#KILL YOURSELF FANG LI

[silvergyus]

bitten- h.kk

pairing: mortal!hueningkai x vampire!reader

summary: a century-old vampire hunts for her latest victim, a mortal boy she may want to keep around forever

warnings: typical vampire content including killing victims (kai is referred to as your victim/prey multiple times), blood consumption (reader bites kai and drinks his blood). this fic is dark! please do not read if you are not comfortable with these descriptions!

smut warnings: handjob (kai receiving), blowjob (kai receiving), scratching (kai receiving), dubcon (reader uses vampire persuasion on him multiple times), cum eating

word count: 1,600+

song recs: death- white lies & vampires- l.i.f.t

Decades had a tendency to bleed into one another. Styles changed, slang evolved, but at their core, humans remained the same.

You stalked through the dark, crisp autumn night. Dim street lights illuminated your strides in a hazy, golden glow. You were on the hunt tonight, hunger pangs twisting your stomach, propelling you forward. An onslaught of scents flooded your heightened senses, causing you to stumble and turn towards the heady mix of prey.

After asking a drunk girl with shiny red cheeks to invite you in, you crossed the threshold of the worn-down house and into the party. The air hung heavy with a nicotine haze as you made your way through the packed bodies lounging in the narrow hall. The smell of hormonal bodies drenched in alcohol filled your head, but you wouldn’t feed on just any poor drunkard, no, you wanted to find someone worth feeding on.

You settled into an antique rocking chair, an heirloom that stood out against the cheap particle board furniture that surrounded it. From your perch you took in the bodies in the room, observing everyone in the space, taking in the sights, sounds and scents of your next potential victim. Your eyes found their way to a boy tucked into the corner, laughing awkwardly at the conversations around him.

The boy held your full attention. He was beautiful. Tall, with a broad chest and shoulders half-hidden in his oversized sweater. His black hair hung into his eyes, a shield from the prying eyes of others, but not from you. No, you were especially good at finding those perfect boys, these perfect victims.

Draining the life- or at least most of it- from a victim was always erotic. It couldn't be helped. Their body writhing under your touch, your bite, the way they always resisted at first, until your venom lulled them into a pliant state. It was always messy, no matter how delicate you were. Hot blood rushing down their exposed throats, pulsing sweetly into your mouth. Their loud groans and quiet whimpers as you fed from them.

And if every feed was going to be like this, why shouldn't you pick the prettiest meals? Pretty humans with pretty throats, pretty flesh to trace your fangs along, pretty voices to whimper at your touch. Why shouldn’t you hunt for the best? You had forever to find it after all.

And when you had the best, you liked to hold onto it. No, you didn’t always kill your victims. Sometimes you kept them around, little pets for you to revive and feed from again and again, until you got bored or over-eager. Accidents happen. You hated wasting a pretty body, but sometimes, the darkness within you was too strong to ignore, animalistic instincts taking over, draining all the life from the victim at your feet. 

This boy though, he was pretty, pretty enough to be held onto. Too pretty of a face to be discarded after one round.

The air was thick with smoke and incense as you made your way over to your prey. His eyes, though obscured by his messy locks, widened at your sudden presence beside him.

A century of life has taught you charm. You postured yourself to appeal to this boy as you took him in at close range. You could smell the cologne he wore, sweet and bright against his skin. Below that, the coppery scent of his blood was intoxicating. You could hear his heart beat faster as you spoke to him, hear it rush towards his blushing cheeks. Oh, how he flustered at your presence. He’s cute, this boy. You could wait no longer to taste him.

The night stretched on as you conversed with the boy, Kai, he divulged. His mannerisms charmed you in kind, a sense of innocence that you longed to corrupt. The hunger that turned in you drew you closer to him, to his throat, the intoxicating scent making your head spin with want.

“Kai, my dear, would you like to come home with me?” Your eyes flashed black as you spoke, supernatural abilities turning your words sweeter than honey, impossible to resist. He nodded, eyes glassy as he was persuaded into action.

The moments between then and now passed in a flash. The journey back to your lair one filled with touches and kisses. Pleasantries were entertained, but the hunger in you couldn’t be silenced, not when this beautiful boy was settling onto your settee, relaxing in your space. Your eyes flash again, persuading him out of his clothes and onto your bed.

----

Kai is laid back against you, bare skin soft against yours. He is pale, his soft flesh dotted with sweet marks and freckles, a pink flush coloring his face and chest.

Your hand snakes up from his waist, a soft caress exploring the broad expanse of his chest, trailing up his throat before grasping his angular chin. You point his face away from yours, towards the silver mirror positioned across from the foot of the bed. In its surface you can see Kai’s brows furrow as he tries to make sense of the scene presented to him. Only his naked form appears reflected back, yours nowhere to be found.

"Look how beautiful you are," you whisper, taking in his appearance in the glass. His eyes widen with horror as he realizes that even as you talk, even as you move, there remains only one reflection in the mirror. He can feel you of course, your breasts pressed into his back, your breath fanning over his ear as you hold him. Your fingertips ghost over his nipples, scratching them slightly to see how he arches into your touch. You nuzzle his throat, smelling his fear and the sweetness of his blood pumping beneath the skin. His veins, so blue, stand to attention as his adrenaline rushes. It takes everything not to sink your teeth into him right now.

"Do you want to be like me, Kai? Would you like to feel like this forever?"

He swallows, still mesmerized by the scene in the reflection. Your hands continue to explore his chest, caressing his unmarked skin as they dip down to let your nails graze his hip bone. You tease him, fingertips ghosting over his thighs, dipping into the soft curls that rest almost, but not quite where he wants your touch the most.

"Maybe not yet. Going to let you decide that in time." His hand reaches back for you, searching for something to ground himself, to prove you're real, to deny the image in the mirror.

"I'm real, Kai. You haven't imagined me."

He turns in your arms, facing you. His cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and arousal, ears stained red from bloodrush. His leaking cock is the same bright hue.

"I'll make you feel good now, hmm?" You catch the whine from the back of his throat. He nods, cautiously. "You'll make me feel good too?" He nods again, slowly, unsure of what he's agreeing to.

"Good," you caress his face, gently pushing his hair from his eyes, "because I like to bite."

With superhuman speed your hand grabs his hard cock, jerking him so suddenly he thrusts up into your touch, body reacting involuntarily. The second that you've settled him back into place, your teeth find his throat, sinking deep into his vein. The hot blood rushes over your tongue and teeth, filling your mouth with the coppery sweetness you need to survive eternity.

He whines, a high note that falls as his hips stutter into your touch. The portrait before him is one of debauchery: blood weeping from his throat as his blushing cock weeps silvery precum and his hips buck into nothing. Scratch marks bloom across his chest where your nails rake over his sensitive nipples, but he cannot see your hand. The sight is dizzying. He feels faint.

You notice his color start to pale and force yourself to pull off from his throat, though it is a challenge to. The breathy sighs he makes, the feeling of his skin against yours, the rush of blood all taking over your senses, driving you towards giving into animalistic hedonism. You pull off his throat and lick broad stripes over the puncture wounds, venom telling the veins to close, the skin to heal. He will have two faint marks and a dark bruise in the morning.

He groans when you pull away, the venom fiery and soothing all at once. You stop your movements on his cock and he whines again, desperate for release.

“Shhh,” you soothe him, still trying to orient yourself after the rush of feeding, “that’s a good boy.” You settle him onto the pillows and maneuver yourself so you are settled between his thighs. “Did so well for me. Now let me make you feel good.”

Your mouth finds him again, this time lips and tongue, not teeth. You kiss the angry tip of his cock before licking a flat stroke against the head. Your lips are stained with his crimson blood, a beautiful compliment to his flushed and needy skin. He groans and bucks into your touch.

You take him into your mouth, sucking him earnestly as your hand strokes the base you don't fit in. He is close from your previous attention and it takes almost no time for him to groan loudly as he releases into your mouth. Salt floods your tongue, a welcome chaser for the copper meal. You've fed from him twice tonight and he is hazy and weak in your bed, the picture of human fragility as his chest heaves against your sheets.

You crawl up the length of his body to kiss his full lips, stroking his face as you do.

"Thank you Kai, you did so well."

"If I become like you," he asks, voice quiet, "will every night be like this?"

You can't help the smile that blooms across your face. An eternity with this beautiful boy? It wouldn't be the worst way to spend forever.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist: @lunesdesire, @dearlyjun, @moamidzyism, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror

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[steviebunny]

2. Glorified Cult Leader

Dubai

"So Daniel, do you have any questions?"

The reporter stares at Louis in near astonishment, removing his glasses to rub his aching head.

"About the woman with the face full of teeth? Yes, I have fucking questions! You had that one in disguise this whole time" Daniel motions to Armand with his glasses "Should I assume there's a demon lady pretending to dust shelves in a sexy maid uniform somewhere around here?"

Louis crosses an ankle over his knee with a slight laugh, Armand's arm loops over the back of the back of the sofa and rubs his hand. "No. Nothing like that. Patience Daniel and good things will come, let the story take you where it needs you to be."

___

Paris

The Rusalka moves gracefully through the vast library shelves, fingers gently grazing cover after cover. Heeled shoes moving after the other creating an echo off the marble floors. Her head raises, no longer lost in thought- she sniffs the air.

"You can come out, you're not nearly as sneaky as you seem to think you are."

A tapping of leather soles against the floor much like her own sounds from behind her.

The well-dressed leader she met the other evening walks out from behind a shelf, he leans against the wood shifting his weight onto one hip, placing his hand in his coat pocket with well-rehearsed grace. 

Her eyes trace over him and then roll “If you’re trying to kill me I wish you luck, it’s not easy.”

“Who says I wish to end your life?” 

“Your kind is territorial, I haven’t had the best experiences in the past, can you blame me for running? Not to mention your man chased me, not a very good first impression.” 

“Santiago is not my man.” His stoicism falls face curling in disgust at the accusation. 

“Right, you’re paired with the bookworm.” Her eyes shine and something swipes sideways, blinking slowly like an alligator. 

“You’re no longer deemed a threat. Siren. But you’re perspective, we could have a place for one of your kind in the coven. So long as you behave of course.”

“Wrong.” 

“Hmm?” His eyebrows perk up and his head tilts. 

“Not a siren. Similar, but I don’t sing. And I don’t lure unfaithful men to the depths. I just eat the evil ones, it’s a lot less dramatic that way.”

“You get to define what evil is?”

“Yes. You, vampires, are so strange…you love each other so purely, even when you hate. It’s so obvious, but you keep screwing each other over? I can’t tell if it’s a self-preservation instinct or not. I think you’d be a lot happier if your covens were big love fests instead of the whole master-servant dynamic.”

Armand scowls, fangs dipping slightly with a cat-like hiss. “You think yourself omniscient? We need structure, solitary vampires either wither by their lonesome until they meet the flame or sow chaos in their wake. Humans always search for more, money, power, love, knowledge, more. Why hold on to this part of your humanity when you can live content? A part of something better, the coven offers such.”

The rusalka laughs and her melodious voice has a sharp screech-like tinge to it- “Content! Oh, so great coven leader!” She cries clasping her hands together, pressing them against her face. “Who surrounds himself with sycophants, Truly the best representation of a content being, yeah? You vampires want just as much as I do. You’re not built to be lonely, companionship is in your blood. So don’t preach to me about contentment you glorified cult leader.”

Armand steps closer, face inches from the rusalka towering over her, he removes his sunglasses- tucking them into his chest pocket he looks deep into her eyes and calmly with a sneer says “You’re vulnerable. It makes you weak. We are not the only coven in France and you will not be able to run forever. Unless of course, you aim to end your studies so quickly after arriving.”

