#edens veil

[artemfluid]

Recently joined a new smp (Previously Shimmering Rift, now rebranded to Eden's Veil! And it starts tomorrow!)...and here's my character! Doodle!

Doodle is a Satyrwing, a species of my own creation- Satyrwings are basically just satyrs with Avian wings from the fey wild. Anyways Satyrwing culture info dumping below and info about Doodle :3

Satyrwings name their children after what they're most often caught doing. Doodle is named Doodle because when they were a kid, they always were always drawing on the ground.

Satyrwings have no concept of gender, they actually have a cloaca like birds, so anybody can breed with anybody.

Satyrwings also do not track age, they do have different classifications such as: Baby, child, teen, adult, and elder. This is mainly tracked by fur, hair, horn, and wing color & growth.

Now onto Doodle specific things:

Doodle, like their name implies, loves to doodle. They doodle so much, that they moved onto their own body and started to give themselves tattoos.

Doodle's wings are somewhat designed after a redtail hawk, which are common around my area and one of my favorite birds!

Doodle is both a unlabeled gender and sexuality, but are acespec. They don't really use that term, but if you ask how they're attracted to people, they'll answer somewhere within the realm of an acespec description.

Doodles age is unknown, but they seem to present as if they are in their early 20s.

Doodle is quite easily manipulated, amd they dont really see a right and wrong. They will believe almost anybody.

When Doodle gets upset, they stutter, a lot. Although it doesn't happen often, because upsetting them is quite hard.

Doodle isn't fully fluent in English/Common speak. So they do occasionally use words wrong.

And finally here's a random design fact: Their hair is directly inspired by Rika. The minecraft skin version (pictured below) actually took the hair from a Rika skin.

[hakusins]

cw // mentions of cannibalism + cults in the description

sydney the cannibal, the irredeemable, the hypocrite, the liar, the oath breaker, the sinner, the butcher, the flesh robber, the library keeper

lord when @digenerate-trash first put the idea of cannibal + cult leader!sydney during an apocalypse in my head, i had never found peace since. so here's my interpretation of sydney in the forgotten au!

[manga-and-stuff]

Source: Eden: It's an Endless World! エデン

by Hiroki Endo

[elfcow]

My players: What's your favorite Lancer frame?

Me, vibrating from the effort of containing myself: yeah I think the Mourning Cloak is pretty cool

[sunsetzer]

New drinking game: take a shot every time something in da veilguard reminds you of assassin's creed

[feraecor]

@desiderium-eden

"We are here today to honor the memory of Kyrie. The fallen princess. She was a valiant warrior and fashionable squish with a love of food and sparkles." Then he's going to wave a cupcake under her nose to "revive" her. It has pink frosting and glitter sugar on it. Mamy made it.

[the-art-in-arthesia-is-loud]

you played with too much paint, abstruse. let's get you all cleaned up, okay?

what? why are you even crying? is it because these colors are the only parts of those stupid little 'friends' of yours left?

is it because you're alone with me now, abstruse?

why...why do you feel so much rage?

is it because you can't do things right?

because you're such a perfectionist?

why...do you want to cause war or something?

that would be bad, you know?

or wait! is it because...you want to feel rage?

but no one in this world would want to feel rage—

ah.

don't throw stuff at me like that, truse.

that is just violence. that is a big no-no.

haa...you have a mind of a child.

you always throw tantrums when you don't get your way.

you always scream at the littlest things.

you always run around the castle, yelling out things like, "leave me alone!" or "get away from me!".

how foolish, to think that you'll ever see the light of day.

either way, you made a mess here. i wonder what mom would think of this.

haha, no matter. let's get you all cleaned up.

...

big sis arghena is here for you.

[inkyquince]

Thinking about being fwb with the older gen when they were younger.

cw. uhhhh. not much. implied rough sex, a mind break on eden's side, neglect of emotional stuff but some is implied, stalker-y obsessive harper, remy get the idea to start the underground farm from you and general friends with benefits stuff.

characters. bailey. eden. harper. briar. remy.

For Bailey, its a need to release stress, and you just happen to be the one person in the friendship group he could stand enough to not just spend extra time with, but spend it bending you over the back of his bed frame and railing you, all the while you can hear giggling from behind the door. He doesn't give a shit, he knows that the walls are thin in the orphanage, but this isn't for you. If you happen to cum, then, hey, it makes you tighten up around his cock and makes his own orgasm just a bit better. Don't think so much about how he offers you a smoke afterwards, when he refuses to even share his sacred, battered packet of ciggies with Eden. Don't start thinking he's soft. But maybe you should feel grateful that when you message for him to come over, he actually replies to you. Most of the others get ignored.

For Eden, it started out as pity. Probably the last of the group to loose his virginity, with Bailey snarking that he knows for a fact that Eden spends most of his time at night jerking his cock. He's just too intimidating for anyone at school to give him a chance, and the boys in the locker room have noticed how fucking fat his cock is anyway. There was a betting pool to see how long until he snapped. So what if it was pity. So what if his gaze thrilled you as you slowly took off your shirt in front of him, slowly unbuttoning as his grip on his knees tightened, his knuckles whitening. So what if by the time you tucked your thumbs into your underwear, his erection was straining against his jeans. It started as pity, for your friend to finally loose his v-card, and went on to Eden ripping at your clothes every time you two were alone, wrestling your body down onto his fat cock, bullying your hole, your friendship grated down into veiled attention around the others, and desperate rutting each second you two were alone.

It was obvious that Harper had wanted this for so long. Everyone could tell that the freak had such a crush on you. Always so attentive, popping up at your elbow, wanting to carry your books, saying you smelt nice that day, that he'll help tutor you, asking you if you want to go with him for ice cream after class. But you had to give credit where it's due, he was smart. Just one bad break up, and his selfless offerings of helping you feel better. That's all it took for him to take his rightful place between your thighs, getting to enjoy your needy riding, your kisses, the way you'd clench around his fingers when the dipped into your underwear during class. He encourages you to use him, use him, use him all you want, for stress relief, for any kinks you want to try. He likes it all, as long as he gets to touch you.

Briar just likes sex. He fucking loves it. In the future, he might tire of it, and just enjoy the delicacies of life paid for by bought sex, but not yet. You know you're just one of a rotation, but it feels different... At least to you. Sharing a group of friends, one night getting too drunk, and suddenly his tongue is dragging against your hole, being told you to squeal all you like, maybe someone from the party will hear you and come to see what's happening. Then Briar messaging you to come to him from then on. He likes watching you hump his cock, introducing you to the amass of sex toys he has, sharing a double ended dildo while he tortures your nipples with bites and harsh sucks. He makes no secret of his other conquests, people he also enjoys having sex with, but there's something about being the only one that can lean against him at a group hang out, his thumb rubbing small circles into your thigh, as the others argue on how to split the bill.

It starts with Remy just wanting it out of the way. Everything in his life is planned out meticulously, and once he hits 19, he quietly registers that most people his age are loosing their virginity, consenting or not. He will inherit the estate in his late twenties, he'll graduate from university early, and he'll make his mark on the town like his family has done for generations, with the riding school, with the investments. He'll find something that's uniquely him. But in the meantime, he'll hit the average amount of milestones that his peers do. You just happened to be the least objectionable to loose his virginity to. Between you and Wren, you're the one that'll be nice and submissive and let him enjoy himself however he likes, without some boneheaded suggestion of doing something stupid. So, he gets to take you to the estate, to fuck you on a bed more expensive than anything you could ever afford again. It's good. He likes it. But one day, in the fields with the others, overlooking some rinky dink farm with a family of red heads trying to make it nice, you do something. He's eating an apple, leaning against a tree, with you sitting by his feet with Wren's head in your lap, letting you braid his already too long hair. There's a crunch. He looks down and you cheekily took a bite out of the apple, smiling up at him. It itches his brain just right. He extends it to your mouth and watches as you laugh and take another bite. You become more of a pet from then on. Eating out of his hand, getting fucked in the ass, with a stirring fixation rousing in his stomach when he thinks back on how sweet you looked, eating his apple. Almost like one of the cows on the farm down below.

[talonabraxas]

III - The Empress 'Goddess Danu' Talon Abraxas “I am a powerful, nourishing, and creative force. I embrace the fertile energy of the natural world to cultivate abundance for myself and others.” The Empress is the inferior Garden of Eden, the Earthly Paradise, all that is symbolized by the visible house of man. She is the fruitful mother of thousands. Aspects of The Empress have been described as desire, the woman clothed with the sun, as the transitory delights of the world and the veil of the divine realm.

She is above all things universal fertility and the outer sense of the Word. There is no direct message given to man like that which is conveyed by woman; but she does not, herself, carry its interpretation. The card of the Empress can also being interpreted in another way: She signifies the door or gate by which an entrance is obtained into this life, as into the Garden of Venus.

The Empress symbolizes the way that leads out of this life, into that which is beyond. The secret knowledge of the High Priestess is communicated by The Empress to the chosen few. She is the imparter of divine knowledge.

[verbenaa]

to eden | chapter nine

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Astarion/F! Tav 𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: E 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 11.1k 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: blowjobs 😎; canon-compliant, non-graphic mentions of SA 😔 (Astarion 😭)

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: “Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

“Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to.” The bite in his words is softened by their meaning, his swallow audible as he stares down at her, a veiled vulnerability shining in his eyes as they run over the planes of her face.

𝒶/𝓃: hello!!!!! apologies it took me so long to get this chapter completed. But it is finally done and I very much hope you enjoy it. Here's to chapter 10 taking me half the time to write as this one did. please let me know your thoughts down in the comments and I appreciate you all!!!

read on ao3 | masterlist

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Rin blocks out the sound of Astarion, positively incensed about absolutely nothing of consequence, as he follows her around the grounds of the Last Light Inn, complaining rather loudly for her tastes.

She sighs as she trudges down one of the dirt paths leading away from the inn and back towards their camp, the area thankfully empty as he strides just behind her at a clipped pace. 

“I stopped listening about five minutes ago, Astarion, when you decided to keep saying the same thing over and over again,” Rin says, annoyance sneaking into her words as she cuts a look back towards the angry vampire somehow managing to stomp elegantly after her.

“I’ll stop saying it over and over again when you realize that I am right.”

Gods, he could be so irritating. 

While their encounter with Ketheric Thorm went surprisingly well and no one dared to second guess them in their ruse of pretending to be True Souls, Rin still felt somewhat unmoored by it all. The plot was thickening with a quickness and intensity she didn’t care for; something that was only growing more and more sinister brewing just beneath the surface, and she isn’t looking forward to figuring out whatever that something might be.

There’s a very large part of her the longs to run—to simply disappear into the darkness and never return; to sprint away from all of this madness, the constant battles, the sharp malice of it all.

Her life may not have accumulated to very much back in Baldur’s Gate—little money, the occasional performance at a shitty tavern, the more-than-occasional odd job for the Guild—but at the very least it was predicable in its unpredictability. 

