drafts sitting in my docs

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

percy had just gotten back from his olympus, and the entirety of camp was cheering and clapping for him. he had just ended war, even you were happy for it. luke was stood beside you, overjoyed that he could finally spend some time with his girlfriend after the few hectic days he had keeping camp together.

soon, the evening was met with celebration and fireworks. you hated loud noise, so you and luke decided to reside in the inner parts of the forest. 

“what a celebration.”

“yeah i mean, percy stopped the war. of course there would be celebration.”

your hands shoved in the pockets of your cargo pants, fiddling with an object that you had put in it previously. your heart was racing. luke glanced up at you, brows furrowed as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“what’s wrong flower?”

your stomach drops, hand pressed against his chest; gently pushing him away. you nibble at your bottom lip, tears starting to form in your eyes. you reached into your pocket, slowly pulling out a sword larger than your usual dagger. luke simply watched, the sword causing him to back away.

“is that…?”

the sword was the length of your lower body, shining dark in your hands. 

“backbiter.”

you mumble, your chest rising and falling as you gripped the sword. even in the dark, you could see the concern in luke’s expression. backbiter wasn’t something you could just pull out, especially if it belonged to a god. luke reached in his own pocket, grabbing his own weapon.

“i… i don’t want to fight, luke.”

“then.. why did you do it?”

“i never meant to betray you, amore. i… i was mad at the gods. i’m sick and tired of trying to get my mother’s approval. i thought you of all people, would understand.”

luke’s mind flashed to all the times the two’s late night talks about the gods and how they wished they didn’t carry the responsibilities that came with them. you thought you’d be able to recruit luke, since you thought you two were on the same page, but apparently not. 

“what would your mother say?”

luke raised his sword pointing it at you, your grip tightening around backbiter. your lips quivered, unwilling to strike your weapon at your lover; but you had to do what you needed to do. you raised your sword, swinging at him. luke didn’t know whether to go easy on you, desperately trying to not hurt you at all. strands of your dark hair falling in your face as you fought hard, inhaling sharply when you felt a cut to your side. you drop your sword, grasping at your side. 

“flower i… i..”

you kneeled to pick up your sword, aimlessly slicing wherever on luke; sliced his calf. during the fight, you had already crossed the pillar twice; getting up still gripping your side and carving the last line to fully open the pillar. you turn to luke, his eyes glossy. in this moment, he desperately wanted you by his side to comfort him. you pointed the sword at him, hand shaking. 

“i’m sorry, luke. i... i love you.”

you ran through the portal, it closing behind you. luke was left in the dark, arm reached out toward the portal wishing you’d come back. he finally let himself go, only able to yell. tears streamed down his face, still in denial that you were now gone. 

“flower.. oh flower..”

[oletusfragments]

i heard requests were open and i scampered over as quickly as i could, i hope i made it in time 🙏

🌠: joseph, victor and mike (seperately) with a gn! reader who got hurt badly during the match and he has to take care of them (for joseph you could make the injuries be from a nasty fall or getting hit by the trolley or something)

Thank you for your time!

— SAVE YOUR HEART FOR ME; I'LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED

— JOSEPH

You and an injured teammate are running away from the photographer, circling around the hospital to buy time for the decoder of your team to decode the remaining two cipher machines. One of you has already been sent back to the manor deleteriously early in the game. Your team was quite at a disadvantage especially with Joseph's ability to slow down your decoding progress.

Currently, you're supporting your injured teammate as much as you can by shielding them against Joseph's hits. You and the photographer are aware and has accepted the consequences of loving someone from a faction with an opposite purpose from each other. You are to survive and he is to kill. But your lover can't exactly find it in him to hit you, the love of his life even if it costs him the match. And do you take advantage of it. He loathes you for that sometimes.

He's trying his best to find an opening through your body block to hit the other survivor but to no avail. You are quite persistent in taking the hit for them. Shielding them so closely to the point that it looks like you're hugging them.

The chase of cat and mouse, two mice in this situation, continues between all of you. All desperately aiming for victory even with the given situation. But perhaps Joseph should've paid more attention as to how long your body would last at the repeated jumping off the two-story building of the hospital.

You jump down following your teammate from the destroyed wall of the hospital's second floor. And Joseph follows after. But this time, the sight of you and your teammate running isn't what greeted him but instead the sight of you desperately trying to stand up from the ground with your teammate trying to support you as much as they can. But with the hits they've taken from Joseph's sword, their body doesn't allow them to help you to get off and run as the photographer inches closer to the two of you.

"My dear, what happened?" Joseph kneels beside you. He puts away his sword and inspects your body for injuries and puts an arm around you.

You shake your head "Don't worry, it's not that bad." But the hiss of pain you let out when you try to move one of your legs says otherwise.

He takes your hand away that was wrapped around your ankle to see the injury for himself. Your skin is littered in purple and red. His irises–wait he doesn't have those… He glances on your ankle to your face. "Does it hurt that much? You must have hurt your ankle when you fell."

"Oh we don't know that, my ankle just probably decided to dislocate while I'm mid-air." You replied to his obvious statement.

Joseph gives you a look and you decide to change the topic "So, uh, what about the match?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to continue it when you're in this state… maybe we should just call it a draw and go back?" Your teammate speaks up. Joseph gives an approved hum and picks you up, fighting back a grin when your cheeks turn pink at the gesture.

He carried you to your room and tended to your injury all by himself. But he did call for other medical experts in the manor (such as Emily) to make sure you'd have a stable and speedy recovery.

As much as he'd like to, Joseph would abandon any work or matches he has planned on his agenda just to stay by your side. But let's say due to manor rules, he can't.

The other survivors feel like the photographer has been more aggressive with his matches these couple days. They thought that it might be because you're hurt. Technically they're right, he just wants the matches to be over so that he'd see you again quicker.

— VICTOR

It's not too surprising that you'd get injured. After all, the area all of you are living in aren't exactly safe nor are the people you're sharing under the roof with. Especially when you all are scheduled and obligated to play the "game". In this house, getting hurt is normal.

You weren't feeling it today. The past few days were tireless and you've barely gotten any sleep. But you had a match today. And you can't exactly skip it, even with how exhausted you are. The baron cares only for rules and results you give, they could care less for your lack of rest.

The match was quite peaceful, fortunately. The kiter of your team was doing well and the rest of you three are peacefully decoding the ciphers. Victor was also in the match which gave some comfort in the intense and tiring atmosphere.

But you were tired as hell, and the peace was so boring that it's encouraging you to relax. A bit too much. Your eyes droop and you lose your focus on decoding. You didn't even hear the bell that signifies an upcoming calibration. Your eyelids opened as fast as you closed them when the cipher gave you a shock for your failed calibration.

Luckily Victor has already finished your cipher and was heading to yours when he heard you scream in pain followed by a thud. He rushed to the noise and scrambled beside you to check what had happened to you.

The familiar bark heading your way gives you relief as you lie on the ground hissing and groaning while clutching your wrist. Victor looks at you worriedly as he positions himself beside you. He lets out a surprise yelp when his eyes land on your right hand. Around your palm are black spots and red marks.

"I got shocked…" You say, your voice hinting a slight disappointment towards yourself. "I fell asleep and missed a calibration."

Victor gives you a warm side hug whispering to you "Please don't beat yourself too much because of this. You were too tired and shouldn't have been in this match anyway."

He rubs your shoulders to soothe you. There's no doctor in the match right now and the area the game is set in doesn't seem to have any first aid kits or anything to help to provide. So unfortunately you'd have to sit for now until the match is over to get your wound treated.

A cipher pops from across the map and is followed by another pop. Maybe it was fortunate that there was a certain prisoner in the match to help speed up the cipher progress. There's only one cipher left needed to complete. And yours was more than halfway done. The inventor from across the map sees that too and the light bulb from the switch on the ground lights up signifying that he has made a connection to your cipher to the one near his.

"Stay here, it'll get better soon I promise." His hushed voice says to you and you nod in response. You don't have to do anything but wait right now, seems like the perfect time to take a short nap. But the zap you just had earlier just electrocuted the exhaustion out of you. Well at least you have Wick and your cute blonde lover to accompany you right now and to keep you distracted from what happened. You don't even want to look at your injured hand right now.

Victor doesn't need to take a peek from his letters to speed up his decoding. His love for you and his priority for your health and safety is enough to give him the motivation he needs to slam his fingers on the metal keyboard like his life depends on it (well technically it does I guess?).

When the last cipher popped, Victor rushed you to the nearest gate and typed in the code to get you out of there as fast as possible.

He memorized every advice Emily gave to you for your injury, even writing it down so it won't be forgotten. He also made sure to send a letter of gratitude to the doctor in thanks for her help.

The days you feel insecure or guilty for your accident, Victor was there to reassure you. Saying that any wounds or mistakes you do doesn't make him love you less and that he will always be there and take care of you when needed.

When he's not available or busy with other things, he'd send long letters and gifts to make you feel better while you rest in the meantime you're healing from your injury.

— MIKE

A risky boyo. He literally plays with bombs. As much as it helps to reduce the hunter's abilities and speed, it's still a bomb. A weapon treated as a toy and could pose a threat to the survivors side if handled wrong (ingame it doesn't do anything to fellow survs but I'm talking in a more realistic sense...does that make sense lol).

The match was just utter chaos. Sounds of bombs everywhere that your own eardrums felt like exploding. Even their ticking was enough to make your ears bleed, not just because they're annoying but also because it's the indicator to your upcoming demise of getting flown to the sky by a rocket.

Your beloved acrobat is heading towards you and the hunter, guard 26. A hunter with a seemingly unlimited stack of bombs that can rain upon you. Around you were a handful of bombs threatening to explode as soon as a foot stepped on their area, something Bonbon can also command despite the timer. Making it harder for your lover to rescue you unscathed.

