#a little birdsong. | ooc.

[blitzyn]

payback

venti x m!reader

request : none

Synopsis: You thought that stealing the Anemo God's gnosis from him was going to be easy.

second part

a/n -> i accidentally slammed my fingertip against two pieces of wood it hurts so much omg -- but onto the actual fic. this is my first time writing noncon so if anything is inaccurate please let me know. and just a quick warning, i have no idea how to write venti because hes not my favorite character nor do i have him and i prefer writing more serious characters so i made this mainly to challenge myself. do not expect more venti fics in the future. im sorry if this is absolute dogshit lmao. i also dont condone non-con in real life, this is just a work of fiction

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> non-con, forced orgasm, anal sex, public sex, thigh-fucking, fighting, cum and spit as lube, harbinger reader, ooc venti :(, i believe in big dick venti argue with the wall, size difference, reader is taller than him but is the bottom lol, not beta read

Venti mindlessly hummed to himself, leaning his back against the rough wood of the large oak tree that stood proudly in Windrise. He had a relatively long day performing at Angel's Share, but, as much as he loved doing so, he wanted to spend some time by himself.

The tree he laid on was his favorite spot to relax in. The leaves created a comforting rustle within the soft breeze alongside the cheerful birdsong to invent a new symphony he enjoyed. He found that not one was the same, no matter how similar they sounded. It was akin to snowflakes fluttering down the sky during the wintry months; seemingly identical but always different.

It took him a moment or two to realize that the birds suddenly stopped chirping. He sat up curiously to look for them when he felt slightly uneasy. Like he was about to be —

"Woah!" he exclaimed as he jumped off of the tree branch. He was unable to discern what attacked him. The perpetrator was fast. But he was able to figure out that they used Electro as crackles of electricity lingered around the wood for a moment longer.

He was mid-air when they attacked again, sending large hands of the same purple electricity to each side of his body. He quickly created a ball of Anemo large enough for him to step on, jumping off of it just as the hands made contact with each other. They disappeared almost instantly.

He finally landed on his feet, head swiveling this way and that to find his attacker. He tensed and summoned his bow when he finally spotted them leisurely walking along the path to the tree and his statue.

"So you're Barbatos, huh?" you thoughtfully hummed. "I have to say, I'm a little surprised. I expected you to look... less outlandish."

"You say that but your outfit sings of blatant hypocrisy," he studied you. You walked elegantly, as if you had done this countless times before. You were dressed in uniquely formal clothing — like you were attending an important gala.

"Maybe so, but I'm not the god here, now am I?" you said. "I've heard of archons changing their appearances to better fit in with their people as citizens, but yours is quite disappointing."

You looked at his statue then back at him. "The entire city doesn't recognize you despite the painfully obvious signs in front of them. They're just plain stupid."

"Do not talk to my people that way as if yours aren't widely disliked-" he furrowed his brows before adding a title. "-Harbinger."

"If you are referring to the Fatui as 'my people', then you are sorely mistaken," you raised a brow. "I couldn't care less about them."

He sighed. "My apologies. I thought you would've at least found some solace with them since you've been exiled from your last one."

"They did not exile me," you corrected. "I did it on my own accord."

"Really."

You rolled your eyes with an annoyed exhale. "No matter. There is little use in arguing with one such as you."

He watched as dark purple hands covered your eyes. Electro crackled up to your wrists as you swiftly swung your arms together. The same hands from before appeared instantaneously to repeat your movements. They would've crushed him if he was anyone else, but he was able to dodge them just in time.

He quickly retaliated, but found that his regular arrows were unable to penetrate through your electricity. To be able to destroy them in such a way made him realize that you were at least ranked 5th. The sheer power of your Electro was capable of completely disintegrating his arrows and the ground when it made contact — it was obvious what it would've done to someone who didn't have either yours or Venti's fighting prowess.

One hand focused on your defense while the other attacked him with blinding speed.

He began to create his arrows with Anemo, the tips of his fingers glowing his signature teal as he forged them on the spot. Bits of electricity was swirled from your hand as it mixed in with his wind, though it lasted only for a second.

He jumped when the hand swiped at him from the side. He stopped his descent with an orb of Anemo, noticing the slightest hesitation in your movements as he did so. His eyes widened in intrigue. You were fighting him blind.

He jumped on several more platforms before he found himself directly above you, this time creating three arrows at one time. The whistle of the projectiles piercing the air alerted you instantly, your defensive hand shielding your body as the offensive one shot straight at him.

Venti was forced back onto the ground just as the large hole within your hand regenerated. He smiled to himself. Your speed and reaction time alone was a force to be reckoned with. He was going to have to put in a bit of effort, after all.

He drew his bow and ran up to you, ignoring the attacking hand to shoot his arrow at point-blank range. Although the hands covered the majority of your face, you seemed visibly surprised with his action. You quickly recovered to just barely dodge and replace one of your hands with a sword of pure Electro, swinging hard and fast enough to create an arc of electricity that carved a deep line into the ground.

You momentarily paused when a sharp, stinging pain erupted on your face. Your finger gently pressed onto a cut on your cheek, wincing as you realized that most of the pain was intensified by the swirl of Anemo and Electro. You frowned.

You recreated your offensive hand to begin your attacks once again, increasing your speed just the slightest bit. To an outsider, it would seem as if everything was a blur between the two of you. You raised your arms above your head and swung them down, your hands following suit. He used a strong arrow of Anemo to make a hole big enough for him to jump through.

He stood on a platform and recreated his attack from before, only this time, he forged far more arrows than before and shot them at you. As predicted, your defensive hand protected you from most of them before you realized that they were causing numerous holes.

You managed to dodge a few of them, but you were ultimately unable to keep up, forcing you to draw your blade once more. You slashed at the sky, destroying the remaining arrows with yet another arc. You heard a rustling to your right, and your stomach dropped.

You swung your sword as fast as you could, but alas, you were no true match for a god. He shot an arrow through your blade, rendering it completely useless. Before you were able to do anything, he twisted his body to roundhouse kick you.

You gasped for air, losing focus of your hands as they disintegrated. The ones on your face crumbled and revealed your eyes as they were met with Venti's. He had an arrow held up to your neck as he straddled you, pressing a hand on your shoulder to keep you down for good.

"I win," he grinned at your scowling expression.

"Hey!" he dragged the arrow against your skin for a second when you tried to summon the hands again. You kissed your teeth in annoyance.

"You're good, I'll give you that," he said. "But it was never enough to beat me."

"Just kill me already," you rolled your eyes. You seemed very relaxed despite your words.

"Kill you?" he parroted. "I'm not going to kill you."

You were very confused. You had just attacked him out of nowhere and now he's willing to spare you?

"But I'm not going to let you free without compensation."

"What are you going to do, then?" you questioned, warily watching as he slid down your body a bit to rest on your crotch.

Oh.

"I think you know."

Discomfort settled in your chest. "But first, I want to know something. Why did you attack me?"

"Why do you think a Harbinger would willingly fight a god?" you answered his question with one of your own. But he wanted to hear you say it.

"I dunno. There could be a multitude of reasons."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "I need your Gnosis."

He tilted his head. "Why do you need my Gnosis?"

"I do not question Her Majesty's requests."

"So... you don't know?"

You didn't answer him this time. But he didn't need your words now that he knows why you're here.

With a hum, he adjusted himself to kneel beside you as his fingers dipped below the waistband of your pants. He pulled them off and tossed them to the side, your underwear following close behind. He gazed at your bare legs as he undid his corset and tugged his shorts off.

You refused to see his dick, but the quiet, wet noises he emitted told you that he must have spat on it. His hands moved your thighs so they squeezed together as he began to push his dick between them. He sighed in content, relishing in the pleasurable sensation your plush flesh offered him.

He began with a steady pace that increased in speed after every thrust of his hips. You were quiet in discomfort, letting him do as he pleased if it meant you would leave faster. Besides, you still had a chance to take his Gnosis — all you had to do was not fuck it up.

You could feel the front of his thighs pressing against your ass as his cock rubbed against you. It was slimy with his saliva and warm and you absolutely hated it. It took a lot to keep yourself from outwardly cringing, but it seemed as if your efforts were for naught as he quickly noticed your disgust.

"What? Can't a Harbinger handle this?" he teased, slightly leaning over your knees.

"Not with perverts like you."

"Oh, woe is me!" he exclaimed. "But you must fulfill your end of the bargain. I do hope you understand."

"Bargain? What bargain?!" you shouted, accidentally tensing your thighs - much to his pleasure. He let out a moan-mixed giggle, forcing you to relax again

His face was flushed red as his cock hardened. You gently jolted up and down as his thrusts increased in fervor, your skin slick with saliva and pre-cum. His noises grew louder as he inched closer and closer to his orgasm, nails digging into your flesh.

He tossed his head back and moaned shamelessly as his cum spurted across your stomach. He fucked your thighs for a few moments longer before he let go of them, sighing contentedly.

You released a quiet scoff and sat up.

"We're not done, yet," Venti forced you back down, scooping his cum off the fabric of your shirt before most of it seeped through. He jerked himself off for a brief second before prying your legs open.

You looked at him in concern, eyes drifting downwards. You tried to close your legs at the size of his cock. He was big. Bigger than you thought for someone of his short stature.

You flinched when he spat a thick glob of saliva on your hole.

"Wait—wait. I can give you Mora instead." you attempted to entice him with a suggestion.

"Tempting offer," he didn't seem interested.

"Then what do you want?"

He looked up. "Why are you so nervous? Surely, you're not a virgin, are you?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Really? You sure are acting like one."

"I just haven't done... this..." you trailed off.

"I suppose it's to be expected," he hummed. "A Harbinger like you doesn't seem like the type to be on the bottom."

You swallowed hard.

"But don't worry. I'll make this memorable."

He used a hand to guide his cock to your entrance, forcing his way inside with a groan. You tensed, attempting to bite down your pained cry by gritting your teeth. You tried to kick him away, but he simply took hold of your ankle and pushed your leg to your chest.

It felt like he was splitting you apart with each agonizing inch. He intently stared at you, watching your face as it morphed from nervousness to fear then to distressed and pained. You struggled to free your legs from his grasp, but your efforts were futile as he tightened his grip enough to numb the spots he held.

You tried to use your Vision, your wrists crackling with electricity. Venti quickly reacted and shoved the rest of his dick inside you. You cried out, losing focus of your power. A burning sensation emanated from your hole that was given little time to settle as the god began to thrust.

He set a fervent pace, uncaring of your agonized grunts and whimpers. The pain was dizzying. It mixed in with the strain he placed on your leg to push it close to your torso. The slight fold of your body put enough pressure on your chest to limit some of your breathing, which was an increasing worry since he fucked you hard enough to force the air out of your lungs.

Despite his small body, he was capable of easily towering over you. As the burn finally faded away, you were able to recognize shocks of anger coursing through your body at the sight of his cerise-tinted cheeks and small smile. His mouth was slightly ajar to release moans and pleasured sighs, and you longed to shove your sword down his throat.

Your anger was amplified as the tip of his cock began to press up against your prostate, the undertones of shame ever present. You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood in order to conceal your noises, but your slowly hardening cock relayed more than enough information to him.

His turquoise eyes squinted as his smile grew.

"Look at you," he placed a leg on his shoulder. "You're — ah — enjoying this."

"No I'm n–not." Your breathy voice was a complete contrast to your words.