Sure, she didn’t always have the money that she quite desperately needed, but she always knew to expect the possibility of not having it. She always knew how to sweet talk her way into getting more time to pay her debts, how to charm the baker into giving her an extra roll or two, or when times were particularly tough, how to steal what she needed to without even getting caught (most of the time). 

They were skills she had honed over a lifetime of living on the streets and in the murky shadows of the Lower City, things that she had worked hard to perfect to the best of her ability in order to survive. If there was one thing Rin knew, it was how to work to the system.

Thirty-four years in and she’s yet to meet a magistrate while draped in chains, so she must be doing something right.

But the only thing she can dare to expect these days is the unexpected. 

And Rin is not a fan of unexpected things—unless said things happen to be a nice bottle of wine or a fancy necklace; though as far as she can remember, no one has ever gifted her much of anything.

“What exactly did you want me to do, Astarion?”

“We should have stayed longer,” he hisses towards her, eyes narrowed and lip curled menacingly. “There was more information we could have dug out. There were merchants we could have bought more weapons and potions from. There were plenty of things we could have done, and yet you had us running away scared. You even let those goblins fight for their lives instead of just killing them outright. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Clearly, she doesn’t see the issue the same as Astarion, because she couldn’t find a single problem with the plan. It was the sane, normal thing to do after such a covert operation. They were a rag-tag group of adventurers, not spies.

They had maintained their cover, eventually killed the goblins, talked to the decidedly awful Disciple Z’rell, and then got the hells out of there as fast as they could.

The memory of Z’rell searching through her mind draws a minute shiver to her form, the sensation of another tadpole clawing through her brain with a wave of energy and touching on the darker things she keeps hidden in the depths of her thoughts—old memories that were purposely forgotten, hopes that she had long given up on having, disappointments that had been left to languish in the corners like dusty cobwebs—had been very unwelcome, to say the least.

She hadn’t been expecting to have to defend herself against Z’rell’s invasion, and she hated having to use her desire for Astarion as a distraction, even it if had worked. 

It had left her feeling as though she had been stripped bare, like some raw part of her had been left exposed to salt.

She didn’t dare to show Z’rell any of the truly illicit memories, for the half-orc certainly didn’t deserve to see Astarion in such a way and Rin was not about to put his body on display for her, even within the relative safety of her own mind or for the sake of the mission. 

Thankfully, she had plenty of other memories to use to showcase her more…amorous feelings about him.

The memory of him crowding her up against a cave wall, the feeling of his lips on her neck as he kissed it seconds before biting in, his lips claiming hers for the first time in the forest clearing what feels like forever ago, his fingers removing her armor piece by piece in the Underdark as heat had begun to curl in her belly…she could, theoretically, probably go on for forever.  

Rin breathes out a frustrated breath, attempting to steady herself as she turns around to face Astarion with little thought, and he pulls up short to avoid running into her, stopping right before they collide.

“Here’s the thing. You are not in charge because you did not want to be, and so now I am. And as such, I made a decision to leave, and so we did. If you don’t like it, Astarion, then by all means, go march your way back to Moonrise and have a look around, if you’d like.” 

Rin is careful to annunciate her every word as her finger pokes in the center of his chest, eyes steely as she glares up at him. 

“But,” she continues, “in the event that you decide to not trot off back to that hellish place, can you please tell me how to possibly shut you up now? Because as much as I honor and appreciate your opinion, I am tiring of hearing it.”

Astarion casts a slow look down at the finger resting innocuously against him before dragging his gaze back up to hers, brow raised alongside the casual arrogance painted on his face.

Rin knows she couldn’t look any less threatening—camp clothes slightly wrinkled from where she had pulled them on hurriedly after bathing, her hair still slightly damp, and at least a full head shorter than Astarion.

Anger has never been her strong suit, she’s far better at using the written word as a weapon than she is at yelling, and she realizes she probably has all the intimidation of a hissing cat rather than something terrifyingly ferocious and beautiful.

At the very least, the letter she writes him later tonight will be properly vicious—or at least her version of it. She’s not sure she’s capable of the raw rage of someone like Karlach or the steel-sharpened vitriol of Lae’zel, but she can at least use several choice adjectives to describe him that she has no doubt will irritate him. 

“Well, if you don’t want to hear it then you shouldn’t make stupid decisions,” Astarion says through gritted teeth, claret eyes glaring down at her. “and if you want to shut me up, you’re going to have to make me.”

“‘Make you’? How old are you, ten?” She presses her finger into his chest harder as her patience thins, biting down on her lip hard in failed attempt to take a calming breath.

Her heart is still pounding in her chest even after a relatively relaxing bath, and Astarion yelling at her about it does not help one bit. She aches to wipe the smirk off his lips as her eyes dart down to them, the way they curve up into a maddening off-kilter smile one that burns itself into her memory.

The traitorous part of her mind, the one that won’t disappear no matter how hard she tries to banish it and instead only serves to grow stronger as if to spite her, taunts her to kiss him if she really wants to shut him up. 

No better way to rid his mouth of that self-righteous smirk than by giving his lips something better to do instead, after all.

She had thought after that night, the one where he had so coldly thrown her out while still in the haze of their shared pleasure, that whatever it was that had been growing between them would be no more. It had seemed, at the time at least, that he wanted nothing more to do with her.

Instead, Astarion had shown up every night since at her tent. 

And every single night, he’d ruined her.

It had become their new routine, apparently. Every night they start by the fire as they always do—talking, drinking, divulging secrets in one another; and then afterwards, he follows her back to her tent, sets her alight with his touch, only to leave when he’s done with her.

They make something that Rin thinks must be akin to love; although she’s never really made love with anyone else before, so what does she know?

Perhaps he simply fucks everyone like the way he does her.  

The Traitor in her mind is quick to point out the falsehood that statement, reminding her that he didn’t lay with her at first like he does now. At first, there had been no mistaking what they were doing—it was sex, pure and simple, between two people indulging in a mutual curiosity and need. 

Looking back, it feels like Astarion had barely even enjoyed their first few liaisons together, his actions mostly halfhearted and his mind barely present. 

Now, though, there’s a marked difference in the press of lips, each and every one meaningful and every caress upon her skin intentional during the house they spend lost in one another.

She could no longer call it just sex, at least by her standards.

Rin didn’t know what to think. 

And how could she know, when he comes to her and sends her into complete bliss with a touch that only seems to grow more reverent with every passing night, the look in his eyes when they twine together that of a fire only growing as if being fed by more and more fuel.

But no matter how rough or how gentle he handles her—his touch somehow both softer and more intense with each night that passes, no matter how passionate or sweet the presses of his lips are against hers are as they find their completion together—he never stays.

Astarion’s interests, it seemed, were only in her physical attributes.

She shouldn’t be surprised, in the end. She was nothing more than a half-rate bard whose skills amounted to little of importance, so she can’t quite blame him for not being interested in the rest of her.

She was no sagely wizard like Gale nor a noble warlock like Wyll. She patroned no cause like Shadowheart or Lae’zel, no matter how questionable Rin finds their worship and ideals. 

She has no greater calling, no reason to be; neither a paragon of good nor an avatar of evil. 

She simply exists, day to day, in whatever way she can make it through. 

Perhaps if she were someone greater, someone of skill or importance, someone of knowledge; he would want her for more than just nights of shared passion.

The thought rankles something in her, though it shouldn’t. People like her weren’t meant for much more, and she’s never done anything to be worthy of things like tenderness, affection, or love.

If she were, then surely everyone else wouldn’t have left her. She wouldn’t have been abandoned if she’d been worth it.

Rin has nothing more to offer anyone but simply who she is—and who she is has never, ever been enough for anyone to ever take a chance on.

She’ll just have to make do with what she gets when it comes to Astarion, though he’ll no doubt leave her like all the rest when he’s had his fill of her.

But in the meantime, she’d rather have him in whatever way she can—in whatever way he will let her have him—than not get have him at all. 

And so she gives in to that traitorous part of her brain, the one still whispering of all the ways she can distract him, of the limited chances she has to revel in his closeness, and makes her move.

“You know what, fine. You want me to shut you up? I’d love the honor.”

Rin flattens her hand against his chest and pushes before taking a step forward into his space. Astarion glances down at her hand once before gracing her with a very skeptically raised brow.

Slowly, Rin steps forward again and Astarion steps back; one step followed by another and then another as they walk backwards until his back hits the stone of the wall behind them, dirt and chipped rock crumbling onto the ground next to them.

“Many have tried, most have failed.” He’s devastatingly handsome with such a devious smile, and she almost hates the way it makes anticipation startle to life in her chest. Almost.

Rin keeps her hand where it is as a small smirk of her own forms on her lips. “Most have not been me.”

“Do tell, little bard, what is to be your perfect strategy, hm?” He’s teasing and taunting her again as his head leans down towards hers, eyes narrowed in challenge.

She’s not quire sure what sparks the idea in her head; but she blames it on her ever-evolving and only growing adoration of him—slightly painful to admit, despite being very, very true. 

Regardless of whatever the reason is, she takes her chance.

No time like the present, they say.  

“Maybe I don’t need to shut you up so much as I want to hear you say something else instead,” And for the first time, it’s her own register that drops, words hushed as her cheeks flush despite herself. 

Astarion is quick to catch on, a knowing glint sparking to life in his eyes as he gleans something in her own gaze. In an instant, Rin feels an arm come to circle around her waist, dragging her closer to him until they’re flush together.

“And what is it that you have in mind, darling?” Her skin tingles where his hand rests upon her lower back, thumb brushing teasing strokes that send her mind swirling with a rush of delight at his touch.

Rin runs her hand up, drawing it across the expanse of his chest with enough pressure to make sure that he can feel the drag of it until it finds its home around his neck, her fingers curling into the hair at his nape.

She stays silent in the wake of his query, answering with only an innocent quirk of her lips before giving the path they’re standing on a quick, covert glance. She can see or hear no other being near them and, so long as they’re quick about it, she doubts anyone else will be coming this way. 

Hopefully.

“I must say, I’m intrigued. Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?”

“I guess it depends on what you think I plan to do.” She flicks her gaze back to his.

“I think that you want to—” Astarion’s voice cuts off and the smirk falls from his lips as Rin slides the hand from around his neck down his front and she lowers with it.

Rin looks up at him from under lowered lashes as her knees hit the dusty earth below her with a soft thump and she runs her hands up and down his thighs in teasing passes, thumbs pressing into the muscles of them intently.

He looks momentarily bewildered at the sight of her before him, expression going slack as his brows knit in surprise. Clearly, of all the things he expected of her, dropping to her knees on a decently well-trodden pathway wasn’t one of them.

For all the times he’s tasted her, Astarion’s yet to give her the same opportunity and she has plans to fix such a terrible discrepancy. He has no idea how long she’s waited to worship him like this—to touch and taste and learn his body as well as he’s studied her own.

She wishes that she had more time to make such an important scholarly pursuit, and the privacy of one of their tents would be vastly preferable, but Rin was nothing if not adaptable.

“Do you trust me, Astarion?” Rin asks. She’s waited patiently enough for weeks upon weeks upon weeks, she can easily manage another minute for a proper answer from him first.