“How’d you…?”

“I may not be able to read your mind but this place is flooding with your peers. It’s quite the story you’ve concocted for yourself, the best lies are rooted in some truth are the not?” 

“My vulnerability is my power, just as yours could be. Screw your rules and your laws, going behind each others backs to make things end up your way. Just to end in failure. May it be a century or a millennia from now, but still failure.”

“Then let me offer you this. Join the coven. Prove to them why the laws should change.”

—

Dubai

“Is this my cue?” Daniel had been imagining this voice since it was first described to him but the reality was something else altogether. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to pick up a maid’s uniform. I know how much you like the Univision style.” The woman rounds the furniture flashing a smile at the two vampires and perching herself on the arm of the journalist's seat.

“You still smell of him.” Armand’s lip curls and Louis looks to the tempered windows for a distraction.

“I didn’t have time to swim yet either. You’re the two avoiding him. I made no such promise, I’m not involved.”

“Wait! Please tell me she isn’t taking about-”

“Lestat.” Louis interrupts as Daniel looks to the Rusalka with a look that borders on horror. “There’s an agreement in place. When she’s here she doesn’t discuss him, when she’s there she won’t discuss us.”

“It's a horrendous deal, really.”

“HOW DOES SHE EVEN KNOW LESTAT?!”

Louis stands and stretches his arms to his companions, each of them placing a hand in one of his. “This seems like a natural breaking point, you should rest Daniel. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Louis immediately begins to escort his partners out of the room leaving the reporter in shock.

“WHAT KIND OF HORSE-SHIT DO YOU MEAN BY NATURAL BREAKING POINT?!”

---

Thank you for reading. Sorry this isn't very long :(

[kaiyatoast]

peachy - theo raeken

summary: theo gives you a ride home pairings: theo raeken x gn!reader w/c: 1147

“theo’s staring at you.”

your head snapped up from the ground, turning in the direction of your strawberry blonde best friend. you gave her a questioning look and she pointed in the boy’s direction. you looked there and sure enough, he was looking straight at you. your cheeks heated up and you smiled softly at him, feeling the usual fluttering of your heart whenever you looked at him.

it was obvious you had some sort of attraction towards him. before he killed your brother, after he killed him, and after he came back from hell. you’ve always found him good looking. how his soft brown hair fell over his face, his gorgeous blue eyes, the small smile on his soft, kissable lips that was always present around you, his really nice bice-

“y/n! are you listening?” stiles exclaimed, jolting you out of your thoughts. your cheeks heated up further as you looked away from theo. you nodded sheepishly. lydia nudged you with a small smirk and a wink. in turn, you playfully growled at her, showing her your fangs. she rolled her eyes at you and linked your arms together.

you kept yourself from staring at theo for the rest of the pack meeting, only glancing at him every so often. every time you looked at him, he’d already have his eyes on you with a small smile on his face. when the meeting was over, everyone left. you walked off with lydia and she was already grilling you.

“are you going to do anything?” she asked. you gave her a confused look.

“do what with who?”

“theo. are you going to do anything about your very obvious attraction to him?” the strawberry blonde asked you. you shook your head as scott joined you, walking alongside you.

“it is not obvious,” you scowled. both lydia and scott looked at each other before looking back at you.

“it’s very obvious, y/n. everyone could see how attracted you are to each other,” lydia said. scott nodded.

“we could even smell it,” he added with a boyish grin. you rolled your eyes at your alpha and best friend.

“fine. but it’s one sided. but i do not have that much attraction to him anyways,” you lied.

“we know you’re lying,” lydia and scott said. you walked backwards so that you were facing them.

“i’m not lying,” you lied again. “what would i be attracted to anyways? his eyes? hair? face? body? nuh uh, i don’t think so.”

“i think it’s all of it,” lydia piped in unhelpfully. you gave her a flat look before continuing.

“besides, all this attraction is only temporary. i haven’t been crushing on him for a while,” you said and lydia gave you an unconvinced look. scott glanced behind you but you ignored it.

“besides, i’ll just avoid him so i don’t have to deal with his goodlooking-ness,” you continued with a nod.

“who are you avoiding?” a familiar voice asked and you turned, almost tripping over your two feet. you felt the usual flutter in your stomach when theo gave you a small smirk.

“uh, no one?” you said, biting the insides of your cheek. he chuckled and the sound made you smile.

“oh! theo! you’re here! perfect. can you drop y/n? i have things that i need to do and scott has some place he needs to be, thanks,” lydia said before pulling scott with her so that you were left alone with theo.

goddamnit lydia.

“uh, you don’t have to drop me, i think stiles is still here,” you said, biting your lips.

“it’s fine, i’ll drop you off,” theo said with the charming smile still on his face. he held his hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it. he interlocked your fingers as you walked to his truck. the two of you talked as he drove, with one of his hands on your thigh. your eyes kept glancing down at it before looking up again.

you tried to focus on the conversation, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the warmth on your thigh. or how his hand covered your entire thigh. and wow, he had really nice hands. you wondered how his hands would fe-

“y/n? you alright?” theo asked. your eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“yep, all cool,” you nodded. all was decidedly not cool, but that was because of the warmth you could feel. and the tingles. you wondered what it would feel like on yo-

“are you sure? you seem really distracted,” theo smirked. he could probably hear how your heartbeat was all over the place. he parked the car in front of your house, turning to focus on you. 

“yes i’m sure. everything’s peachy.”

“peachy?”

"yes peachy. everything's fine and peachy. thanks for the ride, raeken." you glared at him, suddenly mad at him for teasing you when he knew that you had a not-really-there, tinsy-small crush on him. 

you turned to open the door, but before you could, his hand reached out to grasp your forearm.

"what, theo?" you asked, your anger dissipating. you knew that you were unfair to him, and that you were truly annoyed at yourself, for not saying anything, but also not being able to get over him.

"sorry, it was unfair for me to snap at you."

"it's alright. you wanna tell me what's really on your mind? and what got you so annoyed?"

you let out a small, unamused laugh. "no, it's alright. i'll get over it. don't worry about it. you probably have something better to do."

"you're right. i have something better to do," theo agreed. the words came originally from your lips, but it still caused you to flinch.

you gave him a tight smile. "okay. wouldn't want to take up more of your time."

you turned to the door again, using your other hand to open the door and pulling your arm from him. "thanks for the ride."

you heard him growl. before you could ask him what his problem was, you felt theo pull you in by your shoulders and your lips on his.

it took you a moment before you could respond. you kissed him back, just as he was about to pull away. you melted into the kiss, and into his hand, which moved to gently hold your face.

you moved your hand to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. his tongue nudged your lips, and you obliged, opening them to meet his.

when you had to come up for air, you moved back, but theo rested his forehead against yours.

"told you i had better things to do," theo grinned. you rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, he lifted you up and sat you on his lap, moving in to kiss you again.

yep, definitely better things to do

[oh-theseus]

the sound

pairing: astarion ancunin x gn!reader, astarion ancunin x gn!tav summary: your relationship with astarion has ran its course, but what happens when he recognizes the sound of your heart in a crowded tavern? word count: 4,071 a/n: this is post-game spawn astarion!! he's a freak here. like he's kind of a obsessed weirdo. idk, i wanted to play into all the weird things vampires can do 🤷‍♀️ also shamelessly admitting that the basis of this comes from 'the sound' by the 1975. def recommend giving it a listen :) anyways though SORRY I WAS GONE!! hope you guys accept this as a decent apology gift <33

warnings: ooc spawn!astarion, mean/toxic astarion, he's also kinda obsessed, astarion chokes reader???, blood depictions, blood drinking, stalker astarion if you squint, not a happy ending. SORRY I LIKE WEIRD FREAK SPAWN ASTARION!!! lmk if i need to add more!

Your relationship with Astarion had always been tumultuous. Perhaps that was because it was forged amidst the potential ending of the world, or perhaps it had something to do with the insane emotional baggage both of you brought to the table. Whatever it had been, it had not been enough to keep the two of you together.

Somewhere between killing Cazador and defeating the Absolute, things fell apart. And it wasn’t just Astarion’s fault, or just yours. Both of you… stopped trying? That didn’t feel right. Because you were trying, you really were. But it was never enough, on either side. So, you decided to part ways. It was better that way. At least that’s what you told yourself so that you could sleep at night.

Months passed, and Astarion became but a distant memory of fangs in your skin. Or, you tried to make him little more than that. You kept yourself busy in Baldur’s Gate, running errands of all sorts. You traveled some, but never as far as you did in order to defeat the Absolute. The days were long and grueling. Some nights you woke from nightmares, other nights you spent with lovers you’d never see again. Despite feeling a bit lonely at times, you have learned to enjoy this new circle of life for yourself. The routine kept you grounded. Kept you from thinking too hard about the vampire you once loved.

Taverns also helped. Not just because of the alcohol, but because everyone always wanted to talk about something. You had come to learn that most of the stories you heard were lies - or at least very embellished truths. Regardless, the fellow patrons were good company. They would laugh or cry shamelessly and were always willing to buy you a drink when you looked particularly rough. They didn’t pry, either. To them, you were just some other lonely fool coming to distract themself for an evening. And a good distraction it was, too.

Until that vampire you were trying so hard to forget walks in. 

For a moment, the world stops. Your eyes are locked on the figure in the door, his white curls seeming to glow in the moonlight outside. He winces when he steps inside - he didn’t like loud places, you remembered that. He looks just the same as you remember him, of course. A man unaged for two hundred years. What was a few months to his eternal not-quite-youth?

You look away before he can see you. And though you try to focus back on the adventurers in front of you, you find it difficult to do so. Your heart pounds with anxiety. You aren’t sure why you’re worried. Even upon parting with Astarion, he had remained relatively civil. But you knew Astarion better than most, so you knew that time did not heal Astarion’s wounds. No, time only seemed to make the vampire’s wounds fester up and get infected. If he wasn’t angry with you then, you had a feeling he would be angry with you now.

“I’ll be right back,” you say to the group of strangers you’re sitting with. You stand slowly, eyes scanning the crowded tavern for Astarion. You don’t see him, and your eyebrows furrow together - had you imagined him? It wouldn’t be the first time you saw something that wasn’t actually there.

The bar is crowded, the bartender working quickly to try to please everyone. You take one look at the scene and decide that slipping out the back door into the quiet street outside will bring you more relief than waiting however long for a single drink will.

As predicted, the streets of Baldur’s Gate are quiet. The moon is high in the sky, the fullness of it casting a soft glow over the street before you. A cat scurries out of a barrel nearby, but other than that, you are alone. Your back presses to the wall of the tavern beside the door, sliding down until you’re crouched on the ground, your hands rubbing across your face. 

This was all rather silly, wasn’t it? Running and hiding because your ex-lover showed up at the most popular tavern in the city you knew he resided in. It was childish, pathetic even. Still, you don’t get up. You let the cool night breeze dance over the exposed parts of your skin while your hands fall away from your eyes. Your eyes remain closed though as you inhale and exhale slowly - you were getting quite good at this self-soothing thing, weren’t you? You hear the door opening and the sound of feet stepping outside, but don’t think twice about it. People were allowed to leave the tavern, weren’t they?

“Ah, I thought I heard you.”

Correction - everyone except for Astarion was allowed to leave the tavern.

Your eyes fly open, and you’re on your feet in a moment. Astarion stands before you, wearing that all too-familiar smirk of his. You watch as his crimson eyes flicker across your body twice over, stunned into silence. Your heart is racing still, though you would wager it’s beating faster now based on how loud it was in your own ears.

