#a most devious wizard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leiflitter · 1 year ago

Text

So, Mystra-

The more I think about her, the more I want to egg all of her statues, because I am honestly convinced that she's likely way more embroiled in Gale's fall from favour than she seems- and that she likely never cared for him in any meaningful sense.

This is gonna be long, gang.

Also I am 1000% up for screaming about Gale/forming an anti-Mystra union so y'know let's be pals

My thoughts are thus:

She has likely always known about his potential and capability of power. He was a child prodigy, after all- and she's a GODDESS. From the first time he truly used the weave, he was on her radar.

This also makes Gale's relationship with Elminster seem too convenient. As much potential as Gale demonstrates, it's also important to remember that Elminster is Mystra's chosen- and Mystra's chosen are often tasked with upholding and protecting balance in the weave. There are countless wizards that Elminster could mentor- so why Gale specifically?

The same is true of Gale's magical education. I've seen plenty of speculation about his possible potential as a sorcerer, and there's a lot of questions around the circumstances of him entering the Blackstaff Academy- as well as a confirmation of his power when he, a little baby trainee wizard, uses The Actual Blackstaff to cast a spell.

As an aside, Gale's little story about his misadventure with The Blackstaff is especially scary when taking into account that the staff is very devious, and it's primary purpose is to protect Waterdeep- although this is again speculation, I don't think the portal to limbo was just the spell going very, very wonky. I think the Staff, sensing Gale's ability and (through the very clear context clues of him using the fucking staff that you normally would need to attune to and that belongs to the top fancy wizard in waterdeep) his ambition, decided that he was clearly a potential threat that might be better off being quietly removed via Death Slaad.

We also know of at least one story of a young, powerful wizard who, y'know, led to the death of Mystryl and the loss of all magic- in part because he lacked the discipline that he should have learned at Wizard School.

So Gale comes along. Karsus 2.0- he's back, he's human and- most importantly- he's lonely.

How better to neutralise him as a threat than to make him loyal to her? Why would she cast aside a possible asset when she could use him?

The main problem with her plan is Gale himself. She can get him into wizard school. She can get Elminster to mentor him. She can make sure that Gale gets the best magical education, so hopefully he will be content and settle for being an archmage.

She can't, however, account for Gale's brain. Let's be honest, Gale is neurodivergent as fuck, and magic is his number one special interest. He was never going to be content to enjoy magic a "normal" amount, so no matter how many hours he may spend being taught about how great Mystra is and how the limits she sets are to be respected... he won't stop learning, growing more powerful, becoming more and more of a threat to her.

So how does she cement his loyalty? By getting personal. This is why him being isolated is important- it gives her an advantage. She can be number one without any effort. If he has an actual bond to her, not just the concept of her, then he won't be dangerous. Except, again, she's assuming that he'll be like so many other mortals and be so awed by her presence that he'll finally be satisfied. But he isn't.

Why the fuck would a goddess take someone so clearly, deeply intense about magic into her personal realm? Why would she show him all the power he would never be able to access?

Because, to her, he's just a mortal. There has to be a point in which he'll either be sated or he'll realise his limits and give up, because he's just an extremely powerful ant in comparison to her. Mystra has never considered getting to know Gale. If she had, she'd have realised that doing the grand tour of All The Magic You Can't Ever Do was a huge mistake. That making herself the focal point of his entire existence was an absolutely dogshit move.

Gale throws himself so hard into Being Mystra's Best Boy because he has nothing outside of magic other than his mother. He summoned his best friend, and he admits that he has colleagues and acquaintances, but nothing much else. He and Elminster clearly care for each other, but it's clear that Mystra's placed barriers between them- and even if they were able to be best buds and make friendship bracelets, together, they're at vastly different stages of life.

It's also likely that Mystra's interest in him led to his isolation. He has been marked as Special- the old gifted child problem where him being So Smart So Magic meant he bypassed the social side of things.

So of course he wants to prove himself, to impress her- his entire metric for his self-worth is Being A Wizard. He says he's bumped uglies with mortals before- but he doesn't mention anyone specifically. And, let's be frank, the man has a case of foot-in-mouth syndrome- if he had any meaningful romantic experience before Mystra, you know he'd have brought it up at least once. "Ah, autumncrocus- back in my apprentice days I picked a bunch for the object of my youthful affections. Unfortunately I hadn't realised they were allergic- but they certainly appreciated the gesture, if you catch my implication... Once they stopped sneezing, of course."

She becomes his whole world. He wants so desperately to be on her level, to be what he thinks she deserves- and yes, it was incredibly stupid of him. However, what the fuck was Mystra doing?

Throughout BG3, high approval Gale is actually incredibly receptive if you tell him not to persue power. Yes, his earlier mistakes may play into this, but I find it hard to believe that he'd be any less receptive to Mystra.

To quote- "I pouted. I pleaded. I swore my ambition was only to serve her better. But she only smiled and told me to be contented."

So, then, why did Mystra not actually engage with Gale on this?

Because she never cared about him.

She tried all the options she thought would work on a mortal, and when they were done she didn't consider trying anything else. She never knew him well enough to understand his motivations- he should have been satisfied with Magic Sex because surely any mortal would be. She couldn't even consider that his love wasn't just him liking the company and getting laid, that he'd still want to prove himself to her. To be worthy of the Mystra she'd let him believe in.

And when he fucked up- if she had helped him, even in a tiny way, then she'd have achieved her goal. Imagine if he'd come to her, agonised by the dark magic within him, and she'd been merciful. The way you would be, if you loved someone. If she had actually known Gale? She'd have done it.

But Mystra doesn't see it as an act of love gone wrong. To Mystra, it's proof that she can't control him, that his potential isn't worth whatever effort she'd need to put in.

She abandons him to die- expects him to go on a pilgramage into the wilderness and just go boom.

When he doesn't? She decides that, fine, she'll deal with it- by sending Elminster to tell Gale the good news! She'll "forgive" him if he detonates himself, honest! He trusts Elminster, Elminster's a father figure to him, he'll do what Elminster tells him. Except that's another example of her not understanding Gale in the slightest. Instead of hope, she's rubbing salt in his wounds- she's flexing her power and showing Gale that his bond with Elminster was always conditional on Mystra's approval, and that Elminster's loyalty lies with her.

No wonder Elminster sent a construct- it's the closest thing he can do that isn't abject refusal.

I am gonna stop rambling now but in conclusion:

Mystra, you absolutely suck. Get wrecked. I hope Bhaal shits in your pocket dimension.

#leiflitter rambles #mystra #gale of waterdeep #am i dwelling on this? absolutely #she's lucky gale goes there alone or els would absolutely bite her #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate theories #mystra bg3

476 notes · View notes

loviatarsluv-old · 9 months ago

Note

Request!

I posted details here, it’s for Gale!

https://www.tumblr.com/cherifrog/739699979425333248/anyone-else-interested-in-like-a-super-jealous

YUHHHHH now THIS is what im talkin about!!!!!!!

*cracks knuckles* lets get this party started shall we

(I am so sorry to be answering this literally a million years too late I’ve redone and rewritten this prompt like 100000 times but I finally like this version!!! so here we go!!!)

Gale x AFAB f!tav

rating: oh boy this one is certainly rated M for mature

CW: smut, inappropriate use of mage hand, rough sex, PiV, oral, gale being jealous and going absolutely FERAL

word count: 5.4k

let’s get itttt

If looks could kill, surely, Astarion would have been long dead— well, even more so— by now.

Gale was never exactly fond of the pale elf from the start, and he was well aware the feeling was likely incredibly mutual— but gods, he swore he was beginning to actually hate him.

At least, he hated the way he looked at her. The way he leered at her. The way he purred her name with that practiced and over-rehearsed seductive charm of his. The way he would lock piercing crimson eyes with Gale’s blazing umber ones as he cozied up to her at the fire with that deviant and knowing smirk on his stupid pointy face. The way she would smile at him the warmest, kindest, most hopelessly and adorably oblivious smile in response to the charlatan’s blatant advances.

Maybe he did hate him, upon further reflection. If only for the last reason alone.

Astarion would find any way to touch her and be able get away with it— his hand lingering on the small of her back as he passed her, touching her shoulder to get her attention, brushing hair out of her face when stray pieces fell over her eyes— all things that seemed innocent enough until you realized who was doing them and the devious smirk on his face when his gaze would meet that of the wizard that was surely plotting his second untimely demise.

Though, he could hardly blame him.

And Gale never got upset with her, of course, he knew it wasn’t her fault and honestly, he truly didn’t blame Astarion for wanting her— gods, who could possibly resist her?

Certainly not Gale, not even if he tried; and he had tried, to no avail. Yet that didn’t quell his frustration toward the silver haired and equally silver tongued vampire for attempting to swoop in on what was likely the first real chance at mortal love he’d had in a very long time.

He’d spent the early days in their adventure together absolutely beside himself with how taken he was by her nearly instantly. He felt like a smitten schoolboy all over again when he thought about the feeling of her soft but strong hands gripping his as she pulled him from the stone by the nautiloid crash with most impressive ease, the way she looked at him with wonder and curiosity, and even a flicker of something else that he recognized as attraction because he imagined it was mirrored in his own face at the sight of her.

It was then only worsened by the night that they channeled the weave together and the kiss she’d pictured them sharing— the way their limbs tangled and their lips pressed together softly, then passionately and fervently. Her fingers wrapped in his chestnut tresses and his hands gripping the fabric at her waist— that image will be burnt into the fabric of his mind forevermore, he’s certain.

Not to mention, the way her pupils dilated and her cheeks flared and flushed a heavenly shade of pink at the way he praised her as she successfully mimicked the incantation and his motions. It was enough to have him panting and attempting to tame the straining erection in his trousers when he retired to his tent that night.

He thought he’d mastered the art of managing to keep such thoughts like that at bay during his time of isolation as he tried to keep the orb sated and calm and very nonexplosive— but that was before her, after all.

It was pathetically easy at the time, considering his amount of interaction with other humans had gone from healthy to nonexistent entirely so he didn’t have much to think about aside from himself; perhaps when he was truly desperate or feeling especially lonely, he’d think about Mystra and the nights he’d spent in Elysium with her (literally and metaphorically).

But now, any attempts to be chaste or think chaste thoughts were moot in her presence.

Especially after the night they shared under the stars in the wilderness of the Shadow Cursed Lands.

They’d hardly been able to go more than a few hours without some kind of touch in the days following that perfect evening— whether it be a hand on her lower back, or holding one of her much smaller hands in his as he helped her scale a wall or hop across a boulder that she was more than capable of managing herself. A stolen kiss when no one was looking. Or, if they were lucky, they could steal a few moments alone in some ruined and crumbling crypt where he could bury himself between her thighs and send a silent thank you to whatever gods had a hand in creating a creature as divine as her.

That being said, they hadn’t been entirely discreet about their affections— not that they really wanted to be. Gale certainly had no reservations about making it known that he was claiming her for himself, despite his gentlemanly nature chastising him for it and reminding himself she was a person, not a prize to be claimed.

He would never say that she was, anyway, do not mistake it— being raised solely by a woman such as the inimitable Morena Dekarios had beaten into his core that women were not to be claimed or to be owned but to be cherished and treated as your equal. He would never claim otherwise, he couldn’t.

On the other hand, he was also acutely aware that his were not the only set of eyes that wistfully tracked her every move and every breath throughout the day within their strange band of wayward souls, and a very base part of him needed to send the clearest message he could muster without flat out verbally declaring that she was his.

It was very unlike him, this sort of possessive and primal nature, but he couldn’t deny that a small fraction of himself that he usually shoved into the deepest recesses of his being loved it for that fact. It was a part of him reserved only for her, as she was the only one who’d ever been able to coax it out of him.

And thus, he felt absolved of any guilt about the way he glared daggers at the side of Astarion’s head and pictured hurling a fire bolt at the undead man as he spoke to her in hushed tones across camp.

At least he knew it wouldn’t kill him. Although, he’d probably slit Gale’s throat for singing his singlet in return.