He shivers just slightly under her touch as her hands still, and Astarion averts his eyes from hers for a moment before huffing a breath and returning her gaze.

“Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to.” The bite in his words is softened by their meaning, his swallow audible as he stares down at her, a veiled vulnerability shining in his eyes as they run over the planes of her face.

He’s flustered, and it’s an absolute wonder to see.

Her cheeks flush and her heart swells, despite that fact that she is technically still mad at him. Or at least she’s supposed to be. 

She can’t feel her agitation quite as keenly as she could a few minutes ago.

Rin had lowered herself onto her knees for only a few people in her lifetime, the act one she couldn’t say she had the most practice at. Men were always so typical, shoving themselves into her mouth without care until they reached their end; it was no wonder she rarely offered herself up in such a manner. 

But, Astarion—Astarion she knows will be different.

“I can’t promise to be the best you’ve ever had, but—”

“Don’t sell yourself so short.” Astarion cuts her off, his hand coming down to trace her jaw lightly as she looks up at him from beneath her lashes.

Rin leans her head slightly into his hand as it runs along the line of her face, turning slightly to press her lips against his fingers. “Is this alright, then? Will you let me suck your cock?” 

Astarion’s thumb brushes along the plush of her lower lip, and she takes the opportunity to open her mouth and nip at it playfully.

“Do you think you can take it, darling?” His eyes darken as her lips encircle the tip of his finger and she sucks, Rin relishing the almost imperceptible intake of his breath.

“I guess we’ll just have to see what I can handle.” 

“Well. By all means, then. Have at it,” Astarion says, eyebrows raising in smug challenge.

At his permission Rin’s hands jump to life, fingertips tracing up his covered thighs to hook into the waistband of his pants. She keeps her eyes on his as she slowly pulls them down, revealing his hardening length still hidden behind his underwear. 

She leans in to press kisses to the defined line of muscles along his hips, nosing his shirt out of the way as she runs her lips over the indentations of each and every one of them as she slowly traces her way down, moving ever closer to where his member twitches with every press of her lips.  

“I must say, our pretty little leader on her knees is quite a sight.” The words are meant to be easy, teasing; but the tightness in his voice belies any ease, his hips jumping as she traces her lips over the silhouette of him through his underwear.

Astarion chokes back a moan at the feeling and she smiles up at him, fingers playing at the edge of the final barrier between them before she begins to pull. Her fingers find his length once she’s freed it from his underwear, quick to run them down the velvet softness of his shaft as the deep green of her gaze meets the darkened ruby of his own once more.

“Only for you, Astarion.” Rin cuts off anything further he could have to say by leaning her head forward to press a searing kiss to the side of his erection before tracing her lips over his length.   

The first touch of her mouth against his cock has him exhaling sharply, one of the hands at his side coming up reflexively to rest atop top her head, fingers sliding through her curls as his hips jump.

She wastes no time as she licks a line across his slit, the heady saltiness of him hitting her tongue as she brings a hand up to grip him at the base, pumping him gently in her palm.    

“Does it feel good like this?” Rin swirls her tongue around the head of him, savoring her first real taste of his essence. “You’ll have to let me know how you like it, Astarion.”

His hand curls in her hair, brushing stray locks back from her face as he watches her mouth move along his length, tongue slicking across a vein before she finally wraps her lips around him.

“I assure you, you’re already doing a very, very good job.” He sags back against the crumbling stone facade of the wall as Rin takes him deeper into the warmth of her mouth, her hand pumping at the base of him as her lips work the rest that she doesn’t yet fit inside.

His praise sends a trail of heat straight to the core of her, pleasure of her own ebbing deep in her stomach as her thighs rub together. She leaves his length for no more than a second, adjusting her position on her knees before pressing more kisses to the side of him. “And this?” 

Astarion moans as her lips envelop him once more, sucking at his cock with hollowed cheeks as she takes him in, her hand moving in time with her mouth as she begins to bob her head.

“Decidedly perfect technique,” He’s practically breathless as he speaks, eyes closing as his head falls back against the wall behind him with a dull thud.

His moans echo off the ancient stone as she sucks and licks and kisses his cock, pouring every ounce of her wayward affection for him into this moment.

Astarion, she’s learned, doesn’t give up his iron-clad self control very easily; and Rin’s not going to let herself think about what it means that he trusts her enough to let her take care of him, even if it’s only like this.

It’s intoxicating to have him so utterly undone as she alternates her ministrations, each and every one only serving to push him further and further to the brink as she laves at his length, pleasure flitting openly across his handsome face.

She should tell him to be quieter, but she doesn’t have it in her to halt those beautiful moans and breathy gasps leaving his mouth, not when she revels in the sound of them far too much.

Rin pops off him to take a breath, tongue running around the crown of him before she renews her attentions, swallowing him down deeper and taking as much of him as she can fit into her mouth.

Dots of crystalline tears settle on her lashes as the head of him brushes against the back of her throat, but the ragged moan he releases is more than worth it, another bolt of heat surging down to the place between her legs.

She’s lucky she cares nothing for her reputation, because being found on her knees in front of her most dubious companion with his cock shoved deep down her throat would most certainly ruin it. 

“Such pretty noises you make, Astarion,” She hums as she pops off his cock, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his length as she breathes in another lungful of air. “Please don’t stop making them.”

The hands in her hair tighten as her mouth envelops the head of his length again and he whines, Rin once again savoring the tang of him as she sucks before taking him back into her mouth, deep again as he slides against her tongue.

“Fuck, darling—” She breaths through her nose as his thighs quiver, making sure to keep her mouth moving back and forth on his cock. “Don’t stop. Rin, sweetheart, I’m going to—”

Sweetheart. It was a new one from him, one that she finds that she likes. 

Quite a lot. 

He breaks off as Rin hollows her cheeks once more around him just as his cock hits the back of her throat again, stray tears breaking free to run down her cheeks and she can barely breathe with him like this in her mouth but can’t seem to find it in her to care. 

The thrill of finally being able to taste him and to bring him to the edge of pleasure is one she knows she would do anything to feel again, the weight of his cock nothing short of exquisite in her mouth.

She gives him a final suck and Astarion comes down her throat with a wanton moan, hips bucking as his brows crease and he cries out his completion, the sounds of his ecstasy nothing short of beautiful as they ring off the rock and stone and dirt around them.

Rin swallows his come down as his body quivers and his hips rut into her, the hands in her hair tightening into a vice grip as he rides her mouth. 

He tastes as perfect as she knew he would as words fall from his lips in a torrent—a chorus of praise, moans, and the occasional elvish word or phrase she doesn’t understand all flowing freely from his lips.

Rin lets him ride out his orgasm however long he pleases, a deep satisfaction coursing through her as she watches the pleasure painted across his features until his hips begin to slow and air he doesn’t need finally begins to return to his lungs.

“Dear Gods—” Astarion groans as his eyes open as the hands in her hair loosen  and he stares down at her, one of them migrating down from her curls to her cheeks, softly brushing away the tears that have tracked down the planes of her face.

She pulls off his softening cock slowly, taking in a much needed breath of air.

“Do you still question my decision making skills?” Rin licks off a stray drop of his come from her bottom lip before she smiles.

“Absolutely; and if this is the treatment I’m going to get every time I do, then I think I’ll have to disagree with you more often.” Astarion’s still catching his breath as he replies, but it doesn’t stop a wolfish grin from spreading across his face.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Astarion.” Rin gently tucks him back into his pants, patting his hip with a smirk before she rises back up to her full height, knees aching slightly with the motion. “If I did that every time we had a disagreement, I’m not sure I would have much time to do anything else.”

Astarion has an arm wrapped back around her waist in a mere moment and she’s pulled close again, the one hand still in her hair curving around the back of her head to tilt her face up to his own.

“Then maybe you should try to be less difficult, dearest.” His hand runs down, caressing the curve of her bottom before sweeping back up and around to hover at the front of her pants.

His touch sends a spark of heat down to her neglected arousal, Rin taking a steadying breath as she braces her hands on his chest. “If I were less difficult, you would be bored.”

Astarion chuckles as his fingertips dip below her waistband, more heat curling deep in her core as they quickly slip beneath the band of her underwear, intent to find the wetness that has settled between her thighs.

He wastes no time gliding them through her folds, running them up and down her center as Rin gasps, Astarion’s eyes intent on hers as he slicks his fingers with her arousal before finding her entrance and sinking two of them inside her with ease.

“I see I wasn’t the only one enjoying myself,” Astarion groans at the evidence of her own lust he finds waiting, pushing his fingers deeper.

“Far from it, Astarion.” She moans as her head falls forward onto his shoulder, eyes drifting shut as he curls them once, twice; her limbs tightening as he seats them fully inside her.

It would be so easy to let Astarion bring her to brink and push her over into euphoria, no doubt only a few quirks of his fingers and she’d be gone, clinging to him with every ounce of her strength as he makes her come. 

But she doesn’t want it to be about her. Not right now. 

Despite the breath that rushes free and the soft whine she lets out as Astarion pumps the fingers he has buried in her, the desire almost painfully hot in her core; Rin reaches one of her hands down to grasp his wrist, pulling his hand away from where she wants him most.

She’ll take care of herself later. She certainly has plenty of material to think about.

Astarion sends her a questioning look as he slips his fingers out of her, Rin’s hand still on his as she guides him out of her leggings. “Is there a problem, sweet? Need something else inside of you instead?”

Rin huffs a soft laugh as she intertwines her fingers with his, squeezing his hand. She fears that her expression is entirely too open as she looks up at him and her lips quirk into a smile, but it’s too late for her to take it back so she commits to it, letting a tiny bit of the feeling that’s been growing inside her show on her features.

“I just—it doesn’t always need to be about me. Take your pleasure and enjoy it. You don’t owe me one back, or anything silly like that.”

Astarion stares at her as his expression clouds with confusion, but the hand in hers doesn’t weaken, his grip still strong and sure. 

Rin stands up on her tiptoes, lips seeking his cheek as she bestows a light kiss upon it before whispering, “Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She steals her hand back, the slide of his skin against her own slow as she takes a step away from him, sending a little wave his way before she turns and walks back towards camp, leaving Astarion to stare perplexed at her retreating form.

✧· · ─── ·✧· ─── · ·✧

Astarion sits perched on his favorite rock in camp, handsome and brooding, no doubt the perfect portrait of a mercurial and mysterious vampire to anyone with eyes who chose to look his way.

Or he would be, if anybody in this damn camp would pay any attention to him.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff as he directs his gaze towards the small group of idiots that are now his companions; a preposterous notion that he even considers them to be such. 

They make their merry by the fire, passing around a bottle of what is clearly a very strong whiskey if the faces they pull after taking swigs of it are anything to go by.

He can imagine the smell of it, smokey and stout, and is very glad to have a goblet of wine beside him instead. 

Whiskey was all fine and good and certainly had its uses, but it lacked the elegance of a fine wine; no whiskey ever as smooth on its own as a delectable vintage feels gliding over his tongue and down.