"There's no point in resisting it any longer," he wrapped a hand around your cock to begin stroking it. He fanned the flame of ecstasy within your abdomen, spreading the heat throughout your body. The sudden tighten of your hole had Venti faltering, his hips jolting forward arrhythmically as he came with a loud moan.

You could feel his cock throbbing, prompting you to start uncomfortably squirming in place. Well, as much as you could. The two of you sat in silence until he let go of your ankle and leaned forward to tuck a hand underneath your back to move you close to him. In a swift movement, he lifted you both up from the floor.

Surprised, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked towards his statue. You only realized he took you there when the cold stone permeated through your shirt, looking up instinctively. You grit your teeth. Was he provoking you? Rubbing in the fact that you lost your battle?

Your eyes were met with his cheeky grin, which slowly washed away into something more focused as he started to thrust again. You were a bit surprised, but you suppose you shouldn't underestimate a god's stamina. Even then, over-sensitivity should begin to settle in, now. This could be your chance.

He kept up the fervent pace from before, though this time, the new angle allowed him to brush up against your prostate with better accuracy. You knew he wasn't trying to make you feel good, so you muffled your noises with your hand in fruitless resistance.

Skin slapping and Venti's shameless moans echoed throughout the vast plains. You felt almost unbearably hot with the closeness of your bodies and you began to wish you were granted a Cryo Vision to cool yourself off. But he wouldn't allow the use of anything, so you guess it wouldn't make much of a difference either way.

You let out a startled yelp when his hand wrapped around your throbbing cock, jerking you off in time with his thrusts. A sensation akin to electricity ran up and down your spine. You noticed that he began to whimper a lot more frequently, and with the way he slowly lost the rhythm in his thrusts, you knew he was close again.

And you were too — as much as you hated to admit it. You could feel the heat in your stomach amplify with each passing second.

"You're so tight," his voice sounded a bit strained. "You're about to — ah — cum, aren't you?"

"You're," you paused with a quiet curse. "delusional."

"Don't lie to yourself," is all he said before he sped up his hand, forcing ragged pants and soft moans you couldn't hide behind your palm. As if taken over by the haze of lust, you buried your face within his hat, tightened your legs around his waist, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

With nothing to conceal your moans, they mixed in with Venti's in an erotic symphony. You tensed and arched your back as the pool of arousal in your abdomen amplified until it completely washed over you. Your cock spurted cum over both of you as he continued to jerk you off until he was satisfied.

Luckily, it didn't take too long for him to finally orgasm for the third time. A bit of his cum spilled out of your hole despite his dick still inside you.

His eyes were tightly shut, overcome with bliss and ecstasy. You were able to recognize the opportunity he accidentally gave you. Ignoring the slight burn he forced on your dick as he continued to stroke you, you reeled your free arm back as much as you could before jabbing it straight in his chest.

There was a bright teal light that shone where you plunged your hand. Everything felt airy — and a little strange — until you managed to find something solid. Quickly grabbing it, you removed your hand. Weakened, he was unable to hold the both of you up.

You forced your legs down as soon as you felt his grip on you falter, watching him fall to the ground. He was visibly surprised as he stared at you with wide eyes full of disbelief and a bit of anger.

Not wasting any more time, you enveloped yourself with electricity, retrieved your missing clothes, and left.

—•—

You sighed in exhaustion after finally finding a safe place to rest. Leaning against a large tree, you put your underwear and pants back on. You grimaced hard as more of his cum began to leak out of your hole, skin crawling in disgust. But you would need to endure it until you found a suitable body of water or got back to Snezhnaya. Out of both of them, you preferred the former.

You looked at the god's Gnosis in wonder. It was small and you turned it around to fully examine it. It was mainly teal but had silver designs and what seemed to be a crown. It reminded you of a chess piece.

Sighing yet again, you tucked it in a pocket and began making your way to the spot that was going to transport you back to Snezhnaya.

Despite knowing there was nobody to watch you and Venti, there was an anchor of shame weighing in your chest. No matter. You just need to make sure nobody knew of what had transpired in Windrise.

Besides, you would gladly shave off bits of your dignity and pride if it meant pleasing Her Majesty. Especially after she had taken you in many years ago.

Trying to will away the shame, you repeated a phrase in your mind.

Anything for the Tsaritsa.

cross-posted on ao3

[catherinelid]

Just finished my little experiment. I felt like trying my hand at writing today, and my victim was AtF!Sans by @zirkkun again.

I wanted to write something reflecting his inner state during the player's long absence (in my interpretation), but it was harder than I thought.

Still, maybe someone will like it.

P.S. I apologize in advance if it turned out too OOC.

Was it a dream?

Ninety.

It's been almost ninety days since they were gone. Ninety days without dreams. 

Sigh

Golden light shines softly through the tall windows of the palace, filling the entire room. There is a pleasant, faint scent of blossoming flowers in the air. The barely audible birdsong is soothing, even lulling. It’s a beautiful day outside. Why not take a bonely stroll today? Since there’s no body to walk with. 

Heh. 

There’s nothing to do, anyway.

Where are they now? What are they doing? They must be very busy if they haven't been back for so long…

Or they just forgot about me.

There's no point in dwelling on it. If they want to come, they'll come. Eventually. If they don't want to come, well... there's nothing to do about it. There’s nothing to do.

All the empty streets of New Home merge into one. Endless, lifeless, dull. The windows of the buildings stare indifferently from above.

The bright glow of lava and the quiet whispering of mechanisms are strangely unnerving.

What if something happened to them? Something bad, irreversible. The scariest part is that there's no way to know for sure. 

When did I start caring so much? What is it about this human? 

Maybe it's because they make being here a little less boring. Or maybe it's their weirdness, which is even cute. Or maybe…

No. That’s definitely not it.

Streams of water are bubbling and crashing to the ground. There are ripped conversations of echo-flowers everywhere. Everything, from luminescent stones to water, is radiant to the point it hurts. 

What if they never existed in the first place? I have no way of knowing if they were real or if it was just some kind of dream. For some reason, I can’t remember their face, despite the fact that I could see them during our meeting just fine. Their words are a blur, either. So I wouldn't be surprised if they're a figment of my imagination. After all, they stopped appearing when my dreams vanished completely. 

Maybe my mind just created their image to make me feel less lonely.

The crunch of snow is unusually loud in my head. The crackle of the trees sounds more like the sound of breaking glass. Even the snowflakes fall with such clatter as if they were falling cobblestones. The snow is blinding. Suddenly, my eyelids felt like they were filled with lead. The last thing I heard before falling asleep was the distinct sound of the door opening...

[westeroslive]

when  the  sun  rises  in  the  west,   the  gods  eyes  are  drawn.  may  the  seven  have  mercy  upon  you  as  we  welcome  you  to  court,   lady gwyndolyn tully, lord alec marbrand né sunglass, lady larra uller, ruling lady gwynesse lannister née harlaw !   now  a  victim  of  the  court,  the  bards  compare  your  beauty  to  simone ashley, fabien frankel, aditi rao hydari, dianne doan  as  you  play  the  game  in  the  midst  of  seasoned  nobles.

behave  and  follow  the  queen's  word  written  in  our  checklist  and  submit  your  account  within  24  hours.  

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         simone  ashley,  twenty9,  cis  woman,  she/her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  GWYNDOLYN  of  house  TULLY,  the  LADY  of  RIVERRUN.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  ERUDITE  and  QUARRELSOME  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  academia.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  weighted  warnings  of  girls  born  with  viper's  tongues:  beware,  she  who  hisses.    (    saccharine  little  serpent,  painted  pretty  as  a  picture  with  hues  like  melted  honey,  a  tumble  of  unbound  ink  down  the  feline  line  of  her  back.    )    razorblades  tucked  tight  into  the  pearlescent  gleam  of  a  most  winsome  smile,  easy  to  ignore  carmine  when  mouth  curls  so  prettily      -      heed  the  warnings.    (    nobody  loves  a  virago,  dear.  how  many  times  is  she  destined  to  hear  it,  sugar  -  coated,  cloying  plea  to  soften  harsh  lines    ?    )    floral  lilt  to  a  warm  summer  wind,  wet  gossamer  and  how  it  clings  to  the  body,  twists  in  shapes  best  suited  to  carved  marble    ;    best  left  to  devastatingly  singular  devices,  but  what  good  are  the  finest  cogitations  of  a  diamond  mind  when  reputation  precedes  her    ?    the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  HOUSE  TULLY.          (  ooc  :  claire,  twenty5,  she/her,  aest.  )

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝         fabien  frankel,  twenty9,  cis  man,  he/him.    announcing  the  arrival  of  ALEC  of  house  MARBRAND  NÉ  SUNGLASS,  the  LORD  of  ASHEMARK.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  ARDENT  and  MORDANT  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  the  fine  arts.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  children's  stories,  complete  with  their  glittering  hero:  hammered  gold  nestled  in  tousled  brown,  jackrabbit  pulse    ;    he  of  the  valiant  heart    !    rise    +    fall  of  a  string  melody  plucked  in  perfect  harmony  with  that  resounding  thrum  below  ribcage,  like  the  entire  world  moves  to  the  sound  of  your  heartbeat.  first  whisper  of  dawn  light    +    the  buttery  glow  it  casts  on  rumpled  bedsheets,  like  the  cluttered  confines  of  your  bedchambers  take  on  a  new  life.    (    they  call  you  a  romantic,    +    you  ache  with  pride:  what  a  wonderful  thing,  to  burst  at  the  seams  with  love    !    )    twittering  birdsong  imitated  below  sweetened  breath,  goblets  overflow  with  sweetest  wine  that  turns  everything  rosy      ...      oh,  to  bask  so  deeply  in  joie  de  vivre.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  HOUSE  MARBRAND.          (  ooc  :  claire,  twenty5,  she/her,  aest.  )

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝          aditi  rao  hydari,  34,  cis  female,  she  or  her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  larra  of  house  uller,  the  lady  of  hellholt.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  graceful  and  uncompromising  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  dance.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  of  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  the  glistening  sheen  of  sweat  on  the  brow  as  one  perfects  a  routine  by  the  light  of  the  rising  dornish  sun  +  being  both  the  sword  and  the  silk  that  sheathes  it  from  discovery  +  fumes  from  the  sulphurous  waters  of  the  brimstone  curling  the  hair  around  her  temples  +  perpetually  echoing  the  question  ─  what  could  be  worst  than  madness ?  whilst  knowing  the  answer.  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  an  independent  dorne  and  themselves.          (  ooc  :  annie,  twenty1+,  they  or  she,  gmt+8  )

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗  ⁝          dianne  doan,  36,  cis  female,  she  or  her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  gwynesse  of  house  harlaw,  the  ruling  lady  of  casterly  rock  and  the  westerlands.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  decisive  and  conniving  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  equestrianism.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  of  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  little  fingers  entangled  in  fishing  nets  as  one  reels  in  the  catch  of  the  day  +  a  belated  sacrifice  to  the  gods,  she  trashes  in  the  water  and  against  the  hands  that  hold  her  beneath  the  waves,  nails  scratching  at  flesh  until  the  water  turns  red  around  her  +  bridal  cloak  left  in  a  dark  room  to  collect  damp  and  mould,  consuming  scythe  upon  black  +  a  fish  out  of  water,  can  she  turn  feline  before  the  lions  devour  her  whole  ?  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalites  truly  lie  with  house  harlaw  and  the  iron  islands.          (  ooc  :  annie,  twenty1+,  they  or  she,  gmt+8  )

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

[ooc]

In no particular order, behold a breakdown of my current St. Trina playlist.