“Cat got your tongue, my dear?” Astarion tilts his head to the side when he speaks. He is mocking you, of course. You were right to assume that he had grown angry with time. “I could hear you all the way inside, you know. Isn’t that just so interesting?” Hear you? What in the Nine Hells was he going on about? “What are you talking about?” You manage to ask, face wrinkled up in confusion. Astarion seems confused for a moment too, a distant look in his eyes that you knew meant he was trying to recall a memory. Impatient with him and his growing silence, you shift from foot to foot. Get on with it, you think.

“Hm, seems I forgot to tell you about that,” Astarion seems to say to himself. He focuses on you fully once more, waving his wrist when he next speaks. “Your heart, darling. I can hear it.” If this information had been presented to you a year ago, you might have slapped him. But you’d become quite desensitized to weird things - especially weird things pertaining to the nature of vampires. At least this part of Astarion’s nature made sense to you, unlike his inability to cross running water. If he was meant to live off of blood, then you supposed he should be able to hear the thing at the center of every living creature that made that blood flow.

But there were countless people in the tavern. You scoff - he’s lying. He couldn’t have been able to identify your heart among the numerous others in there. He must have seen you when you slipped outside.

“Your lies flatter me, Astarion. Truly,” you state sarcastically. Once, your sarcasm might have been full of mirth and lightheartedness when it came to him. But none of that is present now. Perhaps time had made your hurt fester, too? You always were more alike Astarion than you cared to admit.

“You wound me.” Astarion presses a hand to cover his dead heart in mock hurt. But he smirks down at you still. “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

Astarion takes a step closer to you. You’re suddenly very aware that the wall of the tavern is pressing against you. It’s almost frightening how much he looks like a predator like this. It’s almost… exciting. Your heart races faster, and Astarion’s smirk turns into a knowing grin.

You should’ve ran a stake through his heart when you had the chance.

“I do not have time for your antics.” Your voice conveys the same authority you once used to lead a makeshift army against the Absolute. Astarion finds it funny that you think it will work on him, the person who resented authority more than anyone or anything you had ever met.

“My antics are simply me wishing to catch up with an old friend. I hadn’t realized that was a crime these days.” He takes another step forward, that knowing grin of his not disappearing.

“Oh, a friend? Is that what we were?” Somehow, the implication that you had only been a friend hurts more than any insult he could possibly hurl at you right now. Had he truly thought so little of your nights together? Of the secrets you shared, the times you let him feed from you? “You wear your heart on your sleeve, my love. So easy to hurt it, isn’t it?” Astarion has moved so close to you now, that if he required air to breathe he’d be breathing in what you were exhaling out. You watch his eyes dance across your face, then trail down to your neck. Wordlessly, he grabs your chin and tilts your neck to the side.

Your hand is on his wrist immediately, the other one reaching for your blade strapped to your hip. You think he’s going to bite you. 

“Ah, ah,” Astarion stops your hand from grabbing your weapon with a tight grip around your wrist. “I’m just looking. Always so hungry for blood, aren’t we?” You don’t like the comparison of your desire to protect yourself to his need to drink blood. You don’t comment on it though, too busy watching his eyes burning into your neck.

If he wasn’t going to bite you, then - Oh. The scars.

Two puncture wounds on the right side of your throat, scarred over from the amount of times Astarion had bitten into that exact same spot to drink from you. You feel his hand leave your chin and push your collar to the side, exposing the scars to him more. He chuckles darkly, and you use your free hand to shove him away from you.

Astarion stumbles back, a look of surprise on his face. It’s quickly replaced with anger - an emotion you had seen on his face so many times before, but never directed at you until this very moment. 

“Do those make finding a little playmate difficult?” Astarion asks, eyebrows raised in mock interest. You would ask how he knew about your habits, but he did tell you once that he had a remarkable sense of smell. He could probably smell the elf you’d taken home last night on you still. You have half the mind to be embarrassed. The other half of your mind really wants to hit him.

“That’s not really your business anymore, is it?” You counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You’ve moved off of the wall now, making sure there’s empty space behind you should he try to approach you again. “But, I am glad you are still as jealous as ever.”

“Hah! Jealous!” Astarion does that fake little laugh of his. He goes so far as to bend over and then wipe a non-existence tear from his eye when he stands. “Darling, I truly could not care any less who or what you are doing in your free time. Rather - I could not care any less about you.”

It’s your turn to laugh at him. “Bold words for the man who just confessed to knowing the sound of my heart amidst all those other ones in there.”

Astarion doesn’t like this response in the slightest. You grin wickedly as he clenches his fists at his side and narrows his eyes. You two always did know how to hurt one another, didn’t you?

There is a truth to your words though. It was bold for him to claim not to care about you anymore, but to still have the sound of your heart so well memorized that he could find you in the middle of a loud, crowded tavern after months of not seeing each other. It’s almost romantic, if not a bit obsessive. Though, Astarion’s version of romance always had been a bit obsessive, hadn’t it?

“Cat got your tongue, Astarion?” You use his own words on him, tilting your head in the very same way that he had done not five minutes ago. You don’t suppress the wickedly pleased grin that spreads across your face when Astarion’s jaw clenches. Yes, you knew exactly how to hurt him. 

“Very original,” he hisses. You simply shrug - as if all of this and him are not worth your time. He does not like that. Not one bit.

When you and Astarion were together, he was always very careful with you, unless you requested otherwise. You had seen that he was strong in a way that was inhuman, but had never been anywhere close to being on the receiving end of that strength. Until now.

You let out a gasp when you are pushed back against the wall of the tavern. You immediately regret it, given that it leaves you with no air in you when Astarion’s hand wraps around your neck. Not strong enough to bruise, but certainly strong enough to have you reaching for your blade. Again, he beats you there and pins your hand to the wall

“You forget yourself, little dove,” he whispers, mere inches from your face. If someone else were to slip out the back door of the tavern, they would likely think you were two lovers with no shame. 

Given that you can not speak, you simply look at him. If you weren’t terrified of choking to death, you might have glared at him. Instead, you look at him with big, wide eyes. They plead for you - they show your fear. Your heart gives it away too. And the way your blood races beneath his hand. Your anatomy betrays your emotions more than you do.

But Astarion’s does, too. In his eyes, you see many things. Anger, of course, but there is also guilt, sadness, fear - hunger. His eyes go to those scars again. Your eyes go impossibly wider in understanding.

Your free hand taps at his wrist repeatedly, begging him to release you. He must see your desperation, because he relents. You would have fallen to your knees while you gasped for air if his hands did not catch you on either side of your waist. 

His crimson eyes are darting over your features, watching as you catch your breath. He’s got that far-off look about him again. His hands squeeze your waist gently, as if he was making sure you were still there. You know what this means - how many times had you seen Astarion act just like this because he hadn’t fed in a few days? And given that he was still a spawn and was limited to nights hunting alone, you imagined it might get hard to find something to eat every once in a while.

“I forget myself,” you mumble when you can breathe properly again. You straighten up, expecting Astarion’s hands to remove themselves, but they do not. “Does your hunger always make you act as a feral beast?”

Astarion winces at your insult, as if you had hit him instead of just spoken. He had thought you wouldn’t notice. But those big, wet eyes of his never kept his secrets when he desired for them to be kept most. 

“Perceptive as always.” His words are almost a compliment, just as his hands are almost comforting. 

“You haven’t come out here to taunt me, then?” You ask, anger seeping into your tone. Did he truly think you would just give him your blood after the stunt he had just pulled? “Were you seeking a meal for the evening?” Astarion is the one to shrug now. His hands leave your sides - you find yourself almost missing his touch. “I didn’t have a plan, darling. All I knew was that your heart was racing, and I wanted to know why.”

When he said it like that, it made it almost sound like he was worried about you and your safety.

A thick, uncomfortable silence settles over you both like a wet blanket. He’s thinking again, but this time, so are you. You’re thinking about the scars on your neck, the hunger in Astarion’s eyes. You’re thinking about how it used to be comforting to let him drink from you. You’re thinking a lot of stupid, foolish things. You’re also tugging the collar of your shirt down and tilting your head to the side. 

“Be quick.” You always were too generous for your own good, weren’t you?

Astarion doesn’t seem to understand what you’re telling him to do until your index finger taps over the scars on your neck. A look of pure delight fills his face, mixing together with surprise and something like mockery.

“In public? My, you’ve gotten dirty, haven’t you?” Astarion says, placing one hand on your side again. You don’t give him the pleasure of a response when his second hand comes up to your neck and traces feather-light touches over the marks. His gaze goes soft when he speaks next, peering into your eyes as if he can see into your very soul. “You are certain?”

No, you are most definitely not certain. 

“Yes,” you force out, tearing your eyes away from Astarion. “Do not be greedy.”

Astarion needs no further invitation. The hand that had been tracing your skin finds its spot on the back of your neck, holding you in place while his hand on your hip keeps you steady. The gasp that leaves your lips when his fangs puncture your skin is anything but quiet. Your hands have moved to his shoulder, gripping him so tightly that your knuckles have gone white. You’d forgotten how uncomfortable it was to have someone’s teeth in your flesh.

He drinks in slow, measured gulps. Those plush lips of his suck gently on your skin, his tongue laps up the liquid that tries to escape his mouth. There is a strange intimacy to it all that you choose to ignore. You choose especially to ignore the soft groan of pleasure that falls from his mouth when your fingers start to get cold and dig further into his shoulders. A single half-shove to his shoulders, and he pulls away, a trickle of your blood making its way down his chin.

Silence sinks into the (very limited) space between the two of you once more. Astarion wipes your blood from his chin, then shows the same courtesy to your neck before covering the puncture wounds with your collar once more. You wrinkle your nose a bit when he takes his thumb into his mouth, sucking the last taste of you from his skin - while maintaining eye contact, of course. It’s revolting - it’s erotic. You don’t let that thought linger.

“Better?” You ask, hoping that the swirl of strange emotions inside of you is masked in your voice. 

Astarion smirks - your voice has betrayed you. “Oh, much. You’re too good to me.”

You swallow your spit, your throat bobbing up and down with the movement. Astarion watches it carefully with dilated pupils. He’s still holding your waist, you’re still holding his shoulders. Neither of you makes to move away from the other.

The silence seeps into your very being. It finds the deepest parts of you and closes around them like a pale hand squeezing your neck. It finds your guilt - the old guilt of giving up on the man before you all those months ago. The new guilt of betraying yourself by letting him feed from you. You hadn’t even made him ask. 

“Would you like to hear a secret?” He whispers, his eyes back on your face once more. 

No. “Yes.”

He smiles at your response. His hand not gripping your waist begins to trace the slopes of your face with practiced familiarity. “I’ve been coming here every night. I heard you in there a few weeks ago - I only just got the courage to step inside tonight. I was hoping to see you.”

For some reason, your mind brushes over everything else he has just confessed, instead focusing on his final sentence. I was hoping to see you. It makes your heart skip a beat like you’re some kind of lovesick schoolgirl. Astarion’s smile widens, and you curse yourself for not being able to control your racing heart. It’s humiliating to know he can hear the exact reaction your body had to every word he said.

“Why?” You ask, far softer than you wanted to. 

“Oh, is it not obvious my dear? I miss you.”

You’re reminded of the time Astarion told you he loved you after only a few nights spent together. He had been trying to manipulate you then - was he doing the same to you now? 

“You expect me to believe that?” This time, your voice is forceful as you intended for it to be the first time. “You do not know me if you think I am foolish enough to take you for your word.”