It was enough to keep the heat in his palm at bay for the time being.

He tried to discreetly move close enough to hear their conversation, moving toward Wyll’s tent that happened to be just a few paces away from Astarion’s and disguising his intentions as simply having a chat over a glass of wine with the warlock.

Wyll’s eyes light up as the wizard approaches, shooting him a dashing and very princely smile that he was certain had made many a maiden swoon in his younger years as the duke’s son, galavanting through ballrooms and dragging said maidens to the dance floor after either one too many glasses of brandy or none at all.

“Gale, my friend! Fancy a glass of wine?” He kindly proposed, tilting the glass in his hand in Gale’s direction.

Gale offers an almost genuine smile, nodding. “Thank you, Wyll. I think a hearty glass of wine is just what I need at the moment,” he laments with a sigh.

Wyll disappears for only a moment before returning with a glass and wine bottle in hand. “That bad, huh?”

Gale gratefully takes the silver glass and holds it out for Wyll to pour the rest of the Amnan Liquer he’d been holding onto since their escapades at the former Rosymorn Monastery turned Githyanki Crèche.

He turns his body just enough to keep both his lover and the offending vampire in his line of sight, attempting to tune into their conversation and realizing that he can faintly hear the melodic hum of her voice, as well as the silky tones of Astarion’s.

Firebolt. No, no.

Wyll’s eyes dart between Gale, then Tav, then Astarion, his eyebrow raising. “Astarion certainly doesn’t lack in the gall department, I’ll give him that.”

Gale huffs a bitter laugh. “Can’t fault him. As much as I want to.”

Wyll gently bumps his shoulder into Gale’s with a reassuring smile. “One can’t always be a gentleman, Gale. I respect your restraint, but if I were you, even I would be cutting in on whatever it is that he’s doing with her. Love the fellow, but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.”

Gale goes silent, giving himself a moment to try to catch any of what was being said between them, only hearing the sound of her laughter intermingling with Astarion’s— and suddenly Wyll’s advice had become all the more tempting to follow.

I could just go over there, he thinks. ‘Assert my dominance’ the old fashioned way. Or…

A wickedly devious idea flutters across his mind, and a smirk forms on his lips. Before he can realize it and stop it, Wyll’s tadpole connects to his, and Wyll snorts as he sees what debauchery Gale’s brain had concocted.

“She’d have your arse in a second,” he jokingly warns. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gale wanted to listen to reason (Wyll Ravengard being the voice of reason, in this instance) and just do the diplomatic thing as he always did— but a part of him wanted to make a show of it all. To show her as well as everyone else the lengths he’d go to for her.

He whispers a simple cantrip and waves his hand, blue light glowing from his palm as he calls for a spectral hand to appear before him. He eyes the mage hand for a moment, waving his fingers and watching it as it mirrors his movements with perfect accuracy. A rush of excitement passes through him as he ponders the possibilities, but debates for a moment whether he should— only to hear the lovely melody that was her laughter once again and his decision was sealed.

He commands the hand to become invisible, the only way for him to tell it was still there was the very faint outline of it that you could only notice if you had been looking for it. He flicks his hand in her direction, commanding it to fly toward her.

“Your funeral,” Wyll chuckles, taking a long sip from his chalice, eyebrows raised.

The hand obliges, quickly floating to her but stopping just beside her. She shivers slightly as it grazes her bare shoulder, her head snapping in the direction of the sudden sensation.

Gale freezes for a moment, praying she doesn’t catch on too soon. When she finally turns her attention back to Astarion, he relaxes, then motions for the hand to gently brush her hair over her other shoulder, causing her to jump and look again, her eyes narrowed as she scans the area. Her gaze lands on Gale, and he tries to remain composed but cannot hide the pleased smirk on his face. She furrows her brows, a look of confusion and suspicion on her face as she turns away once again. She still hadn’t caught on just yet, much to Gale’s delight.

He continues once again, now commanding the hand to gently caress the back of her neck, the cool sensation of its spectral palm causing goosebumps to rise and her hair to stand on end. She sucks in a sharp breath, causing Astarion’s eyes to snap up to her.

“Everything alright, dear?” He hears Astarion ask, his signature shit-eating grin still on his lips.

She nods, clearing her throat. “Mhm, sorry, I just— ah, got a bit chilly.”

He cocks a brow at her. “I would offer to warm you, but I don’t think that I am qualified for the task,” he jokes, causing Gale’s jaw to clench.

Firebolt. Ooh, better yet, Fireball. Ice knife. Lightning bolt, perhaps?

She laughs, then gasps once again as the hand has now relocated to the front of her, gently tracing the outline of her collar bone. It then follows the curve of the top of her breast, settling between her cleavage for a moment before continuing down further and further, grazing her abdomen before stopping just at the waistline of her breeches.

“Gods, I shouldn’t be watching this,” Wyll grunts, shaking his head and allowing his gaze to drop to the ground.

She turns and shoots a piercing look at Gale, now fully aware of what was happening. He winks at her, before commanding the hand to continue its journey down her body, ghosting over the spot between her thighs. She squeezes her legs shut tight, in an attempt to quell the heat pooling low in her core despite her rising frustration toward Gale and her embarrassment.

“Darling, do you need a blanket? Perhaps we could move into my te—”

“I’m fine,” She blurts, loud enough so that she knows Gale hears her, as she refuses to give in to his childish behavior. “What were you saying?”

As Astarion continues whatever riveting story he’d been telling before she distracted him, she shoots Gale one last pathetic glance, not sure whether she was begging him to stop or keep going. He smirks, taking her pleading eyes as his queue to continue, moving the mage hand southward and grazing her blazing hot center.

She sucks in another breath, this time a lot quieter, her head falling back that she attempts to play off as if she were simply looking up at the stars.

Astarion’s head shoots up to look at her again, almost as if he were beginning to get frustrated.

“S-stars are bright tonight,” She stammers, eliciting a chuckle from Gale. He was enjoying this far too much to stop now.

He wills the hand to press two fingers down right where he knows her clit is, reveling in the way her back arches at the sudden touch, right where he knew she loved it.

Astarion’s eyebrow raises as he eyes her, her face flushed, her hair in disarray and her legs clamped shut tight. He was— unfortunately for her— very good at reading body language, even more specifically hers, and he was beginning to catch on to her predicament. His eyes dart over toward Gale who was not at all subtle with the devious smirk on his face as his hand continued commanding the spell.

“Your wizard is clever, I’ve got to hand it to him.” He smirks, stifling a chuckle.

Her eyes go wide, the hot blush in her cheeks only increasing.

“I’m going to kill him.” She hisses through gritted teeth, before twisting and facing Gale, who could not contain the triumphant grin on his face despite her very displeased expression.

“Do it out where I can watch, won’t you, darling? I’m quite overdue for a good show.” He calls after her, watching her storm toward Gale, shaking his head and chuckling with delight.

Gale dismisses the spell as he spots her making a very angry beeline toward him, then crosses his arms behind his back innocently as she approaches him.

“I warned you, you cheeky bastard.” Wyll grumbles, watching with anticipation and vaguely hidden amusement as she stomps toward the wizard beside him with murderous intent.

Gale offers her a smile as she approaches, to which she only offers a grimace.

“Hello, my love. Feeling alright?” He says equally as innocently, in spite of the devilish grin on his face.

She shakes her head. “Tent. Now.”

He raises his hands in defense, shit-eating smirk ever persistent. “Your wish is my command, darling.” He draws out the pet name to mimic the way Astarion says it, earning a rather angry eye roll.

He trails behind her as she continues her warpath toward his tent, his heart racing as he imagines exactly what he plans to do the second he gets her alone— he’d saved those thoughts for after Wyll’s tadpole’s connection broke from his own to spare him the filthy details.

She ducks into his tent brusquely, the flap slapping closed behind her before he makes his own way in after her. He chuckles at her ire, and the fact that in any other situation he’d be on his knees begging her for forgiveness in response to her irritation toward him— but this time, he planned on using it much to his advantage. Fuel for the fire, so to speak.

The second he enters the tent, her wild eyes are on him and she’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest which was still heaving, her face still completely flushed.

“What the hells is wrong with y—”

Her tirade is cut off by lips roughly crashing onto hers, her words being instantly smothered then swallowed by him and his tongue and the bittersweet taste of wine on his breath. She wants to fight back but finds her efforts moot as she instantly melts into him, allowing him to maneuver her exactly as he wishes.

Rough but elegant hands grip her waist, pulling her body flush to his, enough for her to feel the erection straining to be freed from his pants against her lower stomach. The heat that had been coiling and pooling low within her had only reignited with a vengeance now, partially fueled by her anger toward him and mostly fueled by her ever present desire for him.

His hands migrated to palm the swell of her ass, kneading the plush but still firm flesh that always caught his attention even in the worst moments such as the middle of a tense battle— something he almost felt the need to punish her for, even though it wasn’t truly her fault.

His tongue explores her mouth hungrily as her hands move to begin undoing the buttons of his linen shirt, before one of his hands catches her wrist and holds it, lacing her fingers through his. He breaks the kiss, dark umber irises pooling with pure liquid lust and carnality as they meet her more perplexed ones.

Leaving her unspoken questions unanswered, he unbuttons her pants with one hand, yanking them down her legs until she takes it upon herself to kick them off and discard them somewhere on the ground within the tent. He tugs at the bottom edge of her shirt, and she wordlessly grants him permission with only a small nod and a raise of her arms to afford him some ease in ripping it over her head and adding to the growing pile of clothes scattered across the floor of the small space.

She’s lit only by the soft orange glow of the campfire leaking in through the crack of the tent flap that neither of them had bothered to seal, her skin radiant even in the dimness of the night. He drinks in her frame, eyes skimming along every contour of her body, every rounded edge and every sharp one— even the shadow she cast against the back wall of his tent was erotic, all hips and curves and the most heavenly structure.

As if she’d been lovingly built by Sune’s own gracious hands.

“Lay down,” he commands, pointing to the bedroll that he’d preemptively fixed and made extra comfortable with several more layers of blankets, pillows, and furs. “And spread your legs for me.”

She obliges instantly, quickly but gracefully laying atop the nest of cotton and fur and velvet, her hair splaying around her head and framing her like a halo— only serving to make his already painfully stiff cock twitch against the fabric of his pants and a bead of precum leak from the tip. He feared he may not even be able to make it long enough to be inside of her at this rate.

“That’s my girl,” he almost moans, his voice low and husky and reverent as he drops to his knees before her, moving to kneel between her legs. “My beautiful girl.”

She blushes and shyly looks away, her bottom lip caught between her teeth to bite back a smile. He leans over her, gently gripping her chin with his fingers and moving her face back to look at him. “Eyes on me, my love. My love.” He drawls, dragging out his words in hopes that they’d have more time to sink into her precious mind that he cherished just as much, if not more than her wholly divine body.

Gale was all together a typically patient man. He did almost everything meticulously and gracefully. He would spend hours studying a particular topic just to ensure that he’d get it right the very first time.

Gale as a lover was no different.

He’d spent hours and even days at this point learning everything he could about her body— every sensitivity, every weak spot, ticklish spot, every scar or freckle or blemish. The things she was insecure or shy about, the things that would send her eyes rolling back into her head.

He had become a consummate virtuoso at worshiping her body and what granted her the most pleasure possible. He lavished her in it, bathed her in every ounce of bliss he possibly could until she could no longer speak, much less think properly.

Tonight was no exception— though he was considerably less delicate than was typical for him, as he hungrily lapped at the heat between her thighs as if it contained the last drop of honey on the face of Faerun. He licked and kissed and sucked and drank in every bit of her essence he possibly could, not stopping even after she’d already come just to wring out every last bit of her pleasure for his own selfish need. The selfish need to taste her, to savor her. To devour her.

He didn’t stop until she was a tangled mess of shaking limbs and clammy skin and teary eyes, and she whimpered his name like a plea. Whether it were a plea to stop or to keep going was unclear for both of them.