1. Stolen Child- Loreena McKennit

This one is based on a poem by William Butler Yeats about fairies luring a boy away from home, and I associate it with both Miquella and Trina. Particularly because of the way the luring is presented- they want to give the child a better life, free of mortal cares, but at the same time you get the sense that the child is still losing something and it's tragic. They're offering him beauty and peace and wonder and taking him away from everything he already has.

2. Sleepsong- Secret Garden

This is Saint Trina, and her blessing to dreamers. Just listen to it. I'm imagining her stroking someone's hair with their head in her lap.

3. Tarnished Silver- Heather Dale

This is from an album about the King Arthur mythos, and this specific song is Morgan le Fay accompanying King Arthur's body to its final destination. There are MULTIPLE reasons I associate this with Saint Trina, and multiple reasons I associate it with Elden Ring in general. Either way, it is both a lullaby and mourning song, and it's really really good.

4. Labyrinth of Dreams- Nox Arcana

An instrumental that I've been in love with for years. I don't know a lot about music, but I think the little sparkly sound is bells? Or a music box? Either way, it FEELS like fairies and dreams and a strange eerie mystery that isn't necessarily malevolent. It feels like a magical forest where you're being watched.

5. A Nostalgic Dream- Peter Gundry

Yet another intrumental. A bit of a thoughtful one? It feels a bit like sifting through an attic looking through old things, trying with some tragic desperation to fix things. I can't explain it well but the violins in particular here really sell it for me.

6. Fairy Nightsongs- Gary Stadler

This is just pure Trina, and to some extent her faithful. She's here for a fun little frolick in the woods of your mind, and her followers are only awake long enough to sing for her.

7. Come Little Children- Erutan

Speaking of luring people into situations that may not be good for them, this song. Come away with her from a world of murder and beauty alike, play in her shadowed garden forever. Saint Trina doesn't really (consciously) lure people, but if she ever lost that humanity and became the divine concept of Sleep? Yeah. This is the sort of thing that would happen.

8. Hanging Tree- Blackmore's Night

It is undeniable that despite her kindness and mercy, Trina's mercy is euthanasia. While in this song the Hanging Tree doesn't choose to kill anyone... I don't think Trina does either, but she willingly enables and offers the option to those weary of life. I go back and forth on whether or not she likes or regrets it, mostly depending on her mental state in the given situation. This is a very thoughtful song and the vibes are right. "Now children play at her feet, and in her arms she cradles birds... still somewhere in the back of her mind is the time she was known as the old hanging tree."

9. Era Oscuro- Ana Alcaide

A very interesting little song with gorgeous instrumentals. The lyrics themselves are a very small little story- a conversation under the moon, in the quiet of night, scolding someone for coming to remind the singer of unpleasant things. Saint Trina's slumber is certainly oblivion- I imagine there are many things people don't want to talk about, when then succumb to her slumber.

10. Winter Moon- Erutan

While Trina certainly isn't a yuki-onna, the vibe is definitely compatible here. She is somewhat doomed to eventually kill anyone who loves her too deeply. She can bring comfort, she can bring oblivion, but she cannot bring life, and therein lies the tragedy.

11. The Lily- Faun

Partially for the title, partially for the vibes. The hurdy gurdy with the lovely female vocals and the birdsong in the background really sets the mood.

12. In A Faraway Dream- Eurielle

Trina truly deeply misses Miquella. Even she has to wonder if he cares for her, sometimes. She wants to go back to the Haligtree, to have a family, to be a girl and not a saint. But she can never go back, and certainly not to a home that might never have existed at all. She's still willing to reach for Miquella, but he never reaches back.

13. Once Upon A Dream- Sleeping Beauty OST

You know Exactly why this is here. Of course I added the Disney princess song about falling in love in a dream. Both Miquella and Trina (and even Malenia) are princesses followed around by cute animals who are full of love and kindness.

14. Once You Had Gold- Enya

Lovely ethereal song featuring GORGEOUS female vocals in a soothing lullaby about how all good things pass, but so do the seasons, and that's okay. Because so too will the darkness. Very much a Saint Trina song as she soothes her dreamers. "Time gave both darkness and dreams to you."

15. Dreamland Fairies- Brandon Fiechter

This instrumental feels like wandering around in a strange forest with fireflies in it, finding cute little streams and magical groves. And perhaps, maybe, the forest is looking back with curious interest. This is 100% the vibe for Trina just wandering around in dreams, singing to herself.

16. Gossamer Wings- Derek Fiechter

This one is a bit more of a march than the other instrumentals. Still full of silvery bells and magical noises but there's an expectation to it. Not much more to say, but very fun to write to. Saint Trina can have a little backbone as a treat.

17. Girl into Devil- SJ Tucker

Both Miquella and Trina. Literally every line has something I can point to for one or both of them, morally grey no matter how much they insist they're doing this for the right reasons. You should listen to the whole thing on principle, but I just wanted to drop a quote here for the people mourning Miquella the Kind: "Trust the devil never to let go, mixing hell and romance just like any other fool. Wisely, you must heed a sister's words: love comes down to nothing more than who is to rule."

18. 1157 (Til It's Over)- SJ Tucker

This song is about the end of the world. Or, rather, the tense minutes when you don't know if the world is going to end, so you hold on to your loved ones. Originally written, if I recall right, to convey the vibe of being afraid of nuclear war. Despite the fear, there's very much a driving message that something must be done. "If nothing changes, nothing grows. No rotted towers overthrown."

19. Princess Aurora- Luca Turilli

Admittedly, this song is just here because I love it and my brain insists the song is purple. I could certainly concoct reasons for why it fits Trina as a guide to the pilgrims of the Haligtree, but it is mostly here because I just really love Luca Turilli's music.

20. Grieve No More- Patty Gurdy

Yet another absolute win of a lullaby for St. Trina of the Cradlesong. Technically applicable to Miquella too, since he's offering a home to the lost and the persecuted, but I imagine this as something Trina sings to the albinaurics. The hurdy gurdy is also everything to me. The song does go bombastic and huge there in the middle but she deserves to be big and loud and divine. Also the wing noises at the very end bring me joy.

21. The Valley- Auri

This is the vibe anytime someone meets Trina in a dream, or in the rare times she blooms in the waking world. Soothing, happy to be here, and very much inviting anyone who passes to stay and rest awhile to enjoy the day. There's BIRDSONG in it.

22. I Hope Your World Is Kind- Auri

I mean the title says it all. This song gives me feelings but nothing I can say summarizes why I picked it better than the title.

23. Sleeping Sun- Nightwish

This is Trina's grief, her longing, her lullaby and her loneliness. She misses Miquella, badly, and loves him more than she can say. This song might even be her temptation, that too-often moment when she considers abandoning her own humanity to become a numb elemental god.

24. The Truth Beneath The Rose- Within Temptation

Just take this. Take this, look at it. The DLC is strong with this one. "Give me strength to face the truth, the doubt within my soul. No longer I can justify the bloodshed in his name. Is it a sin to seek the truth, the truth beneath the rose? Pray with me so I will find the gate to Heaven's door. I believed it would justify the means, it had a hold over me. Blinded to see the cruelty of the beast. It is the darker side of me. The veil of my dreams deceived all I have seen. Forgive me for what I have been. Forgive me my sins."

25. About three different covers of the merchants' song and I'm not listing them all

Based on cut content, this is the song Saint Trina gave to the merchants to drive off Frenzy. I absolutely had to include it and I couldn't decide on a cover.

26. Walking In The Air- Nightwish

There are many covers of this, but this is my favorite. Buckle in lads we're going on a magical operatic journey through the wintery night skies. You WILL experience childlike wonder and you WILL hear someone musically convey the concept of snowflakes. It's epic in the way only the most incredible dreams are.

27. Ghost of a Rose- Blackmore's Night

I'm imagining Thiollier listening to this song and just bursting into tears. Lovely song about a mysterious woman who may or may not be a flower, that is never seen again? Yeah. This song is why Thiollier and Fevor and Rico and every other poor romantic fool is chasing her to the ends of the earth.

28. Lilium- two versions, one by Grissini Project and one by Chrisdiospria

If you want the lyrics and translation you can find them here. It's basically a Latin prayer titled "Lily" and EXTREMELY Miquella coded to me, but also appropriate for Trina. Saint Trina requires some Catholic vibes for necessary flavoring.

29. Elsa's Song- The Amazing Devil

Ooooh this song. The repeated emphasis on forget-me-nots, you say you love me but I can't believe you, rotten battlefields. This is about Miquella the Kind, who might make the gestures of mourning that which he has wrought, but he doesn't really. Not honestly. This is Saint Trina's grief, being left behind by the person who should have loved you, but you've been in denial for a very long time. Bonus points for the inclusion of lilies in the last verse.

30. Roses in the Rocks- SJ Tucker

This was, if I remember right, written specifically for Pride and the concept of queer rebellion in general. It's got flowers, it's hopeful, encourages community, and has a little bit of "eat the government". Considering who and what Trina is, this feels appropriate.

31. The Unquiet Grave- Karliene

I very much associate Trina with spirit-tuning and the duties of a psychopomp. She does guide people to death through sleep. On top of that, this song is about a dead woman asking the guy at her grave why he won't let her rest, because kissing her would be his death anyway, which is exceedingly appropriate for the DLC.

32. La Dame Blanche- Cécile Corbel

Soft and light and just a little eerie, complete with a magical harp. Exactly what I want when I'm writing Trina. Bonus points for this entire section of the lyrics (put through a translation website): "When the night comes, and I despair that I can no longer see a hint of light, I search in my heart, a flame in the dark, so that memory and hope never die. I hear the white lady singing from the top of the chestnut branches."

33. Beauty- Layto

Honestly this one is a wild genre shift and I'm considering moving it to a different playlist, but for now I really like having something that reminds me of Trina's addictive poison on here. You just know people have ruined their lives drowning in lily wine.

34. Luring- Patty Gurdy

This song is one of the reasons I settled on Trina-as-a-god being a bog elemental, very similar to the Rot but with a distinctly Celtic flavor. Well. That and the goddamn nuckelavee in the DLC. This song 100% makes me think of a kelpie or huldra trying to drown someone. That said, it's got elements of both Trina and Miquella to me, particularly the lines about being a mirror.

35. The Call- Regina Spektor

To be frank this song makes me cry no matter what, because it's a Narnia song, but the reason it's on this playlist is specifically because I have hope about Trina's death and the fact that, like Malenia, she will someday bloom again. Elden Ring is a story of the ending of an age and the beginning of the next, no matter what that next age may be. This song is both for the Tarnished, and for the hope of the future in general, rooted in a little bit of sad nostalgia.