Astarion laughs with his whole chest. His head tilts backward for a moment, the moonlight catching in his stunning white curls for a moment and making them appear to glow. His eyes have narrowed when he looks back down at you - you’re playing his game better than he thought you would. Unfortunately for you, though, he knew exactly what he could do to make you lose.

“No. Let me show you.” Astarion waits for no response before he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. As soon as the familiar pressure of his lips is on yours, your body tenses. You are trying to decide what you want to do. But then he presses more into you, and you melt.

You can taste your blood on his lips. There’s something else, too. Bitter, yet a bit sweet. Some kind of wine, if you had to guess. His fangs brush over your lower lip, threatening to sink into the plush flesh there. But the puncture never comes, and inside it’s his tongue intruding your mouth. You let him explore the space of your mouth, your body shivering when he trails his tongue along your lower lip.

And then he’s gone - his lips glistening with a mixture of your spit and his. You are panting a bit, bringing a hand up to touch your lips as if you can undo what you have just done. You do not even register that Astarion has finally removed himself from your body, too busy trying to make sense of why you hadn’t pushed him away. 

You had come to the tavern tonight as part of your routine. To talk with old friends and new, and to not think about the very vampire who stood before you. How had you ended up kissing him and letting him feed from you? You might be sick from the deep sense of betrayal you feel inside of you. You’ve betrayed months of personal work to forget him. And for what? A single kiss and words you know are empty.

“You are perfect, every time,” Astarion remarks, his tongue darting across his lips to clean them of the wetness decorating them. He grins wickedly, then straightens his back. No, no. You know this look. He thinks he’s won.

You fell for his trap.

Again.

“Unfortunately, I do have rather important business to attend to.” He doesn’t even bother to look at you, too busy with straightening out the sleeves of his shirt. “Do keep yourself safe, darling. I would hate for something to happen to my little treat.” And then he’s gone, slipping inside of the tavern through the back door as if he hasn’t just ruined you with a single kiss.

You stand there, heart racing and eyes wide. You want to peel off your skin, to hide within your bones so that no one else could ever bother you. You are mortified. How could you be so stupid? You had known from the beginning that he was toying with you. Yet, you let him drink your blood, kiss your lips. And you would have given him more, if he wanted it. 

You clear your throat - it’s your turn to straighten out your clothing now, especially your collar.

Your heart is still racing when you walk away from the tavern. All the way down the street you find yourself repeating one thing, over and over and over: “Don’t you think I know exactly how to flatter you?”

You’ve never wished someone had been wrong more.

taglist: @bowtomytenderdays @misscrissfemmefatale @letsstargaze @peterpankat @sukuna-connoisseur

you can join my taglist by clicking here!!

[izurou]

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 — ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f! reader. pet names. fingering. mentions of cum. alludes to reader being in a toxic relationship (not with shidou)

your roommate ryusei absolutely hates your boyfriend’s guts—and he makes it known.

they had their fair share of arguments before you stopped bringing him around altogether—most of which were focused on the way he treats you, and all of which resulted in him fleeing with his tail between his legs, because when ryusei bares his fangs—one’s chances of making it out alive plummet to zero.

however—limiting their contact with each other wasn’t enough to mellow ryusei out, because the mere thought of you and this douchebag being together had him seeing shades of red unknown to the human eye.

you should be with him instead. yeah, he’d treat you so much better, give you everything you want and more, have you seeing stars every night—oh, how you drive him insane, he fucking hates that you’re not with him instead.

but then, like a sweet little angel with a shattered wing—you return to your shared apartment late one night, tears staining your cheeks, a little pout glued to your lips—and ryusei feels pure elation for the first time in months.

“awwwwww,” he coos, immediately making your personal space his own as he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks—wiping at the wet trails with his thumbs. “what’s wrong, pretty girl? you been cryin’?”

he’s holding your face just inches from his own—his presence all consuming as he tilts his head to the side and puts on a faux frown to match yours.

“leave me alone ryusei,” you mutter, avoiding his persistent gaze as you place your hands atop his wrists and pull them down.

you brush past him—just looking to head for your bed so you can snuggle under the covers with a box of tissues, but you don’t get too far.

“hey,” he calls, and you turn just in time to watch every ounce of humanity drain from his face—an animalistic snarl taking over his lips, paired with two balled up fists that cause his biceps to flex. “what’d that asshole do this time?”

“doesn’t matter,” you sniffle, rubbing your eye with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “we’re over.”

“oh, that’s too bad sweetheart,” he hums, though his grin is back—tripled in size as he steps toward you once more, reaching out to tilt your chin up with his index finger. “you okay?“

you shake your head no—knowing he’d see right through you if you’d lied and said the opposite.

“what can i do for you, hm?” he persists, gingerly pressing a kiss to your cheek and licking his lips right after—savouring the saltiness of your tears with a sadistic smirk. “i’ll fuckin’ kill him if you want, would that make it better?”

“no, i just wanna forget about him,” you admit—hesitant to soak up all the attention he’s giving you. “never wanna think about him again.”

“why don’t i help, sweetheart?” he purrs, leaning down to let his breath fan over the shell of your ear. “won’t even remember your name when i’m done with you.”

and maybe it was his words that got you, or the relentless need to be loved in that very moment—but you end up in his bed, propped up against a pillow as he hovers over you.

“yeah, that’s it,” he chuckles—one hand planted beside your head for support, while the other is buried between your thighs. “you hear yourself? pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, gonna cum for me?”

his long middle and ring fingers curl inside you, squelching with each thrust as they coax more and more arousal out of your pretty cunt.

“r-ryu—i, i’m,” you choke on your words, already feeling tears stinging the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure he’s providing, though some still carry all the emotions you came home with.

“shit, pretty fuckin’ girl,” he groans, dropping to his forearm and craning his neck—pressing his lips against the fresh trail of tears. “mmm, you’re gonna kill me, y’know.”

his cock strains against his sweatpants as you writhe beneath him, definitely a pretty shade of pink as the tip cries from excitement. he’s only imagined this every damn night for god knows how long, even fucked his fist to the thought of it—even with you and that asshole right next door.

you feel the knot in your stomach tighten before it comes undone, reducing you to a squirming pile of gasps and moans as you pulse on his fingers—prompting him to straighten up and watch as you fall apart.

“yeaahh, look at that,” he drawls, watching your walls contract around his digits through hooded lids. “think i’m about to cum, shit.”

he rips his fingers from your messy cunt and pops them into his mouth, sucking the thin layer of you clean off. he hums in content, and you watch his abs tense up—breath faltering as a little patch on his sweats turns a shade darker.

“see what you do to me, sweetheart?” he sighs, dropping his hand back down and shoving it into his pants. he tugs his cock from behind the sticky fabric—pumping his last bit of cum onto his hand.

“ryusei, please,” you whine, desperate for more, hoping to erase your memory even further—but also just plain turned on by the fact that he creamed his pants because of you.

“don’t worry, i’m just gettin’ started,” he laughs, letting his tongue fall out of his mouth—a little preview of the next thing you’ll be cumming on.

[randoimago]

How would Astarion & Gale each react to Tav just being Sherlock Holmes levels of observant and just casually revealing, in a one-on-one conversation, that they have clocked in on his secret (being a vampire/the magic orb) by going, "Let me know when you need some blood/a magic item, okay?" then genuinely going, "Wait, was that supposed to be a secret? Dang it, this always happens. Your secret's safe with me." & offering to reveal a secret of their own (even offering to let him invade their mind with the tadpoles to find a secret) if it would make him feel better or on more even footing.

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Astarion, Gale

Note(s): Tav's Wisdom is maxed the fuck out

Astarion

He has seen you staring at him. He's made overly flirty comments about it in hopes of either making you uncomfortable and leave him alone or taking the bait for him to manipulate you. But you just ignore them. Like you're just taking notes mentally and it's frustrating not knowing what's on your mind.

It was the night after he snuck off to drink from a boar. You hadn't even stumbled upon the boar when you ask about him sneaking off. Astarion makes up some excuse, but you don't buy it. And that's when you start laying out your suspicions.

Mentioning his paleness (a bit rude, in his opinion), him squinting in the sunlight as if unused to the brightness (the sun is very bright, in his defense), him sneaking off in the night (he already made an excuse for that one), and finally the fact that when he smiles and laughs, he has fangs.

Astarion ends up pouting when you call him out on being a vampire. The fact that you just threw this knowledge in his face makes him a bit annoyed. But his response is to laugh it off and call you silly before finally admitting to it when you're still not buying the lies.

He had hoped to have his chance to explain things when he was ready (which would've been never if he had that option). And so he just asks you what you plan on doing now. Is he going to be cast off for being a monster? Are you going to stab him with a stake? Astarion won't beg for his life, but he will say it'd be a mistake to have him leave.

But that's how he'd react to your observation skills. And now he waits to see how you react to his admittance and if you keep him around or not.

Gale

You figuring out Gale's "affliction" isn't as easy as Astarion's vampirism. It isn't until Gale's magic sickness kicks in that he notices how curious you are for whatever knowledge he has. All he can ask is that you trust him to open up when he's ready.

You had already asked him about the type of magic causing it and his silence on the issue seems to cause you to notice more, much to his chagrin.

He must've made a face or chuckled a bit too nervously when you ask if divine magic is involved with his sickness. You seemed to have an "aha!" moment and Gale sighs.

You don't need to say anything for him to know that you're very close to figuring things out. So he decides to just admit it.

I mean, Gale doubts you've figured out the exact contexts, but he does fill in the gaps that you might have with your conclusion. He just asks that you keep this knowledge to yourself.

Yes he knows he has a ticking time bomb in his body, but just supply him with those magical items and stop being so curious. It killed the cat, you know! And he prefers his cats alive. And with wings.

Taglist:

@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[paranoiastudio]

Defender

pairing: Astarion x f!reader

warnings: no, it's just fluff

word count: 416

English is not my first language, sorry about mistakes

Astarion felt irritated and even angry at you. You're grupe have a lot of problems, but you, a stupid idealist, waste precious time and help everyone you meet.

- Are you kidding me? - Astarion watches as you and Karlach climb onto the roof to deal with the arrogant eagles that took the house from the bird you met a couple of minutes ago. - We have to go!

- Stop grumbling! - You smile at the vampire and climb further up the tree.

He sighs and is even glad that the others seem to share his irritation. Every minute counts…

But hearing your scream, he can’t help but rush to help, once again reproaching himself for following your lead.

Together you all deal with the huge birds, Lae'zel cleans his sword of blood and feathers, when you climb straight out of the nest.

The vampire immediately smells blood, sees the broken armor and hurries towards you, catching you on the fly.

- My hero… - You smile again, but your pallor cannot be hidden. Fatigue suddenly overwhelmed you, you’ve been on the road for four days now, not making any stops, and you also gave Astarion your blood (every night).

- Stupid little bird. - He examines you and exclaims. - We have a halt! Refusals will not be accepted.

He pitched your tent himself and told everyone not to disturb you that night. Even Karlach, your dear friend, did not receive permission to visit you.

- Are you insane? At this rate, you're going to die, and not because of a fucking parasite.

- Sorry. - You watching the vampire from bed. - Are you hungry?

- I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey. Not today. - Astarion sits down next to you and touches your forehead. - I don't want to kill you.

- I would be pleased to die in your hands. - Your fingers touch and Astarion freezes, taken aback for the first time by your words. Usually he was the one who embarrassed you with his flirting.

- What? Why? You… - He smiles and you see his fangs in the candlelight.

- Just rest next to me, please. - You make some space for him. - I don't want to be alone.

Astarion immediately lies down next to you, hugging you. He tries not to put pressure on the wound, you bury yourself in his chest and sniffle sweetly, hugging the vampire with one arm.