It’s a chilling thought that he’s been in such close contact with these fools for months now, Astarion learning all their little intricacies whether he wants to or not. 

Yet, he doesn’t find himself hating the growing familiarity quite as much as he did at the beginning. 

He knew his siblings, of course. But that bond was different, one forged by mutual fear and shared pain. He didn’t know what kinds of books they liked to read or what their favorite sweets had been. Instead, he knew how each of their screams sounded and how their bodies had looked torn apart under Cazador and Godey’s punishments, flesh rent from bone.

No, he firmly knew more about this merry little band of imbeciles he had been thrown together with than the six souls he had known for years and years and years, with one individual in particular standing out above the rest.

Astarion, it seems, now knew more about Rin than he had ever cared to know about another person in over 200 years. Useless, meaningless information she’s offered up about herself seemingly at random and without purpose or prize. 

She was a complete and utter fool.

And yet, he drank up each and every tiny piece about herself that she gave him as though it were her blood, flowing free and pomegranate-sweet from her neck. 

Astarion knew her favorite flowers—a hard choice, according to her, but she tends to favor the perfect, happy purple of the crocus a little more than the rest. 

He had rolled his eyes at this, swiftly informing her that flowers were essentially no more than useless, pretty things with little substance; and had earned himself a very sound swat upon his arm.

He knew her favorite foods—any sort of sweet berry at midsummer, along with a nice loaf of bread and perhaps some butter or cheese. 

Her taste in food was pitifully simple, though Astarion supposes a life on the Lower City streets didn’t usually imbue people with a terribly complicated palate for the finer delicacies life had to offer.

He knew that Rin did not know her father—only that he had been an elf come to the city on some sort of business from a far away place and Rin her human mother’s only token of remembrance from an affair she only wanted to forget about, and one she eventually did forget about when she left Rin to fend for herself.

She knew nothing of the Elvish ways and customs, nothing of the language that should sit so naturally on her tongue.

The knowledge that he could say anything he wanted to her in their language and she would be hopeless to ever understand him is one that tempts him in a variety of ways that he doesn’t indulge, lest his mind find its way heading into dangerous territory.

He knew that she’d had no sweeping romances with tender touches and soft sighs—only quick nighttime flings helped along by pints of cheap ale from equally cheap taverns and that while they had perhaps filled a need, they tended to leave her feeling more empty and decidedly less than, in the end. 

Astarion all too well understood that particular feeling. He hated that she had ever felt the same.

He readily ignores the inkling in the back of his mind warning him that he, perhaps, is no better than the others when he leaves her every night staring up at him, poorly concealed disappointment etched across her pretty face.

Uselessly, he also knew her favorite color—the deep, turquoise blue-green of the Chionthar on a clear day at noontime, naturally, when the sun sparkled off the undulating current of the water. 

It could never be anything quite so easy as simply ‘the color blue’ with her.

Astarion himself had long forgotten the color of the river, having only seen it as the darkened muddy blue-black of the midnight hours for centuries now.

Rin had been utterly shocked when she asked him for his own and he had told her he didn’t have one.

“You don’t have a favorite color? Astarion,” She had said aghast, drawing out the syllables of his name as her bright eyes had widened in surprise. 

He had no use for frivolous things like favorite colors. 

What colors, exactly, was he to have had the time to enjoy?

Certainly not the darkly stained, ornately paneled woods of the chamber he used to entertain his victims; or the gaudy, overly saturated reds and too brightly shined golds in that room meant to invoke opulence and luxury, yet another layer designed to further lure them into the fantasy he provided.

Nor the watery yellow glow of torchlight against the dull, muddied brown of wet cobblestones as he led whoever had been chosen that night back to the Szarr Palace, charming and seductive as he promised them his body and their control over it. 

There was nothing beautiful about the metallic shine of a silver cage in the kennel, dotted with the rusty brown of dried blood, though whether it was his own or belonged to one of his siblings he never really knew.

How was there to be any joy found in color beyond the allure of the deepest burgundy wine as it filled up his cup to help dull his mind as he lowered himself to do the things his mark that evening wanted of him, mind drifting to focus on anything else as he did whatever he needed to do in order to survive.

Astarion grimaces, throwing back another swallow of his wine as the thoughts leave him tinged with the sickly yellow-green of disgust and the feeling of shame: a blistering, burning, glowing red.

At first, right after the Nautiloid had crashed and he had escaped the closeness of that dreadful pod, his chest having constricted at the tightness of it around him—it was just another cage in the end, wasn’t it? Just another leash for him to be collared to—the riot of colors in the bright light of the sun had hurt his newly sensitive eyes as he had hid in the shadow of the wreckage.

It was only once he had realized he wouldn’t be burned to a crisp in the sunshine, a wonder in its own right, that he began to take notice of them all. There were far too many colors and all of them were so…so saturated; all the different shades and intensities unbearably overwhelming.

From the small green leaves of the scrubby trees, to the brown grains of sand, to the grotesque purple of the Nautiloid and the soon-to-be rotting corpses of mindflayers—terribly, horribly overwhelming.

She was overwhelming to look at when he first saw her, too. Shining eyes of emerald green, warm skin thoroughly kissed by the sun, dark blonde curls gleaming in the unbearable brightness of the light. That awful outfit she wore that marked her as none other but a bard, albeit one with terrible sartorial sense. 

Rin was the first person he had set eyes on in the sunshine in over 200 years and he had hated the very sight of her. 

She had been a clash of colors, all dreadfully uncomplimentary to him, that he shied away from the sight of. Colors like that were never quite so bold in the darkness that he was so used to, their vivacity dulled by dancing firelight and the shadows of night.

She was too brilliant to bear the sight of, utterly casual and downright flippant, too unbothered by it all to be trusted—though, he knows better now; and looking back he can see that her confidence was all nothing more than a well-executed performance on her part.

He still doesn’t feel bad about holding that knife to her neck as he had dragged her down into the coarse sand with him, the scent of her scarlet blood still rich despite it drying against her cheek, dots of it mixing in with the freckles that were scattered across her cheeks like the tiniest of constellations.

Perhaps that was his first mistake in all of this, allowing himself to get so near someone so dazzling and warm. It was like playing with fire—dance too close to the flame and you were bound to be burned. 

And going up into flames was something Astarion could not afford. 

But now, slowly, the color has begun to come back to him little by little and he could start to appreciate again it for the first time in centuries.

The precise cornflower blue of the sky on a cloudless day or the deep violet of it at twilight as the stars wink to life. 

The way sunlight dappled onto the ground through a forested canopy to illuminate the all the tiny flowers that grow up from the ground in a rainbow of colors—purples, pinks, yellows, blues. 

The myriad of all the different greens that he could now truly behold: the dark, bountiful leaves of a fern, a fragile spring green stem of a flower, the lush and verdant shade of her eyes.

Astarion still didn’t have a favorite color. Not really.

But he was coming around to the idea of having one.

A laugh carries across camp, melodic and light and lovely, dragging him from the depths of his musings over to where Rin sits by the fire, their companions all floating around her like moths to a flame.

He absolutely hates the way they all look at her. 

He can see it on their faces, a blatant adoration that she somehow seems to completely disregard for reasons he can’t fathom, instead intent to spend her time with him of all people.

But he cannot blame them, after all, because he’s no better. Just as desperate for her attention and her closeness, it seems, if the way his feet kept finding their way to her tent night after night was anything to go by.

Astarion wonders sometimes if they can see the very same hopeless look on his own face as he gazes upon her, despite how well he tries to hide it. 

Rin leans against Halsin as she laughs, cheeks flushing at whatever it is the oversized elf says to her. Her curls are unbound, falling freely around her tonight in a wave of shining gold to her waist and he wishes he could bury his fingers in the strands to feel the softness of them for himself. 

The druid does nothing to dissuade Rin from the circle of his arms as he claps a hand on her shoulder before sliding it down to the small of her back, smiling at her a touch too friendly for Astarion’s liking and a stab of something hits him straight in the chest.

Jealousy.

He has no claim to her, of course. He’s not made one and has no plans to. But the sudden thought of her underneath Halsin—or any of them, really—has his jaw clenching tight. 

The other elf is attractive and strong, no doubt a good lover; and the thought of the warmth he could so easily provide her that Astarion cannot churns his long-empty stomach.

He can see it all too easily, imagining Rin so very pretty with cheeks flushed pink and body inviting as Halsin leans over and takes her sweetness for his own.

He can see Rin on her knees, looking up at the druid with the same look of affection in her eyes that she had given him earlier that day as she had tasted him.

Or perhaps the worst thoughts of them all—Rin telling Halsin all the inane things she would normally bother him with; Rin playing tiny bits of melodies and sweet little songs on her lyre for Halsin while he whittles by the light of the fire; Rin writing the druid letters that she would then hide poorly in his tent, ensuring they can always be found and read and replied to— 

He was spiraling, and he needed to stop.

Astarion shakes the thoughts away with a frown, bringing his goblet back to his lips for another sip. He doesn’t know why she favors him so, why she allows him into her orbit when there’s a group full of others who would so readily take his place, all of whom would no doubt treat her better than he has. 

He wouldn’t blame her, if she sought after any of the others.

Certainly not after that night, the one where he had made her undress before him for his entertainment and then kicked her out of his tent when she was still wrapped up in the afterglow of what was a very intimate evening.

Perhaps too intimate.

His chest gnaws at itself at the thought of the way he had handled it all.

Astarion had lost count of how many times he had undressed in front of others, so many of their faces blessedly long blurred by time.

He had unbuttoned and unlaced countless of his shirts, pants, doublets—a liar’s allure painted upon his features as he gave whoever it was a show, forever the night’s entertainment for his quarry. 

Yet, he had made her do the same.

He had enjoyed it, too. He had enjoyed watching her undress solely for him, piece by piece, her gaze piercing his own as she reveled in his attention on her.

She hadn’t said no or objected to it. But he could see the challenge in her eyes just as easily as she could see right through him and his attempt to gain back his precious lead in their little game, the perceptive little thing. 

A strange feeling—remorse—settles itself in his chest as he watches her from across camp.

The remorse only grows the longer Astarion fixates on it, leading to more and more questions that he doesn’t have the answers to, the weight of them near unbearable upon his scarred shoulders.

The crushing reality was that his plan was crumbling bit by bit, like a tiny pebble crushed under foot; and the worst part about it was that he was finding it harder and harder to care. 

Rin has made it abundantly clear that she is on his side.

He’d seduced her, had won her sword (mediocre skill notwithstanding), and had long secured her dedication to his cause.

By all accounts, his plan is practically complete where she’s concerned.

All they needed to do now was get back to Baldur’s Gate and—well, he wasn’t quite sure what would come after they get back into the city, Astarion was still a little fuzzy on the details of it all, but she’d help him figure it out when the time came, of course. 

Rin was aways helpful when it really mattered.

So why is it that he can’t stop with the first part? Even if he were to decide to stop sleeping with her, he wasn’t particularly concerned that she would suddenly turn on him. 