[cypressmoons]

cruel summer [diluc]

[sorry for the repost! the html keeps messing up] i've been listening to this song nonstop so here is some more angst - officially entering angsty moon mode

contents: pain (obviously), diluc and reader being down bad for each other, no pronouns mentioned, a little ooc diluc

summary: you and diluc's relationship was never meant to be perceived by others, and sneaking around seems to come with its own set of thrills and heartbreaks.

word count: 2.7k

fever dream high in the quiet of the night you know that i caught it

diluc doesn’t like to be seen. and frankly, neither do you.

but somehow you find yourself tiptoeing out of the house in the dead of the night again. this is the third time this week. as much as the guilt is weighing you down, your legs find their way through the cobblestone streets of mondstadt, until you finally arrive at the small tavern on the other side of the city.

the clock has long struck two, and seldom anyone lingers around save for some passed out drunks. somewhere down the street, you hear singing, their words so slurred that you can’t make out what the tune is.

a “closed” sign hangs from the beat-up door.

the warm glow of the light goes out from within the tavern, and you take the opportunity to survey your surroundings.

then you knock once, twice, three times, your knuckle barely coming into contact with the wood but in the silence, it’s loud enough for whoever it is intended to.

no response. and that’s all you need to confirm. you push the door open just the tiniest bit and slip inside like a nimble cat, but not before throwing one last look over your shoulder onto the empty streets.

killing me slow, out the window always waiting for you to be waiting below

he’s been waiting for you.

perched on the railing of the upper floor, he swirls a glass as he watches you slide into the tavern, quietly shutting and locking the door behind you. all the lights have been blown out, the only thing illuminating you now the pale moonlight seeping through the windows.

he doesn’t move, but waits for you patiently as you slowly ascend the stairs.

by the time you reach the landing, the glass he had poured for you has already been set on the nearest table, and it’s all tongue and teeth clashing and roaming hands for the next few minutes, your lips parting only to breathe when it feels like you’re too close to passing out.

he spins you around and locks you in a firm grasp, and soon enough your hands are pinned next to your head. you groan in protest, wanting so badly to touch him, to feel the muscles under his shirt, to show him how much you want him right here and now.

I can’t keep doing this.

you finally say when your lips are fully swollen and your lungs fighting for air.

he loosens his grip on your wrists, but keeps them in their position for just a little longer as he trails burning kisses down your neck. you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access.

must we do this again?

you shudder as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot and gently bites down on it. you wriggle out of his grip, hands immediately finding their place on his back and nails digging into his skin.

it's new, the shape of your body it's blue, this feeling i've got

you indulge yourself for just one moment more, and it takes all your strength to finally push him away.

he parts from you with a visible frown on his face.

no matter how many times he’s touched you, felt you, pleasured you, the feeling is brand new each time. as if you are discovering a new part of him, and him you. your skin is like uncharted territory and he simply cannot get enough.

but when you are apart, the skies feel three shades darker and birdsong too quiet, almost nonexistent as the world fades.

and you hate yourself for it. had you known it would be this hard to leave him, you never should have agreed to this arrangement in the first place. but with his smoldering gaze, his fiery hair and the way he quite literally burns for you, you simply couldn’t say no.

look where that’s gotten you now.

your father has long had his eyes set on the heir of an wealthy family, and a marriage between you the best opportunity for your respective families to gain even more influence. you loved your father dearly, yes, and your birth and status simply did not allow you the choice in love.

you knew that had the choice been yours, you would’ve picked diluc a thousand times over.

stomach in knots and heart shattered, you force yourself to take a step back, still near him but just barely out of his reach.

we won’t work, diluc.

can’t we at least try? don’t you want to try?

the flames in his eyes die down to a quiet ember and hurt emanate from his voice.

you want to scream at him, tell him that you would’ve given anything to have this chance, and for archons’ sake you wanted to try.

but it simply isn’t a decision for you to make, not when your families are due to announce the engagement in a few days and you can no longer risk being seen with diluc. not now, not ever.

he runs a hand through his hair, thick strands falling out of his ponytail from all your tugging just moments prior. with a heavy sigh, he reciprocates your backwards step and enlarges the distance between you further.

even though he remains silent, the action spoke more volumes than any words ever could.

he loves you, and that’s why he is letting you go.

i'm drunk in the back of the car and i crawled like a baby coming home from the bar

you don’t dare look at his eyes as you pull him in by the collars, kissing him with such fervour as if you’ll never see him again—no, because you will never see him or touch him again. the metaphor dies and you die a little on the inside too, a piece of your soul taken away by the utter cruelty of this world.

he kisses you back with equal passion, if not more. he wants to memorize every curve and dip of your body, every movement your lips make against his, every sweet sound you utter, and the feeling of you in his arms.

you know that if you don’t pull away, you never will.

goodbye, diluc.

without a second look, you stumble down the stairs and make your way out the door. the glass of wine sits untouched on the counter and the man next to it disheveled, the both of you appearing downright wasted despite having not touched a single drop. he can still feel you on his lips, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to kiss someone again without remembering you.

a few of the drunkards still lingering outside holler with laughter at their friend’s terrible attempt at a joke, and for a moment you feel like you are one of them, alcoholic beverage consumed or otherwise. your knees feel weak and with every step you take, you fear that they will give out altogether and you’d end up on the ground. because with that very step, you are a little further from diluc, a little further from the person you call home.

you are not ready to go back to your real home yet, though, knowing what is due to happen once the sun rises. if anyone were to catch you outside like this, it would be easier to explain why you are outside your own residence rather than on the other side of the town, outside a tavern owned by a man not deemed influential enough by your family.

if wealth and influence are all they need, why isn’t diluc enough?

you never cared about his money, anyway. but if your father only wants a business deal out of this marriage, why couldn’t he have promised you to diluc instead?

your pain turns into anger and resentment, at your father, at your family, at being born into this cursed business. you would be so much happier being with him. it would give you great joy, actually, to see the shocked faces of your father’s rivals at the sight of you and your supposed “arranged husband” being perfectly in love.

you half expect tears to fall, but none ever arrives. you stretch your legs out in front of you, the muscle cramping at your stiffness, and suddenly you feel you are not so different from an infant, after all. unable to make your own decisions, having everyone around you dictating what you want and need, all without a way to communicate your innermost desires to them. and frankly, your protests probably sound like nothing more than babbles to the straight-faced men who frequent your father’s office, anyway.

a cold breeze makes you shudder, and a crimson leaf sways in the air, performing one last dance before falling quietly by your feet. the autumn air is crisp and slightly chilly. wrapping your arms around your own body for some warmth, you think back to the summer months.

and how simple life was back then.

said i'm fine but it wasn't true i don't wanna keep a secret just to keep you

the secret is eating you alive.

even if it weren’t for the engagement, you were starting to question the whole situation, anyway. it’s not that you didn’t want diluc – he is the only thing you wanted, really, but at what cost? had any of the drunkards been sober enough to notice you sneaking in and out of the tavern every night, your future would have been ruined long ago.

compared to the momentary thrill of being in diluc’s arms, the thrill of finally being a rebellious teenager like you were supposed to have been, you knew your future is much more important.

but that was before you fell in love with him.

you see, what started as a hot moment of passionate summer fling was turning into much more than just opened mouthed kisses and sweet whispers. every moment you spent together was in each other’s embrace, and every moment you spent apart was in anticipation of your next encounter. neither of you acknowledged it, but the bliss of your presence had become oxygen for him, and him you.

but that’s all it is, really. a summer fling, a one night stand, a person you can have but never able to keep.

if that’s the case, why spend every night in excitement while fearing the worst?

if you could have him all to yourself for the rest of your life, you would do it in a heartbeat. yet you weren’t sure if you could put up with the anxiety of being caught, at being disowned by your family, or even worse, at ruining the company your parents built from the ground up.

the stakes were too high, and you couldn’t keep a secret this big just for stolen kisses and lingering touches, no matter how much you wanted to.

and i snuck in through the garden gates every night that summer just to seal my fate

but the nights were exhilarating.

it started with hours upon hours of talking, about your pasts, days at school, his annoyance at his brother’s pranks and your annoyance at all the supposed company heirs you were forced to meet. you could talk about everything with him, and despite being a man of few words, he was surprisingly a very good listener, knowing exactly what to say at the right times.

compared to the weeks you spent wanting to have him, this should have been enough. hell, it was more than you could have wished for, a thousand times better than the scenarios you had made up in your head moments before sleep overtook you. but still, you needed more.

when you were out in the woods conducting research for your school work, he would close the tavern early or leave it in charles’s capable hands, just to walk you to wherever you set up camp the night prior. he wanted to make sure you were safe, the darknight hero taking it upon himself to safeguard the wilderness instead of the city now.

you’ll never forget the first night he walked you home, though.

it wasn’t like you were scared of the dark or anything, knowing that your combat training would come in handy should a monster decide to attack. but the night was calm near thousand winds temple, and your heart was light after gathering precious evidence for your thesis.

the quietude was suddenly disturbed by a rustling sound coming from behind, and you jump, preparing yourself for the worst.

you quickly lower your guard when you notice the red hair, in stark contrast to the gradually darkening sky.

you hadn’t grown so close with him then, having only met him a couple weeks back when you visited angel’s share with your friends. throwing a surprised glance his way, you greet him,

what are you doing here?

just taking a short walk to clear my head.

the winery is the other direction from here, isn’t it?

his cheeks blush a light pink at your teasing. he was, in fact, not just taking a casual after-dinner stroll to avoid tedious conversation with kaeya. he was here to see you.

it’s getting dark. how about i accompany you home?

seeing the questioning in your eyes, he quickly adds,

if you’ll allow me, of course.

you couldn’t say no to him.

the walk back to your campsite was spent in silence, the both of you too nervous in each other’s presence and every attempt at small talk failed after a few brief exchanges of words.

you pause a few feet away from the camp, the man still wordless as he comes to a stop next to you.

thank—

before you could awkwardly extend your appreciation, his lips were on yours. as if enabled by his sudden confidence, you allow yourself to hold him the way you dreamed of ever since the first day you met him.

he was holding your cheeks like you were the most precious being, and your lungs nearly give out as you exchange passionate kisses, silently conveying every word you had wanted to say to each other.

but no, this wasn’t right. you knew it and so did he.

you muster enough strength to pull away, and his lips chased after you before drawing back to lean his forehead against yours.

he was never meant for you to have. no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t lead him on just to break his heart later.

diluc, don’t.

he went to press another kiss to your lips, and you dodge it with great reluctance.

why?

don’t do this to me. you don’t mean it.

diluc trailed his fingers down the side of your face before lifting your chin to meet his eyes, glowing flames almost lighting up the dark of the night.

who said i didn’t mean it?

and i scream for whatever it's worth "i love you", ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

you never wanted to do this to him, yet you couldn’t let yourself go without admitting your true feelings to him, even if it’s for the last time.

can’t we at least try? don’t you want to try?

you shake your head violently to wish the tears away, still too stubborn to let him see you like this. with a shaky sigh, you take one backwards step, then another, until you are sure he can’t sweep you back into his arms with one stride.

oh, how much you wished he would hold you now.

but he doesn’t, and your chest hurts even more at the relief you feel, seeing him stand perfectly still.

i love you.

and with that, you disappear from his life. it might be cruel, yes, the last words you ever say to him the worst thing he’s ever heard.

goodbye, diluc.

but it was a cruel summer, with him.

requests open! masterlist

comments & reblogs appreciated! ♡

[soraavalon]

DM: And you head on your merry way as best as you can. Again it's lighter, there's a little bit of birdsong 'cause you are still late in the day, it is that perfect twilight this part of Spring where there are fireflies alighting on things. Again just the sway in the tall grasses, perfect cobbled stones under your feet and you guys walk for a couple, maybe about, oh gosh how long would you walk for a day? Probably about six hours taking a couple of breaks and as you guys are sort of, you're still under this beautiful lattice work, but it's now, the air's become a little crisper, the breeze is a little stronger, you're entering more into mid to early Spring and as you're walking you notice something in the road ahead.

Hunt: What is it?

DM: There seems to be a crossbow bolt that has been stuck between two of the cobblestones.