He lifted his face, his beard and lips drenched in her slick as he licked the remains of her off of his lips and fingers, causing her to clamp her legs together at the sight. He smirks triumphantly, knowing full well that she was nearing being entirely spent and yet she still wanted more.

“Please,” she whimpered, leaning up (very unsteadily) to finish unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons and the fabric. He relents and allows her to make her best attempt with her trembling fingers before he takes over for her, lifting it over his head and discarding the linen nearby.

Her finger gently trails from the dark purple mark of the orb on his chest down the hard planes of his torso until she reaches the waistband of his pants, dipping her finger underneath and tugging at it. Her eyes meet his full of intent, and he feels the tadpole in his head stir as she tries to connect to him.

I need to suck your cock. Please.

His eyes darken as he looks at her, the image of her perfectly pink lips wrapped around him searing into his mind— whether it being his own thoughts or hers invading his didn’t matter— but he shakes his head, then severs the connection.

She frowns, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He rubs his thumb along the swollen softness of it as he caresses her chin, tilting her head back slightly to get a better view of the elegant column of her neck. He had plans for the perfect and smooth expanse of the area between her jaw and her clavicle that he soon intended to enact. But not yet.

“Naughty girl,” he chastises her, but not without a devious smirk and a hint of lustful playfulness.

She whimpers again, sending goosebumps down his arms and the hair on them to raise on end. “Please, Gale. I want to make you feel good, I need to make you feel good,” she stammers, her eyes peering up at his, wanton and needy.

It was enough to almost oblige her request, but he knew if her mouth came anywhere near his already all too sensitive cock that he’d come apart at the seams instantly, and that just wouldn’t do.

“And I need to be inside of you,” he retorts, his voice soft but stern. “I need to claim what’s mine.” He nearly growls.

Gentleman Gale reprimands him in his mind, but is quickly overtaken by Her Gale— the one that only answers to her and belongs solely to her. The one that hoped with everything in him there was also a part of her that was his and only his.

Her mouth opens to speak, and he half expects her to yell at him and berate him for reducing her to a prize to be claimed— and is pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t.

“Please. Please come here, please fuck me,” she begs, the rasp in her voice as she does nothing short of absolutely erotic.

He needs no further instruction, and quickly removes his pants and undergarments, his erection springing free and already slick with his own desire. She eyes it with a hunger that he recognizes and has to ignore before the temptation to fuck her mouth grows any stronger.

He presses his strong but gentle hand against her chest, slowly pushing her back against the pillows as he moves to position himself at her entrance, her legs wrapping around his hips and urging him forward impatiently. He taps the side of one of her thighs in warning, rubbing the head of his cock across her already soaked folds to further lubricate it and tease her.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

She whines, her voice broken as if she truly might cry if she goes another second without him inside her. “Gale.”

He chuckles darkly, once again pressing the swollen head of his cock at her entrance, slipping in as slowly as he can manage, mustering every bit of strength and willpower he has left not to just bury himself in her as deep as he can.

“Tell me,” he commands, his voice low and gruff but still needy, almost desperate.

She connects the dots instantly, knowing exactly what he wanted. What he craved. “I’m yours, Gale. Only yours.”

She cries out in shock, slight pain, and pure ecstasy as he harshly snaps his hips into hers, his cock burying to the hilt in her velvet heat.

Home. This felt like home.

He knew that he probably should have given her more time to adjust to him, and it was something he’d surely feel guilty about later, but Her Gale wanted her to feel it tomorrow. He wanted her to be reminded of this moment as she goes on about her day through the ache between her legs as she walks, constantly reminding her who fucks her like this, who loves her like this.

“My pretty girl, my perfect girl,” he chants, his words leaving his lips like a litany of prayer as if he were in a temple of worship. He’d always been a man of religion, but this was holier and more divine than anything he’d ever experienced— even sharing a bed with an actual goddess couldn’t compare.

She throws her head back, her eyes shut tightly and she desperately grips at the pillows around her to ground herself, her neck on full display. He leans down to place wet kisses in a trail from her jaw to her collarbone, biting and sucking in very obvious spots that she’d be hard pressed to be able to cover in the morning.

She writhes and moans underneath him, one of her hands moving to grip the back of his head and fist the hair at the nape of his neck, the sensation of her fingers tugging at his scalp blending from slight pain into pure pleasure earning a throaty grunt from him that rumbles in his chest.

He feels her tighten ever so slightly around him, her walls clenching and pulsing in a sort of warning. He continues his pace, driving her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Gale, I’m gonna—”

“I know, sweet girl, I know,” he coos, leaning down and pressing his lips to her sweat slicked forehead, then whispering, “come for me, my love.”

It wasn’t so much a demand as a desperate request, as his need to feel her come on him and to ride out the waves of her pleasure alongside her became almost devastating.

To urge her on even further, he slipped a hand down and began to rub quick circles around her clit as he pounded into her until she saw stars— it wasn’t long before she completely shattered underneath him, tumbling into free fall off the edge of the best orgasm she’d ever had.

She cries out a jumbled mess of I love you and I’m yours with his name sprinkled throughout as she reaches the peak and dives off the edge, her hips rocking upward into Gale’s as he continues to fuck her through her orgasm. He feels himself quickly approaching his own finish line, the feeling of her cunt pulsing and hugging his cock tighter and tighter driving him further and further.

A few more thrusts and he was done for, spilling everything he had in her and grunting her name as he came, the entire fiber of his being ripping apart and repairing itself as he went limp above her, barely having enough strength to brace himself with his hands on either side of her head as he gripped the pillows so that he doesn’t crush her under his weight.

They both fall silent apart from the sounds of their breathing steadying and slowing to a calm and regular pace, the only other sounds being that of the distant crackling of the fire and the even more distant sounds of their companions still wrapping up for the night and preparing for bed.

Her eyes flutter open to find his in the dim light of the fire, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek. He sighs and leans into her touch, turning his head to place a kiss to the center of her palm, the coarse hair of his beard scratching her skin and tickling it, making her giggle quietly.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” she jokes, causing him to nibble at the skin of her palm playfully. “That wasn’t funny, Gale.”

He smiles and reaches for a rag to clean her up with. “I had hoped this would serve as an adequate apology.”

She sucks in a breath as he pulls out and rubs the rag across her still sensitive and throbbing core, her hips bucking upward slightly with some discomfort. “You expected to fuck me into complicity?”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest as he finishes cleaning her, then tosses the rag aside and lays beside her, pulling her onto his chest.

“Not exactly,” he says, earning a disbelieving grimace from her. “I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I just— I don’t think you realize that seeing the way he interacts with you and the way you interact with him is nothing short of agonizing for me.”

She saw the hurt in his eyes even in the dark— the ache and the gnawing need for reassurance. She understood it all too well, as she’d done the same when the topic of Mystra would get brought up in the earlier days of their relationship.

“There is no other set of arms I’d rather have wrapped around me right now than yours. There is no other company I’d rather share in the way I share in yours. Don’t you know that?” She asked, shifting so that she’s leaning over him, his big brown eyes resembling those of a puppy being told it was a good boy.

“I am yours, Gale Dekarios,” she whispers. “Body and soul.”

Relief and pure elation smoothed out the concern from his features. He pulled her closer to him, until she was mostly on top of him and her head rested on his chest and he could press a long kiss against the top of her head, breathing in her scent and shutting his eyes, both of them drifting into a peaceful slumber.

268 notes · View notes

gavamont · 3 months ago

Text

The wizard has gone a crafting

To make a most devious device

It looks like a kitty cat napping

But it does more than catch the mice

This feline figure uses mice for energy

But that just leads to it’s one true goal

It then produces hairball of pyromancy

A battle buddy whose purrs warm you to your soul

#wizard #wizardposting #wizard shit #wizardblogging #d&d #dnd #wizardblr #rhymes #Magic items #cats

87 notes · View notes

virrtualangel · 7 days ago

Text

Beatle movie ranking

!!ALL MY OPINION DONT KILL ME I LIKE ALL THESE MOVIES THIS IS JUST FOR FUN!!

5.Let It Be

Honestly, it’s just a shortened version of the Get Back documentary. it’s essentially the same as Get Back excluding a few scenes.

i’m more inclined to rewatch Get Back over Let It Be because it’s more footage to comb through.

4.magical mystery tour

I am very well aware that this wasn’t a great time in their career. and for what it’s worth i do really enjoy the album. the movie itself is extremely confusing for me to understand. the only thing bringing it higher then Let It Be is just how much i enjoy the visuals. the music video segments are definitely a highlight, they’re delightful and visually appealing to see. UNFORTUNATELY…i do not know a single thing going on and what i did understand i didn’t entirely find interesting. The concept itself is a nice one, the execution however, wasnt. it’s framed like a family guy episode almost, where it would cut to a scene with no explanation. ringo’s aunt as a character didn’t add much to the movie for me, it felt like they were trying to do the whole paul’s grandfather from hard days night again but it just didn’t work for me. the wizards are nice and that might’ve been the only thing i personally enjoyed in the movie.

3.hard days night

Their first movie, woohoo! definitely the most grounded film they’ve been in. it’s perfect to show the sheer insanity of beatlemania in the early 60s and the beatles personalities and humor. the music video segments are lovely and delightful to watch. It flows very naturally with one another and each bit leading up to the big show is just as goofy as they are. paul’s grandfather is such a devious guy and works as a hilarious way to push the movie forward in terms of conflict. the managers and people alongside the beatles are also just as entertaining. the entire cast just plays off one another and overall it’s a wonderful watch.

2.yellow submarine

If Magical Mystery Tour was bad confusing nonsense then yellow submarine is good confusing nonsense. because at least there is a clear story and no family guy cutaways. being their one and only animated movie it’s such a beautiful and eccentric movie. the different animation styles used and colors of each new land they explore in is such a delightfully unique way to mirror the music used in the movie. each new area full to the brim with whimsy and color. even if it’s random, jeremy hillary boob ph.d as an extra main lead was such a lovely little addition to an already silly cast. admiral fred and the blue meanies are another set of great characters within the film that again just push the constant whimsy and eccentricity of the film.

1.help!

The only fault with this movie is the blatant cultural appropriation within it. it’s very obviously a product of its time. that being said i love everything else about this movie. it’s the funniest movie they’ve been in and despite rewatching it every now and then it’s still a wonderful time. every character from the cult members to the scientists and of course the beatles themselves bring so much personality and humor to the movie. the writing and cinematography is wonderful, this entire movie is a delight. the music video segments are so so so well done and fit into the story well. the entire movie is definitely worthwhile regardless if you know much about the beatles or not, it’s just a wonderful time.

all movies are definitely worth the watch despite my opinion!! this was for fun feel free to put your own input i’m open to discussion bc film review is epic, if this post does well maybe i’ll start posting more film related content…maybe…

#the beatles #film review #film recommendations #let it be #magical mystery tour #hard days night #yellow submarine #help! movie #hyperfixation alert #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #richard lester #the fixation is fixating #film critique #please don’t flop

34 notes · View notes

ttrpg-smash-pass-vs · 2 months ago

Text

The lich! The most notorious of undead that the book describes as devious, insatiable, and versatile! This is the standard (and weakest) variety, just a normal humanoid wizard who refused to die. Now as for abilities they can return from the dead, magically frighten everyone nearby, and drain people's life! The main sell on this is the magic, having a good 23 spells prepared at any given time. These can be anything, with the example ones letting them fly, teleport, blind or weaken you, or summon a spectral hand!

Ok but seriously why the hell do they have such an hourglass silhouette? Like even without the flare of the robe, that's like a hell of a hip-waist ration. I guess those pants are just really puffy? Do you think they stuffed them? Why? For looks? Would make sense I guess, as that's the only reason for a plate top with distinct breast cups. To serve an ornamental purpose, like those sets with really exaggerated codpieces. Not like the Lich expect you to ever get close enough to hit.

#Lich #pf2e #pathfinder #pathfinder 2 #smash or pass

36 notes · View notes

aethon-recs · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Thank you for all your recs. I have downloaded most of them and read most of them during my 2 weeks family vacation. They were great. I was wondering if you could recommend me any tomarry crack fics that are hilarious.