Mike runs towards Bonbon and leaps above him, dropping a fire bomb. He cartwheels to your chair and stands up immediately to untie you from the binds. But as soon as you get out of the seat, bombs explode on the two of you. He missed.

"Oh… oopsies. Sorry." He gives you a strained smile while his eyes display annoyance. You can't even be mad when he already looks guilty enough for the mistake. Ah, well he tried his best. What's fortunate at least is that you didn't get incapacitated and both of you managed to get away with the help of the speed boost of your will to live. The amount of miracles that happened in the overwhelming situation was absurd but you'd take any chance god gives you.

But unfortunately, your luck ends there. You all still end up getting eliminated and receive a loss for the match.

Both you and Mike are treating each other's burns in your room. It wasn't only you who suffered but him as well. He apologized to you profusely for his mistake at the match.

"If it only landed properly, the match could've gone better… damn…"

You use your arms to lift your weight to scoot closer to him, wincing when the burns in your legs brush with the fabric of the mattress. "We all make mistakes, don't beat yourself up over it."

"But look at us! We got cooked." He points at both your legs, which are wrapped in dressings.

"There's nothing we can do to change the past now, no matter the amount of regrets we have right now. We just gotta make sure it won't happen next time."

He hums in contemplation before replying to you, "You're right."

His head shot up as if an idea sparked in his mind and you look at him curiously "And next time, I'll do cooler stunts while I explode a bomb on their face! I'll do this cool flip like…" Mike motions his ideas with his hands in a way that's only comprehensible to him as you nod pretending–but trying–to understand.

"Oh, I have a lot of work to do!" He says, giddy with excitement and an earnest look on his face. Seems that he's recovered from his depressed state. You smile at him, glad that he's shining once again. But there's still one thing he needs to consider…

"Mike, you should let your legs heal first…"

"...Oh, right."

You two spend time with each other while also healing together. He'd caress your injuries and kiss them but they're burns. They hurt when touched so he can't (😔).

Mike makes you laugh by telling jokes and silly stories in return for you comforting him. He's even willing to serve you meals in bed if you want him to and no, he won't let you do any work. See it as a redemption for his undignified rescue, he says.

N: I think I focused more on the scenario than the caring part, especially at Mike's part and you can see very well which parts I gave up on oml 😭😭 Sorry this took long!

[romanoffsbish]

Silent Night

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Natasha gives you the worst news possible, you are stuck with her on Christmas Eve when you had made plans with another… (Blurb / WC: 1k)

Warnings: Hurt / Comfort | Grief / Loss | Hopeful Ending

Natasha stood there frozen, her body near perfect in stature to the naked eye, but to any other spy they'd notice the slump in her stance. She was crestfallen in sync with you as you stumbled back and shook your head from side to side, negating her command.

——

"No!" Natasha leapt forward then, her arm quick to wrap around your waist, hand firmly gripping you by the hip as her other covered your trembling lips. The look of genuine grief and budding betrayal in your eyes was like a sword through the assassin's heart but she remained steadfast as she grunted, "stay quiet agent."

For a moment you were stunned into silence, it wasn't like the redhead treated you differently, but you had hoped she would. That she'd let the heartless facade go and help you to escape this nightmare. You needed to get home, which right now was a sterile white room in a rundown hospital because the salary of a shield agent still wasn't enough to save the woman you needed.

A girl never stops needing the love of her mother.

Natasha understood you, she knew the pain behind your eyes well, you were losing something important.

She knew what you were saying; you couldn't stay in this run down cabin with her until the coast was clear. Fury's orders were of no significance to you when you had a very important person waiting on you back home, which was currently thousands of miles away. Tony needed to send a rescue jet now, it didn't matter if lives were lost, you wouldn't really mind if it were your own and that terrified the stoic woman.

The words never left your lips but she could see it in your eyes that you wanted out. Of the cabin, yes, but also of this life you were mindlessly walking through.

Natasha knew something had changed for you about six months ago, you'd stopped smiling at her then. It was such a simple gesture on your end, persistent too as she never returned it, always just walked right by.

Natasha was trying to keep her distance from you as she worried your spark would be dulled by her pain.

There was so much she'd yet to process and she was not willing to take you down her path of darkness. The loss of your smile was actually what forced her into the darkness and ultimately what got her through it. She would picture it in her worst moments and find peace.

A solace she so desperately wanted to be for you, deep down she knew you'd need someone to hold you and she refused to let anyone else take this spot, it was hers. The protectiveness didn't fade but her resolve softened as she felt your tears beneath her fingers.

"Natasha, I have to go," you cried as her hand slipped and you attempted to shove her away. "I know..." Yet her hold didn't falter, it only tightened, "but you can't."

"Please," you cried, fists pummeled into her chest but she didn't falter. Her lips were gently raised and your eyes froze on the gesture you had always wanted from her. You were wrong for hitting her but she merely offered you reassurance; the permission to continue.

It broke you from your rage and set free the truth as you fell into her hold instead and the redhead was quick to lower your bodies. You wailed just the same as you did when your mother gave birth to you, giving you the life she'd lose tonight; on the eve of Christmas.

Twas her favorite holiday, it carried a nostalgia from her childhood that she sprinkled into yours. The best parts of course, she was that for you, if you could you'd sacrifice decades of yours for just another with her.

Life and death are intimately bonded, woven together as opposites because it can't be forgotten that what has a start must also come to an end; a cruel twisted fate.

The hopeful would call it a miracle, but you were more akin to a realist. It was easy to see that both sides offered truth, the reality lied beneath the romanticism.

There was good and bad in everyone's story, you felt it in the air as your mother's words presented falsely. The ding of your phone was unnecessary, just like the '🕊️' your sister had texted you. You felt the tether snap.

Your mother told you she wouldn't leave until she knew you were alright, which was not exactly rooted in the present moment but rather the foreshadowed fate.

The ghost pressure of a pair of lips was pressed against your forehead, and you whined in your sob induced sleep, Natasha lent down and kissed your skin in hopes that it would soothe your broken heart, even just a bit.

A smile adorned her face when you nuzzled further into her embrace, she pulled a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around your bodies. It didn't bother her that her night would be spent on the floor, with her back up against the edge of the couch, it wasn't ideal for sleeping but she didn't plan on doing that anyways.

The only plans she had were to sip on her tea and watch the rise and fall of your chest, "I've got you..."

Natasha didn't believe in much, the woman has stood up against aliens but she still dismissed the fables of  ghosts, werewolves and vampires (she was team Alice).

The redhead was trained to believe what she sees, and it wasn't until tonight that she could cross out another.

A gust of wind blew over the both of you shortly after the woman had confirmed her desires to be with you. Three simple words that carried a deeper message. A smirk overtook the redheads face as she felt a warmth she'd never felt before, there was no other explanation.

"It's nice to meet you Miss Y/L/N; she's safe here."

[devondespresso]

little ficlet made from this writing game i made up!

G | 835 words | Steddie, fantasy/DnD au | open (but not sad) ending

Songs that inspired this (in order): The Chain (Fleetwood Mac 4:32), Barracuda (Heart 4:25), Crazy On You (Heart 4:54), Dont Fear the Reaper (Blue Oyster Cult 5:09), You Can Go Your Own Way (Fleetwood Mac 3:39), California Dreamin’ (The Mamas And The Papas 2:43), Love Alive (Heart 4:19), Moonage Daydream (David Bowie 4:40), Separate Ways (Journey 4:26), Hold The Line (Toto 3:59), Carry On My Wayward Son (Kansas 5:24)

<< dividers by the lovely @/saradika-graphics >>

They’d been traveling for days. 

Steve and his knights and the caravan they guarded, followed by Dustin and the other squires and a few more tagalongs just for good measure.

They wandered lands and fought many a beast in their time, Steve and Robin and Dustin and Erica together for the most of it, but all of them had fought side by side at some point in time. This quest was not supposed to be like those others. An escort, maybe some simple tussles with bandits, like practice at their very worst. That’s what they all expected.

None of them had seen it. Not even Nancy, keenest eyes in their party, not even Dustin, brightest mind amongst them.

One moment they were wandering the woods and the next the horses ran, broke out into a sprint with riders screaming from their backs and a few knights and squires chasing after them.

Steve and Robin drew their swords and braced back to back while the squires allerted the rest of their party. But the shadow flitted across Steve’s vision, quick and formless, before taking Dustin and diving off into the woods.

Steve screamed and directed Robin to stay before bolting after them, following Dustin’s calls into the woods. He chased and chased but the sounds got farther and farther, rustling dying down into the ambiance of the woods, Dustin’s voice only an echo in his mind, but Steve still ran. Desperate and wild through the undergrowth, hoping that trying just a little more, just a little harder, would get him closer.

It didn't. Steve lost all trace of the sounds, of where they went, of where he even was. 

Steve stopped at a tree, nearly collapsing into it as he caught his breath. 

Within moments he shucked off his helmet and stood again, looking around and listening more, but still all he caught was his own panting. 

Quiet. And panting.

His panting got heavier. Wetter. Stuttering and gaspy, until the only sound that filled the woods was his broken scream.

Steve let his helmet hit the ground next to him as he looked around again, desperate for any sign of them, not ready to accept that Dustin could be gone. He ran a hand over his face before looking back down at his sword, hanging limp from one hand, unused.

“Thank you.” said a voice from behind him, eerily familiar, and Steve jumped around to see–

“For coming for me,” Dustin said, smiling a closed, toothless smile, “But you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Steve stared at the not-Dustin in front of him for a moment longer before turning and looking around, scouting the trees around them for any more threats. But the woods were empty. Emptier than they had any right to be.

“What do you want?” Steve said, turning back to find not-Dustin looking exactly as he did before.

Not-Dustin blinked at him, smile unchanged, eyes stagnant.

“What do you want?” Steve gritted out, and not-Dustin didn’t move. “Where’s Dustin? What–”

“He’s back with the others.” a new voice said from behind him.

