#even when he's not getting paid even when he's in mortal danger

[xjulixred45x]

I could't contain myself guys sorry--

Bro, do you realize how scary it would be to have Vox as a Yandere?

just imagine it. You could be one of his workers, maybe too good at your job, because not only do you do what Vox tells you without asking questions, but you also know what to say and what not to say to avoid a "tantrum" from him. or rather, when his insecurities attack with force like when Alastor returns.

Vox would probably be a somewhat condescending yandere (as seen with Val) but don't think you can't turn tables easily, if you stroke his ego enough, you can have him around your finger. but that doesn't make it any less dangerous for those around you.

He makes the typical 180 degree turn in attitude when it comes to Other Employees and when it comes to You. Damn, you may be the only one of his employees who gets paid vacations (or even vacations) or even birthday bonuses, things like that. He likes to give you his things or products with the excuse that "they are for testing" even if they have already been released on the market.

Like:

Vox: who the fuck eat My leftovers!?! WHENEVER WHO WAS I'M GOING TO-

Darling: it was me sir.

Vox:--give You the rest and take You out for lunch, You haven't eaten in the whole day AGAIN, didn't ya?

He definitely avoids conflict with you by hypnotizing you, when he starts to feel hostility, fear on your part or that you want to leave, he makes you "out of nowhere" have "ONE MORE TASK" and you can't help but do what he says.

and IT IS NOT just to avoid fights or for you to leave, it is something CONSTANT (once every two days MINIMUM), although Vox is not worried about your brain turning into mush due to its powers, it always keeps nutritious things in your diet and they come out relatively often , as you have to follow him everywhere.

Eventually he becomes more clingy and needy in this case, it's practically not that he's proposing to you or anything, he's just slowly dragging you into a relationship without you realizing it (because you're not lucid enough). Unless you develop a higher level of tolerance to his hypotonic trick, I don't think you'll notice his Red Flags.

I think it would be ESPECIALLY BAD if Darling is also a Sinner, because then they wouldn't even be able to get out of the pride ring to run away from Vox. leaving you with many fewer options and having to avoid all of Vox's technology, which you could only achieve by 1- going to the Cannibal Legion or 2- going to the Hazbin Hotel.

Running away is EXTREMELY DIFFICULT, not only because of his hypnotic trick, but because he literally has EYES EVERYWHERE, on every screen in hell. If you somehow manage to get away with it and run away, Vox would be SO ANGRY and looking for you all over hell with their screens.

Although definitely if you were gone more than a day, he would be more distraught than angry and would begin to despair. Even Val and Velvet would give him a hand because of how bad it would be.

Just imagine, thinking that you finally lost sight of Vox's search drones, without realizing that you stand in front of some store and VOX ITSELF appears on the screens :)

If you made the stupid decision to go to the Hazbin Hotel, Vox would be distraught and would even think that Alastor was somehow holding you hostage, obviously! Why would you go there if you knew his biggest enemy was there? Alastor must be using you as a bargaining chip! How dare he!?

(in this case, fortunately, the punishment is much less severe, but he would definitely monitor you for the rest of your life)

When he eventually gets you back (after a few days or even WEEKS of anguish) expect, first of all, to be in a mortal embrace that lasts AT LEAST 2 days and then receive your "punishment" which would be to be under hypnosis for AT LEAST 1 YEAR to be sure that this NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN.

Although calm down! He gives your mind breaks periodically because 1- he doesn't know if that would ultimate mess with your head and 2- it's nice to hear YOU talk instead of the robotic version.

When that year FINALLY ends, you will be a much more obedient, more terrified, sweeter version of You, according to Vox, like a frightened Deer. It was a long and hard process, but the good thing is that you don't have to do anything anymore! absolutely! Just do what he tells you and everything will be fine.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Not one of the Best yanderes to have, but Def not the worst

[reixtsu]

Characters seeking you out during random times

pt 1?