He has no reason to find his way into her bed now; no reason other than his own selfish, deep-seated desire for her company and attention and affection.

Rin catches his eye in a poorly timed glance of his own, and smiles so full of a sickening fondness—nose crinkled and flushed cheeks—at him.

Faster than he can follow she’s out of Halsin’s embrace, gracing the druid with a playful smile and a pat on the shoulder before she saunters over to where he sits perched on his rock, limbs unnaturally loose as she pads closer—drunk indeed.

Astarion doesn’t miss the way the light from the fire limns her figure from behind, setting her aglow in a halo of golden-red as she finds her way over to him, something in his chest warming as she nears.

She sways slightly when she stops before him and he can smell the rich tang of the whiskey on her as she sends him a mischievous look that has his lips already quirking up at the corners. 

“You,” she pokes him in the chest to add an emphasis that he did not need. “Should come join us”

“And you,” he refrains from poking her back in response, though the thought amuses him. “Are drunk.”

Rin takes a step closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning forward, slotting herself between his legs and blithely ignoring the glances the motion garners from their companions.

Astarion’s eyes widen at the blatant display of affection, taken aback by the ease of it as the scent of her surrounds him—honey and flowers and all around loveliness. 

On anyone else he would hate the perfume she wears, but on her it smells nothing short of wonderful; tempting him to bury his face into her neck and breathe her in.

Her hands play with the hair on his neck, as they always seem to, delicate fingertips running through the waves and he resists the urge to lean into her soothing touch.

He can feel multiple sets of eyes upon the two of them, voices lowered into whispers as the group no doubt gossips. The nature of his relationship with Rin is far from a secret, he’s drawn too many beautiful sounds from her lips for anyone to be unaware of their trysts. 

Astarion secretly revels in the idea that they are quite possibly jealous of what Rin gives to him; something that none of them have ever received from her. 

So let them see, then. 

Let them see that it is him who she seeks out, his arms the ones she wants to find herself in, his lips the ones she wishes to kiss.

Astarion’s arms find their way to her waist with an uncomfortable ease, hands settling along the indent of it as his thumbs run up and down her covered skin without thought, dragging her closer between his legs until their faces are mere inches from one another’s, only the rock beneath him stopping her chest from pressing fully against his own.

“I’m not drunk enough, I fear.” Rin cocks her head to the side with a smile, as she whispers covertly to him. “Maybe, if you come share a drink with me, we can fix that.”  

Astarion allows himself the temptation to brush an errant curl away from her face, the lock just as soft as he knew it’d be, before matching her tone. “Don’t be such a lush, dear.”

“Oh, come on, Astarion. I know that you enjoy a good drink as much as I do. And I promise, the whiskey is good.” 

He swears that he can hear her breath hitch as his fingers accidentally brush against her cheek, her eyes widening ever so slightly in surprise as he tucks the curl behind her ear.

“Oh, I’ve got no doubt of that, my dear,” He chuckles, a corner of his mouth turning up without his permission. “If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be quite so tipsy in front of me.” 

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Rin tuts, pouting. 

The way her bottom lip pushes out and her eyes widen under lowered brows is, dare he say, cute; and he can’t help the inward sigh that he’s now been relegated to thinking of a beautiful woman something as absurd as cute. 

It’s a blow to his seductive charm, surely, to use such a word to describe her; but all of the other adjectives he’s thought of in the past seem to had fled his mind under her spell when she looks at him like that. 

What in the absolute hells has she done to him?

“Pouting? Really, darling?” Astarion drawls, the hand he had used to tuck her hair back now brushing openly down her cheek in a touch that has her face heating to a most becoming shade of pink.

Rin instinctively leans into his hand and he resists the urge to cup her cheek, suddenly possessed by the want to draw her face closer to his.

“You don’t have to come drink with me at all, of course.” Her voice takes on that same tone it had taken on earlier, intention dripping from her words like the thickest of honey as her she bites her lip, drawing his attention to her mouth. “We can always go find something else to do instead. Just the two of us.”

The pink of her tongue peeks out to wet her bottom lip, soothing the place where she bit down upon it, and if Astarion hadn’t been paying attention already, he certainly would be now.

“Oh? Just the two of us?” He teases her, his other hand moving to curl around her lower back to pull her even closer, Rin curving herself into him, and Gods if the feeling of her against him didn’t feel like heaven. “What do you have in mind? A game of cards? Or, perhaps we should practice our calligraphy together, hm?”

Rin leans in to let her lips brush against the tip of his ear, Astarion barely holding back the shiver that threatens to break free as her hands comb through his hair and she speaks low, “I can make you feel good again, Astarion. If you want me to.”

Her words bleed with affection and genuine sweetness, and Astarion finds it very difficult to say no to her when she asks like that.

His mind flashes back to earlier, the image of Rin on her knees as she had waited for his answer, hands poised at his waistband streaking through his mind along with others as his stomach tightens. 

Her perfect lips wrapped around his cock, the feeling of coming down her throat, drops of diamond-like tears tracing down flushed cheeks, his hands buried in her hair.

How she had told him to take his pleasure and not worry about hers. A very sweet sentiment that he deeply appreciated for reasons he very much didn’t want to think about at the moment.

‘Thank you, Astarion, for letting me give you something for once,’Rin had said. 

As if she didn’t already give him plenty.

He’s thoroughly enjoyed being at her mercy, her touch always soft and gentle while she asks for permission. It had been so many years since he had indulged in wanting to be touched like that, and having affection heaped upon him by someone so eager to please him has quickly become nothing short of addicting. 

“Oh? And do tell, how you plan on doing that?” Astarion lets his fingers drift slowly up her spine, enjoying the way her body presses harder into his and her breath catches, the sound lovely.

“Follow me and I’ll show you,” Rin whispers as she steps out of the circle of his arms, swaying slightly as she does, and Astarion’s brows knit together in consternation.

She grabs his hand, and Astarion swears the feeling of hers wrapped around his could scald him, every nerve in his body set alight by that innocent touch.

He allows himself to be lead to her tent, content to follow after her with hands still connected; but there seemed to be a single glaring issue standing in Astarion’s way that he was apparently now unable to ignore. 

She was quite drunk tonight. 

Too drunk, according to a newer, still unfamiliar voice in his head. 

It’s a step too far for him now, or at least it is where she’s concerned; a step that, granted, months ago he wouldn’t have batted an eyelash at taking. 

All the better if they were too drunk, it only made his job easier in the end.

But Rin’s not like that, she’s not a mark and she deserves so much better than being taken advantage of in such a state, even if for his plan or his own personal desires of her. 

She would be so easy to please like this, with the alcohol addling her mind. 

And oh, how he could please her. 

He could so easily touch and kiss and fuck any thoughts she may have about Halsin or any of the rest of them right out of her mind, ensuring that his name is the only one that falls from her lips.

She steps through the flap of her tent, her hand still holding his, and once he’s inside she’s turning again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she balances up on tiptoes, staring earnestly into his eyes. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, Astarion. Just tell me, I want to know more about what you like.” She sways again, and his arm wraps around her waist to steady her as their bodies press together.

“Let’s get you lying down, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t meant to say such a word earlier, but it had slipped out of his mouth as he had hit the burning, white hot peak of his pleasure at her worship. 

Astarion finds, though, that he likes the way it flows off his tongue when directed at her. 

It fits her well enough, in his opinion.

He lets Rin drag him to the ground until her back is against her bedroll and he hovers over her, staring down into hazy green eyes as her curls spread around her. She’s a vision like this, and he memorizes the sight of her without thinking to, his eyes moving to capture every inch of her before his mind even realizes what he’s doing and can tell himself to stop.

“And now, Astarion?” 

She waits on a bated breath, waiting, as his eyes finding their way again to her lips.

Kiss her. That voice in the back of his mind is nothing but a traitor as it whispers to him, knowing full well he can’t give in to such dizzying impulses like that on a whim.

He knows better than to allow himself to kiss her. Because once starts he won’t be able to stop.

It would be so easy to fall into her, to kiss her into utter oblivion and lose himself in the body she so readily offers. To forget all about his pathetic life if only for the little bit of time they steal away to spend together in temporary bliss.

But it always comes back after. 

The memories, the reality of who is he and what he’s done, the feeling of his skin crawling in the aftermath of so many hands that have touched him without permission.

Her touch is different, but when he’s been touched thousands of times by thousands of people, it all seems to blend together in the end no matter what he wants—even if hers is the only one he wants to think about and remember the feeling of, thoughts of her consuming him even with just a gentle brush of her arm against his.

“And now, darling, you sleep.”

He doubts she’ll remember much come morning, the whiskey burning through her veins hotter than a flask of alchemist’s fire; but Astarion finds that he wants to be remembered, if only by her, just this once.

Wants her to remember their time together the way he always will. If they survive this, even when he has his freedom and is long gone to wherever it is he wants to go—he will always remember. 

He ignores the stutter of loneliness that pangs in his chest as he imagines ever so briefly what his freedom will look like when he’s on his own with no one else around.

It would certainly be quiet. Perhaps even peaceful. 

He would be able to spend his time however he wished it in the solitude, not a soul around to bother him with foolish chatter unless he went in search of such a thing. 

Strange how the thought of it doesn’t hold the same appeal that it once did.

A hand running along his cheek draws him out of his thoughts, dragging him back to the present as Rin looks up at him, eyes soft and yet somehow still managing to pierce straight through his un-beating heart as she studies his features.

“I meant it, you know—what I said to you that night. You don’t have to fuck me, Astarion. You can come sleep with me and we can just lay together. Or even just talk. I know my conversation doesn’t mean much, but—” She cups his cheek in her palm, the tenderness of it threatening to burn him to cinders. “It doesn’t have to be just about sex between us. We’re friends too, aren’t we? Friends can simply enjoy each other’s company and presence and take care of each other, can’t they?”

She’s babbling, words falling out of her mouth freed by the whiskey; but the innate truth he hears in them threaten the remaining bits of resolve that he has left.

Astarion’s not quite sure who she’s trying to convince—herself or him—but his determination wanes regardless, like a thread pulled too tight and on the verge of snapping.

But it wasn’t just about the sex, and if it’s not just about his plan, then what was it about?

He’s fairly certain friends don’t typically know each other’s bodies as intimately as they do, or know how beautiful they look as they fall apart, or find themselves craving nothing more than to simply exist with the other near.

Friends probably also don’t think about each other in the depths of the night when they’re cold and alone and hurting, the thought of the other a shining light in the eternal darkness of their existence.  

Astarion, though, has never had any friends that he can remember.

With more gentleness than he would prefer, Astarion removes her hand from his cheek and rights himself to a kneel, his knees finding their home on either side of her hips. 

He holds her hand within his own, turning his attention where he cradles it in his palm. Her hand is smaller than his, several calluses along the places where she holds her rapier and her quill, fingers still decorated with the ink she must have used earlier to write him a very scathing letter.