Steve jumped around to look at it, but found no one there. He turned back to Not-Dustin, just in time to watch the kid’s image go fuzzy and fade away.

“What the hell do you want!” Steve yelled, glaring at the woods all around him, clenching his sword tighter.

“Three strikes babe.” the voice said, to the left of him this time, and as Steve jumped to look at him, his eyes finally landed on a dark figure, leaning against a tree just a few too many paces out of reach. “You’d think with three unanswered tries that you’d start asking something different now.”

Steve stared down the figure, silhouette vague and almost liquid against the dark behind him, and said nothing.

The figure looked back for a moment, glints of eyes barely visible before the figure looked away, shaking his head.

“You’re not a very fun conversationalist, you know that?”

“I’m just returning the favor.”

The figure huffed, and wandered barely into the light.

Steve’s grip tightened around his sword again as inky black hair, heavy plum cloak, and long winding horns entered the sparse sunlight. But the figure stopped, still paces away, and held his hand up where they were visible, parting the cloak to reveal filthy bandages wrapped around his torso and the single glimmering stone hung from his neck.

“I have a job for you.” The man muttered, eyeing Steve just as carefully.

Steve stared at the stranger in shock for a moment before sighing and cautiously sheathing his sword.

“And you’ve never heard of a letter?”

“You ever hear of the Royal Guard? Or a sheriff?” The man bit back. “Or how about bandits? Your average nosy varlet?”

“Alright.” Steve huffed. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m Eddie,” The man said, taking a deep breath to steel himself before looking back up to meet Steve’s eyes. “And I just want my Uncle back.”

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 1

Propaganda under the cut:

Anna/Elsa:

THE juggernaut Frozen ship, and I will never forget our glory days!! Anna's act of true love canonically saving Elsa, and then them having a bunch of children from Elsa's sneezes in the Frozen short… Iconic. They will ALWAYS be the most important thing in each other's lives (remember the time Kristoff was trying to propose to Anna, and she was like "Hmm did you see how Elsa was acting weird? I need to go investigate")

Staple for the incest and yuri fandom of the 2010s. Ridiculously romantic storyline of having the kind of true love that's stuff of legends, capable of trumping fear and breaking curses. They are willing to sacrifice anything for each other and we even have a dumbfounded person looking at how beautiful the other is atop of the stairs. Olaf is their baby I guess.

In their attempt to pander to homophobic fans and make a movie about sisterly love instead of lesbians, Disney accidentally made the most beautiful incestuous love story of all time. I just KNOW they were fantasizing about each other while Elsa was locked in her room for all those years. Yes, it's supposed to be a family-friendly princess movie. True sickos know that that's the point.

Elsa and Anna. Two sisters who are separated for thirteen years and yet those thirteen years only entangle them deeper – Anna haunting Elsa because Elsa will not let herself forget the night of the accident, holding Anna close as a child and sobbing… Elsa’s whole life after that moment defined by that moment, defined by protecting Anna and keeping her distance from Anna while yearning to be near to her as the years go by… Elsa sacrificing her everything in the desperate hope that Anna will be safe… If “love is putting someone else’s needs before yours,” then Elsa does that over and over for thirteen years even as she suffers from wanting all the time to be with her sister… – Elsa haunting Anna because Anna is separated from her sister but does not know why, separated from her sister but longing for her sister – and to both of them, the thought of the other becomes something to worship – until Anna gives her life to throw herself before Elsa and stop the falling sword – until Elsa can finally, finally touch Anna again but now Anna is frozen to solid ice, so the only thing Elsa can touch is the reminder that she killed the person she loves most in this world. And then Anna thaws and they cling to each other, united by love – by a desperate, all-consuming, true love that thaws Arendelle around them – and they still carry the thousand wounds from their childhood but they have each other, they love each other, they are in each other’s arms.

I cannot stress enough how intense the film’s focus on touch makes things for incest shippers. Not only are the sister’s separated, but Elsa cannot touch Anna skin to skin, must always wear the gloves, must always keep a barrier between herself and the one she most longs to hold, to touch. Imagine the exhilaration of that first embrace on the fjord. Being able to touch without fear for the first time in years. Imagine the relief.

I also want to cite this, from an anonymous submission to a headcanon blog:

"However, since protecting Anna also required her to stay away from Anna at all times, Anna became sacred, in a sense: something fragile and special to be watched over but never touched or spoken to. She would come to love Anna in much the same way people come to love religious icons: Anna had always been there and had never been there. She loved Elsa and did not know Elsa. She was warm and kind and dedicated and was under no circumstances to be tainted with Elsa’s presence unless she kept the tightest possible control over herself."

That fear of destroying Anna, of corrupting Anna by touching her, of letting loose the repressed part of herself - all of it comes together so exquisitely for an incest ship.

And after they rediscover each other, in Frozen 2? Their bond remains just as intense. The last word on Elsa’s lips before freezing is Anna’s name. Anna, when she realizes Elsa’s “death,” sings a heartbreaking song that includes the lyrics:

“I can't find my direction, I'm all alone The only star that guided me was you How to rise from the floor When it's not you I'm rising for?”

Their pain is born of their love, and their love for each other drives them both forward.

Alex/Justin:

I refuse to believe I was the only child all over this. The WOWP movie had so many romantic undertones I almost felt like I had watch away from my family lol

They are bickering siblings who can't live without each other and regularly perform grand gestures for each other, even if it's just an underhanded eay to get the other's attention or be all up in their business. Alex has every reason to be absolute confident of her brother's love and fussiness towards her because she could literally do anything to him (and she does) and he would still be sure to stick around for more 💀 She might actually die if a day goes by without picking on him too

The Wizards movie…holy shit. Justin is forgetting Alex but is still devoted to her to a fault. "I'll never leave you." Offering his flannel shirt around a fire bc Alex is cold? Romantic as fuck

[neverniko101]

Krxkentale- Nightmare’s Gang

Canon Horror? Fanon Horror? What about both. On the same team. Ehehehehehehehehegegehhe-

To be clear I love them both equally and have nothing against anyone who likes/dislikes one or the other

Rambling below!! This will eventually be a comic I swear, just wanna finish current ones first :3

Horror

Fanon!Horror- The Bear

Original by Sour Apple Studio

- Worked for a multiversal agency that provided highly trained soldiers to act as mercenaries to whoever could pay, regardless of what they did. Horror was one of these soldiers, as he was indebted to the agency for rescuing he and his brother from his collapsing AU. This agency (too lazy to name it) was very shitty to those who worked for it, paying almost nothing and often making them fight for food to encourage violence and distrust. They wouldn’t want an uprising, after all…

- As these mercenaries were being hired by Nightmare’s enemies and proving to be quite annoying, he showed up and destroyed everything, killing, capturing, scattering, or recruiting all the soldiers. He offered Horror the opportunity to work for him as a guard and soldier, in exchange being treated as a noble with all the food he could want.

- Horror is large, gruff, and always hungry. Despite his rough nature, he tends to be the kindest of the gang and becomes very protective of the others as he gets to know them.

- The reason his AU collapsed was because the code itself was starving, drained of enough magic that it started digesting its own code, collapsing in on itself. Fun. Otherwise, it began as a normal Horror!tale AU.

- His brother worked at the kitchens of the agency and went missing during Nightmare’s attack. His whereabouts are unknown.

Dust

Murder!Sans- The Crow

Original by Ask-Dusttale

- A Mad scientist both in the terms that he is crazy and he is angry. Made a deal with the god of Death (Reaper) to permanently kill the human from his timeline despite their Determination, having Reaper personally come and drag them into hell. In exchange, Dust worked as Reaper’s minion/preist, carrying out his bidding to help maintain the order of life and death.

- Fascinated with the prospect of reanimation and dreams of bringing his Papyrus back to life. Reaper doesn’t like this, but finds Dust’s experiments interesting and therefore allows him to continue.

- ✨Potions✨

- Has a pet crow named Terrance that he uses to communicate with Reaper. We love Terrance.

- Reaper has been anxious about Nightmare’s activities and sends Dust to act as a spy, joining the gang and reporting back to Reaper.

Cross

Xtale!Sans- The Wolf

Original by Jakei

- From an ice-covered Xtale AU, the young Paladin is used as bait to capture and kill the demon X!Chara, failing as the spirit fully takes control of Cross’ body and escapes before the two can be sacrificed. Almost completely overtaken by the monster, Cross makes a desperate plea to the moon god to come save him, summoning Nightmare. NM restores Cross’ control, but refuses to remove X!Chara altogether, using that as leverage to make Cross work for him; he can’t spend too much time away from Nightmare without the demon overtaking his body.

- Originally a Paladin to the sun god (Dream, although neither know it) and is therefore resistant to Nightmare’s magic (hence why he can’t make magical deals and contracts like the others and has to be controlled in different ways).

- His sword, dubbed Fred, is imbued with magic and glows in the dark. It also boomeranged back to him when thrown, but he, uh…needs some more practice with that part.

- Red pupil gets larger the more control X!Chara takes, filling both eyes when in complete control.

Killer

Something New- The Cat

Original by Rafwabas

- After everyone in his AU was dead, Killer got bored. Very, very, very bored. Why not poke around the old lab he used to work at, then? He might find something neat. And he does- with the magic he’s accumulated, he’s able to fuel a portal machine that can transport him to other AUs. He quickly redevelops his interest in engineering, stealing parts from other AUs to build his machines…until he’s caught. And thrown in jail. And freed by Nightmare, in exchange for working for him.

- He is a cat. Will climb. Knock thing over. Sit wherever he wants.

- He isn’t a murderer in this AU, instead fusing with the human in a last-ditch effort to stop them from wiping out the entire underground. He was forced to stay behind as everyone else evacuated, though, as it was unknown if the procedure would work or if Killer would be safe to be around. Which, to be fair, he isn’t.