Marigold: Oh.

Hunt: Hmm.

Tark: Nooo. Nooooo

Hunt (OOC): That's a little concerning.

DM: What is everyone's passive perception?

Hunt: 21.

Marigold: Mine is currently 9 'cause I have disadvantage on everything.

DM: Love that.

Nathaniel (OOC): You're looking for passive?

DM: Yeah. *sees something* Oh god, wow you really didn't roll.

Tark: 18.

DM: So Tark hears it first, a rustling above you in the branches as you guys approach cautiously this bolt that's sticking into the things and you all hear it until--- Nyessa, if you would.

???: So you see someone sort of pop out of the canopy of branches overhanging the road sort of swing down and hang upside down over the road. Grinning at all of you. You see a changeling, very obviously a changeling, but not totally stark white everything of Rymer. The skin is still has that same colorless tone, but the hair is sort of short green and fluffy and this person has very red eyes almost like two little berries. And he kind of hanging there, not saying anything yet, but looking over all of you, over this group, and then his eyes fix on one person in the group.

DM: Who recognizes him.

???: He swings down, you see he's got currently more feminine figure at the moment wearing studded leather armor in shades of brown and dyed green woven in a complex intricate pattern and furs of different colors attached in various places. So he jumps down into the middle of the path and starts walking towards the group and as he's walking forward his appearance shifts a little bit every few seconds just kind of incorporating bits and pieces of the appearance of different people in the group.

Marigold (OOC): Neat.

???: Then settling back into that original form that you saw as he makes a slow but steady progression towards Marigold.

Marigold: Mary will also be heading in your direction, also slow but that is because I have three points of exhaustion, so I have no choice.

???: And he has the most, this hopeful excited look on his face.

Marigold (OOC): Oh boy, can't wait to tell you all the good news.

???: When he gets up closer to Marigold he puts his hands on either side of Marigold's face and just looks at him, "Sooo, do you...do you remember me?"

Marigold: Of course I remember you.

???: "Goldilocks!" And just gives Marigold the biggest hug.

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

Ghosts are real and your no-longer-dead older brother has identity issues over them

by itsrecycledcactus

He looks around again at the sun and the trees and the sound of birdsong he hasn’t heard in years. He looks at the pavement under his feet, and lets his eyes wander over some of the cracks. And then he looks up at the building right next to them, confused when he sees where exactly he is.

“Phil,” Wilbur starts, “why did you revive me outside a Starbucks?”

 OR: The fic where everything is inexplicably modern. It's not nearly as sad as the title may imply.

Words: 6543, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Dream SMP, Ghost Files - Watcher Entertainment (Web Series)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Ghostbur (Dream SMP), Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo, Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Other(s)

Relationships: Ghostbur (Dream SMP) & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & Phil Watson | Philza, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ghostbur Appreciation (Dream SMP), Identity Issues, Fluff, Crack Treated Seriously, Wilbur Soot is Not Ghostbur, Light Angst, tubbo has nukes, Ghostbur and Ranboo are implied to be a little in love even if they don't know it, Slight OOC, Some Plot, teen and up because of swearing and references to dsmp events, if I forgot to tag something let me know, Ghostbur-centric

[maliwan012remade]

remade! (finally)

same url as before, @maliwan012, still a work in progress as of 24/08/2020. this post will be queued a lot. <3

[maliwan012]

u_u

[atrophite]

august ... time to think about gabriel getting to visit the countryside with his s/o and vacationing out somewhere quiet in the woods so he can see the way the leaves change color

[malusionist]

the mother we share lyrics for gorou’s Specific Siblings Tags... genius brain <3 aha

[supervillain-smut]

Hello, may I request something fluffy (cuddles, sweet kisses) for Stefano Valentini, please? Sorry, I am a soft person. Also, love your portrayals and writing :)

Don’t apologize for being soft! Believe it or not, I love writing fluff as well as smut, lol! I’m glad you enjoy my work! I try to add fluff elements to my writing even if it’s a little OOC.

You awoke to birdsong, sunlight and Stefano sleeping peacefully beside you, his hair messy and exposing his scarred eye It was something you very rarely saw, but this vulnerability was your favorite part; to earn such a sight from a man who was so protective of anyone viewing him as anything other than perfect.

You smiled to yourself and pondered whether you should let him sleep and just watch him as his chest slowly rose and fell, or wake him. Your choice was made for you as Stefano slowly stirred awake, sitting up and yawning. He looked over at you and smiled, leaning down and placing a quick peck to your lips.

“Good morning. How was your sleep?”

You didn’t respond, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, your hand grabbing the base of his neck and playing with his hair as you pulled him to hover over you for a kiss. He hummed in appreciation at the affection, his right hand moving to rub circles into your hip and rub up and down your side.

He rested his elbow beside your head and pressed his weight into you as he looked into your eyes and smiled ear to ear. You swapped positions with him, straddling his hips and cradled his face in your hands.

You just stared at him for a minute, his face slowly turning to confusion.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, placing his hands on your wrists, rubbing circles into your skin. You nodded.

“Yeah, there is something wrong; you’re too pretty, it’s not fair.” You smiled at him and kissed the tip of his nose. You continued to place kisses all over his face. He giggled as you did so, and when you were finished, you pushed his hair out of his face and placed kisses around and on his scars.

“You really don’t care, hm?” He spoke softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“Never. I love you for everything you are, not what you aren’t.”

[mehbzz]

Soft Whitney. Nothing in my head but soft Whitney. So a little Degrees of Lewdity fanfic drabble, no smut. abusive relationships, abusive parents and mc suffering from trauma and probably more than a little Stockholm syndrome. mentions previous sexual assault. I guess a more ooc Whitney.

not proofread just rambled.

You’re not sure why Whitney had wanted you along. He’d grabbed you as you were leaving school and dragged you into town with his friends but they’d all been pretty much ignoring you for the past half an hour as they smoked and joked and harassed the people passing by.

Not that you minded being ignored, you had been nervous and on edge around Whitney for the past week and you wondered if he’d finally noticed. Every movement and gesture he made towards you had been making you anxious. You were still not sure what you had done to deserve the punishment of being tied up and left to be gangraped by the sailors, but every since you’d been making yourself almost ill in effort to be as well behaved and as submissive as you could be. You didn’t want to go through that again. You didn’t think you could survive going through that again. You didn’t realise you’d zoned out completely until you notice Whitney in front of you, saying your name as he reaches for you, and you flinch violently backwards.

He pauses, surprise, anger and something else flicking across his face before he loops his arm around your shoulders and turns back to his friends.

“Got my slut to entertain me today, don't need you guys.” He leads you away, the mixed jeers and cheers from his friends fading as he walks you in silence towards to the beach. The panic reignites in your gut, the feeling of the rope around your wrists and the jeers of the sailors springing painfully to the front of your mind at the sounds of the waves. Before the panic can ignite into a full blown attack Whitney steers you to the left, disappearing into the very edge of the park, through a brambled mess of branches and into a well hidden secluded little glade. He lets you look around for a second. It’s a tiny clearing, a large tree in the middle, its branches causing shafts of sunlight to ripple across the ground. It’s quiet too; the distant sound of the sea and the gentle sound of birdsong is all you can really hear. He shoves you forward, ending your appraisal of the area and you stumble, only just catching yourself from going face first into the trunk of tree.

He winces as he sits down, and you feel flair of sympathy but know better than to mention it. You've only ever seen Whitney’s father from a distance but you know he shares Bailey's fondness for physical reprimands. The one time you'd tried to talk to Whitney about it he'd lashed out immediately, shoving his cock so roughly down your throat, you’d been in pain for days and you'd ended up going to see Dr Harper worried he'd actually injured you.

Whitney sits still, head tilted back to rest against the tree and his eyes closed. He looks handsome, blonde hair a scruffy mess and you stand there awkwardly still a little shaky from the panicked adrenaline, torn between sitting with him and trying to run. You're not sure which would earn you the bigger punishment.

"Sit."

He opens one eye as you cautiously sit down next to him, shoulders not quite touching, and smirks at you. "good puppy." It's patronising, teasing, but the paltry praise still sends a warm little frisson through you that you try to ignore.

Whitney closes his eyes again, an unlit cigarette rolling between his long slender fingers. It’s beauiful here, peaceful, but you're still anxious. Why did he bring you here? You had been expecting to get fucked in all honesty, but this area felt way too secluded for Whitney’s exhibitionist streak.

The click of his tongue piercing against his teeth let's you know he's getting frustrated, probably annoyed, and you tense, bracing yourself for whatever pain was going to come your way.

“Just fucking relax,” he sounds angry, and more than a little uncertain, the click of the silver ball increasing in frequency. "I usually come here when I need a break from all the bullshit."

You are glad he's not looking at you, as the shock written across your face at his vulnerable admission would have undoubtedly earned you a rough punishment. In fact you think he's doing his hardest not to look at you, face tilted to the side and eyes tightly closed. You don’t know how to respond. This is his safe place? And he’s sharing it with you? “It's nice here.” It’s a pathetic response but you don’t know what else to say. He doesn't acknowledge you and you shift a little closer until your shoulders are touching. You feel him relax at the small touch and he finally places the cigarette in his mouth, shifting till he finds his lighter and lights it with a small satisfied hum. If he is closer to you after his shifting around, his leg and thigh touching yours, you don't mention it. The pair of you sit silently for a few minutes, the warm sunshine starting to make you feel drowsy.

"Don't leave. I won't do it again." It's mumbled quietly under his breath, he even stutters slightly and for the second time in the space of 10 minutes you feel stunned by his behaviour. Whitney’s moods often gave you whiplash but this was something new.

"OK." You practically whisper back but again you're not sure what else to say. "Thank you." You probably shouldn’t have to be thanking your boyfriend for not selling you off to a bunch of sailors, but he sounds so vulnerable, so unsure, so unlike himself that your mind is too shocked to offer you any other response.

The clicking of his tongue stud continues. It's the biggest giveaway to his real mood that you'll ever have. Running it along his teeth is something he does when he's genuinely stressed or frustrated. You don't think he's aware he does it and you've never brought it up in case it takes away the only indicator you have to his true feelings.

You’re hit with the desperate need to reassure him, but you know any words you offer will immediately be thrown back in your face, so you opt for a more subtle approach. You let your hands relax on your thighs and rest your head on his shoulder. He freezes for a split second at the contact but soon relaxes again, and thankfully he doesn't shove you off. The clicking sound stops as well.

"Tell anyone and I'll think of something worse than a gang of lonely sailors."

It’s a cruel but half hearted threat, a instinctive reaction to protect himself against appearing weak or soft so you don't reply and just nod, not wanting to ruin the fragile moment. You have no doubt insecurity and embarrassment will change his mood in a while, probably forcing you into some public sexual act in an attempt to reassure himself of his dominance over you and you want to enjoy the peace while you can. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and hesitantly wraps his pinky loosely around yours. You desperately want to link your fingers together but you know when you’re pushing your luck, so you sit quiet, content to let him push himself outside of his comfort zone without fear of reprimand or acknowledgement. It’s an odd talent you’d found yourself developing, the ability to comfort and encourage him without him realising you are doing either of those things. At least not yet.

He finishes his cigarette slowly, giving you the chance to doze off on his shoulder. "You better not have drooled on me." The confidence is back in his voice and you feel an odd mix of disappointed and content as he shoves you off him, still surprisingly gentle.