- Thank you…

- At your service, beauty. - Astarion doesn’t understand what has changed in him, but he’s glad to be near you. Be needed. To be your defender.

[hyog-blog]

Fangs of Fortune (ep. 33 - ep. 34)

Okay, I might need therapy after this show now, but oh boy, did they end on a hopeful note (I mean that sweet special episode that made EVERYTHING better). I almost don't want to recount the torment that was the last few episodes, but it was pretty. And all of them are incredibly beautiful sufferers D:

Li Lun had a spectacular, albeit short, redemption arc, sacrificing himself both for Zhuo Yichen and, most importantly, Zhao Yuanzhou. LL and ZYZ are especially tragic if you come to think of it. They've both lived 30,000+ years, can you imagine the amount of cycles their relationship went through? They could have been enemies just out of boredom, and then lovers again, and then friends, and then whatever. They both don't pose as very sociable beings, so I imagine having each other in their lives was pretty important. Thus, losing the other one was pretty much unbearable. It's akin to losing a part of yourself, of your body and soul (once again, the TORMENT of Li Lun dying and what ZYZ was going through was palpable).

"I can't stand seeing him so useless."

And that moment when Zhao Yuanzhou needed to kill the phoenix but he couldn't utter the goddamn spell because Zhuo Yichen was in there, too, and he could have been killed. Gosh, give that old demon a break, hasn't he suffered enough already? (Mr.Guo says: nope, not nearly). But that handshake was hotter than a kiss, I swear :)

That moment when Zhao Yuanzhou was going to his death, leaving Wen Xiao behind and breaking A LOT at the passageway, realizing he wouldn't be able to keep any of his promises - to her and to him, that was almost worse than the death itself. Hou Minghao played it so well it physically hurt to see him like that.

Don't get me even started about Bai Jiu and how he held onto Zhuo Yichen's hair bells for strength and courage D: In the end, he was the one who saved everyone. A baby boy who was scared of everything.

And what a day it was for Wen Xiao to lose both her stepfather and her loved one. Zhao Yuanzhou did sacrifice him for her (otherwise she would have done it as a goddess for all those people), but a small evil voice in my head (probably Li Lun's XD) whispered that it's just one city, how many ppl could the Chongwu Camp have infected? Screw the city, save Zhao Yuanzhou XD Well, I'm obviously biased, so, yeah. One Great Demon saved the day, finally realizing his deathwish, which was no longer there.

Zhao Yuanzhou and Zhuo Yichen during the killing - it was just pure heartbreak. ZY manned up (if it's even applicable here) and did the deed himself, not waiting for ZYZ to go full-on Ying Long on him. Instant depression for the whole Demon Hunting Bureau, whoever was left there still. But kudos to our boy for saving a part of Zhao Yuanzhou's soul - just like Bing Yi did. And not only that, he went looking for it. I have no idea what you could do with a particle like that (can you grow him back? I'd like to think so, although Ying Long was kinda stuck and didn't seem too happy, hmm).

Also, the last person Zhao Yuanzhou saw was Zhuo Yichen D;

But still, that ending in the special was hopeful. Instantly made everything somehow less dreary and lonely. Zhuo Yichen's character growth was IMMENSE. Our boy went from hating demons who killed his family, then getting to know so many of them, and one especially well, and even to becoming one himself. And in the end, he refused to give up on Zhao Yuanzhou, saying he'd be guilty for the rest of his life if he didn't find him. Well, maybe that, but also because of their love, which was HUGE.

I like how the show explored different types of love - friendly, sisterly, brotherly, m/m, f/f, and everything in between. Unrequited love, platonic love, the whatever love - it's all been there. Pei Sijing's face said a lot when Wen Xiao told them she was also leaving - to stay in the Wilderness. It's not-really-funny how without Zhao Yuanzhou their whole team broke apart (well, some died, but each of them went their separate ways). I kind of hopefully imagine that if he came back, he'd probably want to spend a small eternity with Zhuo Yichen or Wen Xiao (or more likely both) and that could be a whole new adventure for them.

I sacrificed my night's sleep for this, no regrets whatsoever XD Not nearly enough kittens in the world to heal after this, though. But the show is so-so good.

[kseniyagreen]

Character's special things in Fangs of fortune and their meaning

I realized that almost all the main characters have a special item that symbolizes (and contains?) a certain part of the hero’s soul - supplanted/forgotten/unknown.

And almost all of these items break at some point. But it is from this break moment that the path of assimilation of this lost part begins.

Bai Jiu and his paranormally spacious box. Just like Bai Jiu himself - keeps much more secrets than you can imagine looking at him from the side. Can even contain an additional person. (I don't remember the fate of Bai Jiu's box, if someone remembers it would be interesting).

Wen Xiao and baize token. For a long time, the Wen Xiao felt like an application to this relic, helpless without it, and only after it broke and she spent 300 years to grow a new one, it really became her own. (Frankly, her whole arch has a large unused potential. It could be made much more powerful if they didn't have to dance between censorship and the desire not to obscure the main BL line)

Li Lun and his drum. The gift of youthful love and a symbol of the innocence and some childish spirit, later converted into weapon. It breaks when Li Lun occupies the body of Bai Jiu - the body of the child - and begins the path of some real transformation.

Zhuo Yichen and his blue cloud sword. It breaks when Yichen's inner contradiction is revealed - and then, like with baize token , he creates a new sword. And creates it with the help of Zhao Yuanzhou - so this new sword is a “product” of their love, not predecessors.

Zhao Yuanzhou and his umbrella. Correct me if I remember wrong, but Yuanzhou's umbrella also breaks on the same day as the sword? And from this day we never see Zhao Yuanzhou completely losing self -control (he was close at the moment when people attacked Yichen, but resisted).

Pei Si Jing and a doll of her brother. Pei Si Jing all her life built her identity on the role of the sister-defender. But in the end, she herself killed her brother. And this fundamentally leaned her ability to fight the demons. The memory of her brother, busy with magic and tied to a doll, was her cruttle for a long time - more likely not as his soul, but as part of her soul tied to her role as a sister. But at that moment when she gained courage to fight the demons herself, this crutch breaks.

(I also don’t remember exactly, but did Ying Lei have this thing for teleportation? And it also broke at some point?)

And I find this whole theme of "Sometimes you need to break to become a whole" closely related to experiencing yourself as anomalies.

When you have a part in you that causes a painful contradiction, we tend to isolate this part, as if to put in a separate box. And get out of there only for a while and in an urgent need. And it seems that this mental "box" is felt as protection, but at the same time it is a prison.

Ultimately, it usually has to be broken. And even when you are really ready for this, it can be felt in the moment as a risk of self -destruction, final loss of yourself. Although in fact, it is after this that you can find yourself fully.

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY: Grim Tales

Bargain

Blake could only watch in horror as Jaune was stabbed through the heart by Adam's blade. Seconds felt like an eternity as he was pushed to the floor and his once vibrant blue eyes had suddenly turned dull. She screamed out his name, crawling to him in desperation.

Blake: *reaches to Jaune* Jaune! No! Please. *shakes him* You can't do this to me. No. Please no. *cries* Jaune!

Blake looked at Adam and raised her hand. A small, purple coloured magic circle appeared and a panther-like shadow beast emerged, lunging at him. Adam scoffed and simply cut it with his sword. Blake momentarily left Jaune and drew her tantō, whispering a spell to enchant it. It glowed purple and she charged towards him. Her attacks proved fruitless, as Adam's swordplay was devastating, yet refined. Each blow she tried to land was effortless parried. Seeing an opening, he grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her up.

Adam: Did you honestly think that you could beat me with that pathetic excuse for magic?

Blake: Ack! Y-You monster! *stabs Adam's arm*

Adam barely had a reaction, not even a flinch. Instead, black liquid began to seep out of the wound and seemed to shift. It began to crawl up and down his arm, slowly enveloping him until it spread all around his body and transforming into jet black armour. Blake was horrified.

Blake: Adam... what have you done?

Adam: *chuckles* I have surpassed the weakness of humanity. I offered you a share and what did you do? Cast me aside like I was nothing. But I don't need you or the White Fang anymore. I'm part of a new era, one where I'm promised the rightful title of ruler among you and the Faunus.

There were no words left for Blake to say. Her best friend, her brother, was gone. It may have Adam's face and voice, but not his soul. For the first time in her life, she felt truly defeated. Adam grabbed the tantō from his arm and stabbed Blake right in the abdomen.

Blake: AAAAAAGH!!!!

He threw on top of her dying husband and slimy, black wings protruded from the back of his armour. As flew off into the night, Blake reached to Jaune's cheek and stroked it.

Blake: Forgive me, Jaune.

* * *

The voice of Blake was ringing in Jaune's ears. He tried to open his eyes, but he could feel an intense, burning heat that kept them shut. Blake's voice began fading and in its place was a deep, sharp growl.

???: Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? What the-?

???: Jaune Arc.

Jaune: Who are you? What's going on?

???: Open your eyes.

Jaune slowly opened his eyes and found himself in a dark, desolate landscape. Volcanoes were erupting and the sky was a deep red. Surrounding him were all types of Grimm, hungry and itching to kill. Jaune jumped back and tried to reach for his sword. But it wasn't there.

Jaune: What the hell? Where's Crocea Mors?!

???: Even if you had it with you, I doubt you'd be able to fight all of us by yourself.

Jaune turned around and saw a large, indigo dragon-like man sitting atop a black, bony throne. The Grimm growled gently and all bowed their heads to it. Jaune couldn't believe it. He was the presence of the progenitor of Grimm.

Jaune: Y-You're the God of Darkness.

GOD: Indeed I am. Though you'll forgive my curiosity as to why a man of your virtous character ended up here. You're far from perfect, but you hardly belong in the Land of Darkness.

The God of Darkness stood up from his throne and approached the young man. Jaune slowly backed away, terror coursing throughout his body. The dark dragon stared deep into his eyes with intense focus, not even blinking once.

GOD: Oh... now this is interesting. In your heart lies vengeance and a deep desire for bloodshed. Oh we could use that *chuckles* Someone has wronged you.

Jaune: I... I... I remember being stabbed in the heart. By... *gasps* Adam!

GOD: I know him. One of my finest soldiers. Or at least he used to be. *walks to throne* Tell me, boy, how much do you desire Adam's head?

Jaune clenched fists. He thought back to all the times he and Blake were pursued by Adam. Countless deaths of innocents had followed him, including that of the White Fang. To see him betray his own family like that, who raised him, cared for him and taught him the ways of a Magic Knight, made Jaune furious. And now he had taken him from his beloved wife and son. Tears ran down his face.

Jaune: I'll do anything. Anything.

GOD: *smiles* I see. I can offer you a chance at revenge, a chance to see your family again. But, I require something in return. You must serve me. You must become my Grimm Knight, slaughter my enemies and become my weapon! *clenches fist* In exchange, you shall be stronger, faster, more dangerous than you will ever become with your pitiful human magic. Will you do it?

Jaune: I will! Whatever it takes, just promise me that I'll see Blake and Anthony again!

GOD: It shall be done. But swear your loyalty to me first.

Jaune didn't hesitate to bend the knee.

Jaune: I Jaune of House Arc, hereby swear my loyalty to you. I will be your weapon to vanquish all who stand before you. I will be your servant of darkness. I will make Adam pay for what he did to me.

The ground below him cracked and hundreds of small tendrils latched onto him, piercing bits of his skin. Jaune grit his teeth as he tried to bare the pain. The tendrils shifted into dark armour and his chest bore an emblem of a dragon's skull. Jaune's once luminous, blonde hair had now become white as a ghost.