- All of his socks have cat paws on the bottom

Hatchet

Horror!Sans- The Fox

Original by Sour Apple Studios

- Horror sans #2 lmao

- Due to the loss of his eye and most (if not all) of his magic, Hatchet finds his strength in wielding weapons and building traps. He is fast, agile, and stealthy, though his time of starving had left him physically weak.

- Some of the monsters in the Underground went haywire and attempted to sacrifice Hatchet in some effort to gain more food, only to be stopped by, you guessed it, Nightmare. Hatchet agrees to come work for Nightmare as long as he kills Undyne and restores someone halfway decent to the throne, which he does. Other than that, the inhabitants of his AU can fend for themselves. Except for Papyrus. He’s coming with him.

- How does one person have so many weapons on their body. Where is he keeping them. Where did he get a six foot tall hammer. Why does he have fifteen knives-

- His brother works at the castle too! He picks out Hatchet’s shirts

Okay it’s 1 am I have to go sleep now bye

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE

Paring: Azriel x Reader (soon? or maybe not…)

A/N: posted this drabble/idea on my old account but somehow it doesn’t appear in the tags 🤷‍♀️

this is just an idea. if you want me to follow up with more parts, let me know! let me know who reader should end up with.

TW: lil bit of angst, unrequited love, not proof read

I stir my black tea as Rhysand skips through the report I handed him just seconds ago. The steam from the tea rises, carrying with it a sense of fleeting warmth that I desperately cling to.

I rarely do missions, but when I do, l'm always eager to return home, cook myself a nice meal, cuddle my cat, and pass out in my bed.

Missions used to be exciting, but nowadays I prefer the comfort my room provides. The sense of security it brings is a balm to my soul, now more than ever.

"I have to say, l'm impressed you were able to convince Devlon so fast. The Mother knows how difficult he is."

I look up at Rhys and chuckle, the sound hollow to my own ears. "It does help if you threaten to cut his balls off and stake them to the wall for everyone to see."

Rhys lifts a brow and barks out a laugh. "I see."

I take this as a sign to stand up and lift my bag off the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and make my way to the door.

"Don't forget tonight's family dinner," Rhysand calls after me. “And no surprises this time,” I don't look back, just give him a thumbs-up and close his office door behind me.

As I make my way downstairs and through the foyer, I spot Lucien strapping on his sword.

Presumably getting ready for training or another form of torture he wants to inflict upon himself.

"How did the mission go?" Lucien doesn't need to look up to see that it's me approaching. I let out a sigh and rub my temples.

"Good." I stop beside him and flop onto the recamare right next to the front door. "Well, as good as paying the camps a visit can get.”

Lucien cracks a smile at that. He knows exactly how difficult it is to convince Devlon of something he isn't particularly fond of.

"Are you coming to the family dinner tonight?" I ask, my voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

Lucien sheaths his blade and nods. "Feyre will have my head if I don't show up. I already missed the last one."

I cringe at the mention of the last family dinner.

The memory alone sends a sharp pang through my chest.

————————————

I walked into the dining room, ready to face yet another family dinner. I spotted Mor right away, radiant in her blood-red gown. The sight of her was one of familiarity and comfort.

"Hey, got another one of those?" | pointed to the wine glass in her hand. She arched a brow and handed me one filled to the brim.

"Are we so exhausting that you need liquid encouragement to get through the night?" she mused. I shot her my best you know exactly why I need this' look.

Right as she opened her mouth to say something, the back of my head began to tickle. He was here.

I turned around to see Azriel walk through the door, and he was not alone. Elain was beside him, their hands intertwined.

The sight hit me like a physical blow. I looked back at Mor, her expression as shocked as mine. "didn't know," she whispered, her face now bearing a look of worry and pity.

I forced myself to let the anger and embarrassment fade away. I took a deep breath and replied, "It doesn't matter. If he wants to court her, he can."

Even though he was my mate... Even though every fiber of my being screamed in protest.

To say the dinner was awkward would be an understatement. Nobody really knew what to say after Elain and Ariel walked in holding hands.

I just shoved the potatoes on my plate around, too nauseous to eat anything. The lump in my throat made swallowing impossible.

Cassian cleared his throat and pointed to Azriel and Elain. "So how long has this been going on?" Nesta jabbed her elbow into his ribs, which earned her an "oww" from her mate, and threw me an apologetic look.

Besides Mor, only Lucien and Nesta knew about me and Azriel's mating bond. Their concern was palpable, a constant reminder of the bond I tried so hard to ignore.

"Well... Azriel coughed, noticeably uncomfortable with being put on the spot. "It all happened very quickly. We spent a lot of our nights up and talking and realized we didn't want to hold back anymore."

He gazed down at her, smiling. I recognized that look. That's how one looks when they're deeply in love. The realization twisted the knife in my heart.

That's how I look at him.

————————————

"Are you even listening?" Lucien waves a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my haze.

His voice pulls me back to the present, but the ache remains. I rub my eyes. "Uh... sorry. What exactly were you saying?"

He crosses his arms and looks down at me. "I was asking if you wanted to go training with me. But it seems what you really need is some sleep."

I roll my eyes and stand up. "You know me so well, Lu."

I pat his shoulder and walk out the door. "See you at dinner tonight."

Velaris is most beautiful at night, but nothing can beat the quiet and peace of the early mornings.

I walk down the high street, greeting some of my favorite vendors with a smile, until reach the familiar townhouse.

After I officially became part of Rhysand's inner circle, he offered me to stay at his townhouse.

It had many perks: no rent, right in the heart of Velaris, and an endless wine supply thanks to Rhysand's "secret" wine cellar.

The only downside was...

"I didn't think you would be back so soon."

Azriel sits at the dinner table eating breakfast, dressed in his fighting leathers, probably on his way to the House of Wind for Valkyrie training.

Cassian and Azriel still train the Valkyries every morning. Sometimes I join, but only when Nesta drags me up there.

"Well, sorry to disappoint. I laugh awkwardly.

"I'm going to head upstairs to rest. Say hello to Nesta for me." The words taste bitter, a poor attempt to mask the hurt.

I turn around before he has the chance to say something else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.

Yes, that was the downside. The constant reminder of what I had lost and could never have.

Him.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; To The Hilt (Fili x Reader)

Summary - Fili cheers you up with the help of his sword.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!Reader, mention of female genitalia (reader), brief mention of male genitalia (Fili), mention of bodily fluids (reader), wife!Reader, husband!Fili, sub/dom dynamics, soft dom!Fili (he loves his wife), semi-public sex, hair pulling (Fili's mustache), slight praise (reader receiving), pet names (reader is called a good girl and love), reader whines a lot, vaginal stimulation with foreign object (sword's hilt), implied and referenced previous negative self-talk, slight mean dom!Fili (towards the very end).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Word Count - 1,900+

A/N - Another suggested smut! "i really don’t have a exact idea for plot all i want is fili fucking reader with the hilt of his sword. need this. but maybe like reader is feeling down and fili just wants to make her happy with a good fuck :)" - (anonymous) I hope this lives up to your expectations, I struggled a tad with the hilt but I did my best! I apologize that I have been a bit slow with coming out with the suggestions, the holiday season had been more chaotic than I had prepared for. I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been interacting with my fics, you all have been so lovely and kind; I am sending you all my love. Reader has no defining features other than soft lips. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

The mist of your heated breath danced throughout the bitter mountain air— a cloud of gray swayed within your view for a moment before a gust of winter air carried it further down the busy mountain halls.

A shiver roamed down the length of your spine as the weight of your head fell back against the cold smoothness of the old stone wall behind you; the exposed flesh of your legs was covered in a thin layer of goosebumps as the backs of them pressed against it firmly. Yet, your attention on the chilling touch of the wall lingered for only a moment as a different—far more pleasurable—sensation regained your wavering attention.

The thick, wooden shaft of the dwarven prince's sword slid into your willing cunt—stretching your soaked inner walls to the brim as they quivered around each thrust the golden-haired dwarf made. The motions were slow yet deep—allowing you to feel the various carvings, the chilled metal, and the varied curvatures of the sword's hilt as it sheathed itself within you.

A whimper fell from your soft lips as you felt the mass of the hilt slowly back out of your cunt, threatening to leave your inner warmth as the thick, bulbous end of the hilt stretched at the tightness of your entrance. It was large and smooth, fattened perfectly to secure the dwarf's grip—and its place inside of your cunt.

The fibers of your entrance felt as if it was tearing at the seams as the fattened end of the hilt gradually began to push out of you, yet never leaving. Only half of the hilt's end left your cunt, the metal of it being warmed by your dripping walls as your sensitive, aching cunt puckered around it—stretched in a manner you never knew possible.

It felt so full, yet so empty at the same time—the depths of your cunt clenched around nothing while your entrance trembled and drooled around the hilt's end. A low groan of pleasure fell from your lips as the dwarf slowly began to push the hilt back in, allowing your walls to be satisfied by the various stretches only the hilt could provide.

"Fili..." His name left your lips in a breath, sounding more like a desperate prayer as your trembling, sweat-dampened hands grasped at the braided hair of his mustache. The cold, smooth metal beads of his braids soothed the burning heat of your hands as you tugged against the roughness of the braids. It was a momentary anchor to reality until the textured hilt began to move again.

A groan rumbled in the center of your chest at the sensation as your walls clenched around it. The fattened end of the hilt carved within you at all angles, hitting each sensitive spot within your core upon every thrust as the varied divots and carvings allowed for a familiar tingle to spread throughout your center.

The weight of your body shifted, back arching as your cunt sunk further onto the hilt—nearing the blade yet stalled by the bulbous end of the hilt, protecting the sensitive flesh of your cunt from being torn by the blade—as your grasp upon your lover's braids tightened, tugging them down as if to control his hands. Yet, his hands continued the same slow, torturous pace.

"Fili, please." You whined, the weight of your head sinking further back against the smoothness of the stone wall. The array of markings upon your neck now on display for your lover; hickeys, bite marks, and soft bruising from his palm—a sight he always loved to see; however, it did not sway the slowness of his movements.