Character: Wanderer

Wanderer

-> Archons, why would you even think that he would seek YOU out, out of all people?! There is no reason why he would... right?

-> Well despite him being so against the feeling, he couldn't help himself but feel the desire to be near you. *sigh* How irritating.

-> Everyday he would try to avoid you, finding refuge in the forest and talking to the aranara. His logic was that if he was away from you long enough, he would stop desiring to be near you.

-> Damn how that made his feelings worse. As The days went by, all he could think about was you. Your hands, your way of caring for him, your little jokes and unfavorable attitude. How dare his nonexistent heart long for you, a mere mortal

-> No matter, he thought. He was a puppet. He knew he was able to handle avoiding you.

-> What he forgot, however, was how much you knew about him.

-> So to his dismay, you found him one day while climbing a tree.

After a while of following Wanderer through the woods, you finally were able to corner him and demand an explanation on why he disappeared suddenly. Your furrowed eyebrows, your tone, it was all annoying to him. All of the unnecessary attachment you hold for him was insufferable, something he could barely tolerate. So, he simply crossed his arms and glared at you with his usual cold stare.

"It's not your responsibility to look after me. I am perfectly able to take care of myself," Wanderer said bluntly, wasting no time to turn around and walk away. You huffed, but stood there for a moment, wondering if you did something wrong.

In Wanderer's eyes, yes, you did do something wrong. You made him too attached to you to the point where he would make meals for you once and a while, accompany you in your journeys, and even 'comfort' you in your times of need. You were too dangerous. He had to stay away from you.

However, you being you, you wouldn't let him get away that easily.

Everyday you made an effort to find Wanderer, make him his favorite foods, leave him little notes and gifts, anything that might attract his attention and get him to talk to you. After a good few weeks, your efforts on seeing him finally paid off and he knocked on your door in the middle of the night.

It was a rainy night, too cold for anyone to go outside for enjoyment. Three light taps were heard on your door as you slowly opened your eyes, your eyelids begging to shut. With a small groan, you left your bed and made your way to the door, opening it to reveal the one and only, Wanderer.

He just stood there, water streaming down his hat and his shoes drenched with water. He looked like a wet kitty who came to a house for some food. Wanderer stood there in silence for a moment before stepping inside and instantly drying himself off using the power of anemo. Convenient.

You smiled at him, confused as to why he was acting so strangely.

Wanderer knew he couldn't last any longer, with his heartbeat deafening his ears and his cheeks excluding a deadly heat, he coughed into his hands and averted his eyes rather quickly.

"I... Want...You," Shit, that came out wrong. Wanderer cursed to himself, his cheeks only heating out more out of pure embarrassment as he waited for your reply.

Silence.

A paused moment of awkward silence that seemed to make the room stuffy.

He begged the archons for you to say something instead of looking at him as if he was crazy. Okay, maybe he was, but still! He quickly glanced at you, then pulled his hat down, avoiding eye contact.

That is when you laughed. It was a nice light hearted laugh. A tune that always made Wanderer's nonexistent heart soften with a certain gentless. The way you smiled and clutched your stomach did annoy him a little though.

"What do you mean 'you want me', hm, Wanderer?" You asked teasingly, smirking as you reached your hand out to gently lift his hat up to see his eyes.

He instantly frowned, his blushing intensifying as he started to lose his 'breath'. "I didn't mean that! I meant to say that I apologize for avoiding you and that I want.. your... hugs." He said the last part in a mumble grumble.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his cuteness as you started to hug him, much to Wanderer's dismay. "Aw! You can be so cute sometimes!"

Wanderer tensed up at the close proximity of you both. He sighed, annoyed with himself that he couldn't be away from you for too long. With a single hand, he placed his hand on the small of your back and gently patted it.

It was a soft pat, and you gladly accepted it. Wanderer wasn't one for giving affection, so when he does show it you know that something is up. Giving him a small peck on his cheek, you grabbed his hands and let him to your bed.