GOD: You now serve me. Rise, Wyvern.

Jaune rose his head and gave a threatening, guttaral roar. His journey to retribution had begun.

[misanthropologymajor]

buggin' out (part 2)

plagas!leon x partner!fem!reader

So you've found the President's daughter-- now what?

warnings: parasitic infections, descriptive violence, slow burn, anxious reader, lots of euphemisms for killing, awkwardly written combat, animal death, dog bite, slow building las plagas infections, crossposted on ao3

part one

feedback is appreciated :)

wc: 2.1k

The Merchant greets your trio as you return to the village square. “I ‘ave somethin’ I think you’ll like.” He glints the silver blade of a folding knife toward you. “Could be useful.”

You think for a second before opening the outside pocket of your waist pouch. “Ashley, why don’t we get you this to keep in your boot? Just in case?” You hand the Merchant his asking price before handing Ashley her new steel and juniper navaja, a sturdy antique pocket knife. 

She tucks it into her right boot before brushing an errant cobweb off the hem of her skirt. “Can we take a break?”

“Sorry, we need to keep moving.” Leon walks past the Merchant and enters the town hall. He keeps his hand on his holster as he walks past the flickering flame of the last lit lantern. 

Ashley gives a brief, “Got it.”

You grab her hand to squeeze it briefly as you try to encourage her to keep going. “You should have seen me in Raccoon City. After I got licked in the face by a mutated zombie, I made Leon give me five minutes to cool off. You’re doing better than I was.” 

“Wait, you two were there for Raccoon City? How did you get out?” Ashley nearly stopped dead in her tracks, but you pulled her along with your clasped hands.

“We had some help getting to an underground train below Umbrella’s lab. We made it out with a girl around our age, Claire, and a little girl named Sherry. In the end, we really just got lucky.”

Leon coughs a bit before speaking, “We don’t have time to talk about R.C. If you really wanna know, wait for the chopper.” He wipes the corner of his mouth as he walks past the mantlepiece portrait. 

He continues forward, pushing the door open to reveal the downed bell tower. A man begins climbing through the smashed window of the nearest house. Leon takes aim and shoots him in the head twice before he can fully get outside. An elderly woman in a black bandana shoves his body the rest of the way out of the window frame before climbing through herself.

You shoot the woman just as she finds her footing. Holding the next occupants of the room at bay with shots to the torso before you climb over the most recent corpses. A villager attempts to grapple you. Drawing your leather-handled Bowie knife, you sink it into the soft spot above his clavicle. He drops dead as you return your knife to its sheath. You shoot the final man in the room as Leon helps Ashley through the window. 

You toss a flash grenade into the next room before entering. After shooting one villager lethally, the next two mutate into bladed tentacles. It takes nearly a full clip before the tentacle heads and the other two villagers drop. You look back to Leon and Ashley. Leon’s hair sticks flat to his forehead, and Ashley’s tights have two new snags.

“Let’s keep going. We’ve got to beat this storm.” You shoulder the door open while keeping your gun drawn.  Only two humanoids are in your path, but three mutated dogs scramble between them. Leon shoots at the nearest humanoid as you direct your fire at the dogs, snapping their excessive fangs at you. Ashley waits in the doorway.

As Leon finishes the second humanoid, the last dog manages to evade your fire and leaps to tackle you to the ground. You manage to tuck your head to avoid hitting it on the ground, and it ineffectively tries to bite you through your elbow pads.  Leon pulls it off of you and uses his knife to dispatch the poor mutated canine. As the dog lies limp, you pull yourself up to a seated position, allowing Leon to help you to your feet. 

You check under your elbow pads to ensure that the dog had not been able to cause damage through your protective equipment. Leon grabs your arm to check, as well. 

When you’re cleared, Leon leads off to the pickup location via the farm and stables. You gesture for Ashley to go before you with an over-dramatic hand gesture before finally following. 

One male villager blocks the path forward. Unfortunately for him, he does not see or hear your approach and is facing away. Leon uses his knife to quietly remove him from the situation. He continues his approach to the heavy gate, the final barrier to the farm. Leon’s forearm and shoulders flex as he pushes the door open. 

Quiet voices float through the air over the dilapidated shack you pull Ashley into. Leon continues to slink around the shack. You lean in close and whisper, “Pull out your knife. Only use it if someone tries to grab you. Be careful.” 

As Ashley draws her knife, you walk out with your own gun and knife ready and see an old woman catch sight of Leon. You shoot her in the chest twice as the other villagers move toward the commotion. Ashley clutches her new knife close, yet stays tucked behind you as you fire into the crowd of disgruntled mutant farmers. 

The villagers part to allow a larger bull-masked man to spiral through, propelled by the weight of a large hammer. Leon barely avoids his attack and you reach for the shotgun holstered on your back. You move toward the beast to fire your first shot into his chest. He stumbles, allowing Leon to shoot him, too. Another blast from your shotgun pushes his lifeless body to the ground as Leon uses his own shotgun to kill two smaller villagers in one shot. Ashley squeals at a villager who approaches her but manages to push her knife deep enough into his torso to pause him. His momentary stop allows you to grab him from behind and thrust your own knife into his throat.

As you remove and wipe Ashley’s knife off on your pants, Leon uses his handgun to finish off the last of the villagers in this area.

You return Ashley’s knife while voices approach from the village center. Leon leads you through the next set of gates and onto the suspension bridge. Villagers are approaching from behind and from the path to your right while a distinctly conscious voice rings out. The house directly in front of you, which you had barely even noticed until this point, holds a man you recognize from Leon’s earlier short-term abduction. A large gated fence surrounds the modest home.

“Hey! Over here, come on!” Finding the only option, Leon starts running, shortly followed by Ashley. 

You bring up the rear, and as you run into the house, Leon slams the door closed and barricades it with a large piece of metal. Leon turns on his heel and approaches the mystery man. “You!”

“Hey, listen, about earlier, I–”

“Yeah, about that…” Leon winds up a punch while you consider pulling his arm back. Before you can stop Leon’s attack, the strange man speaks up.

“Hey! I see you found your ‘missing señorita!’” The man looks between both you and Ashley before returning his gaze to Leon.

“This ‘señorita’ has a name, and it’s Ashley. And you are?”

You quickly give your own name before the man can introduce himself.

“Name’s Luis. Encantado.” 

“Great. We all have names.Now then—Who are you? And what're you doing here?”

A crack resounds from where the gate had been. You notice the bookcase near a window across the left side room and run over to push it in front of the window. Leon and Luis move a dresser to hide Ashley in the cavity behind it. A villager breaks through the window between your window and the stairs.

You are nearly done pushing the bookcase in front of the window when Leon shoots right behind you. The villager had gotten much closer than you’d realized, and Leon took him down right before he got the chance to grab you.

“Hordes of them against the three of us. Oh, and let’s not forget– this mob is made up of monsters! You two done warming up? Hope you stretched!” Luis aims his revolver at the window nearest Ashley’s alcove, and you notice a few loose boards in the table behind him. A hammer and several long nails rest on the more stable portion of the table. As Luis and Leon guard the two open windows, you can hear the creaking of wood from the destruction of your bookcase. 

With one foot on a chair and the other on the inside of the table, you begin to prise thick wooden boards from the old table. Leon and Luis kill at least ten villagers as you pull the third board from the table. You grab the boards, hammer, and nails and rush toward Luis’s window. Telling him to switch to the failing bookcase, you hold the board with your torso, the nail with one hand, and use the hammer with your other hand in order to form a more permanent barricade on this window. Luis’s remarks to Leon are drowned out by your repeated hammering and focus on building your barricade. Four more villagers, two being tentacled, are brought down in the time it takes you to get one board fully in place and another partially secured. 

The final nail enters your first barricade, and you shoot a tentacled head before it can stab Leon. You return to the table and pry another board out to give you enough boards for your next barricade. You send Luis to Leon’s window, and Leon takes it upon himself to grab more boards. Using a similar method, you manage to halve the time spent forming a blockade on this second window. 

A crash echoes from upstairs while Leon pulls the final board you need out. Luis rushes up, and Leon gives you the boards before following the Spaniard. The final window blockade is just completed as a dull and deep noise echoes from the middle barricade.

You barely make it up to the landing when another bull-masked man busts through your hard work. “You have to be kidding me! Heads up, one big guy coming from downstairs.”

Before Leon or Luis can heed your warning, a door right behind you slams open. You just barely stop yourself from stabbing Ashley in your shock. “This way, hurry!” Ashley calls to Leon and Luis. 

The door leads to an elevated wooden path. Several villagers pursue you as you rush past a gate. Leon turns his aim to the gin wheel securing the gate, and fires, crushing the nearest villager. The thick log gate blocks the rest. 

Luis leans on the nearest wall to pant as Ashley stumbles into the other wall beside you. She lets out a few deep coughs and a crimson splatter lands on her hand. “What’s happening to me?” You use one arm to hold her shoulders while searching your pack for something to clean her hand with.

Luis walks up and grabs her hand. “Ashley, is this the first time you’ve coughed up blood like this?” She nods.

“You want to start explaining?” Leon’s voice and steps forward hold a threatening undercurrent.

“The cough, the blood, it’s caused by something called a… ‘plaga.’” He pauses, pacing. “Okay, you saw those ‘people,’ right? Well, you have the same thing inside of you. The same thing that made them like that. This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms, they’re only the beginning.”

“I don’t want to become like them.” At the end of her sentence, Ashley inhaled sharply and began to tremble. You wiped her hand clean with a bandana and scanned her exposed skin for other symptoms. Luis paces away from you, Ashley, and Leon.

“You are, well, lucky. You see, at this early stage, the parasite– the plaga, it is possible to remove it,” Luis paused for a fraction of a second. “With a surgical procedure. All you need is some know-how. And, oh yeah– the right equipment.” With his last sentence, Luis turns on his heel to reveal a jagged scar running diagonally from the middle of his left clavicle to his mid-sternum. 

Unlike you or Ashley, Leon doesn’t make an audible noise of surprise. “Wait, you too?”

Luis releases the front placket of his shirt to address you. “No worries. See, I have a plan. But you’re going to have to trust me.” 

Leon looks between you and Ashley. You barely nod to him, and he more confidently nods to Luis. 

“Great! We’re partners, then.” He begins to stride away. 

“Hey, why are you–” Leon is cut off.

“No time for questions, the clock is ticking.”

“Luis, why are you helping us?” You call through the pouring rain.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that. I will contact you later.” 

The Spaniard walks into the rain and out of your lines of sight.

[0v3rcast]

Gnaw (4)

You stand at the precipice of Liyue. The land of Geo. The resting place of a corpse-god, the dragon Rex Lapis, and the home of Archon Zhongli.

Though some part of you hopes that they'll be less hostile, you can't help but feel that Liyue will simply be more of the same.

More suffering. More death.

But now you have a gift. A way to protect yourself. The symbol of one of your loyal creations, and a font of power from which to draw destructive energy. You are not alone. And you will not fall so easily.

You step through a boundary, a line between the nations, and the world changes. Suddenly, the sky does not feel so vast. The air feels thinner, and the ground beneath your feet feels... denser. More present. As though the soil and stone of Mondstadt was gravel.

You take a few moments to breathe, to aquaint yourself with lungs that go unaided by Anemo, and begin walking.

Somewhere in the distance lies the Stone Gate. You decide to avoid it and the people of Liyue as best you can.

You decide to experiment with the abilities you now have so you can defend yourself if need be.

First, you should probably learn to sense them, starting at the symbol upon your wrist.