"You know what I want, love." The heat of his breath grazed against the sensitive flesh of your neck as you tugged him closer, as another shiver roamed down the length of your spine as the wooden hilt continued its slow speed within you. "Say it." He ordered, yet your lips did not move.

Instead, they protruded outwards slightly, forming a pout as the muscles within your legs began to tremble. "Fili..." "No, that's not it." He replied to another one of your pathetic whines, slowing the speed at which the hilt of his sword rocked within you.

"Say it." He breathed as his free hand slid across the front of your abdomen, the tips of his calloused fingers gliding down the middle of your front—leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake—as they slowly continued down the path to the mound of your cunt. Hovering mere inches above your sensitive flesh, a breath away from delving between the sopping folds of your needy cunt, they lay there taunting you—a reminder you could meet the sweet release you so desperately craved if you would only speak those three simple words.

An annoyed groan fell from your lips as your gemstone-colored eyes looped around their sockets, rolling in annoyance as you knew that your beloved husband would not allow you release until you caved to his command—damn the stubbornness of dwarves.

The softness of your lips began to part, prepared to make another annoyed whine—or a pathetic plead—but the only noise that fell forth was a gasp of pleasure as the harshness of his calloused fingertips came into contact with your sensitive, twitching bundle of nerves as the hilt began to curve within you; scraping against your most sensitive spots, causing your body to quiver further in need.

"Fine!" You choked out, the pitch of your voice rising as the muscles within your thighs tightened, straining at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensations. "I am important." The words were no louder than a whisper, hidden beneath the quivering heat of your breath as your gaze shifted toward the floor.

"What was that?" Fili questioned, thrusting the hilt deeper within your cunt, causing your body to jolt forwards slightly at the sudden shifting of pace. "Louder, love. I could not hear over your panting." The cooed words felt like a taunt to you, though they were in your best interest.

For the past week, you had been wallowing in self-doubt as tales of the reclaiming of Erebor spread throughout the lively halls once more. Though you had followed your husband throughout the journey, you felt as if your role had lacked substance—as if there would be no difference if you had chosen to stay with his mother. It was a looming feeling; it would trickle back when you would hear your fellow companions boast about their bravery while you were just a mere healer, not a fighter like your husband.

A mere healer. Those three simple words had led to you pinned against this wall, with the hilt of your husband's sword buried within the depths of your cunt.

"I am important." You strained out, the words cracking upon your lips as your body shook with rising pleasure. The tips of his calloused fingers finally made contact with your sensitive clit, causing your back to arch further into the hilt and his palm.

"That's my good girl." The dwarven prince purred, the tips of his fingers continuing to trace patterns upon your swollen clit—and if you had half a mind to pay attention to what they spelled, instead of the deep stretch of his sword within you, you would feel the words 'I love you' within the pattern of swirls.

"Please..." You breathed, the syllables quivering upon your soft, pouting lips as your gaze rose from the old floor—locking onto the burning, ocean-colored gaze of your lover. "I can't—" "Then don't." He answered, the corners of his thin lips curling into a smile. "Let go."

Those two words were all it took. His name rang throughout the busied halls, alerting all within hearing distance of what was transpiring—though it was nothing new to the inhabitants of Erebor. Waves of pleasure wracked throughout your body as the overflowing fountain of your pleasure gushed upon the hilt, rolling down the length of the sword, dripping into a puddle of filth upon the stone floor.

Amidst the sea of static that rang within your ears, you could hear the faint whisperings of your lover.

"You are the most important thing to me."

"I would be nothing without you."

"I would kill a thousand men just to look at you."

"You have saved me in ways my sword cannot."

The reassuring words caused hot tears to prick in the corners of your eyes, your body still wracking from the intense pleasure as the tingling of pleasure danced throughout your veins.

Your chest rose and fell at an unsteady pace as you slowly came down from your high, vision slightly blurred from both tears and pleasure as you gazed upon your lover—slowly realizing how tight of a grasp you held upon his braids, yet the bulge within his trousers show he did not mind it one bit.

"Easy there, love." The gentle pressure upon your clit departed, earning a soft whimper to fall from your lips and a chuckle to rumble within the prince's chest. "I know, I know, but you must breathe." He spoke softly, his words dripping with affection as he rose his dripping fingers to his lips—licking off the sweet tang of your nectar before rubbing the remnants upon his trousers.

Mindlessly, the weight of your body slumped back against the chilled stone wall—soothing the burning heat that was your body as your lover slowly slid the length of his hilt out of your sore, sensitive pussy. The sight of the sword stained with the essence of your pleasure caused the flesh beneath your cheeks to heat, knowing that your husband would have to take his sword for a thorough cleaning and come with a reason as to why it reeked of the scent of sex.

"No one will ask, love," He spoke, his calloused hand cupping the side of your face. The cold, smoothness of his various rings gently soothed the raging fire beneath your cheeks. "they know better than to question me." He continued to assure you. The softness that his ocean-colored eyes held as he gazed upon you allowed your worries to ease further—and caused your knees to become weakened.

"And if they do?" The words left your lips in a whisper, nearly masked by the loud clanking that danced throughout the dwarven halls. "Then I will gloat about how pretty my wife is when she comes." He teased; the heat of his words against your neck caused a new heat to rise within your core—your inner thighs becoming slick with excitement at the thought, yet your face grew hotter thinking of the consequences of such a thing.

"Fili." The familiar sound of you whining his name caused the dwarven prince to chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly in amusement as his calloused hand remained on your cheek. "I jest, I jest." He laughed, yet the twinkle within his ocean-colored eyes told another tale.

"However," He began as he leaned into you, getting as close to your quivering frame as he could—the dampened coldness of his sword's blade pressing within the sensitive folds of your cunt. "if I ever hear you speak poorly of yourself again, I will not hesitate to bend you over and fuck you till everyone in Middle-Earth knows the sound of you screaming my name. Understood?" The moisture within your mouth dried at the threat as you slowly bobbed your head in agreement.

A threat you planned to use to your advantage.

[tindome-art]

“If you think anything I did, I did to make her love me, then you don't know anything about her and me. I'm her cavalier, dipshit! I'd kill for her! I'd die for her! I did die for her. I'd do anything she needed, anything at all, before she even knew she needed it. I'm her sword, you pasty-faced Coronabeth-looking knock-off.” ~ Gideon "I'm not fucking dead" Nav to Ianthe Tridentarius the First

They became such a formidable damn pair for that... what... one day? Half of one? Between the pool scene and the iron rail. I desperately want more of that dynamic. I'm not going to get it, but I do dream about it.

It's me carrying the devastatingly good looks of Gideon Nav in the photo, my Harrowhark is Darkesttears, photo was shot by a professional photographer during a Halloween event late October 2024. Piece by piece, we update the cosplays. It's a labour of love.

...I love this stupid costume, and swooshing around like two shadow cultists. For the Ninth!

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 16: The Right Dellamorte

“You can do with your body what you please, I just…think you deserve better.” “Sweet of you, but I haven’t had time for intimacy in months. If I find myself hot and bothered, I can promise you Damas won’t be my first stop.” She said as he dipped her towards the floor, one hand supporting her back while the other remained at her waist. “Any other romantic advice?” Lucanis smirked. “Only to kiss the right Dellamorte next time.” Rook’s pulse quickened as she clung to his greatcoat. Slowly, Lucanis eased her up, his expression suggesting his own forwardness equally surprised him. There was a raggedness to his breathing, and he reached out tentatively to comb a hand through her hair. When she remained still, he let the strands slip through his fingertips until he was cradling the back of her neck. A soft rattling of bones behind them broke the moment, and Rook turned to find Manfred offering her a thick tome on his serving platter. She straightened, smoothing the front of her gown with a thin-lipped smile. “Excellent work, Manfred.”

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Emmrich requests Lucanis and Rook's assistance infiltrating a former colleague's soiree, Rook grants Lucanis a rare moment of vulnerability, and Spite grapples with existentialism and…zippers.

Word count: 4.5k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! This chapter contains content from Emmrich's veilguard quest, A Sacrifice of Souls. Warnings for: mention of shitty dads, dead parents, temporary character demise, panting/heavy breathing/risque touching. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

The days following the rescue of the Dalish passed without incident, but Neve managed to keep Rook occupied. After an agonizing and unnecessary Threads meeting (that Damas called just to flirt with Rook), she and Neve returned to the Lighthouse after a quick dinner at the docks.

“Someone’s on Damas’ good side,” Neve teased. “I suppose your little tryst last year did us some good.”

Just as Rook began a cutting remark, they ascended the stairs to find a small group of friends waiting for them. Talking amongst themselves, their companions sat around the table, joined by one of the Mourn Watchers, Myrna. Coffee in hand, Lucanis leaned against Emmrich’s chair. His agitated expression suggested he’d overheard Neve’s mention of Damas.

“We have her, Rook!” Emmrich shot to his feet, excitedly clenching his fists. “We know exactly what she’s planning!”

Manfred echoed the necromancer with a delighted hiss, and Rook glanced at the others expectantly for clarification. 

“Is this about your old friend? Johanna?” Neve asked as she took a seat beside Harding on the couch, “Did you find out anything about that artifact she’s been wielding, then?”

“She carries a glowing lantern.”

“Shit!”

Rook jumped at the sound of Vorgoth’s voice as the phantom-like figure appeared behind her, and Lucanis tensed, instinctively reaching for the sword at his hip. The two had shared some discomfort around Emmrich’s collection of spirits and Fade-touched acquaintances, as spirit magic wasn’t common amongst Crows. Lucanis was guilty of being more vocal about his discomfort, while Rook tried desperately to conceal hers behind a mask of polite deference.

“The lanterns were fashioned by unscrupulous necromancers of the past. They steal and concentrate life.” Myrna explained as Vorgoth took his place at her side. “Hezenkoss intends to hold a soiree at Blackthorne Manor, likely to lure such a pool for her to draw from.”