He knew that you were his cherished weakness, and he vowed to never leave your side for too long. He loved you, after all.

[aphroditelovesu]

What about a Yandad! Poseidon with his mortal/ demigod daughter??

❝ 🌊 — lady l: I got carried away and ended up writing a mini imagine. This is not canon and is based on the voices in my head lol, but I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💙

❝tw: threats and a slight yandere!Poseidon, but other than that, nothing else.

❝🌊pairing: platonic yandere!poseidon x daughter!reader.

❝word count: 683.

You grew up at Camp Half-Blood, surrounded by other demigods and learning to control your divine powers. Your relationship with Poseidon was complex; on the one hand, you benefited from his protection, but on the other, the shadow of prohibition hung over you. The sea god, your father, had a clear interest in your fate, and the other demigods couldn't help but feel the aura of power that surrounded you.

Your relationship with Percy Jackson, the already known hero and son of Poseidon, was a highlight. The two half-sibilings trained together, shared experiences, and supported each other in battles against monsters and other threats. The bond between them grew, consolidating a formidable partnership, feared by many enemies. Poseidon was more than pleased to see his two favorite children get along so well.

In the years that followed, Poseidon's presence in his daughter's life was constant. He guided you in training, sharing secrets of the seas and teaching you how to control your aquatic powers. As time passed, your abilities stood out among the rest. Poseidon's influence ensured that the instructors at camp also paid special attention to you, preparing you for even greater challenges. However, the constant gaze of the god of the sea also generated distrust among your fellow demigods, fueling rumors and jealousy.

Life at Camp Half-Blood wasn't easy. Monsters constantly threatened the perimeter, and quests were often assigned to the most skilled demigods. Poseidon, in turn, began to discreetly intervene in your life, providing help at crucial moments and ensuring you were one step ahead of impending dangers.

However, your relationship with the sea god was not just one of benefits. In dreams and visions, you began to receive cryptic messages and warnings from other gods and titans, warning you of the implications of being so close to Poseidon. A god can never be involved in his children's lives, well, the demigods children at least.

Tension between the gods grew as your bond with Poseidon deepened. Zeus, in particular, viewed the increasing influence his brother had over you with suspicion. The warnings from the other gods increased, and the shadows of destiny began to manifest themselves more clearly.

One night, during a vivid dream, Triton, the son of Poseidon with his wife and your half-brother, appeared before you. His eyes expressed concern as he warned of the consequences of ignoring divine warnings.

"Proximity to our father can bring blessings, but also curses," Triton said, his voice echoing like the waves of the sea.

Quests abroad became more dangerous, with more powerful monsters and mythological creatures challenging the demigods. Poseidon continued to intervene subtly, but now his help was under the scrutiny of the Olympian gods. Zeus, in his wrath, explicitly prohibited any divine intervention in your quests.

Once, during a battle against a colossal sea beast, you found yourself on the brink of defeat, your companions also injured. Desperate, you silently cried out for Poseidon's help. He responded, sending a furious wave to defeat the monster, but the price of this intervention was high. On Olympus, Zeus' anger became uncontrollable.

The situation reached a critical point when an oracle prophesied that the proximity between Poseidon and you would trigger a catastrophe that would affect not only the demigods, but the entire balance of the mythological world. The gods' prohibition on interfering in the lives of their children became an unbreakable decree.

Poseidon, however, didn't care one bit. You were his daughter and he would help you if he wanted.

[plutoswritingplanet]

Mortal Kombat 1 Intro Dialogues

a/n: some slightly flirty dialogues for suggested characters from Mortal Kombat 1 (and 11), reader is a blood mage, adjacent to "Unpunishable"

Warnings: Suggestive Language, Obscure References, Poor Attempts at Comedy

Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung: Liu Kang is squandering your potential.

Reader: I trust his judgement completely.

Shang Tsung: You were made for so much more.

...

Reader: You want me to make a deal with the Devil.