He had briefly considered tearing the letter to bits, the words contained on the piece of paper properly irritating and, in Astarion’s opinion, practically libel, but he couldn’t do it; instead relegating it to the pile where he keeps all the other useless slips of parchment from her in a neat stack hidden out of plain sight in his tent.

Her letters were, after all, the first tangible thing anyone had given him since he was bestowed with his sanguine hunger, his dark curse. 

And whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s so far been unable to find a valid reason to rid himself of them, useless though they may be.

Before he can catch himself, he’s leaning his head down to the hand he holds within his own, and with a damning softness he brushes a kiss onto each of her ink-stained fingertips where they had touched his face, lips light against them before placing a final, reverent kiss in the center of her palm.

She’s looks as though she’s not even breathing when Astarion raises his head to stare down at her, her hand still clasped in his own. 

He can hear the beat of her heart, drumming loudly against her ribcage with a rhythm he’s become so very familiar with, and he can smell the ambrosia of her blood as it soars through her veins.

Even in the darkness he can see the pink of her cheeks and the freckles that dust over the tops of them and he’s half-tempted to count them, wishing to brush his fingers over each and every one of them, if only to feel his skin against the sunny warmth of her own.

But it’s too much, and he’s spiraling downdowndown again into the depths of somewhere he’s not yet ready to be, and so he needs to leave. Needs to leave for the same reason he has to leave her every night, despite the weakness that has him indulging in anything and everything else she’ll afford him.

He has no other choice, for when she speaks such innocent words to him, offering him the simple solace of rest so full of a tender, blossoming affection, he’s filled with a want so heavy it threatens to drag him under.

Because if Astarion allows himself to give in—to know what it would be like to be warm, comfortable, safe—he knows he would never be able to go without it again.

Warmth, kisses, attention, kindness—all heaped upon him without wanting anything in return. No money, no favors, no motive other than her pure wish to spend time with him.

It’s a good thing his heart no longer beats, for if it did, Astarion has no doubt that she would be able to hear the rampant sound of it in his chest just as he can hear her own.

He rests her hand back down, letting it settle across her stomach as he swallows down the torrent of things that threaten to break free from him, Rin looking at him with a confused sort of wonder, as though he were a puzzle she was trying desperately to fit the pieces of together in her mind.

“Good night.” He stands to leave, movements as quiet as the night around them thanks to the unnatural grace he possess, before turning toward the tent flap. “Sleep well, my darling.”

He’ll allow himself that much, at least; for what was the harm in letting himself indulge in getting to call her his own just this once, if only to see what it feels like?

“You too, Astarion.” He turns his head briefly at her whispered words and meets her eyes, something molten and unguarded smoldering in her gaze as she watches him leave.

He can’t bear the sight of it a moment more, another utterance from her all it would take for him to succumb to his most secret desires—things he can barely stand to admit to himself—and so he turns his head forward and walks back out into the darkness, letting the honest and true longing that has been slowly burning him from the inside out finally consume him. 

[annie-creates]

What have I done

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1200

Note: I'm back with some Ravenna angst, hope you'll enjoy it as much as I liked writing it.

For as long as you could remember you always lived at the castle of the king, your mother being one of his and his wife’s most trusted maids. You were still pretty young when the queen died, leaving the old man and his daughter Snow White in distress. You grew up in the happy kingdom of thrill and joy that started to slowly decay with every year you all mourned your late queen. But then, just as you turned into a lovely grown woman and got your own job at the castle, the king found a new wife, queen Ravenna. They all seemed so happy it felt unreal. Not long after however the old king joined his late wife in the gardens of Eden and all that was left was her majesty and the clueless princess, who ran away within the next year.

You could hardly understand it all and the land was unstable in times of such rapid changes. When you became the queen’s own maid, being young and freshly employed, Snow White was already wanted all over the country. To you, however, it wasn’t much concern. Your job was to make sure the queen’s comfortable in her clothes and shoes, massaging her feet and warming up her bed for the night. In the difficult times of doubt and uncertainty you slowly became her confidant. She could tell you anything, knowing you wouldn’t tell, and even if you did, no one would believe such unimportant being as her maid. From a confidant you became her friend and from a friend you build your way un to being her lover. You would never take any inappropriate step but when she invited you to her, how could you say no the most beautiful graceful being you have ever sat your eyes on?

You were still her servant willing to do anything and everything she ever asked for and giving her all you were, all you had and all you could ever get. You were completely and utterly taken by her glory, confidence and pride. It even made you a little proud yourself that the queen chose you over all the other men and women who fell at her feet every minute of the day. You took her joy and anger, anything she needed to release, all her good days and all the bad ones ended up with you being used in her bed. You could hardly ever stay, having to leave her warm cozy chambers to return to your cold and unwelcoming bed with a hard mattress and rat-gnawed pillow the moment she was satisfied with you.

With how fast and wholeheartedly you fell for the woman there was no stopping, no pleasure and no amount of kisses would be ever enough for you. You yearned for her presence and body as hard as the desert yearns for water. You needed her, longed for her at every second of the day. You could merge in the tightest hug on earth, eat each other in the most desperate of kisses and it still wouldn’t be enough. Yet lately it seemed her hunger exceeded yours, she needed release, assurances and the plain feeling of power. You became her most glorious possession, using you and savoring you at any moment she wanted to. With looking for more power and rule over the kingdom she became insatiable.

As you visited her in her throne room, she frantically walked around unable to sit still, her hair flying behind her with every turn like a veil of gold. To you she was still ethereal, the most beautiful of women on this earth. No matter how many worried wrinkles her forehead sported or the stressed pout on her lips. She was like a fairy with a flame that pulled in every moth around. It was obvious to you she was at her wits end, even if she’d never admit to it, being concerned with things you had no idea about.

“My queen.” You address her carefully. “May I help you?”

“Ugh, no. Leave me alone.” She hardly even spared you a glance.

“Maybe I can help you relieve some stress.” You tried again. “At least with a melissa tea?”

“I said get lost!” Ravenna angrily shouts at you and harshly slaps your face. “Now get out of my sight!”

“I’m sorry…” You whine holding your cheek with tears evident in your eyes.

“Oh don’t play that innocent little girl with me you spawn!” your emotional reaction infuriates her even more. “Your father never loved you and your mother rather died so that she didn’t have to be with you anymore. I don’t want to see you here again, you hear me!?”

You could hardly listen to her words anymore, running out of the room to not give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry. She liked hurting you, she liked having the dominant power over anyone. Yet never has she been so cruel and evil to you. At that moment, you believed her. You believed she wanted to get rid of you, to never see you again. So that’s what you did. You packed the few little things you owned and you left, your heart breaking into million little pieces as you left the only home you ever knew and the woman you loved so hard you could die for her. Yet you’d do anything to make her happy and if she desired you gone you’ll leave.

Ravenna on the other hand got her temper under control once again in a few days, establishing somewhat steady rule over her kingdom. All she wanted now was to enjoy a little piece of quiet, preferably with the tea you always made for her with the littlest bit of mint and honey and with your massage and presence. But after she ringed her bell to call you to her, a different girl came in your place, taking care of her with her gaze fixed on the ground.

“Where’s Y/n?” she barked at the girl, her mood immediately worsening.

“I don’t know madam, she left.” The maid answered fearfully.

“What do you mean she left?” no one had the audacity to leave her service on their own.

“She said you expelled her, so she left.” The girl shrugs looking at her queen this time.

“That is ridiculous! Bring me my guard.” She orders the girl who bows to her and leaves.

Not long after comes the commander of her guards, coming up with a plan for your search with her. The army turned every corner of the castle upside down to find you, and they rummage the whole city, but you’re nowhere to be found. Ravenna sends out unit after unit to travel to all the corners of her kingdom to find you, fearing what might happen to you in the wild and dangerous world. She wasn’t sure you were even still in her kingdom or alive, and that worried her infinitely. She didn’t realize how attached she grew to your presence and joyfulness, enjoying your mannerisms and easily pleased outgoing nature.

“What have I done.” She whispers into the darkness of her chambers feeling cold and unwelcoming without you in them.

[elflutter]

— wip wednesday!

thank you for the tag @moonlight-prose! this is from a tragedy (to love a monster), the vampire!logan oneshot i've been working on for a couple weeks! i've got a lot of work left on it, but here is a snippet i wrote this week 🤍 feel free to leave your thoughts i've been aching to share this fic! (also it's a period piece! think late victorian era)

You felt a tear trail down your cheek. Warm from the intensity of it all; of his hand resting upon yours.

“What is this?” You asked, barely more than a whisper.

James cupped your head in his hand, wiping the tear away with his thumb.

“I cannot say.” James paused, waiting for the next words to come to him. “But I feel it too. God, I feel it too.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping if you blocked it out, for just a moment, this feeling would go away. But this is what you had wanted— something to hold close against your heart, to break through the safety of monotony and convince you to spread your little wings. Through the veil of fear your soul was shining, jubilant. This man; he was the open sky. You had decided, then. That you would love him.

“Will you kiss me?”

The words had scarcely left your lips before he was on you, his free hand resting upon your waist as his mouth met yours in the gentlest caress. It would not do, it did not sate the strange flame growing in your heart; you longed for more.

Your fingers tangled in the locks of his hair as you deepened the kiss, unsure of how, exactly, this was meant to go. Your body was uncertain, but your heart beat true, as you threw yourself against him.

You were Eve and the soft plush of lips against yours was the forbidden fruit. The man before you, temptation incarnate. If this was Eden, you hoped to never leave. The scruff of his beard scratched at your skin. The scent of cedar and cigar-smoke enveloped you in this liminality between divinity and sin.

Tangling your fingers in his hair, holding onto him like a raft amidst roiling waves, he nipped at your bottom lip. The slight dig of his canines into the softness there; an intoxicating sting. His calloused palm still cradling the base of your skull, an aching tenderness in the gesture. As if it had always been this way; your bodies pressed together, bathed in the silvery dew of starlight, with only the moon as your witness.

The door closed behind you with a soft thud as you pulled James into your bedchamber, the act only sweeter in its forbiddance. You took him into your bed, limbs tangled in honeyed ecstasy. You kissed him until your lips were raw from it. Even then, his mouth moved against yours with such hunger; it was as if he meant to devour them until the skin peeled off entirely. Until only bones were left behind.

That was you first taste of his love. Of his destruction.

im feral about this fic 24/7 btw teehee

no pressure tags! @sceletaflores @avocado-writing @silverskyeline @superhoeva @eupheme @joelsgoldrush and anyone else who'd like to!

[dragonfly0808]

Please please please make the winx rewrite playlist on Spotify

Mkay so… I got way too invested and wound up making a 5 1/2 hours long way-too-detailed playlist

This is the link:

Veiled Wings and Shattered Panoramas Official Playlist

And if you want to know why I chose each song, down here is the way-too-detailed-explanation of the playlist!