“Johanna could leech life from hundreds at a time. An endless source of power!” Emmrich lamented. “We must do something. Everyone here has already agreed to assist me in infiltrating Johanna’s lair while she’s distracted. Once we’ve destroyed her lantern, all will be well.”

“What can I do?” Rook asked.

“I could use you and Lucanis’ unique set of skills to glean whatever information you can from the other attendees.” He said and laid a hand on Manfred’s shoulder. “I’m afraid my companion is not quite ready to attend a soiree all on his own.”

“He wants us to attend the party.” Lucanis said, brushing past her on his way to the courtyard. He leaned over, his breath ghosting over Rook’s ear, “Wear something nice.”

A chill ran up her spine, the air only becoming colder as Vorgath and Myrna strode past, taking their leave.

“Happy hunting.” 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“No, Manfred, you pinch and pull…ow!”

Rook held the silk dress together where the skeleton had been trying to zip it up. He sulked, clicking the tips of his boned fingers together in exasperation. 

“You’re right, your hands are too smooth. It’s okay, we can try again, you just-”

“Having trouble?” Lucanis asked, peering through the crack in the doorway. He pushed his way inside, dressed in a black-on-black suit, a dark green greatcoat pulled over his shoulders. Perched atop a neatly knotted grey cravat, his usual Crow-embellished buttons gleamed subtly in the light as they held the chain across his collar in place.

Typical that a Dellamorte would have her feeling underdressed in an evening gown.

“Manfred is struggling with the zipper…through no fault of his own!” She reassured the skeleton, “I think skin is key for traction.”

“CURIOSITY DRESSED ROOK NICELY.” Spite interjected, causing Lucanis’ face to flush. He cleared his throat, giving Manfred an appreciative nod. 

“I can take things from here.” He offered as he regained control. Manfred’s teeth chattered excitedly as stooped and eagerly gathered several discarded gowns from the floor, piling them in his arms until they towered over his skull. He fled from the room, disappearing down the hall.

“Little thief.” Rook muttered as Lucanis stepped behind her, sweeping her hair over her shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll find him playing dress-up later.”

“Well, I don’t think he’ll be moonlighting as a tailor anytime soon.”

Lucanis slipped one hand to the base of her spine, pulling the dress’ fabric taut and zipping it slowly. One thumb slid up the stretch of her spine, protecting her skin from becoming pinched in the metal again. Goosebumps broke out in the wake of his touch, and Rook stepped out of his reach as soon as he was finished.

“Thank you.” Rook gathered her hair in her hands, letting it cascade down her back again.

“Don’t mention it.”

Lucanis wandered the room, inspecting her keepsakes and trinkets, before picking up her knives on the dresser and passing them to her. She affixed one to the strap on her thigh and tucked the other inside her boot. She wasn’t risking getting caught in battle wearing heels ever again, and the length of the dress concealed them well.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in formalwear.” Lucanis said, offering her his arm.

“Likewise.” She hooked her elbow in Lucanis’, matching her steps to his as he led her down the staircase. “I think I’m looking forward to a rare occasion of anonymity.”

Lucanis hummed in agreement, taking a sharp turn towards the eluvian room as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“So you and Neve met with the Threads again today?”

“What, feeling left out?” Rook sneered. “I thought you didn’t want to come if there wasn’t killing?”

“Better to be consistent. Let them know I’m still here.” 

“I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“You don’t. But take me next time, anyway.” He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “Perhaps I’ll find an opportunity to dirty my blade.” 

“Something tells me you’d like to use it on Damas.”

He shrugged. “Spite doesn’t like the way he looks at you.” 

Rook stopped before the eluvian, placing her hands on her hips. “Is that true, Spite?”

“LUCANIS-”

He coughed forcefully, suppressing the demon’s response.

“Fine. I don’t like it either.” Lucanis growled, ushering her into the eluvian. 

Blackthorne Manor loomed ominously before them on the horizon as they surfaced outside the eluvian at the edge of the woods. Chatter and music emanated from within, reaching their ears even from a distance. The evening air nipped at Rook’s skin, and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself for warmth, carefully stepping over the dirt-covered cobblestone path. Each uneven stone was a challenge to not muddy her gown.

“How exactly does Damas look at me?” She asked as Lucanis led her inside.

He tensed, a puff of hot air leaving his nostrils in the chill.

“Like he’s undressing you with his eyes.” 

“Men are vile. That’s just how it is. You and Spite can’t possibly pluck the eyes from every ill-intentioned gentleman who stares at me too long.”

“We could try.”

As they entered the manor, they found the grand hall alive with lively conversation and posturing, voices reverberating off the walls. The ballroom was bathed in green light, as so many Mourn Watcher spaces and dwellings were. The marbled floors reminded her of the Dellamorte Operahouse as she stepped over their gold embellishments. From her periphery, Rook could see their companions observing from a nearby balcony.

"I've never been to a party with so many mages without being hired to kill one of them." Lucanis murmured.

"Try to place nice, for now." Rook said, catching on to a nearby conversation between two mages and tugging Lucanis aside toward a pillar to eavesdrop. “Emmrich wants us to determine where Johanna’s workshop is, first.”

“A shrine in the manor? You’re kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. As an expert, I could read the spectral tome that reveals it, if our host ever let us into the library.” The other man griped. There was a soft hiss behind them and Rook discovered Manfred waiting with an empty serving platter behind her.

“Manfred, I need a spectral tome from the library.” She asked in a hushed tone, “Could you send the others to look for it?”

The skeleton nodded and scurried away into the masses.

“And now we wait.” Rook said, eyeing the bar and cursing her vow of sobriety. Feeling Lucanis’ eyes on her, she turned to him, her voice laced with irritation. “What?”

Lucanis, undeterred, offered his hand with a gentle smile. “Care for a dance?”

“I suppose neither of our cousins are here to object.”

Rook accepted the dance, allowing him to escort her to the center of the room. To her surprise, he placed his free hand on her hip, drawing her into a slow, Antivan waltz.

“I apologize if I was critical earlier. It was not my intention…” Lucanis said, guiding her through each step with admirable grace. “I just…struggle to understand your history.”

“I suppose I didn’t realize you took such an issue with my sexual track record,” Rook mused.

Lucanis swallowed. “That’s your business.”

“You seem quite eager to make it your business,” she said, doing her best to keep synced with his movements.

“Wouldn’t you enjoy it more if it was…someone you cared for? Not some slimy Thread lying about his identity?”

“To answer that question, I’d have to sleep with someone I cared about first.” Rook replied as he gave her a brief twirl, pulling her tightly against him. “Why don’t you list off some of your ex-partners? I wouldn’t mind scrutinizing you for every regrettable evening of intimacy you’ve had.”

“There aren’t many to speak of,” Lucanis mumbled. “You can do with your body what you please, I just…think you deserve better.”

“Sweet of you, but I haven’t had time for intimacy in months. If I find myself hot and bothered, I can promise you Damas won’t be my first stop.” She said as he dipped her towards the floor, one hand supporting her back while the other remained at her waist. “Any other romantic advice?”

Lucanis smirked. “Only to kiss the right Dellamorte next time.”

Rook’s pulse quickened as she clung to his greatcoat. Slowly, Lucanis eased her up, his expression suggesting his own forwardness equally surprised him. There was a raggedness to his breathing, and he reached out tentatively to comb a hand through her hair. When she remained still, he let the strands slip through his fingertips until he was cradling the back of her neck.

A soft rattling of bones behind them broke the moment, and Rook turned to find Manfred offering her a thick tome on his serving platter. She straightened, smoothing the front of her gown with a thin-lipped smile.

“Excellent work, Manfred.”

She held the volume, sliding a thumb along its dusty spine before turning to Lucanis, who was struggling to hide his disappointment. 

“Would you like to take the lead on this, or should I?”

“By all means.” He said and gestured in front of them. Rook slipped her arm back in his, approaching the two mages from before, still engrossed in conversation.

“Excuse me, my husband and I are dear friends of the host. We’re looking for an expert to decipher this spectral tome, and someone pointed you out from across the room!” She flashed a dazzling smile that made up for her lack of natural charm. Beauty could mask even the worst charisma, Teia had always said.

The Mortalitasi Mage grinned smugly, eyes fixed upon the tome with intense desire, and extended both hands expectantly. “I’d be happy to look it over for you.” 

The spectral tome growled as Rook handed it over, and she fought to remain unbothered. If they were to appear as if they belonged here, they couldn’t risk reacting to phenomena common amongst those present.

“Shh, there now.” The mage reprimanded the tome like one would a child, “I just want to know one thing…”

He thumbed through the pages before slapping the book with one hand. 

“Ah!” He pointed a passage out to his companion, “There is an ancestral shrine! In the northwest wing!”

“Fascinating…” Rook glanced up at the balcony, where an eavesdropping Bellara gave a thumbs up before disappearing from sight.

Lucanis leaned forward, cutting into the conversation. “Any other useful information?” 

The mage hugged the tome closer. “I may need time to research it. I could return it then, if you’d like?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Lucanis said pleasantly, offering a brief bow before pulling Rook aside. “Excuse us. Enjoy your evening.”

“Johanna probably has a key...” Rook whispered as Lucanis drew her into another dance.

“Any sign of her?” He asked, standing straighter to peer over the crowd. 

“Nothing yet...” She ducked under his arm as he circled her. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect you to dance. Or dance well, for that matter.” 

“Killing is a dance too, no?” He asked. “Caterina insisted my parents put me in ballroom lessons the moment I could walk. It was the one part of Crow training my mother consented to at such a young age. She tried to shield me from the rest for as long as she could.”

“But your mother was a skilled assassin, was she not?”

“Doesn’t mean she agreed with the Crows’ methods. She married into the Dellamortes, and Caterina adored her, but she didn’t put on any airs, and wasn’t concerned with being agreeable to appease my grandmother.”