Shang Tsung: All I ask in return, is your soul.

Reader: It's too high a price!

...

Shang Tsung: I lay before you my eternal heart...

Reader: There is no love with you, only ownership.

Shang Tsung: I dearly love all of my possessions.

...

Reader: I must believe there's good even in the darkest corners of the world

Shang Tsung: Finding it in me might turn out to be a futile fight

Reader: I don't give up easily, Shang Tsung

...

Shang Tsung: Have you ever thought to say "stop"? "If you love me, you would stop?"

Reader: Not in a thousand years.

Shang Tsung: I see now, why we're destined for each other

...

Reader: The things you've been doing in your laboratories are vile

Shang Tsung: I've used the same magic, as the one coursing through your veins

Reader: Liar!

Liu Kang

Liu Kang: Empress Sindel has approved your application to study Outworld's medicine.

Reader: I'm honored by her trust.

Liu Kang: You'll do a splendid job as Earthrealm's ambassador.

...

Reader: I fear the pull of darkness overpowering me.

Liu Kang: I will guide you, until your mind is at peace.

Reader: What if it never ends?

...

Liu Kang: In the previous timeline, you were my close friend and adversary.

Reader: And in this timeline?

Liu Kang: I'm inclined to say the same.

...

Reader: Doesn't it get lonely, being a God?

Liu Kang: I'm devoted to protecting Earthrealm and its people.

Reader: You didn't answer my question.

...

Liu Kang: Beware Shang Tsung's honeyed words.

Reader: You've said we were destined for each other in all timelines.

Liu Kang: And your union always leads to your suffering.

...

Reader: You knew I'd reject Shang Tsung's offer? Fight him every step of the way?

Liu Kang: I had faith, you would make the right choice

Reader: Honestly, do you have music playing in your head when you say garbage like that

Johnny Cage

Johnny: Let me just say, there's no other place I would rather be, than right here with you right now.

Reader: I can change that very easily.

Johnny: Why so serious, sweet cheeks?

...

Reader: No, Johnny, I won't be playing in any of your movies, ever.

Johnny: Can I ask why?

Reader: Why I don't want the job that makes your brain explode?

...

Johnny: You might wanna reconsider your rendezvous with the Sorcerer.

Reader: Which one?

Johnny: Oh, you are a bad woman.

...

Reader: Don't be such a baby, it's just a scrap.

Johnny: And I need a hot nurse to patch it up.

Reader: Why do I even… You're impossible.

...

Johnny: You have experience with emotionally fragile men, right?

Reader: You're self-aware today.

Johnny: I was talking about Kung Lao...

...

Reader: Okay, Ninja Priest was actually kinda good.

Johnny: YES! I knew you had a thing for the clergy.

Reader: That's not what I... You're such an ass!

Kung Lao

Reader: Do you think Liu Kang has destined us to become friends?

Kung Lao: Obviously, I'd never choose this for myself.

Reader: He could've made you less of twat...

...

Kung Lao: It's way too dangerous for you to travel Outworld alone.

Reader: I don't need a babysitter, Kung Lao.

Kung Lao: Prove it, then.

...

Reader: If you buy me dinner at Madame Bo's, I'll heal your arm.

Kung Lao: I see your time with Shang Tsung is rubbing off on you.

Reader: See, now I gotta hurt ya.

...

Kung Lao: How does it feel, being in the center of the Snake's attention.

Reader: Fuck you man, I didn't ask for this.

Kung Lao: Not good then.

...

Reader: Come on, I paid for dinner last time.

Kung Lao: I'll be happy to pay... Once you beat me.

Reader: You can be an ass sometimes, you know that?

...

Kung Lao: You know I only meant it as a joke, right?

Reader: Let me show you just how funny I think you are

Kung Lao: Bring it on, Nurse.

Bi-Han

Reader: You betrayed everything your clan stood for.

Bi-Han: You have no moral high-ground here, Healer.