This was such a fun ask, thank you for sending this in! I had a ton of fun revisiting some old favorites in this ship that made me laugh and cry-laugh and then laugh some more. As I was rereading and sorting through the fics on this list, I noticed a few recurring themes that came up... coffeeshop AUs, social media fics, funeral-themed fics(!???), and a myriad of food-themed fics.

I really hope you enjoy this selection of hilarious silly clever witty cracky takes on Tomarrymort 🤍

Tomarrymort Crack Recs

A Slice of Heaven by jellybeantarot (M, 3k, complete)

Tom is a sex worker under an agency that masks as a pizzeria, Harry orders a large sausage pizza, and yep, that's a dick in a pizza box.

almost got in a knife fight after work (a thread) / things i’ve learned since dating knife boy (a follow-up thread) by chaoscookiescrimes (T, 2k, complete)

just Harry @'thechosenone' All im saying is a pocketknife is a purchase you’ll almost never regret.

and they were roommates by @purplemineralwater (M, 3k, complete)

Tom and Harry, roommates and stars of Gogglebox, are adored by their fans. Unbeknown to them, the fans of the show want them to be more than friends.

cam and get it by @swoontodeath (E, 3k, WIP)

Harry Potter isn't one for pornography. He's got a perfectly adequate imagination, thank you very much, not to mention a fully functional right hand. One accidental glimpse of Tom Riddle's arse, though, threatens to change everything.

Coffee Moste Evile by @wynnefic (T, 4k, complete)

After graduating Hogwarts, Tom finds work at Borgin & Burke's, where he diligently sells the darkest of arts(-themed coffee and pastries).

Dark Lord Coffee by @being-luminous (T, 4k, complete)

In which Voldemort runs his empire from a coffee shop, and wizards are generally very ridiculous.

Dearly Beloved by @wynnefic (T, 3k, complete)

Worn down after countless demands, Harry breaks and finally goes on a date with the incredibly ostentatious, vain, and self-absorbed Tom Marvolo Riddle the Third. A few days later, he attends Tom's funeral, which goes much better.

Do You Want Fries With That? (part 1) / Tom's Time Has Fry-nally Come (part 2) by jellybeantarot (T, 16k, complete)

Harry really needed some money, Dumbledore needed someone to dress up as Wendy, and Tom was the only one with the desperation to be Ronald McDonald.

found you sleeping in my coffin by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (M, 6k, complete)

Harry gets turned into a vampire. For better or worse, Tom is there to help.

Full circle by tetsurashian (NR, 67k, WIP)

Harry and Tom’s souls are tied together. Which is why they’re in this endless loop of rebirth. At some point, they stopped caring and just started fucking with people.

Harry James [Redacted] by @duplicitywrites (T, 24k, WIP)

It had been three weeks since Harry had mistakenly landed in the 1970s, given his name to Dumbledore as Harry James, and been re-Sorted as a Slytherin. He's now broken the timeline, busted his parents' first date, and potentially botched his chances of ever being born. And, just maybe, he's also caught the attention of a certain rising Dark Lord.

Harry Potter and the—Well, Anything But This by @cindle-writes (E, 21k, WIP)

It’s 12 years after the war has ended that Death sends Harry back in time to fix the timeline and save his soulmate. Except there's one catch. Harry has to start over again from his first year.

Hiss Hiss by @vdoshu (G, 1k, complete)

Harry goes to buy himself a pet for Christmas. Tom sees this as an opportunity.

Inventing Paradoxes (part 1) / Deconstructing Paradoxes (part 2) by @perhaps-sunlight (G, 75k, complete)

When budding Dark Lord Tom Riddle overhears a prophecy predicting his demise at the hands of Harry Potter, he hatches a devious and brilliant plan: befriend the enemy, master the power-that-he-knows-not, and then eliminate him.

Keeping Your Human-Child Horcrux Happy in Captivity; A Guide to Enrichment (part 1) / The Horcrux Hotline (part 2) by @cannibalinc (M, 9k, complete)

A self-improvement series for Dark Lords with troublesome human-horcruxes.

Local Preteens Entrap Murderous Wraith (You Won’t Believe What Happens Next) by @being-luminous (T, 22k, complete)

Harry, Ron, and Hermione discover a spell. They decide to perform it, and no one is pleased with the result.

Magically Delicious by @dividawrites, @duplicitywrites (E, 10k, complete)

Draco Malfoy is selling 'Voldemort Bathwater Boxes' at Hogwarts for questionable, unknown reasons. Harry is more curious than he should be, and this has disastrous consequences for everyone... but mostly for Harry.

no amount of therapy can help by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor (G, 2k, WIP)

The entire internet is aware of occultist youtuber Lord Voldemort's infatuation with niche content creator JustHarry. The entire internet is baffled.

no helping hand by TheOnceandFutureQueenofTarts (M, 2k, complete)

Harry just wants to have a wank; Voldemort just wants to make that as difficult and unsatisfying as possible.

Once a Paw a Time by @youlighttheskyfanfiction (T, 3k, complete)

In which Tom is still Tom, and Harry is a black cat intent on making Tom miserable. Or happy. Who knows? Certainly not Harry the cat who is absolutely just a normal cat.

Oversight by @dividawrites (E, 21k, WIP)

Voldemort’s resurrection ritual doesn’t go as smoothly as he’d planned. He requires assistance and there’s only one person he can ask—the boy tied to his father’s gravestone.

Prison Blues by @metalomagnetic (E, 68k, WIP)

Harry and Voldemort find themselves locked up in a mysterious prison.

r/AITA by @seagate-blog (G, 3k, complete)

A budding relationship seen through the eyes of Reddit posts.

Right in Front of My Salad? by IceLynx (T, 2k, complete)

In which Draco Malfoy is dead in the kitchen, Harry is regretting moving in with his boyfriend, and Tom has never been more in love.

Stories Told at Your Funeral by IceLynx (G, 5k, complete)

Tom Riddle fakes his death. To Harry Potter, the man in charge of Tom's funeral, it's all very vexing. Harry might be an undertaker, but this is a very different undertaking.

Terms and Conditions May Apply by @duplicitywrites (T, 17k, WIP)

Lord Voldemort gets one chance at a new life. This new chance comes with a lot of conditions.

The Potter Problem by Icefall (T, 8k, complete)

During his twenty-fourth time loop, Lord Voldemort meets Harry Potter at a Muggle nightclub.

The Way to a Man’s Heart by @mosiva (T, 26k, complete)

Tom has an unknown nemesis. Harry has Tom’s lunch.

The Voice of Victory by @vdoshu (T, 3k, complete)

Lord Voldemort loves a good villain speech. Harry’s just the sort to interrupt him.

Thigh High by @kushimanii (T, 400, complete)

There, covering Harry’s long, smooth legs, were the most horrifying things Tom had ever seen. And Harry was lying in their bed with them. Tom knew what his new Boggart was.

Until Midnight Comes by @dividawrites (E, 26k, complete)

A few years after the war Harry reluctantly attends a party at Malfoy Manor. He drinks a few too many and runs into a handsome man called Tom. What happens after is definitely not a drunken error in judgement—it’s love at first, blurry sight instead.

Welcome to the Cultys by @duplicitywrites (E, 12k, WIP)

Harry had two main regrets in his life: 1. Asking the question “What if I set up a mock awards show to get cult leaders to show up for my thesis study?” 2. Responding with “That is hilarious” when Ron had suggested they call the awards show 'The Cultys'.

Would You Still Love Me? by @chiocchi (M, comic/artwork, WIP)

"Harry, would you still love me if I was a snake?" Harry knows how this question works. No matter how deranged and unreasonable it is, he has to say yes. A notion he may come to regret once Tom's questions start to get darker and oddly specific.

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes.

#tomarrymort #tomarry #harrymort #aethon recs #tomarry recs #tomarrymort recs #harrymort recs #hp fic recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #crack #crack recs #crackfic #tomarrymort crack

278 notes · View notes

stormyjane7 · 1 year ago

Text

Teasing the Wave

Summary:

Your party obtains the wavemothers robe. which looks amazing on your vampire lover. Who will out tease who.

TW: Wavemother Robe, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Cock Tease

Read on Ao3

The journey to Baldur’s Gate has been a long one. Many a monster and evil do-er have been felled.You just finished a quest for the Wavemother and were granted a robe. Astarion snatched it as quickly as he could from your hands.

“While I think this would look marvelous on you darling, let me have it first?” You couldn’t resist Astarion’s puppy eyed look and agreed he could have it first. You soon found out why. The slits in the robe hit just right around his lower hips, exposing his well toned thighs. You sucked in your breath as you noticed there was no way he was wearing underwear under this. He was setting you up for failure and upon noticing your looks at him, he gave you the most devious grin.

The small journey to the tavern you were staying at seemed even longer with the teasing Astarion was doing to you. A bump of the hip into yours, swaying his hips as he walked in front of you, and not to mention his normally saucy banter was dripping this time.

“Ah yes this robe is freeing, isn’t it darling? Every inch is just so happy to meet the air.”

Your group thankfully made it to the tavern. Gale ordered dinner for the group while everyone went to unequip their armor. You got a small reprieve from your lover as he stayed down with Gale, most likely to tease him too to get a reaction of of the poor wizard.

By the time you came down the food was ready and Gale was ten shades of red. Whatever astarion did had obviously worked. You smirked as you figured it was time for payback.

You sit down next to Astarion and start fixing your plate of food. Not too much incase your plan did indeed work.

“Have fun with Gale did you?” You ask as you put some of the roast into your mouth.

“Absolutely darling. Though you are much more fun to tease.”

“Well it’s not like you don’t get something out of riling me up.” I slide my hand down and onto his thigh giving it a squeeze.

His eyebrows shot up and a grin started to hit his lips. Shockingly he didn’t say anything to you.

You kept eating, giving a squeeze to his thigh every so often and moving your hand closer to his center tiny bit by bit. You could tell he was enjoying the attention and possibility of the moment as the robe had tented up. Which gave you access to him at last.

The entire time continuing talking with your other companions and eating. When you finally touch his cock he slammed a fist on the table which shocked the group.

“Everything okay Astarion?” Wyll asked with no indication he knew what was happening.

“Yeah fangs, that was a bigger response to the big joke than necessary.” Karlach added.

Before your lover could respond you rolled your thumb over the tip of his weeping cock. This time he growled as silently as he could. He glared up at you, almost egging you on for more. You slide the precum down the shaft so that you could then move up again with ease. That seemed to have completely set him off as he gently removed your hand, stood up, and threw you over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to excuse us for the evening. We’ll see you in the morning.” He started walking up the stairs while all of your friends gave you quizzical looks. You tried to play it off like nothing but you could tell they knew something naughty was up.

Once in front of the door to your room he sets you down to open the door for you. You walk inside with him behind you and he spins you around to close the door with your body. He puts his hips into yours while locking the door. ''I hope you are ready for the hell you have unleashed my dear. you feel that?" he rubs himself into you "This is all your fault."

You slide down the door and quickly lift the front of the robe. You lick the tip of his cock and let the robe fall over you. Like this he cannot see what you are doing. He braces his hands against the door.

“Oh you little minx.” He growls as you put your mouth around him fully. You hum your approval of his words which makes him buck forward. You slowly start moving your mouth up and down his length, sucking harder when you get to the tip.

Astarion is panting heavily now, bucking his hips forward to fuck into your mouth.

As he starts sputtering in his motion you know he’s close to cumming down your throat. The thought makes you moan which is what sends him over the edge.

“Gods. Yes!” He was fucking into you until his cock stopped twitching expelling his seed into you.

You look out from under the robe up at him with the biggest grin.

“You really thought you’d get to rile me up instead? I had to turn the tables on you atleast once Astarion. You were begging for it.”

“Ha! You really are a little minx. On the bed darling. It’s my turn to show my thanks for an amazing outfit that gets my love so heated.”