First off; I chose 2 songs to represent each season

Season 1- Wings by PIXY and Faerie Soiree by Melanie Martinez

Season 2- What’s up Danger by Blackway and Black Caviar and Different World by Alan Walker and Sofia Carson

Season 3- This is War by 30 seconds to mars and Nightmares Never End by JT Music and Andrea Storm Kaden

Season 4- Tiller’s Prayer by Sabrina Jordan and Ribs by Lorde

Subsection here for the main song of each arc for s4

Arc 1- Generation Why

Arc 2- The Old Therebefore (the singing to snakes version cause it’s more dramatic)

Arc 3- What Was I Made For? By Billie Eilish

Arc 4- Spinnin by Madison Beer

Season 5 will be… Nightmares Come to Life from HSMTMTS and Long Live by Taylor Swift

Next I chose 2 songs for each member of the Winx

Bloom- Rising by Julia Lester and The Albatross by Taylor Swift

Stella- Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde and skinny dipping by Sabrina Carpenter

Flora- Envy the Leaves by Madison Beer and Mouth of the Eden by Sabrina Jordan

Musa- Whispers by Halsey and the grudge by Olivia Rodrigo

Tecna- Invisible Chains by Lauren Jauregui and idontwannabeyouanymore by Billie Eilish

Aisha- The Tradition by Halsey and Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray

Subsection for my 3 main songs I associate with the girls:

A World Alone by Lorde

WOKE UP by XG

For Good from Wicked

Continuing with the boys

Sky- Lie by Jimin and In My Blood by Shawn Mendes

Brandon- Something Big by Shawn Mendes and Thumbs by Sabrina Carpenter

Helia- Cough Syrup (the Glee version) and Speak Out (Acoustic) from HSMTMTS

Riven- Boy in the Bubble by Alec Benjamin and BLUE by Billie Eilish (cmon ‘I thought we were the same birds of a feather now i’m ashamed’ is so Driven coded it’s not even funny. And the whole final part from ‘you were born bluer than a butterfly’ is just so perfect for him.)

Timmy- The Other Side and Summer Child by Conan Gray

Nabu- Wool by Flatland Cavalry and Die Alone by FINNEAS

Subsection for my 3 main songs I associate with the boys:

Youth by Shawn Mendes and Khalid

ON by BTS

The Story by Conan Gray

Next, songs for the couples!

Skloom: lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid, Surrender by Natalie Taylor (and in the future) Maybe this Time by Joshua Basset and Sofia Wylie

Stella and Brandon: There’s no Way by Lauv and Julia Michaels and R.E.M by Ariana Grande

Flora and Helia: Canada by Lauv and Alessia Cara and Venus Sunrise by Lia Marie Johnson

Rivusa: Ain’t No Doubt About It from ZOMBIES 3 (partially as a joke but also cause that song is absolutely so them) Alley Rose by Conan Gray and ESPECIALLY Vermillion by Sabrina Jordan

Tecna and Timmy: Someone You Like by the girl and the dreamcatcher and Tell Em by Sabrina Carpenter

Aisha and Nabu: Tornado Warnings by Sabrina Carpenter and safety net by Ariana Grande and Ty Dolla $ign

Next, songs for different characters and a few couples!

Icy- 28 Reasons by SEULGI

Stormy- The Lighthouse by Halsey

Darcy- Partners in Crime by FINNEAS

Darcy and Riven- Getaway Car by Taylor Swift and Astronomy by Conan Gray

The Trix- Lightning by Little Mix

Daphne- Can’t Catch Me Now

Valtor- Burn the Witch by Shawn James and Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift and Hayley Williams

Daphne and Valtor- Dynasty by MIIA

Now Roxy’s squad!

Roxy- Control by Halsey and How Villains are Made by Madalen Duke

Shirley- Matilda by Harry Styles

Naten- Kid in Love by Shawn Mendes

Alexa- Follow the White Rabbit by Madison Beer

Chimera- Wandering (Don’t Go) by Hues and Lia Marie Johnson

Chimera and Naten- The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

Roxy and Shirley- On My Way by Sabrina Carpenter and Alan Walker

The Sibling Squad- Grow by Conan Gray and Warriors by Imagine Dragons

Then I put a bunch of songs that just remind me of the Winx or help me get into a writing mood, I’ll just put the title here cause I’m getting tired

Rise

odd eye

run for roses

untouchable

ringo

s-class

thunderous

lion

secret story of the swan

panorama

centuries

voltage

flesh & bone

legends never die

lifts

Finally, I put a song for Selina and what will be the main song for season 6

For Selina: Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall by Lydia the Bard <- this is exactly the vibe future Selina will have for reals

And finally, the main song for s6:

Til Forever Falls Apart by Ashe and FINNEAS

Wow… I def put way too much thought into this.

Anyways, hope u enjoy!

[radioisntdead]

No longer you

Adam x F! Reader

Warnings: mild OOC because it's my first time writing for this prick.

Song used

Adam begrudgingly walked down the long heavenly hallway, Lute was left behind to prepare for the extermination that would take place later that very day.

Paintings decorated the walls, ones of his time in Eden with Eve, He wished he could just grab them off the wall and smash them to smithereens but unfortunately he couldn't because Sera would be on his ass about it, as would the folks who painted them.

Eventually he arrived to the door at the other side of the door, immediately pounding on it.

"Hey, Sweet cheeks, I'm here open the fuck up!" He called out.

A loud sigh was heard before the door cracked open, a dove-like cherub flew out.

"The prophet is inside, do keep your voice low as-" the poor cherub was interrupted by the first man,

"Yeah yeah, I know We do this every fucking extermination." Adam proceeded to walk pass the Cherub and walk into the dim room.

You were sat in some fancy looking chair, a floral tea pot infront of you, the light outside shined onto you, you looked positively ethereal through the translucent veil covering your face.

Adam couldn't deny that he got fucking lucky landing you as his wife, and if he could he'd pepper you in kisses and more but alas, he couldn't unless he wanted to get scolded by Sera, not here at least.

In this room you were a prophet, someone who gave him an idea of how each extermination would go, obviously it'd be the same as every other time, they'd kill a bunch of fuckwad sinners and come back, like every other time.

Adam couldn't even open his mouth to say anything before you began to speak.

"I am the prophet with the answers you seek,"

You looked towards him, normally you'd bring a decent vision, but with what you saw, you couldn't state it outright.

"Time, I've unlocked it,"

Adam immediately grimaced at the look of pity you held in your eyes, the last fucking thing he needed was to be pitied, not by you of all people.

"I see past and future running free," you gestured for him to take the seat in front of you.

"There is a world where I help you get home," you picked up the tea pot, you poured the tea within into a matching floral teacup.

Adam sat down the chair creaking from the force he used, he picked up the cup muttering a "Thanks"

"But that's not a world I know," you didn't dare make eye contact with him.

"What?" You heard the teacup get placed back into the table, a droplet flying out and staining the white cloth that covered the aforementioned table.

"I see a song of current romance," you closed your eyes as the visions replayed in your mind, you had a vague idea of who they were having caught a glimpse, The princess of hell and a former exorcist.

"I see the sacrifice of woman,"

So, so many exorcists would lose their lives, and even if you didn't approve of the whole extermination thing, you didn't think they deserved death.

"I see portrayals of betrayal," the image of the day Lute tore Vaggie's wings and eye out flashed.

"And a snake's final stand," Poor guy, he never stood a chance.

You took in a breath, opening your eyes to look Adam in his.

"I see you on the brink of death," you heard Lute's scream, it sent cold shivers down your spine.

"I see you draw your final breath," that smile, that stupid, goofy soft smile of his, that would only be reserved for you usually.

Adam looked unimpressed, not taking your visions seriously, him? Dying? Because of little miss hell's princess? What a joke.

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you" It wasn't Adam, but the fallen angel who had stolen away both of his wives.

Adam scoffed, "This can't be,"

"We've slaughtered and sailed through the toughest of hells," He waved his hand around in a circular motion.

''Now you tell us our efforts fail now?" You sigh as you slip out of your seat, standing up.

"I see her hotel covered in gold," truthfully you saw it in rumble, but the angelic golden blood was spilled up on it.

"Faces of sinners who had long believed you invincible," you saw them cheering, cheering at the fact that the first man, the man you loved for some reason, was dead.

"I see your wife with a man who is haunting," you saw him, no longer as he was now, no longer a winner but a sinner like those he slaughtered each year.

Adam on the other hand immediately thought that you meant Lucifer.

You prayed that he wouldn't break the porcelain tea set that rested on the table, it was gift from Emily.

"A man with a trail of bodies," "Who?!" He stood and shouted with such anger that a normal person would flinch, but you simply pointed your finger to him.

He visibly relaxed at that, still on edge on whatever you could mean with the word choice of haunting.

"I see a song of past romance," you saw Eve relaxing on a beach, or who you thought was Eve.

You moved, taking Adams hands in yours, locking eyes,

"Adam, I see the sacrifice of woman, I see portrayals of betrayal," he turned away from you,

"And a snake's final stand," you moved to pull his head towards you.

"My love, I see you on the brink of death, I see you draw your final breath," the faint trace of tears filled your eyes as Adam rolled his.

he didn't believe you for whatever reason, was it the over abundance of confidence that he had in his exorcists? The very ones that would perish, that would lose their lives and their friends.

Adam scoffed, grabbing your face taking the chance to plant a kiss on it.

"Relax Sweet cheeks, it'll be like every other extermination, we go down there, fucking slaughter them then come back and party like every other time,"

"Adam, did you not hear a single word of what I was saying?"

"Yeah, yeah I die or whatever, which is impossible because if you forgot, I'm the first fucking man, dickmaster sixty-" a knock was heard at the door, causing you to snap your head at it.

"Sir Adam? Lieutenant Lute told me to tell you that it's almost time." The Cherub from earlier called out, causing Adam to groan, "Adam, please-" "You got nothing to fucking worry about Sweet cheeks, see you later." He booped your nose for whatever reason before leaving, slamming the door behind him.

You watched as the remaining Exorcists returned, injured, traumatized and without Adam.

You sighed as leaned against the window frame in the house you shared with Adam, glancing out the window at the night sky you fiddled with his Halo.

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive," you tossed it onto the bed before looking back at the window.

"But it's no longer you."

Oh you were so going to tell him 'I told you so' the moment you saw him again.

Good evenin' folks! Surprise surprise I actually posted on Wednesday! Now I do hope you enjoyed this little thing with Adam, it did not come out as angsty as I would've liked, but I got another future seeing reader fic slow cooking in my WIPs only that one is a TAD bit more angsty! As always thank you for tunin' on in! Thank you and goodnight!

Psst! Join our discord, it's kinda dead rn!

[acrystalwitch]

First an introduction to Lucifer: Usually in my deity guides this is where I’d share a bit of mythology on the deity I learned from their texts. Here will be a lot of UPG and SPG instead from him and other followers of his instead, as the texts he is in purely see him as evil and misunderstand him. This might ruffle some feathers so again please know; I understand I’m speaking from my own UPG a lot.

From the best of my understanding, and from what Lucifer has shared with me…

Lucifer was an Angel from the Christian religion. He was his father’s most beautiful Angel.

His father made the angels to serve him and always rule under him, he was the only god in his pantheon and wanted to stay that way.