Reader: I don't need it.

...

Bi-Han: Join the Lin Kuei, and unleash your true power.

Reader: Not while they're under your command, traitor.

Bi-Han: Your pride will be your downfall.

...

Reader: I can feel your blood run cold through your body...

Bi-Han: It will boil while I destroy you.

Reader: You'll freeze to death, then.

...

Bi-Han: Your aversion to power is your greatest flaw.

Reader: Should I follow your lead, then, and betray all I love for a promise of greatness?

Bi-Han: Is it wrong to want more?

...

Reader: Maybe I can beat some sense into you…

Bi-Han: I will crush you, little girl.

Reader: Great, a quip about my height, so original.

...

Bi-Han: We meet again, Blood Mage.

Reader: I knew you couldn't stay away, Bi-Han.

Bi-Han: Let's see if your training has progressed.

Erron Black

(am i the only one devastated he wasn't included in mk1?)

Erron: What's a pretty lookin' thing like you doin' in a place like this?

Reader: Holy shit, you even talk like a cowboy!

Erron: …Nevermind.

...

Reader: If I win, I get to wear the hat.

Erron: You'd look mighty fine in it, I'd wager.

Reader: Don't you pull your punches on me now, Black.

...

Erron: There's quite the price on your head, sweetheart.

Reader: And you'll do everything to collect it, right?

Erron: I could be persuaded against it, with the right motivation...

...

Reader: Do you flirt with all your targets?

Erron: Only pretty little ones, like you, girlie.

Reader: Well then, let's dance, Cowboy.

...

Erron: I wouldn't mind giving you a ride around town, little lady.

Reader: I'd rather beat you where you stand.

Erron: Be still, my beating heart.

...

Reader: I know who sent you.

Erron: Someone who's eager to get their hands back on you.

Reader: You can both keep them to yourself.

[spacebarbarianweird]

How would Astarion be if his darling was a Mestipholes Tiefling? Like, first time they see his back THEY CAN READ THE INFERNAL ON HIS BACK… And their face just drops. And when they suddenly snap back to reality they have a newfound hatred for Cazador?

Hi! I have a ton of requests from you and I haven't started any of them :-( I am so sorry and I promise I will eventually get to them!

As an apology, this is a headcanon straight after your request! Besides it's been a long time I've made anything more or less classic.

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Mephistopheles Tiefling!Tav

You weren't born to Tiefling parents.

You are an abnormality, a payment your family paid for mingling with devils.

Orphaned and abandoned, you've been traveling this world all on your own fearing to make friends even among your own kind.

You know a lot of dark and secret magic but prefer not to use it.

The hells scare you.

You see a relative soul in Astarion. Abandoned, lonely, scared.

You didn't have time to notice the scars on your first night together but the moment you open your eyes you see his back.

"What is fuck" is your most modest reaction.

You immediately read to him what it's there. And you also it's a pact with the devil.

The devil you sort of belong to.

You warn Astarion not to have business with Rafael or his father. 

And not to pursue the ritual.

He huffs all the way long, and lashes at you but you keep insisting.

Astarion doesn't know what the conditions are. He has no idea what Cazador and Mephistopheles agreed on.

He is a fucking magistrate, he must know how dangerous it might be!

If he doesn't want to be stuck in hell for eternity, he must not pass the ritual.

In the mansion, you are sure Astarion will ascend.

He doesn't. He doesn't want the infernal chains to enslave him.

But you also know this. If Astarion wants to become mortal, the solution is probably in the hells as well.

You spend years researching and traveling. Years spent in each other's arms.

Your blood is a bit spicey to Astarion's liking but it also provides him additional warmth. 

He loves pulling your tail in public which is the equivalent of putting a hand into someone's trousers.

And also grabbing your horns when you make love. 

He loves every part of your hellborn body, every small detail.

And you enjoy the coldness he provides.

Finally, you think you've found the way to make Astarion mortal. 

You need to go straight to hell.