You grinned at how much you got to him today instead of the other way around. You’d pay dearly for it once he gets his hands on you. But Gods it will be so worth it.

#astarion #astarion x reader

109 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 4 months ago

Text

No Small Feat Art Pt. 6 - Chaos at the Menagerie

By request, I’m gonna show off some of the artwork for No Small Feat, a Midgaheim story my friends and I told through the TTRPG system Fabula Ultima. I drew a lot of characters and monsters for it, and my friends - in particular, @dragonzzilla, @scatha5, and @dinosaurana - helped line and color them so we’d have cute little sprites to use on our online battlemaps, which really helped sell the whole “we’re playing an oldschool turn based RPG” vibe that Fabula Ultima’s system is going for.

In this part, we’re gonna look at the many NPCs introduced in the campaign’s fourth arc, Chaos at the Menagerie!

All the way from session 0, my player characters had heard rumors of a fabulous menagerie of arcane beasts kept by Sir Peter Hammerschmidt, a merchant who possessed so much wealth and influence that he was knighted and made part of the nobility for it. Some of my players, being nonhuman (or transformed into nonhumans at any rate), were almost poached for the menagerie, in fact, so when they finally got to the town of Sumerlie, they had some idea of what they were getting into when asking Peter whether or not he had a crown jewel in his possession too.

They came on an auspicious day, as Peter was finally opening up his full menagerie for visitors from the creme de la creme of Engelsex, including Prince Huxley Monbatten, the eldest son of the previous king of Engelsex who would be the frontrunner in the competition to become the new king if the crown hadn't been destroyed. Peter was also assisted by Clara Saddel, his trusty chief maid and assistant, as well as Ranzacor, the wizard who designed all the magic safeguards meant to keep the menagerie safe and secure.

The first floor of the menagerie did contain several arcane beasts, but most weren't particularly noteworthy as menageries in Midgaheim go - a couple designer griffins (very trendy, but everyone rich enough to have a menagerie can afford them), some drats (cat/puk dragon hybrids that are heavy on the feline and light on the dragon), flederwyrms (bat/lizard chimeras), one very ill-looking bonnacon (fire breathing and/or shitting oxen), a hoogah (related to dragons but far less vicious), a grotesque (arcane agamid lizards that superficially resemble dragons as a defense mechanism), a hunkypunky (big nasty-tempered arcane tegu lizards), an amphibaena (arcane serpents that are born as conjoined twins), and some sprinting basilisks. Impressive to commoners, sure, but nowhere near the show Peter promised.

But then, in the center of the first floor, there was the first true wonder: a truly wild catoblepas, one that had never been domesticated and subjected to years of selective breeding for docility by human beings. Enormous and magnificent, it was a taste of the wonders that lay below.

While the cockatrices nearby, with their quick two-legged sprinting and devious minds, were a preview of how it would go wrong.

The second floor contained far more dangerous beasts. They spanned different countries, from a knucker wyrm with hydra syndrome from Mediterra to a waterhorse from Celpict. There was a bonafide Chimaera, which Peter had been assured was made to be a perfect replica of the first Chimaera created by Typhon and Echidna in the times of antiquity, and a largemouth wyvern dragon with talons capable of crushing a man in their grip.

But perhaps most telling on this floor were a trio of beasts denied their purpose: a gorgon whose eyes had been gouged out to deny her the ability to turn men to stone, a unicorn whose horn was shattered in its capture, and a Questing Beast - a creature whose entire existence is built on being impossible to catch and imprison - that was born in captivity and never knew life outside the menagerie walls.

The third floor had fewer residents, but for good reason, as it held not only the most valuable creatures, but the most deadly as well. There was an Afanc, an enormous crocodile whose mastery of water magic allows it to create deadly sea storms and floods. There was the Ox Dragon, an enormous and powerful greater drake with a notorious temper. There was a peluda, a lesser drake whose armored hide was covered in thick, sharp spikes.

But they weren't the deadliest beasts in the menagerie.

The most valuable creatures imprisoned in Hammerschmidt's menagerie were, oddly enough, local finds - tatzelwyrms, specifically, a variety of two-legged dragon that normally doesn't get particularly large by dragon standards. The clever tatzelwyrms that lived in the first paddock of the third floor illustrated this well, with each being roughly the size of a wolf. But there were a few exceptions, and one of them was the aptly named Terror Tatzelwyrm, a fifty-foot long dragon with powerful jaws and an astounding running speed for its size. One such tatzelwyrm was a local celebrity in Sumerlie, and Peter had caught the creature in a moment of weakness - namely, sleeping in her den over a nest full of eggs that she had been guarding for weeks without finding food for herself. He caught her and imprisoned her while she was too exhausted to fight back, and sold her eggs to make the funds to get the rest of his prized specimens.

The Terror Tatzelwyrm was, mechanically speaking, the Villain of this arc, though like some of the previous Villains, she was far from unsympathetic.

I imagine by now you've figured out the "joke" of this arc. It's Jurassic Park. Which, of course, is not a fairy tale, but listen, we had to make sure 100 monsters appeared somehow, and isn't Jurassic Park a modern day fairy tale in its own right? A rich merchant, believing his wealth gives him power over nature itself, employs the best wizards he can find to bring impossible nightmare monsters to life so he can show them off as prized possessions, only for the monsters to break free and tear him to pieces. There's a nice tight little moral in there, tell it to your kids!

Gonna post the sprites in a followup since tumblr has an image limit per post.

#No Small Feat #Midgaheim

19 notes · View notes

deconstructthesoup · 8 months ago

Text

Y'know what, screw the "voice designs get unlocked when you unlock the voices," I love all these ladies and I'm gonna talk about them.

So!

Apprentice is basically dressed like a cute wizard girl you'd see in an anime or video game---big hat, comfy cloak, frilly skirt, thigh-high boots, and an equally frilly button-up. It's her first day at wizard school, she's starry-eyed and ready to learn, but she's still incredibly naive. She's also got a wand, because how else are you going to learn how to cast spells?

By contrast, Curious is more of a "cozy librarian" type girl---big comfy sweater, big comfy skirt, glasses on a chain. She doesn't have multiple heads or arms or anything like the Stranger does, even though she's a Stranger equivalent, but her features are... floating is the best term I can use to describe it. She's confused, she wants to know more, she's gained through moments where questioning things leads to mixed results---our girl's a bit scattered, and that's okay.

Charming is styled more like your typical Halloween witch---big black hat, black dress, belt stocked with potions, and a badass magic staff. She's still got catlike features, because she wouldn't be herself without them, and... yeah, no, Charming's design is pretty standard, all things considered. She's a devious little magical catgirl.

Warrior is a full-on lady knight. She's fully dressed like your typical paladin---gorgeously designed armor, a billowing cape, and an enormous fuck-you sword. And while she definitely has a bit of an ego, this woman is very much your classic knight devoted to a cause. All of the Voices secretly have a thing for her. Especially Researcher.

Restless is styled in a Victorian fashion---fancy updo, corset, heavy skirts, puffy sleeves---and she looks every bit as ghostly as her canon counterpart. She's someone who can't handle stagnation, and just wants the freedom to be impulsive and crazy... hence, why she looks like the tortured heroine of a gothic novel.

Doll also has a Victorian aesthetic, but it's more akin to, well, a spooky doll---frilly black dress, pigtails, the whole nine yards. I also imagine her, weirdly enough, holding a doll, just so she can have something to squeeze when things get really freaky. She's got Jane Doe vibes.

Humbled is bound in chains like Prisoner is in canon, but she's dressed in rags instead of a princess dress. Her whole thing is that she's been beaten down and made to believe that she's lesser, and her design kind of reflects what it feels like to be at rock bottom and being kicked when you're down---even though she is much smarter than she believes herself to be. (And yes, I am drawing from insecurities based on having been a neurodivergent kid with strict and exacting teachers, what of it?)

Hateful is still a large devil girl, but she's visibly unwell (bags under her eyes, sunken features, regularly coughs up blood), she's dressed in a hospital gown, and there's still IVs in her arms that aren't attached to anything but are nigh-on impossible to remove. I've considered renaming her Voice of the Patient, except she's... well, the opposite of patient. She's essentially meant to be someone who is sick and is getting worse by the minute, but keeps on fighting anyway because she doesn't know how to do anything else.

Prepared still has a lot of animalistic features in her design, though she looks less like a prowling beast and more like someone who's well on their way to becoming one---basically, werewolf vibes. She's kind of meant to be a contrast to the Inventor's more industrial style, representing a natural force that's apprehensive towards all the metal and gears and is hell-bent on proving that he doesn't have an advantage. She has the instincts of an animal, and she can guide us through... hopefully.

And last but not least, Rebel is the most modern out of everyone else---baggy pants, combat boots, chain wallets, leather jacket, the whole shebang. If the Substitute is the teacher who has no idea what he's doing, then Rebel is the student who's slacking off, cutting class, and has no other motivation other than to be a thorn in authority's side. In my opinion, the Razor is the only one who really breaks away from all the fantasy vibes of all the other vessels, and I think that should carry over into her voice equivalent.

#slay the princess #slay the professor au #stp the damsel #stp the stranger #stp the witch #stp the tower #stp the specte #stp the nightmare #stp the prisoner #stp the adversary #stp the beast #stp the razor

30 notes · View notes

orqheuss · 2 years ago

Text

Not yet corpses (still, we rot)

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader HURT/COMFORT)

Summary:

For a moment, everything felt still. Silence consumed the space, sucking all the air out of the room like the tide as a tsunami made its way towards shore. All Ominis could hear was the harsh ringing in his ears and the startled gasp from his counterpart behind him. Panic began to crawl its way into his throat once more. Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” *** What were the boys doing while you were saving Hogwarts? *** Contains spoilers from the game Title from the song "Dirt and Roses" by Rise Against

Word count: 6k

AN: I’m moving all of my fics over from Ao3 to make them more accessible! These are my fics.

TW: - Blood - Gore - Anxiety - Detailed descriptions of injury - Near death experiences - Claustrophobia (only for a little bit, tho. I have it too and that's all I could write, lol)

“Knight to E5.” Sebastian quips, leaning back in his wicker chair, his arms crossed against his chest and a smug smile tweaking at the corners of his mouth. He watched the boy across from him regard the wizards chess board, the tip of his wand blinking that comforting red light he had grown accustomed to after years of friendship. It was probably not the most fair thing in the world to go against someone blind in a game that required sight over everything else, but that didn’t stop the brunette from trying his very best at beating his best friend in absolutely everything— he was nothing if not competitive. That being said, as much as he loved the idea of pulling one over on Ominis, the feat was nearly impossible . The blond was far too good. It didn’t matter if it was a game of gobstones, a duel in Crossed Wands, even exploding snaps, a game where sight was a necessity, all because of that blasted wand! The only thing that Ominis was truly bad at was potions, and even then he would likely still get an Acceptable on their OWLS. Sebastian felt that this round of chess was different, though. He could see the furrow of his partner’s brows in the low candlelight of the Undercroft, trace how his hand rested on his chin in puzzlement— fingers pinching at the skin there and stroking like tweaking an imaginary beard. He was currently in the lead, most of Ominis’ pieces resting broken on his side of the board. A truly violent game, that wizards chess.

A light tisk came from his companions mouth, his wand still gently coasting over the top of the board just out of reach of the pieces, before his eyebrows slowly rose back to their normal position on his temple, a mischievous smile making its way across his cheeks and a twinkle of something unrecognizable, but all the more devious, in his eyes. He leaned back in his own chair, adopting a similar cadence as his brunette counterpart, his body language oozing confidence. Sebastian shifted in his seat, eyes casting uneasy glances between the boy and the board as sweat began to bead on his brow. Surely not, he mused— there was no way Ominis figured out a new strategy.

The blond lightly chuckled, sensing the sudden nervousness of his friend. “Queen to E5.”

Bollocks.