After a minute of concentration, you feel the faintest twitch of static in your veins. The subtle hum of energy that now calls you home.

You move the energy sluggishly, slowly convincing it to travel along your veins, and it proceeds to gain speed.

By the end of your first hour of 'training', there is a storm in your chest, your heart pounding thunder down your ribs, your blood singing with voltaic power.

It feels good.

You are unaware that special organs are rapidly growing in your dermis and flesh to allow you to conduct electrical energy safely.

You are unaware of the way billions of neurons are rearranging themselves to make your use of this power instinctive.

You are unaware of the way your entire nervous system is editing itself, allowing you to pump your body full of electro energy without a cost to your health.

You are unaware that you could now shrug off chewing on a power plant generator's active primary circuit or that you would register lightning as nothing more than a mild annoyance.

What you are aware of is the ball of lightning hovering over your hand. You grin, victorious.

(Electro watches from their throne at the peak of existence, smug smile on their face.)

Your doppelgänger howls in agony as they carve a spiral into the space between their shoulderblades with a blade that oozes molten gold.

They cannot allow themselves to be discovered as a false God. To be revealed now would be a waste of all their work.

To lose the luxuries they rightfully deserve is so horrible a fate that they'd rather maim themselves to keep up the illusion.

Soon, their acolytes will arrive.

They command that their 'imposter' shall be killed on sight.

Five Archons obey.

(They do not notice the way their Gnosis begin to dim.)

You spend two weeks slowly navigating the terrain of Liyue and exploring your new abilities.

You've learned to weave the energy into your limbs to vastly speed them up. You've learned to push that energy into your nails and teeth, turning them into vicious claws and fangs.

You've learned to push the energy into your brain to increase your reaction time and slow the world around you to a crawl.

Days of travel are collapsed into mere hours as you become a purple-streaked blur that rushes across the terrain fast enough to run up cliff faces and across water.

...you've also had countless bloody noses and scraped limbs, gotten enough dirt in your mouth to fill a flowerpot, choked on a multitude of flying bugs, and nearly drowned trying to water-walk.

Fruit and vegetables are bountiful, but you can't quite shake the urge to find some new small creature and bite down into it and fill your mouth with delicious red-

No. You are better than your urges. You are a person, not an animal, no matter how tempting the idea is.

Unfortunately this peace does not last.

You run across a small patrol of Millelith members, each bearing a weapon of some sort.

"Fuck," you hiss, ducking into the treeline to hopefully avoid being found. It's too late.

One of them cries out in alarm, and the entire group is instantly alerted to your presence.

You learn from the orders their leader is barking that you are now to be slain on sight.

Spears are leveled in your direction, arrows are nocked and readied, clubs and greatswords rise.

You easily avoid the arrows, your body humming with electro energy, and the first to swing their blade at you is met with a spear of lightning through the brain, their body writhing violently at the end.

You dispel the spear and dodge a mace, giving the woman bearing it a blast of electrical energy straight to the face, turning her head to ash and instantly killing her.

An arrow slices your side as you toss the headless body away from you, and the wound immediately begins to sizzle as it mends in a golden scar.

You reach into the head of the archer from a distance and send a jolt of power into his brain, flash-frying nerves and swiftly ending his life.

You don't remember ever being as clumsy and slow as they are before you had Electro. Are humans this pathetic, or are the Millelith just awful?

Five more stand in your way.

You gather the charge within your gift and send it out as a bolt of raw electro energy.

The leader is hit, but does not die. They are instead surrounded by a potent magnetic field. The metal of their armor and the metal of their squadmates attract to each other, and they're slammed together.

The five of them struggle to part themselves, pathetically squirming in place. You put them out of their misery to save them the embarrassment.

As soon as that's done, the gravity of your actions hits you. You just killed eight people.

You're horrified - but they were going to kill you first, weren't they?

Should you feel horrified for defending yourself from people who wanted you dead?

...should you feel anything for these people? Some part of you still desperately clings to the idea that this is all some fucked-up dream or a game.

It ceases to matter when elemental energy erupts right in front of you, and Kequing lunges out of a teleport to cleanly slice off your head.

As your vision begins to blacken, and the world drifts away, you watch your headless body stagger backward a few steps and then drop.

"Maybe next time," you mutter without sound, as the darkness swallows you.

Deep purple blood oozes from the stump of your neck as every trace of your corpse disintegrates.

("I will put you back together, my maker," whispers the Abyss. "I will always put you back together.")

((Taglist:

@the-dumber-scaramouche @thatdeadaquarius @ssak-i @imyme20 @fried-lotud @acacla @itz-luna @iruiji @crierofirony @itsredactedlove @sweetsthetik @leafanonsforest @oxyotl @kkazuyass @featuredtofu @resident-cryptid @d4y-dr3am3r @crimson-ashes @red1sg0n3 @the-real-fandom-person @code-roevember @yourlocalsourwolf @rhoswen-drake @minimari415 @reversearrowhead

[edgeray]

One Hell of a Butler Pt.5

Reverence (Arlecchino x Fem! Reader Blurb)

A/N: Should I be working on this? No. But I just thought of this and I *needed* to write this. I did get a little lazy at the end but hopefully it's okay? Wanted to spoil you guys a little with a bit of spice ✨. Also. @megistusdiary. I lied. :) (you do get to fuck her now). Me while writing this: Do I want to be with Reader or be her. Oh, wait. 🤭 Series Masterlist Content Warning: Very suggestive. Not smut though.

To be quite frank, you were uncertain what would come with having a demon as your butler; in fact, you weren't even sure if this contract would be viable or if the demon would accept it: you half-expected for Arlecchino to scoff and turn the other way, maybe even grant you death for such an insolent offer. A demon serving underneath the human? How absurd. Why would any demon go to such extent for something so obviously below the species of demons? For their prey, for something they would eat, nonetheless? Though, perhaps you summoned no ordinary demon, or perhaps you were no ordinary human. Whose to say you weren’t an exception? Though, you didn’t want to flatter yourself. Pretension came with consequences of course. 

Still, nothing could have prepared you for what Arlecchino would be like.

You shouldn’t be surprised by her… quirks, to say, as you assume all demons are sentient enough to have their own distinct personalities and whatnot. You were certain that Arlecchino’s behavior didn’t quite match that of a demon. Or perhaps, she didn’t match your expectations of a demon. Regardless, it was hard to imagine your butler as a demon. 

Demons were meant to be cruel. Sharps claws that destroyed everything in its wake, fangs that ensnarled anything it could get a hold of, a tongue so vile that it spits venom with each utterance, piercing red irises fitting for a being of hell, and powers and abilities unfathomable to humans. Demons are unhuman, even, unworldly to you, or they should be. So why does she act with a familiar…intimacy? Were all demons like this? Well, they are beings of sin… lust is not completely out of the realm of possibilities, is it? Perhaps it came with being a demon. 

Though, you can’t quite imagine a demon behaving like she has. In ways that go beyond amorous suggestions, with tenderness that can’t be associated with sensuality. The damn, sly creature is always looking for an opportunity to touch you, though, at least shew warrants some restraint and tact when doing so. Helping you dress even when you never call for her, her eyes always wander your body–always looking, but never touching (excessively, that is). She’s ever so sickeningly sweet with her words, often spilling flatteries from her lips that near your head. Doing things outside of your orders, though always making sure they aren’t detrimental to you. Whether they be subtle, courteous acts, ones that you are perfectly capable of doing yourself (like holding a door or helping you slip in your shoes); or more evident gestures. You recall the numerous times she has wordlessly slid a cup of the coffee in the dead of night as you hunch over a desk. The coffee is always prepared in the way you’ve preferred the most: with the meticulous process you typically do, which she could have only learned through observation. 

You’d think she was treating you like glass, like a fragile little human that may break from anything just because she is much more invulnerable than any human, However, you discover that she rarely thinks of you as such. Sure, she could easily kill anyone that crosses you with less than a snap of a finger, but she’s not above doing nothing and just watching you eliminate those damned vangrats yourself. (She says it was because she adores the cold fury on your expression.) 

Even at your most vulnerable, underneath your covers surrounded nothing but remnants of the past and your persistent fears, does she hold you, but not in a coddling manner. Only just enough to remind you of the present reality, lacking the consolation someone more intimate would offer. She does not wrap her arms around your form even after your request to stay, and for that, you’re grateful. You must proctor the line between butler and master, but even you can feel your resolute trembling the slightest amount, making way for leniency of her otherwise impudent actions. 

Her icy touch burns across your skin, igniting a fire you thought had long died. You almost hate it, if you didn’t long for it so much. Perhaps it’s the demon’s effect on you, breaking you down and slowly willing you underneath her. Well, you refuse to allow that to happen, denying the possibility you would submit to anyone–anything–before you achieved your goal. 

You’d demonstrate to her who was in control; despite her undeniable superiority in ability, you were the one using her, not the other way around, and she’d come to remember it. 

You make good of that promise today, a day like any other. 

When you were stirred awake this morning, sunlight streaming from your bedroom window as she gently combs her dexterous fingers through the strands of your hair. Your eyelids fluttered before your vision was greeted with the angelic image of her, her pale skin and snow white hair framed in such a delicate manner by the golden rays of sun, making the soft upturn of her lips seem to radiate. Always, in your drowsy and yet-conscious mind, do you think that you would like to be met with this sight every time you rise. 

“Good morning, my Lady,” she says, just like the morning before, and the morning before that. She brushes the stray hair strand away from your face and you let her. On the nightstand is expectedly a tray of food, breakfast already prepared for you by her. 

“What is it?” You inquire, just like every morning, only because there’s the fascinating spark of brilliance in those black abysses. 

You rarely pay attention to her words. You hardly care about the origins of whatever gourmet food she’s made (once you inquired her about how she learned to cook, her reply is only that she learned with past ‘clients’), the movement of her red lips far more delectable to you in those moments. 

She reminds you that you have a meeting with one of your clients in the afternoon as you eat, making you internally sigh. People. 

She helps you into appropriate clothing for occasion, and of course, she teases you. Nails scraping lightly against your bare hips, fingers hooked around waist, fleeting touches on your sides as she prepares you (sometimes you wonder if she does it for her eyes or for the event). Your client proposes discussing business in a private room of some high-end restaurant–one of those that served you a nine-course meal (though you were sure Arlecchino could create something far more appetizing, you had no good reason to deny the offer). 

Arlecchino sits besides you as the two of you engage, dismissing her presence as just a ‘bodyguard’ in front of your client. The two of you exchange information, discuss with the faked pleasantries ‘dignified criminals’ had to uphold, and soon enough, your meeting soon comes to a close. The last dessert has yet to come, and the conversation has shifted from something of business to what would be the criminal underground version of gossiping. As you do, you feel something snake up your thigh, and it is the familiar iciness that tells you it’s your butler’s hand. You can’t break your attention away, though the tightening grip around your glass is enough to scold Arlecchino. 

The ever infuriating butler that she is ignores the visible signs of frustration, fingers towards your inner thigh which makes you clench your wine cup even more. A swirling heat coils in your stomach and your heartbeat spikes. Your skin suddenly feels flushed, warmth pooling inside underneath your skin that only grows with every stroke over your clothed leg. At one point, your breath hitches when she digs her nails in, not forceful enough to break skin but it’s a prickly sensation. 

You grind your teeth under a placid face. You’ve long grew tired of her misbehavior. 

It’s when you decide that you can no longer be so lenient with her. After you and Arlecchino return from the meeting, you’ve excused yourself to your room and ordered her to not disturb you for as long as you remain there. You use that time to relieve yourself from the swelter that overwhelms your thoughts, which are only filled with visions of red-crossed pupils and sharp, frigid touches. By the end of it, you’re left more irritated than satiated. 