Unfortunately, it's a dangerous place even for a vampire...

... And he is killed.

His death devastates you. Makes you want to kill yourself. 

And you do something you would never think of doing.

You make a pact with Mephistopheles. You ask him to return you Astarion in exchange for a lifetime in servitude.

The devil does his part. Astarion awakes at your feet, dizzy and scared. 

Only when you both come back to the material place do you realize that something is wrong?

Astarion's eyes are green, not red.

Alive.

He is resurrected. As a mortal.

His body is warm, and he can walk in the sun.

But Astarion isn't stupid. He knows his life came with a price.

When he learns about the pact, he gets angry. You've never seen him like that.

Angry like a devil.

When he calms down, he gives you his word. He will find a way to set you free from the pact.

Your soul won't belong to the Mefistopeles. 

Unfortunately, the lifespan of tieflings isn't really long. You eventually die. At the ripe old age of 115.

And your soul is immediately in the devil's claws.

You wait. You serve. You hope.

Elves live for centuries, Astarion will find a rescue for you.

Even if your soul immediately fades away the moment it's free, you know for sure.

You will see Astarion once again.

---

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@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[dwellordream]

“Young women have always been for sale. In the fifth century bc, Herodotus describes the practice of selling Babylonian daughters at a yearly auction in his Histories. He wrote:

They used to collect all the young women who were old enough to be married and take the whole lot of them all at once to a certain place. A crowd of men would form a circle around them there. An auctioneer would get each of the women to stand up one by one, and he would put her up for sale. He used to start with the most attractive girl there, and then, once she had fetched a good price and been bought, he would go on to auction the next most attractive one. They were being sold to be wives, not slaves. All the well-off Babylonian men who wanted wives would outbid one another to buy the good-looking young women, while the commoners who wanted wives and were not interested in good looks used to end up with some money as well as the less attractive women.

The Babylonian men paid a bride price, but some of their money would come back to them because the young women were given dowries, which their husbands would administer even if they could not raid it. This exchange seems odd but was not so unusual in the classical world, where women served to cement together two male-controlled families. If a married daughter died without children, her money would go back to her family, which removed any incentive to harm her.

At the time, virginity was not always necessary to a girl’s successful marriage—the Lydians prostituted their daughters to raise money for their dowries. Because of the dangers of childbirth and high rate of early mortality in ancient Greece, it was common for wealthy relatives to provide not just their daughters but also their poor relations with dowries. Athenian law even required that the State dower poor women of just passable attractiveness; teeth were all that were required. Because Athens was under constant threat from its rivals, it depended on its young women to provide it with a constant stream of new soldiers.

Classical literature is filled with accounts of creative daughter disposal. In some memorable verses of The Odyssey, the father of Penelope, Odysseus’ wife, then thought to be a widow, urges her to marry the suitor with the most gifts. Greek fathers took care not to raise more daughters than they could dower. Outright infanticide was abhorrent to ancient Greeks, but they did practice “exposure,” wherein parents intentionally left unwanted infants exposed to the elements. They believed that the gods could choose to save the abandoned children, thereby eliminating their agency while achieving their aims. Husbands were not permitted to run through their wives’ dowries but neither could the wife.

A Greek woman’s dowry yielded about 18 percent per year, and if the couple got divorced, either party could request the dowry. It was returned to a woman’s guardian or, in certain cases, kept by the husband, who paid 18 percent interest to his former wife’s guardian for her support. The wealthier the family, the more likely it was that a marriage would take place between two young first cousins. Such marriages keep money in one family and tended to correlate with periods of cultural instability, when power was held by a few important families. Cousin marriage was particularly popular among the higher echelons in Elizabethan England, the Antebellum South, and in late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Britain.

Greek girls who died in childhood were mourned specifically because they did not fulfill their destiny as wives and mothers. Their epitaphs make reference to their failure to marry, and the girls were quickly writ into myth. Like Persephone before them, they were considered married to Hades and dwelled, as wraiths, in the underworld.