Sebastian was helpless to watch the white marble queen piece shift its way across the board towards his onyx black knight. The matriarch stood from her throne, bringing her chair around to her front and up over her shoulder, before crashing it down over the head of his brave steed. The brunette scowled at the board before tilting his chin to the ceiling, his head cracking lightly on the back of the chair as he leaned away and groaned into the musky air of the hideaway, his arms thrown upwards in a show of surrender.

“You��re a bastard, Gaunt.”

Ominis laughed, his form slumping forward over the little end table they were next to as he waved his wand, collecting all the broken pieces and placing them back into the chess box where they would self-repair.

“No, unfortunately my heritage is legitimate.” He simpered, a light jab dancing on the tip of his tongue. “The juries still out for you, though, my dear friend. You have as much grace as a charging erumpent.”

Sebastian gasped in outrage, his hand dramatically fluttering to his chest and resting over his heart like a damsel in distress. “Oh, I’m wounded! You’ve wounded me, Ominis. How ever will I recover— doomed to live a life of desolate mediocrity at the hands of my very best friend?” He slowly slid out of his chair, letting gravity work its magic and flopping dramatically on the floor, limbs sprawled out like a flattened lizard.

The smaller Slytherin guffawed, a large grin splitting his face as he kicked his leg out towards the brunette, his shoe jabbing him harshly in the calf. “Quit it, you buffoon. You aren’t going to die because I beat you in wizards chess.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, the back of his hand slapping against his forehead in overzealous woe. “Oh but I am! I will never be the same, never! I shall cover all of my mirrors so I never have to see my failurous face ever again— cover my head with a ghastly bag to shield the world from my shameful dereliction!” Small sounds of sorrow continued to fill the air around them, long drawn out “boohoo’s” falling from the brunette’s lips at a consistent rate.

Ominis stood from his chair, stepping over the fallen idiot and plopping down onto the chaise lounge to their left, a book floating into his hand with the flick of his wand. “I think the entire student body would thank you for that.”

The blond laughed at the incredulous noises of his companion, leaning his head to the left quickly as Sebastian’s boot flew through the air right where he once was and smacked into the pillar just beyond. The taller Slytherin got up from the ground, muttering obscenities under his breath as he limped over to where his shoe landed, taking the time to lightly smack the blond on the back of the head before rounding the space and throwing himself on the other lounge chair diagonal to the opening of the Undercroft.

“You’re an arse, do you know that?”

Ominis smirked downwards towards his book, lethargically licking his finger before flipping to the next page with gusto. “Oh yes, I pride myself in it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m only one to you— I’m quite nice to everyone else.”

Once his boot was securely back on his foot, Sebastian pulled out his pocket watch from his waistcoat; he checked the time, glancing in confusion at the gunmetal gate entrance of their secret space.

“Hey, have you seen our charge today? They’re normally down here by now.”

Ominis scoffed, a blank look crossing his face and a sardonic bite taking over his tone. “Do you ever think before you speak?”

Sebastian met his gaze with a blank look of his own. “Where’s the fun in that?”

The blond sighed deeply, raising a hand to his face and waving it in front of his unseeing eyes. “No, I haven’t ‘seen’ them today, nor have I heard from them.”

Lifting himself to a seated position, the brunette’s brows scrunched together in puzzlement, slight worry tipping the corners of his mouth into a frown. You normally met them in the Undercroft after dinner so they all could hang out until curfew. Today, though, you were missing. Sebastian couldn’t remember if he had seen you today at all, come to think of it. You were supposed to have potions with him, but in his hazy memory he remembers that your stool was empty. Where were you?

He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, confusion and concern lacing his tone as he spoke. “I haven’t either. Should we go search for them? They normally owl us if they’re going on a mission.”

Another sigh. “Sebastian, I’m sure they’re fine. They’ve bested practically the whole wizarding world in a duel at this point— they can handle themselves. Let’s just have a quiet night, yes?”

The Sallow boy threw himself back onto the chaise with a huff, his hands folding together and smacking against his abdomen. He knew that you were more than capable of taking care of yourself— he had seen it in action. Still, the knowledge of your fighting prowess did little to alleve his nerves. Each of the trials the Keepers were sending you on got more and more difficult— more dangerous. The thought of you getting hurt, or even worse, dying, made him feel ill. Ominis felt the same, they had talked about it before, but he was better at hiding it. Even now, though, Sebastian could see the telltale bounce of the blonds leg from nerves out of the corner of his eye. He was just as worried about you. You had told them all about the trials after they had stumbled upon you in the Undercroft a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody with at least five Wiggenweld potions scattered around you, as well as some gauze. Instantly the both of them had asked, nay insisted, that they go with you for safety, but you shut them down quickly— the trials were for you and you alone, no outside help. They reluctantly agreed to let you handle them, but they certainly weren’t happy about the arrangement, not in the slightest.

The two sat in silence for a while, their eyes drifting every so often over towards the Undercroft gate like you’d step through any moment. Worry began to claw at their throats like a rabid animal begging to be let out of a cage. Ominis’ leg had picked up speed around the five minute mark, no longer paying attention to the book in his lap and instead turning his ears minutely towards where you would hopefully be coming from soon. Sebastian was right, you would normally send them a letter if you were going to be out for the day— you knew how they worried about you. Silence seemed to spread around the room like a thick fog, its tendrils wrapping around the boy’s heads and slithering into their ears, leaving an unnerving ringing behind. They were getting antsy, anxious energy pouring from them in waves.

Just as they were about to move and suggest looking for you again, a loud, deafening boom rang through the room. Crates tumbled to the ground with a crash as the ground rumbled below their feet. It was like the earth below them, below the entire castle, was breaking apart piece by piece. Paintings fell from the walls around them, tables shook and tipped over, school work and books spilling across the floor in rivers. Sebastian sprang from his seat, sprinting across the small space and throwing himself next to a shaking Ominis, his arms wrapping around the blonds head to shield him from falling debris. The tremors continued for what felt like years before everything halted in their tracks— silence filling the room once again and only breaking around the heavy, panting panicked breaths that left the two boy’s lungs. They slowly de-tangled themselves from the other, their gazes lifting up from the ground to take in the damage around them. Dust covered every surface, clinging to their clothes and hair and dyeing everything a light grey.

Ominis spoke first, his voice whispering like he was afraid that if he broke the calming quiet everything would start all over again. “Are you alright?”

Sebastian sighed shakily, his heart hammering in his chest as he grabbed the blond's hand and squeezed. “Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

He nodded. “What was that?”

“I have no idea. Sounded like it came from under the school— an earthquake maybe?”

Ominis shook his head, dust lightly falling from his hair and brushing against his shoulders. “In these parts? At this time of the year? Unlikely.”

Sebastian furrowed his brows once again. “Then what could it be? Should we go check—”

The brunette paused, his blood running cold in his body as his skin turned a ghostly white as sudden realization hit him like a speeding broom. Ominis seemed to have come to the same conclusion, his hands shaking at his sides as they both turned towards each other, brown eyes meeting milky blue in barely hidden fear. Only one thought passed between the both of them: you were out there somewhere.

The room began to shake again, the stone floor trembling with stronger aftershocks as more things began to slam to the ground around them. The duo quickly jumped up, their arms covering their heads from falling debris as their legs carried them as fast as they could go towards the exit and up the stairs towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts hallway. They quickly scrambled through the cabinet door, slamming it shut behind them as their feet nearly slid out from under them on the smooth tile floors of the main floor. Professors were running around, herding students left and right and ushering them towards their common rooms for safety. Sharp corralled them both, blocking their path from the rest of the school and their mad dash to find you amongst the chaos, and shoved them in the direction of the Slytherin common room, only turning away to look for more lost souls as the two boy’s got swallowed by waves of green and silver robes. Sebastian desperately fought against the stream of students, throwing elbows left and right as he swam towards the front and towards, what he hoped, was freedom from the crowd. A sharp cry came from his left and he shot his head in that direction, barely catching the sight of Ominis’ blond head as it disappeared in the hazard of students. His hand darted out, catching his friend’s shoulder before he could be trampled and pulled him to his side where he would be safe, clutching onto him like a lifeline in a storm as they were carried away, down the Grand Staircase and into the dungeons. Once safely inside, the ornate serpentine door slammed shut behind the students, bathing the room in startling silence once again.

The rumbling was muted this far under the black lake, only the sound of murky water splashing against the large bay windows of the common room filled the large, encompassing space. Students milled about, some retiring to their bedchambers while others sat on the various surfaces spread around the room. Tense whispers filled the air, questions and theories about what was happening swimming in everyone’s minds and entering through their eagerly listening ears.

“Was on the moving stairs when it started, I was. It was quite funny watching all the paintings scramble from their frames before they fell.”

“What do you think is happening? It seems to be coming from under the school.”

“I saw all the Professors run towards the Astronomy wing. What do you think they’re looking for over there?”

“Weasley had something in her hand before it all started— a bit of parchment. Looked as pale as the Bloody Baron after reading it. Wonder what it said?”

“I heard one of the Ravenclaw's say they saw some goblins over by the east wing. Do you think they have something to do with all of this?”

“Do you think they’ll cancel finals if half the castle is destroyed?”

The two fifth year boys stood apart from the crowd. Sebastian paced the length of the room, going back and forth a number of times, wringing his hands in front of his chest and worrying on his bottom lip with his teeth. Ominis sat on the bench in front of the large floor to ceiling windows, elbows bent atop his knees and long fingers wracking through his normally perfectly styled hair. Anxiety oozed from them like a poorly made potion seeping out of the bottom of its cauldron. No one had seen or heard from you before or after the chaos. They had to get back to the Undercroft— it was the best place to wait for you. The brunette caught bits and pieces of the conversations flowing around the common room, and each one set his nerves alight just a little bit more. Astronomy wing? Goblins? Oh Merlin. He knew, whatever was happening had to do with Ranrok. If it had to do with Ranrok, then you had to be there too. Sebastian spun towards his friend, quickly pacing towards him with determined steps and nearly throwing himself onto the bench to the blonds left. He leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, just low enough so no one else would hear.

“Ominis, we have to get out of here. If we get back to the Undercroft, we can wait for them there. They know we’d be there.”

The smaller Slytherin inhaled deeply, his body shaking with tremors stronger than those rocking through the castle. “How are we going to get out? The room is packed— there’s no way we could sneak out undetected.”

The brunette hummed in thought, placing his hand on Ominis’ knee to steady his nervous jittering. It was up to him to come up with a plan, the room was much too loud for his companion to think clearly— multiple stimuli overwhelmed him easily. He racked his brain for a solution, every thought coming in small glimpses around the unending worry he felt for you. They’d have to be invisible to get out of the common room, there was no way another student wouldn’t see them leave.

A lightbulb sputtered to life in his mind.

Oh. Oh. That would work.

He squeezed the blonds knee before letting go and grabbing his wand from his robes. “I have an idea, follow my lead.”

Sebastian cast the disillusionment charm around himself quietly, watching his fingers and legs disappear into a slight trick of the light. Ominis nodded, doing the same to his right. They both stood as quiet as mice and made their way through the throngs of silver and green clad students, dodging and weaving around flying limbs before all but running up the grand spiral staircase and skidding to a halt outside of their common room door.

An eerie hush fell over the still castle dungeon. The rumbles had quieted down enough, only a soft vibration making its way through their shoes and shaking their bodies instead of the intense tremors that shook the building moments earlier. That had to be a good sign, Sebastian mused.

They both took off towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts wing, their legs pumping as fast as they could go. The setting sun cast shadows across the floor, catching on each piece of debris and drawing the brunette’s attention to just how much damage had been done. Sebastian grabbed Ominis’ hand, pulling him along and calling out obstacles in their path. They leaped over fallen pillars, dodged around scattered armor, and slid around corners, their shoes loudly squeaking on the linoleum floor and nearly sending them tumbling into walls with their haste.