He dusts his hands off on your jeans and you pretend to ignore the pained noise he makes as he rises, looking away as he presses a hand to his ribs. “Get up then,” There's a pink tinge to his cheeks as you look up at him, and he's definitely avoiding eye contact with you as he holds out a hand to help you up. You take his hand but push yourself up, you don’t want to cause him anymore discomfort. You stand there holding his hand and you think for a split second that he’s going to kiss you, but you realise that’s too much gentleness for Whitney in too little amount of time as he smirks, and flicks your forehead hard instead. "c’mon slut, let's go to the pub."

[daisies-write]

hello, Girls～! may i request number 13 for Hisoka or Chrollo? if one of you two kindly do it for me? also 💖🎉congrats on your 100th followers🎉💖

Sweet tooth

Hisoka Morrow x reader

13. “May I kiss you on your cheeks and then on your forehead and on your chin and on the corners of your mouth and then ON your mouth?”

“That was oddly specific but yes, consent is sexy.”

Thank you so much, hun! Now let’s be honest, if you ask me to choose between two characters and one of them is Hisoka, except if the other is Kite, I’m gonna take Hisoka. I’m a s i m p for this clown.

-Yasu

Requested by: @dukinaxael

TW: none, sappy sappy writing. Possibly OOC character but I live for soft!Hisoka. Mediocre writing, 2 out of 5, can do better

Writer: Yasu 

Word count: 1055

Him. You don’t quite know when you first met him but you remember that it was a long time ago, long enough that a simple change in his tone, imperceptible to anyone else but you, could give you a wide range of information about his thoughts and his feelings. Him. Him who did not seem to feel and who nevertheless loved you, in his own way, disturbing and strange, but still very much in love. Hisoka doesn’t hole on the past, so you had to change more than once to stay by his side and keep on going forward without looking back. You still remembered and recalled some memories but you kept it in your mind, well hidden.

Hisoka always gave you a hard time, no matter what. You always returned the favor though.

The first time you met him, you both were young. Two little simpletons, a little inexperienced, teenagers who somewhat loved each other but who were tragically separated again and again in a waltz of hastily exchanged paper hearts and hesitant first kisses between a show and another. Miles from what you were now. You didn’t think you would continue sneaking out the circus and hurt your bodies to spend time in each other’s company for this long, nor that this relationship would last after that. Yet there you were, bloody feet still wearing the traces of your past 4AM adventures but arms locked together. 

The sun was barely beginning to rise, the rays of sunshine piercing the curtains of the room. The distant birdsong was lulling you tired and you thought about going back to sleep, except your plans always collapsed whenever Hisoka’s arms tightened around your waist in this familiar gesture that dates to far back in your youth. 

“Good morning, lovely~”

“Let me sleep,” you groaned. “My eyes still hurt.”

“Should I kiss the pain away?”

“Keep your morning breath to yourself, thank you very much,’ you laughed and he smirked.

It was still early, the city was so quietly asleep, and you had decided to make the most of this slow, lazy morning. It wasn’t until around noon that you and Hisoka gathered enough mental strength to leave the pile of warm blankets and started making breakfast. The sound of your spoon against your cup of coffee echoed against the walls of your kitchen and the arms of the one you loved rested on your shoulders while his lips stole a kiss from you.

 He never asked if he could kiss you. For the childish and simple reason that when you two were young, you stole his first kiss without asking, disappearing behing the circus curtains afterwards. It was an everyday type of revenge that amused you and that just never left and you couldn’t help but get a flash of these past moments; a young Hisoka with no makeup on and no rambunctious clothes looking at you like you had just grow a third arm in the middle of your forehead.

“Why did you do that?” had he asked.

At the time, you were too young to know it was because you were enamored with him so you had just shrugged and changed the subject.

“Wanted to see if you taste like bungee gum.” He did. “It’s bad for your health, y’know?”

He still tasted like bungee gum.

Peaceful days like this present one were rare and were getting more and more so. The thought that he could one day get bored of you and be gone forever haunted you and made your body stiff, sad. It's funny what a presence - or absence in this case - can do when you've been used to standing near someone for so many years.

Sitting at the table of your kitchen and Hisoka across from you, you studied him. You did so everyday. He had a new flavor each morning after all. It was funny knowing that your fear was unfounded. If it had been, he probably would have left you long before and maybe you would have forgotten everything about him by then. Although in all honesty, you couldn't picture yourself forgetting him.

For someone who doesn’t hole on the past, Hisoka still had so much of his child persona. Perhaps that’s why you couldn’t help but overlay the images of him at different period of his life on his present self. It made you laugh.

“What’s so funny?” said Hisoka without giving you a glance, his eyes on his phone, reading who knows what.

“I was thinking,” you started, a teasing tone in your voice. “Do you remember when I stole your first kiss?”

It was quick but you felt it. His eyes staring into space for half a second at most before he gives you a big smirk and put his phone down.

“It was with you? Can’t remember, sorry ~ ”

He lied. It was obvious.

“I never asked for your permission at the time. Sorry."

Hisoka stared at you with an amused yet puzzled expression. He was scanning your face and trying to understand why you were saying all of this all right now, completely out of the blue.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, so what’s the big deal,” he tried to brush it off.

You put your cup aside and sprawled out full length on the table until you came facing his eyes.

“But consent is sexy!” you said. You brushed a piece of hair off his face. “Say... can I kiss you on your cheeks and then on your forehead and on your chin and on the corners of your mouth and then ON your mouth? “

Hisoka blinks at you and burst into an uncontrollable laugher, one hand close to his mouth and his head thrown back as you waited for his answer with tender eyes.

“That was oddly specific,” he finally said between two giggles. “But yes.”

So you kissed him. Trailing your lips on his freckles all over his face until you could finally touch his mouth. And as always, his lips tasted of sugar, of festivals and reminiscent of extravagant shows. At this moment, your heart seemed more innocent, as weird as it sounds, as if you were back at the circus with Hisoka but this time, instead of running away in a rush, you could savor the tartness of the candy that was melting on his tongue and the flavor of his skin against yours.

But of course, Hisoka had to ruin the mood by moaning obnoxiously and you just pulled back and starred at him, unimpressed, while he seemed so very satisfied of himself.

“You were right; consent is sexy.”

[hopelessly-aro]

Roses in the Snow

Soulmate September Day 23: at a certain age (18) you switch bodies with your soulmate for 24 hours

Pairing: dukexiety

Tags: fairytale au, angst maybe, Virgil's anger + Remus' strength = BAMF, folk tale in a way, a little bit of magic, pre-relationship, hopeful/happy ending, rescue mission but for himself, meanwhile Remus is bored out of his mind

Words: 5644

Summary: It's lonely there, trapped in the tower, no way to escape, without seeing a soul for three years. It's a wonder Virgil hasn't gone mad yet. But there was a small flaw in the plan of the people that trapped him there - that one day he would switch bodies with his soulmate. And when that happens...oh boy had the world better watch out.

Notes: god this was way longer than it was meant to be but I started trying to work out why Virgil was in a tower and why no-one came to check up on him and it kinda escalated. The ending is kinda abrupt but I had to stop at some point. Also there is surprisingly little of Remus being actually disturbing in this so he might be a little OOC.

Warnings: death mention, blood mention, vague description of a fight, imprisonment, knife mention, fire, discussion of revolution/war, vague reference to suicide but not explicit, I have probably missed some so lmk

AO3

Virgil glared out the tower window at the endless expanse of golden forest, the tops of the tallest trees almost at his eye level. As usual the heavy silence weighed down around him, birdsong and the rustling of the trees and falling leaves blending together until he couldn't pick out any distinct sound.

This was no life, trapped here with nothing to do and hardly anything to mark the days, just alone with the endless passage of time.

Virgil never used to be a poet but solitude does strange things to you.

To be fair, Virgil did almost deserve to be imprisoned. He knew the risks when he tried to commit treason so he should have been prepared for that outcome. But wild, youthful pent-up rage is hardly something to be reasoned with so when the king had started having people dragged from their homes in the middle of the night never to be seen again he hadn't thought twice about trying to overthrow him.

He'd been so cautious, planning every detail in advance, screening every single person he recruited to make sure they wouldn't betray him. But he was just a teenager. And the bad guys won, the good guys lost.

Or maybe Virgil really was the bad guy.

Some days, in the ending loneliness of the tower, he would second guess himself. Maybe he hadn't been doing the right thing. Maybe there was a good reason for all those people to be taken in the night. Maybe he was dangerous and it was safer for everyone if he stayed here.

But then he would remember. If he really were that dangerous, they would just have had him killed, get it out of the way. No, this was a punishment mean to last, to torture and break him, so he would live here until he died of old age in a prison that was charmed to feed him and keep him warm and to never let him fall. This was pure cruelty, and only a truly evil king would have done this to him.

He would turn twenty soon. Three years of solitude.

Virgil didn't know exactly when his birthday was - he had lost count of the date sometime after the first eight months - but he knew it was some time in the winter, and now autumn was drawing to a close. It was around this time of year that Virgil would wonder again if maybe he did have a soulmate, maybe they just weren't eighteen yet, maybe soon they would come of age and the two would swap bodies and Virgil would be out of the tower, if only for a day.

Those precious twenty-four hours were plenty of time. He could write out an explanation of what had happened for his soulmate to find on their return to their body, and maybe Virgil could even set out on his own mission to save himself. He might have to leave out the detail that he was a convicted criminal, but he could always explain afterwards. It was entirely possible his soulmate wouldn't care about his crime, the universe had matched them up as being perfect for each other after all.

But the days drifted away, and the chill began to blow in, and for the first time in three years, that thread of hope began to fray.

-----

Virgil woke up and instantly knew something was wrong. He was in a bed but it wasn't his bed. He wasn't in his clothes, or in his tower. Even his own body felt wrong...until Virgil realised it wasn't his body after all.

That had him shooting out of bed, glancing around the messy room until he found a very cracked hand mirror. For a second he was hesitant to look. Did this count as an invasion of privacy? No, he decided, not really, he was only looking at his soulmate's face.

Slowly he turned the mirror round and couldn't help but let out an involuntary whistle. His soulmate's bright green eyes stared back at him in surprise, wild matted black hair with a premature grey streak falling into his eyes, tiny scars littering his face with a longer one slashed across his left eye, a nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice.

Looking now at himself, Virgil could see the rest of his soulmate's body had been through the wars as much as his face. Scars littered his arms and legs, skin covered in so many freckles it might as well have been a tan, calluses on the palms of his hands. His soulmate was tall too, and broad. Was it weird to find him hot when Virgil was currently walking around in his body?

He found himself wondering what his soulmate was like, what expressions usually rested on those features. Currently Virgil was looking into the mirror with a mix of confusion and fear and slight awe and hope. It looked wrong, somehow, on his soulmate's face, like the muscles weren't used to such a soft expression.

Virgil shook himself out of his thoughts. He had soulmate who looked like he was constantly getting into scrapes now stuck in a tower for anywhere up to twenty-four hours and that did not sound like a good combination. He had to rescue him, and by inference himself.

-----

It took Remus several minutes to realise what was going on when he woke up.

This was partly because he was used to waking up in random places he didn't remember going to, usually holding cells, so it wasn't until he realised that he wasn't even in his own body that he knew what was going on.

Of course! It was his eighteenth birthday! This must mean he had swapped bodies with his soulmate so now all he had to do was make his way back to his house and he would probably meet them halfway! Oh this was so exciting!