“It sounds like she was a lovely woman, for all I’ve heard of her.”

“Caterina said I take after her,” Lucanis said wistfully. “I take some comfort in that.”

“Do you remember much of your parents?”

“I was so young when they passed, and many of my memories are clouded from my time in the Ossuary. I distanced myself from so much to survive...” Lucanis’ words trailed off. “What about you?”

“I try to remember good things about my mother. That’s how I’d like to keep her memory. As for my father…” Rook hesitated, and Lucanis nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“I loved my father. But a part of him died with my mother. The part that was gentle, understanding - you saw a glimpse of it the day Caterina brought you over to retrieve her ring. The man I knew withered away, increasingly overcome by his own paranoia, likely after making an enemy of the Antaam.”

“Is that when he left the Crows?” 

Rook nodded. No longer in the mood to dance, she slowed her steps, dropping Lucanis’ hand.

“He trained me to fight, to survive, but never wanted me to become an assassin. All of us Crows had trying childhoods but… my father’s methods were cruel and unusual. Viago and my aunt tried to intervene, but my father only drove them away, isolating us, refusing assistance no matter how poor or hungry we got, saying their money was tainted by the king’s hand. After a lifetime of taunting from other children for being the King’s bastard, that hurt Viago more than anything. In the absence of his own father, he looked up to mine, only to face rejection from him as well.”

Lucanis’ eyes widened. “I had no idea…”

“I grieved my father when he died, and he did not deserve the brutal execution the Antaam gave him. But in so many ways, moving in with Viago was liberation. He took care of me. And later, Varric taught me to take care of myself. Taught me to endure, to laugh, to strive for a better world. Qualities that made me a poor Crow made me a strong leader. I was born Fiammetta de Riva, and that will never change, but Rook is the name I made for myself. In spite of my father. I don’t want his legacy. And I do not want to remember those years alone with him.”

As he listened, a look of compassion, not pity, softened Lucanis’ features. Rook fell silent, a blush creeping up her neck as she questioned her impulsive honesty.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t ask for my life story-”

“I appreciate you telling it. That legacy shadowed you for a lifetime. Letting it go in pursuit of who you truly are?” Lucanis reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It suits you.”

Rook’s lips parted slightly, and her chest ached as she met his gaze. Everyone on her team accepted her wholeheartedly, but Lucanis knew who she was before, and still was willing to let that version go and appreciate who she was now... 

While struggling to find the right words, Rook spotted Johanna out of the corner of her eye, storming through the ballroom.

“Kiss me.” She said, grabbing him by the collar of his shit.

His brow furrowed. “What-”

Without hesitation, she pulled him in and pressed her mouth to his ardently, backing him into a pillar. He tasted like dark, bitter coffee as she deepened the kiss, tangling her hands in his hair. Even using the moment as an opportunity, something passed between them she knew she couldn’t take back. This wasn’t about seeing what made the Demon of Vyrantium tick, or trying to soothe her ache for physical contact with an old crush. This was driven by a longing to let Lucanis Dellamorte see parts of her she’d never dared to show anyone else…

As Johanna passed them, Rook dismissed her thoughts and focused on the task at hand. She positioned herself to intercept Johanna, their shoulders colliding and sending Johanna reeling backward. Frantically, she broke the kiss, turning around and feigning panic.

“I am so, so sorry!” she cried, adjusting Johanna’s attire and subtly checking for any outlines of keys.

“You should carry yourself with more decorum at a gathering such as this!” Johanna snarled, shoving her off. Rook’s eyes flitted to Lucanis, who discreetly slipped a hand into Johanna’s coat and retrieved a keyring, inconspicuously dropping it into his pocket.

“My apologies. My wife has had a bit too much to drink tonight.” Lucanis stepped forward from behind Johanna, wrapping his arm around Rook’s shoulders and guiding her aside. “Excuse us, madame.”

As an oblivious Johanna stalked off, Lucanis steered Rook to a nearby wall, concealing them in shadow.

“You got lucky,” she said with a grin, waving Manfred over.

“You never fail to impress, Rook.” He said, retrieving the keyring from his pocket and dangling it between them.

As Manfred hobbled through the crowd with his serving tray, Rook took an empty tankard from a nearby table, plopping the keys inside.

“Get these to the others.” She directed, setting the tankard down on the platter. The skeleton hissed in understanding and ambled towards a nearby corridor, searching for Emmrich. Rook beckoned Lucanis to follow her in the opposite direction to the balcony stairwell.

“So…did I kiss the right Dellamorte this time?” She asked under lowered lashes, hoisting herself up on the railing.

Something burned in his eyes. Yearning. His, not Spite’s. Encouraged, she pressed him further, tugging at his coat and drawing him in by wrapping one leg behind his calves. The movement of her gown exposed the gleaming weapon at her thigh, and Lucanis paled at the sight, bracing one palm on the wall above her head.

“Rook…” He nuzzled his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. Their rhythmic panting was audible over the music and chatter as he grasped her waist with both hands, thumbs digging in just below her ribs. 

“Are you going to answer my question?” She leaned forward and nipped at his earlobe. “Or were you in over your head earlier with that line?”

“I don’t decide what is right for you, Rook…” he rasped, “No matter how much I…” 

She pulled back, staring in disbelief. 

“You think there’s a choice involved.” She breathed. “Between you and Illario? Lucanis…if I didn’t-I wouldn’t toy with your-”

Faint tremors shook the walls, the ground rumbling beneath their feet as the crystals in the chandeliers overhead clinked together. A cloud of dust and debris billowed as a colossal skeletal figure crashed through the marble ballroom floor, prompting widespread panic. Its eyes glowed a bejeweled green, and Johanna sat perched atop its head, her voice booming throughout the room. 

“How good to see you, friends! Scoffing colleagues, interfering Templars, inept rivals - you all have a place in my heart! And tonight you will fuel my inception at the cost of your miserable lives!” 

Harding appeared from around the corner, followed closely by their other companions, and pushed Rook and Lucanis up the stairs just as the room was enveloped in emerald light, the essence of every living creature below being drained from them.

“Go, go!”

“What did you do?” Rook hissed at Emmrich as they watch the ritual below unfold.

“Got a little too cocky.” Davrin grumbled.  

“You can’t free the spirits in that lantern?” Neve asked Emmrich, shielding her eyes from the light.

“It might kill me and not even work!” He protested, “No living thing can approach it, and-”

Manfred suddenly raised his head, rising from his crouch and rushing towards the ledge. 

“I go!”

“No!” Emmrich cried, “Come back!” 

They watched in horror as the skeleton shed its backpack, leaping off the balcony and climbing the ribcage of Johanna’s monstrosity. Manfred tore at the lantern in the giant skeleton’s chest until he dislodged it, flying free with it grasped in his bony hands. The ritual came to a stop, the hostages below freed from Johanna’s control as the spirit of curiosity landed on its back, holding up the lantern triumphantly as it swung in the air. 

“Ugh! You miserable little-” Johanna swore and directed her skeletal thrall forward. With booming steps, it stomped closer to Manfred, and with a forceful thrust, he hurled the enchanted lantern towards Emmrich. The larger skeleton brought its foot down with a deafening boom, crushing their companion underneath.

“Manfred!” Emmrich whimpered as the lantern rocked on its side against the marble floor. Rook rushed forward to retrieve it, thrusting it into the necromancer’s hands.

“Don’t let his sacrifice be in vain.”

With a mournful gaze, Emmrich raised it overhead, focusing on Johanna.

“By the spirits bound here…”

“Spite, leave it.” Lucanis said under his breath, straining to keep the demon at bay. 

“What’s wrong?” Rook asked, kneeling beside him and resting a hand on his back as Emmrich continued the ritual. Lucanis’ eyes flashed with Spite’s presence. 

“I want-”

“No.” Lucanis commanded Spite through gritted teeth as a pair of purple wings unfurled at his back. Rook’s grip on his shoulder tightened, a silent plea to the demon not to interfere, and Lucanis slouched back against the railing, brow slick with sweat.

Before them, Johanna and her skeleton toppled to the ground as she cried out, first in rage, then in a strangled, cut off shriek of terror as her body landed on the marble with a heavy thud. As the dust settled and the soiree attendees regained their footing, Emmrich raced down the stairwell and across the ballroom to Manfred’s side, stifling a sob. Everyone followed solemnly, Rook lacing her fingers through Lucanis’ as she sensed Spite slipping through again.

“Bring…CURIOSITY BACK!”

She squeezed tightly, willing the demon to calm itself. “Spite…please. Not now.”

“It’s alright. Spirits are often confused by death, especially amongst their own.” Emmrich said, cradling Manfred’s limp form in his hands as he looked up at them. “His body could only take so much. I underestimated him…”

“I didn’t realize Spite was so attached to Manfred…” Bellara said sorrowfully. “Can you bring him back?”

“Spite may be grappling with some of his own fears at the moment. Best to get he and Lucanis home.” Emmrich suggested. “As for Manfred…I will ask.”

He wiped a stray tear and gathered his fallen companion, rising to his feet. “I must go to the Necropolis. I can…I will…fix this.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook accompanied Bellara and Emmrich to the Necropolis while the others returned to the Lighthouse. It turned out Manfred could be brought back, but only if Emmrich was willing to give up Lichdom — eternal life, to achieve the best interests of spirits and the dead.

Almost certain the necromancer would be hesitant to give up a lifelong dream well within his reach, Rook was surprised to find how willing Emmrich was to sacrifice everything for his companion. It would take a few days to gather the necessary elements to perform the revival rites, but the three returned home with hope, rather than despair. 

As the others departed for their chambers, Rook returned to her own, finding her bed already occupied. On his back, Lucanis dozed with one hand on his chest, the other extended overhead, hanging over the edge.

“ROOK?”

Spite sat up, assessing her through Lucanis’ eyes over the back of the chaise.