Finally, they made it to the hidden cabinet leading to the school's underbelly. The blond threw himself against the door, unlocking it with a flick of his wrist and all but shoved the brunette down the stone steps. With a loud crack, the metal gate clipped shut behind them. They both heaved over, their bodies folded in half as their hands grasped onto their knees. Heavy breaths left their lungs from the exertion, sweat beaded on their brows from the heat of their bodies as well as from the intense nerves that shook through their bodies. Sebastian stumbled over to the table they sat around earlier, picking up one of the wicker chairs that had been knocked over from the ground and plopping himself down into it. Ominis collected himself, rolling his spine back into a standing position before beginning to pace. Each second of taciturnity filled his gut with more and more hysteric energy. His mind was going at the speed of light, horrible images of what fate could be befalling you slid behind his eyes like a demented moving picture show. All of his reserve flew out the window with the rest of his carefully curated apathetic coping mechanisms. His hands pulled at his hair, fingers digging into his roots and sending spikes of pain through his skull. The brunette carefully watched him from his vantage point, his eyes following each step of his companion as he made his way across the length of the rather large room. He could see the silvery tears that began to gather in the blond's eyes from his intense fear and called out to him in what he hoped was a calming voice.

“Ominis please sit down, you’re only going to work yourself into more of a panic if you keep pacing like that. They’ll be here soon— everything will be fine.” He cringed at the tremors that were present in his words, hoping the young wizard didn’t notice it.

The other boy turned towards the sound of his voice, quick as a whip, his eyebrows crinkled at his brow in dread and hands flailing around punctuating his snapped words. “What if they don’t, Sebastian? You heard the others in the common room, there were bloody goblins near the school! You know just as much as I do that that could only mean Ranrok is here. He’s probably the reason for everything that’s happening, and if he’s here that means that they’re down there, wherever in Merlin’s name there is, with him! They could be dead in some unknown tomb under the school and we would be none the wiser!”

Blinding, distressed anger struck down Sebastian’s spine as he stood from his slumped position. He snarled towards the smaller of the two, “Don’t you dare even say that. They’re not dead, they can’t be. Don’t even put that idea into the universe!” He could see the blond flinch at his harsh tone, his hands moving to wring together. The brunette sighed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow down and his anger to disapparate. He carefully made his way towards Ominis, steps loud but gentle like approaching a startled animal, and placed his hand on the other's shoulder. He pretended it didn’t hurt him that he felt the boy stiffen under his touch. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but we can’t think like that. We have to stay hopeful.”

The Gaunt boy relaxed slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he lowered his chin towards his chest. He sighed, “You’re right, it’s no use getting worked up. All we can do now is wait.”

Sebastian carefully led him towards the lounge chair he was sitting on earlier, gently pushing down on his shoulders so he would relax into the plush cushions before joining him. He tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed as he silently prayed to whomever was listening that you’d return to them safely.

***

The Undercroft filled with the sound of the large brass clock that resided in the Hogwarts clock tower, two loud clangs ricocheting off the stone walls that surrounded the space and filling the anxious ears of the two Slytherin’s that rested in its belly. Hours had passed since the tremors started; they long since puttered off and made way for the chilling quiet of the night. Both boys had not moved from their spot on the chaise lounge, each glancing longingly at the gate that led towards the castle hallways as they waited impatiently for their friend to return from what they could only imagine was a deranged war. They both fought valiantly against the sleep that clung to their bodies, each ticking second sending them closer and closer to sweet unconsciousness. They couldn’t sleep as long as you were still out there in Merlin knows what condition.

Sebastian sighed for the umpteenth time, his hands running through his already unruly curls and sending them into all possible directions. His leg bounced at his side, the muscle flowing with his anxieties and only being released by the constant movement. Ominis stood once again from his side, shaking the sleep from his person and beginning to pace the space once again. He couldn’t keep still any longer, not when you’d been gone for so long. Blond tresses fell in front of his eyes from his incessant hands combing through it. He took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth in order to calm his rapidly pounding heart. The silence was driving him mad, every little sound that wasn’t you coming through the metal gate was like a bullet to his brain. He feared the worst for you— the idea of you leaving this world without a word made his chest feel like it was caving in on itself.

The creak of the Undercroft gate broke both of the boys from their perturbed revelry. Sebastian sprung to his feet, head whipping to the side at the sound as Ominis spun on his heel and ceased his endless pacing as you stumbled through the doorway.

The blond made a small sound in the back of his throat, relief palpable in the air around him. “Thank Merlin you’re okay, we were worried sick about you!”

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, his words forcing themselves out around the lump that formed under his jaw. “Oh, dear God…” He breathed, his feet glued where he stood in shock as he took you in.

Ominis’ heart rate picked up exponentially. Tuning his ears to what was happening around him, he could hear the heavy breaths leaving both of his best friends with a renewed clarity. Your breathing was more stuttered than Sebastian’s, like you were struggling to suck in the air around you. Something was dripping lightly on the ground by your feet, the sound of its little plinks against the stone bounced around his skull like a small pebble skipping across the black lake. Pushing himself to focus more on the sound, the scent of copper filled his nose and sent a shiver down his spine.

With a pained whimper, your legs gave out and you crashed to the hard ground with a resounding thump.

Sebastian sprang into action, your noise of distress breaking him out of his stupor as he rushed over to your fallen form, calling out to the other boy in panic.

“Ominis, get the Wiggenweld potions!”

The blond stumbled over his feet, running towards the box in the far corner of the room that they filled with first aid equipment for moments just like this. The Sallow boy slid the rest of the distance between the two of you on his knees, arms outstretched to catch the top half of your body against his chest as the rest of your body gave in to gravity. He grasped you gently by the shoulders, moving your face into his vision and scanning you for injury.

“What happened? Who did this to you!?”

Your eyes were unfocused on his, black half moons coloring your bottom lids and the tops of your cheeks. Your voice was soft, barely loud enough for Sebastian to make out anything you were saying. He caught little snippets, mumbles of words like “Ranrok,” “repository,” and “Rookwood.” Blood dripped from a cut on your forehead, cascading down your incredibly pale face and staining the collar of your white button down. Your house cardigan was sliced open at the arm, showing a deep laceration stretching from the top of your arm to your elbow— Sebastian worried that if it was any deeper it would have hit bone. Your skin was almost grey from blood loss, your veins zigzagging under the flesh of your neck, chest, and arms like small strikes of lightning. He could see your knees through the rips in your trousers, the skin shredded and bruised, little bits of gravel dotting the wound like birth marks. One of your hands clutched your side, blood blooming through your fingers like a macabre rose bouquet. He carefully pried your fingers away to assess the damage and his breath caught in his throat, a sound of agony escaping from his open mouth. Through the hole in your shirt he could see multiple large, jagged slices in your side, each oozing buckets of blood. You winced as his fingers ran along your ribs, another groan of pain vibrating in your throat. He raised his eyes back to your face, irises dancing side to side as he tried to catch your gaze. Your entire body was shaking with adrenaline. He gently cupped your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. His voice shook with dismay, the words leaving his mouth in a frenzy.

“I need to look at your side, okay? I need to see how bad the damage is. Just nod if you’re okay with that.”

You blinked slowly at him, a hand reaching out and wrapping around one of his wrists as you minutely nodded. Sebastian carefully took your hands into his and placed them on his shoulders for stability before unbuttoning the bottom of your shirt. His eyes were greeted with an enormous bruise, purples, blues, and blacks covering the skin of your lower left ribs and splintering out towards your chest. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth— you definitely had a few broken ribs. Your body began to slump against his, eyes fighting harder to stay open. He lightly slapped you on the cheek, frantically trying to keep you conscious.

“Hey, hey! No you don’t, you need to stay awake. Stay with us, okay?”

You laughed, wincing as your ribs shifted painfully, and smiled, your teeth stained a light pink from swallowing blood— you were absolutely delirious. “You should see the other guy.” Sucking in a deep, stuttering breath, your vision began to blur even more as your mind filled with numbing static. “I-I did it.”

Sebastian took your face into his hands once again, watching you with bated breath. “What did you do? Please, what happened to you?”

Your gaze focused on him finally, eyes softening as your smile stretched even wider. “I controlled it— the ancient magic, it’s inside me.”

The brunette blanched, his brain needing a second to catch up with your words before he laughed incredulously, head shaking in disbelief. “We can focus on that later. Right now, we need to stop you from dying, okay?”

Ominis appeared at his side, arms laden with as many potions as he could carry as he dropped roughly to his knees to your right. The oblong shaped vials clinked together as he haphazardly set them down on the ground, quickly drawing his wand and scanning you for any other injuries. Each pulse of his wand, each image blasted into his mindseye, sucked a little bit more color from his cheeks in horror. His hands hovered in the air next to your arm, shaking with barely contained terror as his mind fought whether to touch and comfort you or not touch you in case he hurt you even more.

His whole body vibrated, nerves completely shot to hell and his voice betraying every ounce of trepidation he held inside of him. "We need to get you to the infirmary! Why in Merlin's name did you come down here? You need a proper doctor, not us!"

You shook your head weakly, your speech slurred as your head slightly lulled in his direction. "Knew you'd worry— had to make sure you both were okay..." A breath. "Wanted to be with you— to see you...one last time..." It was getting harder and harder to breathe— each breath felt like you slammed your lungs in a bear trap.

Sebastian shushed you softly, lips grazing the skin of your temple as he whispered into your hair. "Quiet now, save your strength. You're safe now, you made it to us." He cleared his throat, adopting as much determination as he could muster. "You aren't dying today, alright? We won't let you, you stubborn bastard."

He gently lowered you so you were laying on your back and your head rested against the cool ground of the Undercroft, pushing the hair sticking to your temple back so he could clearly see your eyes. In his haste to move you, he didn’t notice that they were closed. Your breathing left your parted lips at a dangerously slow rate; your body finally giving out from the intense pain pulsing through your system. White hot panic screamed at the front of his skull.

“Hey! What did I say? Stay with us, dammit!”

You didn’t budge.

“Shit. Shit!”

Uncorking one of the potions, he pressed it against your lips with one hand and tilted your chin back with the other, whispering prayers for you to wake up as the bitter liquid slid down your throat. Ominis bit his lip hard, muffling the hysterical pants that threatened to leave his lungs. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth as it steadily dripped down his throat. He pressed his fingers against the pulse point on your neck, feeling for your heartbeat. It was soft, but still there.

The blond grasped one of your hands in his while the other still held his wand, coasting the tip of it over your body like he did to the chessboard hours before to check the status of your injuries. Your fingers were so cold.

Nodding towards the brunette, unseeing eyes never leaving your body and voice shaking, he shouted, “Give them another one!”

Sebastian pressed a second potion to your lips, watching it flow down your open throat as color began to return to your cheeks. His heart continued to slam against his ribs painfully, threatening to break out from under his skin.

The skin around your arm began to lace itself back together, the large cut that resided there turning into a barely raised scar— the same happening to the slice on your temple.

Another potion.

The bruising around your naval began to disapparate, the skin around your ribs painting itself to match the rest of your complexion.

He gave you the last of the potions, watching as the final scars of your battle stitched together and solidified at your side. Your flesh was red and angry around where the wound was, raised and burning to the touch, but no longer gushing enough blood to feed a small army of vampires.

Both boys held their breath as they waited for your eyes to open once again, each one counting the seconds that you remained unconscious. The space behind their eyes began to sting with unshed tears. Dread nestled itself in their chests and spread through their entire bodies like a wildfire, both fearing the worst— that you wouldn’t wake up, that the potions didn’t help, that you were still dying.

“Please don’t leave us. Not yet.” Sebastian whispered, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. His voice cracked with sorrow.

After what felt like a century, your eyelids fluttered open and you took in the world around you. The taller Slytherin leaned back so he could catch your gaze, breathed a heaving sigh of relief, tears gathering in his lashes and streaking down his cheeks as he gave a weak, watery chuckle. He brushed his fingers through your blood slicked hair, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, stranger. You scared us there for a second.”

You smiled up at him, eyelids slitted but finally open, finally alive. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” You croaked, your voice raspy.