It’s before evening when you call her to your office. You sit perched on top of your desk, one leg crossed over the other as you lean back languidly over the wooden surface, waiting for her. 

“Arlecchino when you agreed to the contract what was it that you agreed to?” You ask her suddenly, before any greeting or command. The abrupt inquiry seems to have caught her off guard, but she answers without deliberation. 

“I agreed to serve you and only you as a butler, faithfully and loyally without any objection or hesitation.”

You narrow your eyes, the impatience tethering with fury in your voice. “And what does being my butler entail?” 

“Fulfilling your every wish and need at any expense, including myself.”

You press your lips into a tight line, pleased with her response, but it’s not enough. “Exactly. Kneel.”

You love the look of her eyes as they widen in shock, her mouth parted slightly. It’s a command you’ve never given before, and it briefs her on nothing of your intentions. “My Lady?” She inquires with a bit of hesitance, daring to feign daftness, but from the intense flaring of her red irises, you know quite well that she’s heard you. 

You click your tongue irritatedly. “Did you not hear me? I said kneel before me.”

Arlecchino kneels, her knees digging into the carpeted floor as her lower legs lay flat though you can tell from the slow manner it’s uneasy to her. Good. Standing up from your sitting position, you stroll towards her before stopping only just a few inches away from her. You lean down, grasping her chin in your hand, forcing her to look up at you. This action is almost familiar to you–you wonder if she remembers how akin it is to her touches before. Your eyes bore into black pits, which stare intently, but you can practically feel that underneath your fingertips, behind the composed expression, is something boiling under her skin, like a hot, seething flame. The glare in her eyes are cutting, and you’d be frightened if you weren’t well aware of you and her's positions.

Here, you think she looks like a demon. There is nothing gracious about her now, none of that muddling affection that lies underneath her actions and words. She stares at you with something you wouldn’t describe as indignation, but nonetheless, you can tell she covets defiance against your order. In this moment, you can’t help but admire how pretty she looks, looking up at you like a reverent god. You’re grateful she doesn’t squirm–if she did, the splitting grin you’re trying to hide would spread across your face, tearing apart the commanding aura you’re trying to maintain. You take pride in this position, almost giddy from it, but you know better than to tease a gnashing dog. 

“I grow tired of your shameless advances. Do you take me for a fool just because I am a human? I may be dangling my soul for you, but do not dare look down at me,” you remark with a cutting tone, contrasting your sharp words with the gentle caressing of her chin with your thumb, before pulling your hand away. 

Your other hand finds its way in her white locks, nails digging into the demon’s scalp as you grip a handful of the hair tightly. You let go of her chin, and rely on the tug of her hair to keep her head tilted up on. Your now free hand moves to your pants, undoing the button as you observe the thick swallow she forces down and the small twitching of her form. Her own nails dig into the carpet underneath her. But, what is most visible to you is the soft flushing of her cheeks. 

“When you contracted with me, you submitted to me. Isn’t it a new low, even among demons, Arlecchino? Submitting to a human. Even then, however, this was always what you wanted, wasn’t it? The provoking touches, the whispered words, the little tricks. I’ve seen them all. You serve under me, so satiate my need, Arlecchino.” 

Tugging her strands lightly to guide her head in between your legs. You look down on her, the wicked grin and gleeful glint in your eyes no longer discreet. “Take it, like the sinful creature that you are.”

[baphometsss]

this might be like... an extremely hot take but. what would solas have done if only mythal and rook had been there to convince him to stop? if the inquisitor wasn't there, what would he have done after mythal released him from her service?

i'm wondering if he would've actually just.. offed himself.

his body language when mythal is talking to him is very revealing--he's literally trying to give her the wolf's fang. he never wanted it, he made it for her. she did terrible things with it, and it was used to kill her. is he trying to give it away, or offering it to her to kill him as penance? he is offering the person who gave him his body to take it away again, to end his suffering as an elf.

it's very telling that he turns to a befriended inquisitor and says that 'because of you, i can see the way forward' (paraphrasing). he says, directly to a high approval/romanced inquisitor: 'i will go and seek atonement.' he has been forgiven by the inquisitor, but he still wants to atone. that is something he never would've had the opportunity to do if they had not been there to remind him of who he truly is. he would be free of his duty to mythal, but he would still owe the world a huge debt for all things he did to it in her name, and to those he betrayed in the inquisition. the weight of that guilt, after finally confronting it after so much of it had accumulated in denial, would've have crushed him.

then there is the din'anshiral, the path of death. presumably, this means his own death. he planned to stay alive after the veil fell to rebuild the world mythal wanted, but he also seems to infer several times that he knows his death lies at the end of the path he's walking and is heading there willingly. that is the literal meaning of the din'anshiral. a romanced inquisitor tells him that she is walking the din'anshiral with him, as she has done for a decade. she is reminding him that he is not alone in his suffering--and does so again when she chooses to follow him into the black city. this is so telling of how well she understands him--she knows what he needs to hear, she knows what his deepest fear is (dying alone). and she works with rook and morrigan/mythal to bring all the necessary parts together, because she knows from experience that just trying to soothe his pain is not enough. she needs to address the cause, or the cycle will just continue.

all of this, to me, is not just about trying to get him to stop doing an awful thing. it's about talking someone away from the ledge of their own destruction. all the clues and signs solas left for the inquisition to follow him was his way of.. well, asking for help, basically. varric was right that he didn't want to do what he was doing, but he underestimated how much he was suffering and how determined he was to avoid confronting his mistakes. the inquisitor is careful not to make the same mistake, and explains his personality in a way that shows they don't underestimate the power pride has over him.

ofc, if he had taken his own life, the veil would've fallen anyway--but i daresay that after losing the only thing that tied him to his purpose (his duty to mythal), he wouldn't have cared that much. i've been at that point myself enough times to know that being called selfish or whatever isn't enough to make you want to keep going. the apathy of a suicidal person is a powerful thing. it's only through his friendship/romance with the inquisitor that he's able to hold on, to keep going. and i think this is a nice touch, because it circles back to the dialogue the inquisitor has with solas and the banter solas had with varric in dai about 'dusting yourself off and trying again'. (paraphrasing). varric is essentially there in spirit, with the inquisitor, to offset solas's grim and fatalistic worldview. solas is essentially just... catastrophically depressed and like a depressed person, can only see things that reinforce the negative outlook he already has. even in dai, he has a tendency to collapse himself into that darkness and not see a way to continue other than through terrible acts. he needs someone else to show him a better alternative--which is what the inquisitor does and is why they are so integral to this scene.

i don't think varric would've wanted it any other way, honestly, and i think the inquisitor knows that. it's why it basically works with a low approval inquisitor too, because even if they don't care for solas, they would want to see varric's wish for his friend come to fruition.

essentially the final scene of datv is about holding an intervention for solas lmao. and like an intervention, you can't do it with just one person.

[a-jar-of-beetles]

kristen thoughts plus divine musings

I really want to write out my theory and speculations about last episode but Kristen C. Applebee's won't stop taking up all my brain space so I might as well share my ramblings.

First off it was a really interesting choice to reach out to her parents she could have easily settled for checking in with Bucky to see how he and their other siblings were doing, but decided to talk to her parents anyway which besides being brave also shows a maturity that often alludes Kristen (not that ignoring her parents for the rest of her life is immature but that's not the point I'm making).

Although I wish she could have interacted more with her brothers her conversation with her parents was not as confrontational as I would have expected I for sure thought that Kristen would have bitten back at the "Helio might not have let that happen" comment when Kristen the literal chosen one of Helio has died multiple times.

Another thing that stuck out to me was the way Mac and Donna talked about Galicaea, they acted like she was just some random goddess but in Elysium Galicaea refers to Sol as her brother which is a weird thing for Kristen's parents to ignore so is the fact that Sol and Galicaea are siblings something that not common knowledge? Could it just be something that's forbidden or just taboo to talk about? Mac and Donna were also pretty judgemental about elves when they were first introduced so maybe it has something to do with that?

So that got me thinking about how Cassandra is mostly referred to as Galicaea's sister instead of Sol's while it could just be that they're both associated with night and that they both had elven followers but it made me wonder what type of relationship they had. Were they just never close in Elysium he never mentioned Cassandra but that could have just been because Kristen didn't ask him about her the only real thing we know about Sol is that he obviously approved of Ankarna and Cassandra otherwise he wouldn't have officiated their wedding.

Which brought me back to how Sol followers in the modern/evangelist church of Sol don't seem to actually know or care about what Sol actually represents/represented, which made me think about the inverse. Does Sol even truly know what's going on with his followers? Because of devil's nectar we know Gods can be purposely deceived but we also know that the nectar works by deceiving yourself first so if you truly believe something and tell your God the same they will believe it too because in Spyre the gods aren't omniscient, we've literally seen it with Galicaea who thought that Cassandra erasing her old name was her own idea and the Nightmare King killed her even when there was evidence to the contrary. Do you think her clerics did it on purpose? Whether their words were Honeyed or delusional Galicaea was still lied to. Galicaea who loved her sister, who would destroy anyone that would dare hurt her baby sister, who bared her fangs at the mention of doubt and only spoke of conviction and clarity which belonged to her fallen sister in law.

Do you think that after Cassandra died Ankarna wasn't the only one who got corrupted? Do you think that with out someone to champion doubt and hold peoples hand through the unknown, people stopped questioning the words of their preachers, paladins and clerics? because doubt became hard to speak about was it just ignored and swallowed? Was it the avoidance of doubt that made the followers of Sol demonize Ankarna? Because without Cassandra Ankarna was no longer a part of their family? Sol and Galicaea did they care? How did they when they lost the last part of Cassandra besides themselves? Were they sad?angry? relived? upset? apathetic? Did they even notice it happen at all?

Maybe I've just been thinking too much

IDK

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

Short Prompt #1217

CW: near-death experience.

The city had always been strange - split in two and yet connected by their beliefs. Two gods ruled over it, one that favored light and one that favored darkness. They were old friends who had joined forces to protect the people worshipping them.

'From what?' one might ask. Well, simple - from creatures like you.

A demon of the deep dark, evil. You feasted on the blood of mortals... though not willingly. Having been forcefully turned into this monster half a year ago, your body couldn't survive without that precious liquid life. And for an entire month, you had managed to hide amongst the human citizens, trying to regain a sense of normalcy.

But no good thing can last forever.

And now, covered in wounds that had nearly killed you, you found yourself stumbling into the temple of the dark god. "SANCTUARY! P-PLEASE!" you begged, falling to your knees as the city guards grew near.

"Granted," a deep voice bellowed, blocking your pursuers from entering as a barrier of magic formed in the doorway. The humans glared at you from the other side with rage and shock covering their expressions.

You, meanwhile, looked up at the towering god in terror. They could still throw you out if they wished; they always had the choice. And with your disguise gone due to the stress, you feared the worst as they silently studied you.

It was so obvious - from the claws and fangs to the sharp, blood-red eyes. But the god merely turned around and began walking away. "Come, little monster. Let us see where your heart lies."

Anxious, you followed them on shaking legs, silently begging for mercy. Unseen by you, the god smirked. Did you even realize you were praying to them?

"They looked so cute on their knees... but the tears and fear don't suit them. No, no." The god eyed you from the corner of their vision, watching you keep your head low and hands clasped together. "Poor little thing, covered in so many wounds. We'll get you cleaned up. And oh...

"I cannot wait to feel your teeth sink into my neck. I'll treat you like the treasure you are, little shade."