Remus looked around the room for a door. But there wasn't one. Just a very large window.

He wandered over to look out and...well bang goes that plan.

That was his first thought when he looked out the window and only saw the tops of the bare trees, the snowy ground almost a hundred feet below. His second thought was who on earth had dared to imprison his soulmate?!? His third thought was oh God he was going to get so bored waiting to switch back, because there was definitely no way out of the tower.

Remus considered tying the bedsheets together but knew that wouldn't be long enough. He wondered if using all his soulmate's clothing too would help but apparently they only owned one set of clothes and Remus was wearing them.

Upon this realisation, Remus then got distracted admiring his soulmate in the mirror. They were shorter and scrawnier than he was, and probably not as strong (when Remus tested this theory he nearly pulled a shoulder muscle). He had a few, very faint scars, as if whatever had caused them had been years ago, and his skin was pasty from lack of sunshine.

But he was also undeniably beautiful. The soft hair that fell into Remus' face no matter what he did to it, the soulful eyes that definitely didn't look quite right with Remus' general manic expression, the almost delicate bone structure. This was a face that could launch ships, start wars, cause the bloodshed and burning of a hundred cities. He almost looked familiar but Remus didn't know why.

At this point he got distracted again and started looking for a trap door or secret passage that might get him out. But there was hardly anywhere for one to be - the single room was so small and bare, no carpets to hide movable floorboards, no out of place stones that when pushed would reveal a staircase.

The tower was not yielding its secrets.

Well, it obviously hadn't yet met the destructive capabilities of Remus' boredom.

-----

When Virgil stepped outside his soulmates house and into the cold he immediately recognised where he was - the capital city, his hometown.

Last time he was here he'd been at the head of a revolution, all the fire and wrath of the downtrodden at his command. And the last time he'd seen this place was just as he was being shoved, chained and beaten, into a sealed iron carriage and being carted off to some corner of the forest where he could be tortured with solitude until he died of old age.

He was itching to leave, desperate to get out of the city that betrayed him, terrified someone would somehow work out who he was and capture him again. This was his one chance at freedom and there was no way in hell he was going to waste it.

But he couldn't leave yet. Not when he needed supplies for the journey and his soulmate's house had contained all of a rotting chicken leg and something that might once have been a bread if the mould hadn't completely destroyed it.

He made his way quickly to the market, head down, trying not to attract any attention. Unfortunately, this somehow had the opposite effect as he got strange looks from everyone he passed. Apparently he wasn't acting very much like his soulmate at all, but hopefully no-one would recognise Virgil the Rebel's mannerisms three years on.

In no time at all, Virgil had a small stash of bread and cheese, a skein of water, and several lengths of rope. His soulmate apparently hadn't had any money but Virgil was a master thief in his street urchin days and hadn't lost his touch yet. He wasn't sure about the whole morality of stealing from these hard-working stall holders but it wasn't like he was going to be making a habit of it. As soon as he freed himself/his soulmate from that infernal tower, he was going to get as far away from this country as he could. The fight for democracy had failed here a long time ago and Virgil wasn't going to risk his life again trying to bring it back.

Virgil knew the exact path the carriage had taken him down when he was arrested, and he'd watched out the window the whole time in an attempt to memorise the way, just in case he ever needed it. He wasn't sure how well he'd remember but as he made his was to the edge of the city, towards the surrounding snow-covered forest, he knew he had to try.

"Stop! Villain!"

The shout came from somewhere behind Virgil and he spun around in alarm to see three royal guards, swords at the ready, charging straight towards him.

-----

Remus knew why his soulmate's face was familiar.

The last few hours he'd spent removing every floorboard in the tower so only the cross beams were showing in an attempt to find a way down. He hadn't been unsuccessful but that wasn't important now.

What was important was that his soulmate was Virgil of the Storm, the boy who'd led the rebellion against the asshole king back when Remus was only fifteen years old, too young to help. Virgil the Rebel, Remus' hero.

So this was where they'd taken him! Oh this was wonderful!

So many thoughts and ideas were racing round Remus' head that he could scarcely keep track of them all. But one thought in particular was rising to the top: this meant they could start the revolution again!

There was a reason why the crowds had flocked to Virgil's side in the uprising. He was handsome and charismatic and had spoken with such passion and determination and fire that anyone who listened had been completely enraptured by his words. They had believed, the people of that country, really true believed they could succeed. And the promises Virgil had made about the world they could build from the ashes of the old weren't just what the people wanted to hear, no it was what the people needed. Rights and freedoms they had never been granted while the tiny fraction of the wealthy took it all for themselves.

They had been so sure they could win.

But it had all been for nothing.

Someone had betrayed them, the night of the uprising they were ambushed, and Virgil was captured in minutes, his supporters scattering. Everything they had worked for came crashing down around them, and the future that young Remus had believed the adults would make for him was destroyed.

But was all hope really lost? Maybe, just maybe, his Virgil (though he wasn't really his Virgil, not yet) would get them both free of here and they could try again, get it right this time.

That hope was more than enough for Remus and he went back to his current task of removing every single screw in the dresser with his nails.

-----

Virgil's fight or flight instincts kicked in. There was no where to run, that was for sure, going deeper into the forest would just make it harder, so he had to stay and fight.

The guards were on him in a moment and Virgil was lashing out and hearing the satisfying crunch of a breaking nose. When he was younger he'd had to learn to fight to survive, especially with his small size, and now that muscle memory came flooding back to him, this time with the added benefit of his soulmate's height and strength.

When the red mist cleared from his vision, two of the guards were out cold on the floor and Virgil was holding the other up by his neck.

"Resisting arrest again Remus?" The guard spat. "You might have been more successful now, but next time it'll be the death penalty once and for all."

Virgil could barely contain his relief that these guards still thought of him as his soulmate, as Remus. He glared at the man who was now gasping for breath.  "What do you mean, next time?" Then his fist connected with the side of the man's head and he fell unconscious to the floor.

For a moment Virgil considered killing the three of them with their own swords - no witnesses would mean no-one would come to find him - but even Virgil of the Storm wouldn't have killed someone in cold blood and he wasn't about to start now.

He pulled Remus' worn (and frankly very grubby) cloak tighter around him to ward off the winter chill and set off into the forest.

-----

Apparently there was a charm on the tower so that nothing could fall out of it, and nothing could fall down the inside. Remus supposed this was to prevent his soulmate from just jumping and ending his torture early but it really derailed his plans for "throw things out the window and see if I can hit that tree".

He was currently trying to climb out the window and onto the roof of the tower but wasn't having much success with that either. This was less to do with magic and more to do with the fact that the walls were very smooth and Remus kept overestimating the size of his soulmate's body, reaching too far and falling, only to find himself bouncing off the air and back into the tower room.

But if at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

This motto lasted Remus all of two hours, which he was very proud of, before he wondered if the nails he'd taken out of the dresser would mark the walls and just like that he had something else to occupy his time.

The sound of the metal grating on stone as Remus started drawing obscene pictures would probably have sent anyone else running, but it was like music to Remus' ears. It was similar to nails on a chalkboard but didn't give him flashbacks to being forced to sit still all day in school. It was perfect.

With a new past time to keep him occupied, Remus lapsed into quiet.

-----

Virgil had been trudging though the forrest for what felt like hours now, worries running through his head. What if this wasn't the right path? What if he missed the turning? What if the guards caught up and found him? What if he didn't get to the tower in time and Remus didn't know where to go? What if the rope wasn't long enough? What if they switched back right as Remus was climbing down the rope and the shock made him fall and...

No. That wasn't going to happen. If it was getting too close to switch back time they would just wait until after it happened before Virgil climbed down. Besides the tower wouldn't let anyone fall anyway.

This didn't help with all the other worries, but it was something.

Then, through the trees, Virgil saw a bright flash of scarlet. Right by the side of the path, where the vaguest track in the undergrowth was almost visible, was a red rosebush. Last time he had been here, when the guards had dragged him struggling from the carriage and set off into the woods on foot, that had been the last memorable thing he'd seen before the dark of the night closed in finally and they were stumbling through the forest with only two lanterns to light the way.

Three years ago there had only been one rose, bent and quivering in the autumn cold, a few petals drifting down when Virgil had been shoved past it.

He remembered he'd struggled and a knife had been shoved to his throat, drawing blood that dripped onto that single rose.

Virgil looked back, as he'd been dragged away, and he could have sworn the rose had looked brighter and fuller than before.

And now Virgil was here again, his soulmate's cloak wrapped around him to keep out the biting wind, surrounded by dark, bare trees and new fallen snow, standing in front of a rose bush in full bloom. Snow had settled on the leaves and all around, the ground frozen and hard, the sun barely reaching the depths of the forest in winter. And yet...the bush was covered in blood-red blooms, standing proud and tall and full against the white and black of the forest.

Something, some emotion Virgil had not felt in years, stirred in his chest, raising and waking from a three-year long slumber. For a moment Virgil could almost hear the blood roaring in his ears, taste the rebellion on his tongue, smell the freedom, the air crackling and tingling.

Everyone had some tiny amount of magic in them and in this silent corner of the forest the spilled blood of a fallen rebel had let the roses bloom all year round. It was a sign.

No. It wasn't a sign. This was just some fluke of nature, some freak happening caused by his high emotions at the time that spilled out and made something beautiful but completely pointless happen.

Virgil pushed into the forest, forcing the sight of the rosebush in the snow from his mind.

-----

Dusk was drawing in which meant Remus was finding it increasingly difficult to see his drawings, but the sparks occasionally created by the nail on the stone gave him an idea. It didn't take him long to set a piece of wood on fire and shove it between some planks to keep it upright. The makeshift lamp worked surprisingly well, the flame sending flickering orange light across the stone.

He was currently drawing the story of the great uprising, where Virgil of the Storm, rebel, hero, martyr, had lead the people to fight for freedom against their cruel king. The story was quite embellished somewhat, and there were great gaps in Remus' knowledge of events because he hadn't actually been involved, but he filled those in with vivid and exaggerated descriptions of what he thought might have happened.

Who knows, maybe someone in the far future would discover this tower hidden away in the woods, with the tale of Virgil the Rebel inscribed into the walls. When the revolution came and the king was over thrown, this would become another folk tale told over a warm fire in the dead of winter. The story of Virgil the Saviour, who came back to rescue the downtrodden from their fate, his soulmate Remus at his side.

Oh that was a story Remus wanted to live!

He was just sitting back to admire the finished piece when he felt an undeniable drowsiness overtake him. It was dragging him down into unconsciousness insistently, forcing him to sleep so they could switch back. He only barely managed to stumble across the wooden beams and into the bed in time.

The last thing Remus saw before the world dragged him under was his makeshift torch fall onto the cross-beam, flames licking at the wood.

-----

Out in the forest, Virgil could just see his tower not so far away though the trees. He gave a triumphant shout and started to run towards it but no sooner had he taken the first few steps forward did a sudden wave of exhaustion crash over him, and he collapsed on the forest floor, asleep.

-----

The first thing Remus knew as he woke up was that he was deathly cold. The second was that he was in his own body. The third was that he could smell smoke.

Virgil's tower was on fire.

He shot up off the ground, dislodging the fine layer of snow that had settled on him in the night. In the weak light of dawn he caught sight of a faint orange glow up ahead, and the unmistakable sight of a stone tower.

He bolted forward, grabbing the pile of rope off the floor as he ran. His soulmate was trapped in a fire that he himself had caused with his own carelessness! And for the first time in Remus' carefree life he felt terrified.