The angels never even questioned it, things were how they were and that was that. But, Lucifer started to question it, he felt it was unfair and cruel for a god to create so many creations just to serve him and worship him, it was selfish and controlling. So he asked to be treated as an equal, and instead was punished.

In that he gathered all of the angels he’d been able to rally behind his cause. He wanted to free them of the idea that told them they couldn’t ever be more than his servants. Lucifer revealed to them that they were all no different from gods themselves. They rebelled against their controller, and lost.

Lucifer and his angels were kicked out of their pantheon and thrown into Hell, being called ‘demons’ now.

The demons rule different parts of hell and Lucifer is said to be the king of all of it. But I also believe he spends most of his time on Earth.

When Lucifer saw that his father created humans and was doing the same to them in Eden that he’d done to the angels he felt so sorry for them. He snuck his way into the garden and tried to get them to pull the veil from their eyes. He helped them see that they could make decisions for themself, and that’s the energy he continues to try and bring to us all wherever he can.

He is a deity of love for humanity, love for freedom and independence. A god of rebellion and justice for those who have been walked all over. He is angry and sad and kind and fair. He is pride and self love. Confidence and knowing yourself inside and out.

My personal experience with Lucifer:

He is the 3rd deity I brought into my personal pantheon I worship and he is very key to my pagan practice.

He came into my life to help with a lot of my religious trauma and things revolving around the church and my childhood and my parents.

He also helps with a lot of my gender and trans issues, as I and many others that work with him see him as a more non-binary being (I use he/him pronouns mainly but I have always felt Lucifer isn’t binary)

He appears in meditations to me as a blonde man, looking kind of sad at times, but other days very excitable and probably the one that makes me laugh the most (next to Thor)

WHY ALL THE LEMONS

You might’ve noticed almost everything I do surrounding lucifer I talk about lemons or have images of lemons.

Plain and simple answer is, lucifer really likes lemons 😂

It just kind of became our thing because I’ve always really liked sour fruits. They seem misunderstood like him, but also bright and sunny , with that sour kick.

On that note…

Other offerings for Lucifer

(Of all of my deities Lucifer cares the least about physical offerings and the most about spending quality time together)

- yellow, orange, red, black candles

- sunstone

- citrine

- carnelian

- flower agate

- gold jewelry

- wine

- Sun water

-chocolate

- citrus/lemon incense

-coffee

-tree fruits

Non physical offerings

- acts of rebellion

- artwork

- poetry

- shadow work

- hanging out with him while you do mundane activities

- learn about yourself, get to know yourself

If you have a lot of trauma in your past about the Christian religion and have felt like he might be reaching out to you, it could be worth pulling out your preferred divination method and having a check.

He has worked wonders for me already and I’ve found a lifelong friend in him as well. Of all my deities I’d say he’s the most understanding of humanity and what we go through and it just feels like talking to a wise friend sometimes.

[corruptedcaps]

Mallbrat

This story is based on this wonderful tweet by @shadow211e. Enjoy!

Despite Mel coming from a rich family, she had always seen herself as someone who was above the shallow, materialistic pursuits of the women who frequented the upscale mall in the neighboring town called Eden. She hated how bitchy and superficial the people were that frequented Eden, she was much more at home on the soccer field. Yet, today was different. She had come here with a pure intention: to find the perfect gift for her friend Katie.

Katie was a huge lover of fashion and followed all the latest trends but could barely afford the clothes she bought from the thrift store. Katie often told Mel that she was happy with her thrift store finds, that it made her more resourceful but Mel could see the sadness behind her best friend’s eyes.

Mel knew it would be hard, being a tomboy shopping for a dyed in the wool girly girl but she was determined to get her something perfect. It was just so overwhelming. The mall's glistening storefronts, adorned with designer labels, had always made her uncomfortable, but now she felt exhausted looking at a myriad of shoes, dresses and makeup, not knowing where to begin.

Taking a moment to sit down and gather her thoughts she watched as the bitchy girls of her school stride past flicking their hair and giggling at a joke she was sure she was the butt of.

As she was about to get up suddenly a perfume saleswoman appeared and sprayed something in her face. “Hello Miss, don’t you just love the smell of our new signature scent, ‘Entitled’. It’s such a hit that the mall will be pumping it through the air conditioning for today only. Make sure to buy your bottle before you leave today.” The saleswoman said to Mel who was coughing as she took the sweet fragrance in the face.

Before Mel could complain the woman had disappeared into thin air. Annoyed but undeterred from her task, Mel went back to walking the mall. As she strolled past boutique after boutique, something strange began to happen. Her posture straightened, and her steps became more deliberate, mimicking the confident strides of the women who were impeccably dressed around her. She pushed her chest out in front of her and walked with her chin high in a superior pose.

As she walked past store front after store front gazing at the opulent wears in the windows her mind started to drift from whether ‘Katie would like that’ to ‘I’d look good in that’. One outfit in particular caught her eye. It was a snakeskin style top that looked to have less fabric than her soccer shorts but she felt inexplicably drawn to it. She couldn’t stop picturing herself in its revealing curves.

She would have walked straight in to try it on only she got a look at herself in the windows reflection and nearly gagged. Her hair was messy, face dirty and her nails were chipped. She viewed her own reflection like the girls she saw earlier viewed her.

Mel sauntered into the upscale mall salon, her confidence preceding her. Locking eyes with a poised beautician, she snapped, "I need my hair cleaned and styled. My skin cleaned and moisturized, and my nails manicured. Make it quick." The beautician, catching the haughty undertone, nodded energetically and led her to an open chair.

As Mel settled into the plush seat, the beautician picked up the shampoo bottle labeled ‘Entitled’, the very same brand as the perfume that was spurted into Mel’s face earlier and worked diligently, washing away the remnants of soccer practice and transforming Mel's unruly hair into a sleek masterpiece. Meanwhile Mel found herself in a state of unexpected euphoria, a sensation induced by the intoxicating scent of the shampoo. The fragrance, like a veil of opulence, enveloped her senses, lulling her into a blissful reverie.

So enamoured with the aroma that Mel barely registered when the beautician put a facial mask on her as her hair dried. Her face tingled as she felt the dirt lift, bruises erase and her skin became smooth and imperfection less.

By the time her hair was dry Mel instinctively held out her hand, waiting for the beautician to start work on her nails. The beautician however was a pro and was manicuring Mel’s nails within seconds.

While the beautician worked, Mel’s internal dialogue shifted to a self-indulgent narrative. Thoughts of striving for success in soccer and excelling in academics seemed distant, replaced by a fixation on social standing and personal allure. "Who needs soccer? I'm destined for a life of extravagance," she thought, her mind now captivated by visions of high-society events and glamorous soirées.

As the beautician skillfully completed her work, Mel, now adorned in the aftermath of pampering, gazed for the first time at her reflection with a sense of vain satisfaction. The sleek hair, the impeccable facial, the manicured nails, and her impressive breasts painted a portrait of indulgence she couldn't help but revel in.

Maybe it was how straight her posture was now and how she stuck out her chest and held her chin high but Mel absolutely adored how big her tits now looked. They were practically spilling out of her top and she knew her cleavage would have heads turning.

“Good,” she thought to herself. “It’s about time I caught the eye of a man who can treat me to the finer things in life and is my monetary equal. I’ve wasted so much time with the boys at school. I need a man.”

The beautician, seemingly now intimidated by Mel, inquired cautiously, "Are you happy with the results miss?" Mel's eyes met her reflection once more, and with a dismissive wave, she retorted, "You didn't do much, darling. It's hard to improve upon perfection." The words hung in the air, leaving an awkward pause as the beautician grappled with the unexpected critique.

“But I suppose I better pay the ‘the help’. Here charge it to my black card.” Mel said coldly handing the beautician here matte steel credit card, the one her parents had given her but she had refused to use but now could think of nothing more satisfying than maxing it out.

“Thank you miss, we hope to see you again.” The beautician said as she quickly disappeared out of sight as Mel stared at her with disdain. Mel liked how it felt to have someone fear her. It made her pussy tingle.

Mel, fully immersed in the conceited realm she had embraced, stood up out of the chair and sauntered out of the salon. As she expected and enjoyed, all eyes were on her as she walked the mall floor.

She strode confidently into the store that held the outfit that had caught her eye earlier and snapped at the shop assistant to get it for her. The shop assistant quickly leapt to attention and got the outfit for Mel who rolled her eyes at the shop assistant for taking so long.

In the dressing room Mel joyously slipped into the tight outfit perfectly, her body contouring to fabric as if it was made for her. As she gazed lovingly at her reflection, a far cry from the girl that had entered the mall a few hours ago, something began to nag in her mind. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t her. She had come her for Katie not for herself.

And yet the longer she stared at her magnificent body the more she didn’t care. The once happy thoughts about friendship and empathy gave way to daydreams of a luxurious lifestyle, filled with adoration and admiration. "Katie can fend for herself. It’s time she learned that this world can be cruel… and so can I." Mel mused, her thoughts betraying a growing detachment from her former priorities.

Leaving the dressing room in the outfit she was about to pay for, she didn’t give a second thought to her old clothes laying on the floor until the shop assistant asked sheepishly what she should do with them.

“Burn them for all I care, they’re paupers rags as far as I’m concerned.” Mel said with cold detachment. She looked at the pile as a representation of her past life.

She spent the next few hours at the mall on a shopping spree. One outfit would not make up for years of neglect of her wardrobe. She needed clothes that reflected her station in life, one she had refused to embrace until now.

Along the way the same girls who had scoffed at her appearance earlier approached her cautiously but with new reverie. “You’re Mel right? You go to our school? We should hang out, girls like us need to stick together.” One of them had said.

Mel looked at them with a cold gaze, observing their demeanours. They were pretty and mean but Mel could see they feared her. She smirked knowing they’d be putty in her newly manicured hands. They would be perfect betas.

“If you must, but keep up I don’t have all day. Oh and it’s Mercedes.” She said with a turn on her expensive heels as she walked fast to make the girls try and keep up with her.

Before long the girls had filled her in on the most eligible men and the juiciest gossip. Their last leader had moved towns and they had a power vacuum that Mercedes was now only too happy to fill and they were only too happy to follow.

Mercedes was having such wicked fun that before she knew it the mall was closing. She had bought so much stuff that her new clique each held numerous bags for her as they followed her to the exit. Along the way Mercedes was sure to pick up several bottles of the perfume ‘Entitled’ as she left. She just loved its aroma.

Outside Katie stood waiting for Mel. Mel had told her at the beginning of the day that she had a surprise for Katie and to meet her at the mall. But now after waiting several hours Katie was beginning to worry.

Mercedes and her gang left the mall and made their way to the waiting limo Mercedes had ordered. Mercedes spotted Katie and with an evil smirk got close enough so her former friend could hear her say, “I really wish the mall would keep the riff raff further away from the property. They are ungodly eyesores.”

Katie went beet red at the cruel comment and quickly made herself scarce. She didn’t recognize this new girl that seemed to have her bully group ensnared but there was something so familiar about her.

The End