A harsh sob left their blond companion, his body finally slumping around the tautness he held since you entered the room. He rolled onto his back, legs thumping against the ground below as he brought his hands to cover his face, tears of pure, unbridled joy leaking through his fingers and wetting the dusty floor as light relieved laughs and muted curses spilled from his lips.

“You both are going to send me to an early grave, I’m sure of it.”

Laughing to himself, the brunette gazed down at you, his thumb lightly tracing along your cheekbone. “Let’s get you to the hospital wing, yes? Then you can tell us all about what happened.”

You nodded against his hand, letting him pull you up to your feet and wrap his hand around your waist. Ominis stood with you both, doing the same on your other side after pressing a careful kiss to your hair, squeezing your hand in his.

Safely tucked between your two boys, the three of you made your way out of the Undercroft and into the hallways of the castle you saved— the castle you called home.

***

like what you read? here's more!

262 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 1 year ago

Text

Gale Theories: Who is "The Supreme"?

In the Miraculous World Special: Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir it is revealed that the two villains were not the main one's causing chaos, but two villains working under someone or something called "The Supreme" and we never see what they look like, just their logo and influence.

(Spoilers below)

Shadybug and Claw Noir are both clearly terrified of the villain, Betterfly even comments that the two villains he is fighting are being used by the Supreme.

We know that the Supreme gave Gabriel his miraculous and his misuse lead to... well

But thats not all we see of the Supreme,

Tikki and Plagg are both Gagged by the Supreme, the miraculous he gave to Shadybug and Claw noir have kwami unable to speak.

We also know that even if someone were to combine the Ladybug and Cat miraculous that belong to the Supreme

Gimmi, the Kwami of reality CAN NOT grant wishes and even says

Only The Supreme defines reality. Reality is The Supreme

So this begs the Question, who could this "Supreme" be?

Now if we look at the Supreme's symbol it looks like the Order of Guardian's symbol, but with an X through it

This could imply that the being known as the Supreme has had some affiliation with the Guardians in the past or at the very least knows about their existence.

Which leads to the First Theory

The Supreme is the Evil Version of the Order of Guardians

I have seen going around is that the Supreme is an Evil version of the Guardians, and that it is simply a representative of a group as a whole, which does seem feasible, especially when we look into the picture of Gabriel facing multiple symbols but that could also be a stylistic choice.

But if the Supreme IS a group as opposed to just a singular individual than the group MUST be under the evil version of Su Han OR the Wizard that created the Miraculous originally.

I think the theory is a bit lacking as we know very little about the wizard and Su han (while being a competent fighter has shown to be incompetent in literally every other field) so him being the villain doesnt make sense.

But the next theory does hold a bit more water.

______________________________________________________________

Nathalie is the Supreme

We never see who or what the Supreme is, and we never see a version of Nathalie from the other Universe. We know Nathalie used to be a Lara Kroft like explorer and was the one that found the butterfly miraculous. It could be possible that in this timeline, Nathalie FOUND all of the miraculous and used them for her own benefit, making herself the supreme. She has shown to have a better grasp of the miraculous than Gabriel even before uncovering the knowledge.

But this is also speculation as we dont know if Fu is still around in that Universe and if the events of Feast actually happened. And while I do love an all powerful Step Milf. It is also unlikely. The next one may also seem out of left field but does have a bit more justification

___________________________________________________________

Lila/Cerise/Whomever the f***, is The Supreme

Lila as the Supreme? Well she is evil and competent enough. Lila also has the cold hearted nature to accomplish such a feat, And the ending of Season 5 does have something happening that causes our universe's Lila to freak out. An alternate universe conquering Lila does seem feasible with how well she adjusts, but with people commenting she is only 14 that it wouldnt work, what if Lila isnt 14?

The girl knows how to navigate and change persona's at the drop of a hat. The planning and way she acquires things she wants is on a much more devious method than most teens would even consider. Lila could feasibly be someone with eternal youth or a medical disorder that makes her look young. (Yes an Orphan situation). And it is basically a fandom joke at this point with how much Thomas believes that teenagers are the meanest people.

But similar to Nathalie such a possibility is limited and likely not the case.

Which leads us to the final and probable individual that is likely the True Supreme

______________________________________________________________

Fu is The Supreme

Now why would I say this is the most likely situation. On Rewatch, Shadybug does refer to the Supreme as "Him" at one point. Which could be a dubism, but if it isnt there is also the reasons below on why it could be Fu

Fu has canonically had a negative experience with the Guardians

Fu is responsible for the Guardians disappearing the first time by accident

Fu has a deep understanding of the miraculous and was trained in the ways of the guardian.

Fu going mad with power and being alone for almost 2 centuries would be a logical backstory to turn him evil

Since we know that certain events are consistent in the other universe, like Adrien losing his mother and Marinette getting bullied by Chloé. It is likely the events that created Fu are the same. And if the events are the same or similar, than the order of Guardians are no more, leaving one person who would have had ALL the miraculous, and that is Fu.

And lets say the Events DIDNT play out the same, Fu could have made a faction that simply took over from the original Order of Guardians, thats why that symbol is there and is crossing out the Original one.

Fu would also know how the wish works and thus likely made the wish to be the one to alter reality, he likely gave himself the power to have control of things. And while people may argue that Fu is incompetent, he actually has shown to be quite clever and quick to figure things out. Fu also was competent enough to pick ladybug and Chat noir to fight Hawkmoth, so he must understand what is needed.

And that is where I stand on the "Who is the Supreme"

#miraculous ladybug #ml spoilers #ml speculation #ml special spoilers #ml paris spoilers #the supreme #gale theories

88 notes · View notes

lonelybiscuits · 6 months ago

Note

I wrote you a little sequel to your fic about Duman messing with Ogron by speaking French! I sent it into your inbox so it’s together with the original fic on your blog, but if it’s too long in this format, just let me know and I’ll post it over on my blog instead. Enjoy!

Ogron knew when he was being messed with. Okay, he didn’t; he’d been left oblivious after about ninety-percent of Duman’s pranks, the shapeshifter in hysterics at having pulled one over his put-together leader. But still! This time…this time he knew he was being messed with. He had to be, right? Or else he’d gone well and truly mad… He’d worked himself to exhaustion before, but he’d never heard voices… But if he was imagining the voices, then he must also be imagining the hidden snickers from his team. Well, Gantlos didn’t snicker so much as look vaguely less stoic than usual, but each to their own. ‘Oh, to hell with this,’ Ogron muttered, shoving off the blanket and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He didn’t need to rest! (Well, he actually did, but that is a concern for another time.) He needed to get even. This positively reeked of a Duman prank, but he had no proof. He was convinced Duman didn’t speak French, but he just knew he wasn’t hearing voices. Or being haunted by some French ghost. ‘I need a plan here…’ he murmured, pacing back and forth. Of course, he could just tell Duman he knew this was him, and that it was over, but he knew Duman. He’d just shrug with that irritating look of confusion and say he didn’t even speak French, and that maybe Ogron needed some rest. No, this called for some tact and cunning. Fortunately, those were two things Ogron excelled at. Ogron had never met a problem he couldn’t solve with a few hours of hard thinking (except for the Winx; they were a bit trickier, but he wasn’t thinking about them right now), and after sitting at his desk for most of the morning, scribbling pointlessly on scraps of paper, he was finally hit with an idea. A trick. A rather brilliant trick, if he did say so himself. Now all he needed was a French dictionary. And a good few hours to dedicate to his plan.

‘Hey, aren’t you supposed to be resting?’ Gantlos asked, glancing up as Ogron walked down the stairs and into the living room. ‘Yeah,’ Anagan agreed. ‘What with all the…French?’ Ogron caught the twitch of a smile on his friend’s face, the expression only solidifying his certainty that this was all a prank. ‘I’m going for a walk,’ he replied coolly. He didn’t want to give anything away. Granted, Gantlos would almost certainly admit that it was a prank if pushed, but by this point, he wanted to catch Duman out. Nobody messed with him. Nobody. He heard another of the whispers, frowning and whipping his gaze around. His resolve faltered as he saw neither hide nor hair of Duman, making him question his theory, until he caught a glimpse of a small grey shape scurrying under the couch. So that’s how he’s been doing it… Refusing to dignify Duman’s latest whatever the bloody hell he was saying with a response, Ogron turned on his heel and walked out of the house, striding towards his destination with all the purpose of a prideful wizard who truly did not appreciate being screwed with.

About three hours later, surrounded with every book on French that the Gardenia library had possessed and rapidly deteriorating towards just falling asleep at the table, Ogron finally completed his work, copying across the last word into his notebook. He had to admit, his life would probably have been made easier had he possessed a phone, and simply used a translation programme, but a: he did not own a phone, and b: he had got along just fine with books for centuries, and he didn’t need any technological nonsense messing with his devious planning. ‘Nobody makes me think I’m losing my mind,’ Ogron muttered, closing the book he’d been reading/resting his head on for the past half an hour. ‘Nobody.’

‘I’m back!’ he called, practically shivering with excitement as he walked inside. ‘Well that was quite the lengthy walk,’ Gantlos remarked, looking up from the book he was reading. ‘Feeling better?’ Duman asked, looking up from where he was trying to get Gantlos to forget his book and make out with him. ‘Oh, much.’ Ogron sat on the couch, beckoning Anagan to sit too. ‘Now, I have some things I would like to discuss, if we’re all amenable?’ ‘Sure.’ Duman sat up straight, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘But you sure you shouldn’t get some more rest? I mean, you’ve been hearing French ghosts. You don’t think maybe you should go back to bed?’ Ogron smiled internally at the perfect lead-in Duman had given him. ‘I had been meaning to talk to you about that, actually. You’re quite certain you didn’t hear it?’ Duman shook his head. ‘Nah.’ ‘I wish I knew what was being said.’ ‘I’d help you out, but I don’t speak French.’ Duman shrugged apologetically, laughter dancing in his golden eyes. ‘Sorry.’ Ogron’s lips quirked. ‘Oh, that’s perfectly fine. Now, let’s discuss team strategy.’ Duman groaned, flopping dramatically against Gantlos. ‘Seriously? You’re hearing voices, and your answer is boring team strategy sessions?’ Oh, that’s not my strategy at all, Duman… ‘Yes. Now, I wanted to talk about why we’ve been failing lately.’ ‘Maybe because you’ve been asking the Winx if they hear the French?’ Duman teased. Ogron ignored him, pushing on. ‘Well, we’ve been failing in a number of areas recently, but I think our biggest drawback is fairly obvious.’ He paused, waiting for someone to jump on the statement. After a moment, and a few exchanged glances, Anagan did. ‘…What is it?’ This was his moment. Keeping his tone as calm and level as possible, Ogron spoke the words he’d repeated roughly seven hundred times until they were carved into his brain. ‘Eh bien, je dirais que nous devons nos récents échecs au changement de forme décevant de Duman. Peut-être que s’il avait été plus créatif, nous aurions gagné.’ ‘What?!’ Duman exclaimed, his expression wide-eyed with indignation. ‘No way this is my fault! And I’ll have you know that I’m plenty creative!’ Ogron smirked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Thought you didn’t speak French.’ Duman froze, realising what he’d just done. ‘I…’ Ogron’s grin widened. ‘I think the ‘French ghost’ has just tripped himself up.’ Duman flushed bright red. ‘How the hell did you do that?! You don’t speak French!’ ‘You’d be surprised what one can get done with a dictionary.’ At the look on Duman’s face, Ogron burst out laughing. Duman sagged with disappointment, and Gantlos patted him on the shoulder. ‘In all fairness, Duman, what were you expecting? Ogron doesn’t take being messed with well.’ Ogron pulled himself together, storing away the image of the blushing shapeshifter to enjoy at a later date. ‘Now, I think perhaps we need to have a discussion about pranking me in the middle of battle. And that goes for you two too.’ He gestured to Gantlos and Anagan, who both looked away awkwardly. ‘I shall have to think of some way you can all learn a little lesson here…’ The other three wizards exchanged nervous glances, and Duman grimaced awkwardly. ‘…Désolé?’

I loved this @calissarowan

15 notes · View notes