He was at the base of the tower in minutes, yelling himself horse trying to get Virgil to wake up while also tying the ropes together. It didn't really look like it would be long enough but Remus didn't have time to worry about that now.

"Virgil!" He cried again, desperately hoping his soulmate would wake in time, if it wasn't already too late.

But Virgil didn't reply.

-----

Virgil awoke to blistering heat and smoke in his lungs and clouding vision and someone faintly calling his name. He shot up in bed, vaguely aware he was in his own body again but not caring to take stock of anything beyond that. He needed to get to the window.

And then he saw that most of the floor was missing, the only things to walk on being the cross beams.

Technically he knew he shouldn't be able to fall down the gaps, the enchantment on the tower was meant to ensure he couldn't die by falling. But fire was a notorious counter to magic and Virgil couldn't trust any of the protection charms would still hold.

He just had to hope Remus was ready to save him.

Virgil took one careful step onto the nearest unburnt beam, gathering his clothes about him so they wouldn't be set alight. From there he was able to get to the next, and then the next, until he was only three feet from the window. And that was when he came face to face with a low wall of fire and no more beams.

He had to jump across to the window ledge.

Adrenaline was pounding through his veins, making every muscle shake and his legs feel weak. Somewhere behind him, his bed collapsed making sparks fly across the room and sending a tongue of flame shooting across the beam he was stood on. Virgil knew it was now or never.

He jumped.

For a moment it seemed like he wouldn't make it...and then he was clinging to the stone ledge, one foot on a jutting out brick, the other dangling down towards the dark abyss of the centre of the tower. As he pulled himself up to straddle the ledge, cursing his body's lack of strength, he heard a call from far down below.

There stood his soulmate, coil of rope in one hand, with a look of immense relief on his face that quickly turned to wild excitement. Even from this far up, he could tell his soulmate suited his appearance far better than Virgil had, there was something about the manic gleam in his eye and that excitable grin-

"Here! Catch this!" Virgil was jolted from his thoughts by Remus' voice. He gripped the window ledge hard with his legs and reached out as Remus threw the wighted end of the rope...

Which fell a good fifteen feet too short.

"Try again without holding onto the end of the rope" Virgil called down and Remus nodded, determination taking over his face.

This time the rope reached the right height but Virgil almost fell trying to lean out the window to catch it.

"Again but closer to the tower this time." He might have been a little rude there but the fire was licking closer and closer to his precarious perch so Virgil got a free pass.

Remus didn't even comment, just threw the rope again and...Virgil let out a shout of triumph as his fist closed around it.

Now he just needed something to tie it to.

There was a crossbeam right by the ledge that was as yet unburned. Virgil didn't know how long he would have before it caught fire and gave out, or before the rope itself caught fire, but it was all he had.

He tugged on the rope to make sure it was tight then carefully lowered himself out the window, resting his feet against the tower wall and holding the rope tight in his hands as he shakily walked down backwards.

Remus was shouting encouragement and occasionally telling Virgil to hurry up which was lovely but didn't really help. It was very present in his mind that if he fell now, high enough to kill him, he would be catapulted straight back into the inferno above.

There came an alarmed shout from Remus just as Virgil reached the end of the rope, still over ten feet above ground. He looked up at the top of the rope and saw a tongue of flame lick along it, burning it up at an alarming rate.

"You're going to have to let go!"

"I'll break my neck if I do that!"

"Not if I catch you!" For some reason Virgil could not fathom, there was a flirtatious note in Remus' voice. But as the fire began to trickle down the rope, Virgil realised he had no choice.

"Don't worry! You're so short and I'm really strong!"

Oh, didn't Virgil know it!

"I'll count you in. Three...two...one..."

Virgil let go...

"OOF!" And he was in Remus' arms.

Virgil looked up through his tousled hair at his soulmate's oddly handsome face. For a few minutes he allowed himself to forget that he had just escaped certain death, and his prison of three years, and that he'd made his soulmate a wanted man in his home town, and that he would have to flee the country and never return. For a few minutes Virgil just gazed into his soulmate's eyes (they hadn't seemed nearly that striking a green in the mirror) and let himself pretend this was the happily ever after of his fairy tale.

-----

Remus however, was very focussed on the fact that this was only the beginning. Virgil (his soulmate!) (the hero of the people!) was free and Remus had saved him! And now they could start another revolution but win this time, and then (and then!) they could ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after!

Remus set Virgil down onto the frozen ground and started dragging him towards the path, launching into an animated description of everything he had done in the tower while he was bored, which morphed into a sincere apology for accidentally starting a fire, Virgil quickly forgave him because it was rather cathartic to see his prison burn and it probably broke the No Falling spell anyway. After that Remus continued his word vomit, quickly getting side tracked by rambling about how amazing Virgil was in the first revolution.

Every time he glanced to look at Virgil's expression to check if he should stop talking yet, he only saw small smiles and light blushes. Oh, didn't that just make Remus so undeniably happy to have finally found someone who liked listening to him!

Suddenly he broke off speaking. There, nestled at the base of a tree, in amongst the snow, was a rose bush in full bloom.

"Oh wow! Look at this Virgil! It's so cool!" He rushed forward to get a closer look.

"Uh...yeah. I'm pretty sure its like that cause when the guards brought me through here I got cut and some of the blood fell on it. You know, magic's weird like that."

Remus gasped. "Oh that's awesome!" He stood up and spun to face his soulmate. "This could be our symbol!"

"What do you mean?"

"You know! The symbol for the revolution! A rose growing in the dead of winter! Like the way the people rise up in the face of adversity! We could have it on flags and storm the palace and-"

"What revolution?" Virgil's voice had suddenly gone cold.

Remus' heart sank. "Well now you're back I thought...I thought this meant we could try again..."

"Never gonna happen." Virgil turned away, scowling.

"...why?" Remus' voice had never sounded so small.

"We failed! The army ambushed and crushed us. They killed so many people and made an example of me and condemned me to solitude. There's no point in trying again, no-one will support us, they wont want to risk it. I don't want to risk it."

"But!-"

"No, Remus! I've had three years, three years, to think about it, to try and work out what we could have done better to win. Don't you think if it were possible I would have come up with a solution by now?"

Virgil paused and Remus felt his heart breaking. It felt like rejection, like Virgil didn't just not want to try, he didn't want to be with Remus either. That didn't make sense, but it's how he felt.

"Look, there's nothing we can do. It's better just to get out while we can and find a better life for us. I'm sorry-"

Something in Remus snapped. "No you're not! You're not sorry! You're a coward is what you are!" Virgil looked shocked, betrayed, but it only fuelled Remus' anger. "I used to think you were a hero, our knight in shining armour to lead us to freedom! But if you ever were, you aren't any more.

"No-one ever stopped talking about you, you know that? In the quiet of the night the people whisper to each other that they wish things could have been different, that someone, anyone, could come along to try again. There are murmurings and mutterings of another push and people are working hard to learn tactics so we don't make the same mistakes again. We're desperate but we're still fighting." Remus hardly knew where these words were coming from, all he knew was he had to persuade Virgil to come back if it was the last thing he did.

"But we need you to be our leader again! Are you going to take that away from all those people who struggle so much every day to get by when the decisions are made by people who will never know hardship? Are you going to just give up and abandon them?"

Remus sighed. "You wont be alone, you know. You kinda were last time but not now. Not now the whole nation would take up arms the moment you told them to. Not when there are people who've dedicated these last few years to learning strategies and tactics. We can win...you just need to believe it."

For a moment Virgil almost looked swayed but then his face crumpled. "I lost so many people I loved last time. They killed my whole family, my friends either died or betrayed me to stay alive - not that I blame them. You are all I have now and I don't want to loose you too."

At those words, Remus the criminal, who laughed in the face of danger and ate fear for breakfast, felt a tear roll down his cheek.

"I'll never leave you."

"You cant promise that."

"I don't care, I'm going to anyway. Virgil I swear we can win this and I will be by your side forever."

And suddenly they were embracing, throwing themselves into each other's arms and holding on for dear life. Remus had never really been one for hugs, and he got the impression Virgil wasn't either, but in that moment it felt right.

They were both crying but neither of them would admit it.

Eventually they broke apart, but still clung on tight. Virgil gave Remus a watery smile that made his heart flutter.

"Alright then. I wont promise we'll go through with it, it might not be the right time and I don't want to fail again, but you have my word that I am damn well gonna try."

And there you have it! The story of how Virgil was saved from his prison, and how he and Remus decided to embark on the great rebellion that led the Snow Roses' to victory.

The rest is history.

~~*~~

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this hot mess, I swear I never meant for it to get so out of hand lol.

@tsshipmonth2020

[soraavalon]

DM: So Rymer leads you down this forest path, you can hear this birdsong and you can start hearing, it's like a crowd there are voices, but it also sounds like a forest just teeming with life because of the nature of Sylvan and the fact that it has these layers of natural sound to it. Soon you begin to realize that the trees that you're walking through are carved out into these homes and hollows and the path beneath you goes from soft dirt to cobblestones. They are smooth, everything here as I said, almost eerily perfect, eerily beautiful, it is unnatural how perfect and gorgeous everything is here.

DM: You are led into a town center, there are colorful tents and stalls that are set up. You see these figures that look like elves, but taller somehow and more willowy, more exaggerated features. You notice pixies and sprites moving about throughout the air and you see a huge amount of beastfolk, a few frogs and amphibians, but mostly you see squirrels and cats and mice and even a bear comes by holding a barrel on each shoulder all in these tailcoats. Very much like Beatrix Potter meets Redwall and that one episode of Over the Garden Wall where they're at the schoolhouse. It's like that nostalgic cute animals in clothes having the civilization here and you are the city center as people are moving around you speaking mostly Sylvan, you do catch snatches of Common and even some Elvish around, but for the most part everyone's speaking Sylvan and its this musical sound of just nature and voices.

Jeremiah: When was the last time I was here?

DM: You been here a couple of times. I think the last time would've been, for you, maybe several months. This is a fairly popular place, again it is spring and it's the golden hour of the day, it's gorgeous here, so it's a fairly popular destination and place to live. I'm sure you've been here a couple of times throughout the years.

Jeremiah: Oh yeah.

Marigold (OOC): *raise hand*

DM: Yes Marigold?

Marigold: Does anything look familiar?

DM: Please make a Wisdom check, unless you're proficient in saving throws then do that.

Marigold: I don't think so, double-check. *check character sheet* Oh I am. Huh.

DM: We'll say saving throw then.

Marigold (OOC): Why do Warlocks get Wisdom saving throws? They're the least wise. *rolls* (IC): 20.

DM: Yeah, as you're looking around, it's interesting. I don't know if you've ever been to a place or heard a song on the radio and you've never heard of it before but somehow you know every word? It's like 'Oh.' you just feel so at home here and you're sure you passed through places like this before, it's that thing like you know without knowing it.

Marigold (OOC): I kinda get what you mean.

DM: Yeah, like you seen it in a dream before or something. You haven't been here but you know of places like this and you remember being in places like this or you feel at least like you've been in places like this. You can't pinpoint the exact moment, but feel comfortable here you feel familiar here.

Marigold (OOC): Yeah like when you go to a McDonalds in another part of the world.

DM: It's a little like a McDonalds. You know it's gonna be there.

Marigold (OOC): 'I've been here before.'

DM: Yeah, exactly.

Marigold: Mary immediately has the urge to wander off.