“Whose idea was this?” Rook asked, taking off her cloak and hanging it up in the wardrobe.

“LUCANIS SAID TO STAY IN THE KITCHEN. BUT I WAIT UNTIL HE SLEEP. BRING HIM HERE. TO WAIT FOR ROOK.”

“Better than leaving through the eluvian.” She sighed, “What had you so shaken back at the manor, Spite?”

The demon remained silent, and she knew well enough to leave the matter alone.

“Do you know how zippers work, Spite?” She asked, changing the subject.

He rose, footsteps echoing through her chambers as she offered her back to him. Lucanis’ fingertips were cold as they skimmed against her bare shoulders, Spite tracing mesmerized circles on her skin. With a curious tug, he studied the zipper of her dress, bringing it down just a few notches before tilting his head to the side and sliding it down the rest of the way. With a hand behind her, holding the gown together, Rook shooed him aside. The demon’s gaze lingered, but it carried for more fascination than desire.

“What do you like about me so much, Spite?” Rook asked suddenly, realizing the potential danger in her question only after she had asked it. The spirit blinked, as if the answer should be obvious.

“ROOK DOES NOT FEAR SPITE. MAKES LUCANIS FEEL…”

He paced, gazing at the arched windows, struggling to articulate Lucanis’ unspoken feelings with such a limited mortal vocabulary. Taking advantage of his lapse in attention, Rook slipped off her dress and hurriedly changed into a white silk chemise.

“DETERMINED!” Spite finished eagerly. “LUCANIS DETERMINED TO PROTECT. TO UNDERSTAND. TO IMPRESS.”

In a flash of violet, his wings unfolded behind him, and Spite took to the air, landing with a quiet thud before her again.

“TO BE NEAR. TO TOUCH.” He extended a hand, Lucanis’ thumb trailing down her cheek. “TO BE GENTLE…”

With a sudden jerk, Spite’s presence faded from his eyes, and Lucanis’ face slackened. Worry lined his face as he recoiled in confusion.

“Rook? What happened?”

“Spite came to visit. We talked. That’s all.” She reassured him, “He’s surprisingly a perfect gentleman.”

“Mierda.” Lucanis dragged a hand down his face. “My apologies. I can’t believe he’d intrude on you like this.”

“I don’t mind. I would have been up for hours trying to get that dress off if he hadn’t helped me out.”

Lucanis glanced down at the thin chemise just barely covering her breasts, and worked his jaw, averting his gaze.

“You should rest. It’s been a long day.”

“What about you?”

“I need coffee.” He said, pulling open her door.

“In the middle of the night?”

“Especially in the middle of the night.” He replied with a tired smile, stepping into the hall, “Sleep well, Rook.”

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Another fanfic idea : the king raids a village and a girl tells him that if he lets them live she could cure his leprosy because she’s the chosen one and she healed others before but she can’t tell because she knows people would think her a witch and kill her and they fall in love eventually

♧ The Chosen One - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon, thank you for this beautiful request. This was a really fun one to make! I hope it is what you had in mind. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Also this is set pre-film. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy, mentions of death

It was evening when the army of Jeruslum arrived in the small village where y/n lived.

The army was led by Baldwin the fourth, whose knights needed supplies for the war. At just sixteen yesrs old, he knew the full extent of the consequences of war. This village was the nearest they could find and he needed desperately to feed his army.

Panic surrounded the village, people ran in all directions as the army filled the streets. This was the consequence of war. Bodies fell left and right. Amongst the chaos, young y/n sprinted through the streets, dodging people and lifeless bodies of people she once knew.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she hid inside a small house that had been abandoned in the chaos. Shutting the door, she desperately searched for a place to hide. Finding a place behind a large wooden box, she ducked down. Cupping her hand over her mouth to muffle her heavy panting, she peeked over the top of the box, just as the door was kicked open.

“Check every inch of this building, I want every item of importance stripped from the village” she heard a male voice yell, as the room filled with men, turning the place upside down looking for anything of use.

That was when the box she was hiding behind was violently shoved to the side. Standing before her, was single handedly the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Even in a moment of abject horror, his beauty could not go un-noticed.

His curled blonde hair hung around his dirty and bloodied face which was wrapped in bandages from his nose to his cheeks. His face wore an expression of pain and determination. He carried a sword in one hand and a shield with the sign of the cross. He was young, about her age.

He raised his sword, preparing to strike her in a rush of adrenaline. Y/n covered her face with her arms “spare me sir, I am a healer!” she yelled, loud enough for him to hear her over the commotion. He stopped suddenly, “excuse me?” he replied, a look of confusion replacing the blind rage he previously had.

“My name is y/n, I was chosen by an unknown God to be a healer. I have cured many and I hear that your king has a disease, I can cure him if you spare me” she sobbed out, taking her arms away from her head to look at him.

The man laughed, “I am no fool you witch, I myself am the king of Jeruslum. You cannot heal me” he raised his sword again, preparing to strike. Y/n lunged forward, in a second she grabbed the hand that held the sword. A deep orange light filled the room, covering the king's hand.

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the bright light until it was over. The king stumbled back in shock. “What was that? How did you-? What did you-?” he stammered out, breathing heavily. He dropped the sword and pulled off the glove that covered his hand.

His hand, previously covered in deep sores, was now replaced with smooth, soft skin. The king froze, staring at his hand, eyes wide. Outside, the chaos went on and the few knights that were still in the room stared in awe.

The king's gaze shifted from his hand to y/n who was still knelt on the floor in front of him. “Do you believe me now?” she asked, tears still staining her cheeks. “Madame, you must return to the castle with me” he turned to one of the knights that were still in the room. “The raid is over, we return to the castle immediately. And not a word of this to anyone or you shall be exicuted".

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

No less that twenty minnutes later, y/n found herself seated on the back of the king's horse with her arms around his waist as the army rode quickly through the desert, fast approaching the city.

She did not know how to feel about this. As much as she did want to heal the young king, she did not want to be taken as prisoner. She wondered if the king would lock her up, so many questions flooded her mind. She was so unsure.

When the army arrived in Jerusalem, it was already dark. The king dismounted his horse and offered a hand out to y/n, helping her down also. 

The two were greeted by a few royal officials as the army of knights entered a different area. Baldwin offered his arm for her to hold as they prepared to enter the castle. She took it with hesitation and gratitude.

They made their way to the king's chambers, with no questions asked. A few comments of speculation were shared amongst the royal officials but no words of denial. 

Entering the king's chambers, they were finally alone. Baldwin sat down on an armchair slowly. His body was in so much pain. Y/n’s heart ached for him despite the destruction of her village. “Y/n?” she heard him mumble quietly. “Yes, your highness?”

“Please, take the pain away. Please” she could have sworn she saw a tear run down his cheek, being absorbed into the bandage that covered the middle of his face.

Y/n approached the king slowly, kneeling down beside him, placing a hand on his arm. “It takes time, your majesty. To completely rid a man of disease will take a few days, but just know that I shall not rest until you are healed” she smiled softly at him. Baldwin was taken aback by her kindness. He had not expected her to be so genuinely sweet, especially after what he had done to her village. “Why don't you lay down hm? I can work on your body far easier if you are resting” she offered. Baldwin smiled sadly and nodded.

Once y/n helped him to his bed, he looked far more comfortable. She removed his shoes for him and knelt down beside his bed. Very gently she stroked his forehead, it was a wonderful feeling that Baldwin relished in. He groaned quietly and closed his eyes, the soft touch slowly lulling him to sleep.

Once y/n heard him snoring a little, she took away her hand and began to work. She began on his arms. Meticulously healing every single painful looking wound, it took a while but eventually his arm was restored to soft pink flesh, disease free.

Y/n smiled at her work and took a moment to admire his sleeping face. Being a healer meant that her empathy for people was strong, especially for the sick. As much as she wanted to hate him for hurting the people of her village, she could not feel a single negative emotion towards him. All she saw was a strong yet tired king who needed to rest.

She decided to stay by his bedside the whole night. Stroking his forehead softly, occasionally humming a pretty song when he shifted, about to wake, to put him back to sleep. It worked very quickly.

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

When it reached morning, Baldwin was in complete shock at the state of his arm. He was so beyond grateful for her actions. She was saving him. He felt better as well, his body ached less and he felt as if he had grown stronger.

For a whole week the two followed this routine. The king would tend to his royal duties during the day, continuing to lead his army through war from the castle. And by night, he would retire to his chambers to see y/n who would put him to sleep and begin her work.

By the end of the week, every single sore on his body was gone. It was truly a miracle. Every person in the castle was in absolute awe. When the royal officials broke the news to the public that the king had been miraculously healed, the people were divided. Some were overjoyed at their lord's recovery, but some were skeptical at the possible use of witchcraft.

Nobody knew the reason y/n had been brought to the castle, and they were not permitted to ask questions on the matter. It was so serious that if anyone were to question her, they would be executed. Y/n could not be found guilty of witchcraft. She had grown far too important to Baldwin. He had taken a liking to her and the intimate experience they had shared over the days as she healed him had only strengthened this.

Y/n had taken a liking to him also. He was very sweet and returned her kindness with the utmost respect. She forgave him for the invasion of her village, understanding why he had to do it.

She told him that she was not angry in the slightest.

It was late one night where he confessed his strong feelings for her. At that moment, Baldwin felt completely right. Healthy and normal. Not like a king nor a leper, but just a young man with a crush. He was not even twenty yet.

Still so young, yet so much hardship. Hardship that was finally over, thanks to her. He could not thank her enough. He was completely indebted to her, he would do whatever it took to repay her. And he told her as such that night on the balcony.

“Then marry me Baldwin. Make me your wife. I would be honored, not for the title of queen, but for having such an incredible and strong husband” she had said to him.

He grinned with tears in his eyes. “Yes, of course. Be my wife y/n” he took her hands in his and they shared a kiss under the moonlight.