In the Roman period, women did not fare better. Catullus sums up the Roman attitude toward marriage, writing, “If, when [a young woman] is ripe for marriage, she enters into wedlock, she is ever dearer to her husband and less hateful to her parents.”

The middle class continued to sell their daughters at regional markets throughout most European countries during the Middle Ages. For the upper middle classes, the social stasis of the period made marrying an heiress one of the only means to improve one’s social status, and it was nearly impossible to do without deception. The middle classes began to consult marriage brokers—a growing cottage industry in Europe—who would help them plot their rise, reconstruct their family histories, then help them relocate in order to achieve success in another part of the country. If a woman did marry up, she would find that she had much less control over both her body and her daily life—where she walked and even what she ate—than she had in a middle-class environment. In the upper classes, the legitimacy of heirs continued to be of primary importance, and as such women’s movements were intensely regulated.

Women were progressively more visible during the Renaissance. Increased trade created a new culture of conspicuous consumption, propped up by merchants and explorers who transported new goods through Genoa and Venice, Zanzibar and Constantinople, outward to European capitals and the known world. Newly available luxury goods made life easier and more enjoyable—tobacco, tea, coffee, silks, and spices facilitated a culture of male comfort in which wives and daughters played an important though entirely passive role. In ancient Greece and Rome women were kept mostly in the home, but during the Renaissance men put their velvet-swaddled wives and daughters on display, trotting them out in public, where they would often sit separately, saying little if anything but fulfilling a necessary decorative function. A woman’s beauty, or wealth, was most of all a statement about the social status of her presiding male, be he husband, father, or brother.

For much of the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance, sumptuary laws on food and goods defined and limited social space. By legislating who could obtain specific fabrics, foods, drink, and other luxuries, governments prevented servants and the middle classes from masquerading as aristocrats by denying them access to the materials necessary to appear richer than they were. Pre-Reformation Europeans were just beginning to let go of feudal social organization.

Though more people now lived in cities, family patriarchs had long made decisions for their large clans and were not interested in giving up a privilege that had served them so well. Daughters were married to create important and lasting connections between families. Those who could not be married off in a way that would benefit the clan were often forced into nunneries. For a noble family, sending a daughter to a convent or forcing her into spinsterhood was far preferable to tainting a family line by permitting her to marry beneath her station.

This system of dispensing with daughters worked peaceably for hundreds of years, until Henry VIII came to need a son and heir. When his attempts to have his first marriage, which had produced no sons, annulled by the pope failed, Henry charged ecclesiastical and secular legal scholars in England with finding a way to divorce his consort Catherine and marry his pregnant mistress Anne Boleyn. Their solution was divorce and breaking away from the Catholic Church. Henry began the violent dissolution of Catholic monasteries in 1536. It lasted for four years, during which the crown plundered church lands, sold them off to rich allies, and used the surplus cash to wage dubious wars in France. For wealthy young women, newly Anglican, there was an additional change, perhaps the single most significant social change women would see until suffrage. Their safe haven—the convent—was now gone.

The absence of nunneries sent numerous marriageable aristocratic young women into circulation. When once they would have been in the country, awaiting the marriages arranged for them, or preparing to enter a convent, these young girls were now brought to court, which is where they were most likely to find husbands. By the time Henry’s daughter Elizabeth I began her reign in 1558, the atmosphere surrounding marriage had a new urgency.

Elizabeth’s rule began in religious chaos after her predecessor, her half sister Mary, violently restored Roman Catholicism to England. Elizabeth spent the better part of her first years on the throne fighting for her father’s Protestantism in an effort to fend off those who wished to depose her. Her legitimacy was questioned with every decision she made, and she understood that her courtiers were her key to maintaining the throne. She tightened her control over the aristocracy by reducing its size to a new low. She stripped disloyal aristocrats of their titles or made it known they were not welcome at court.

It was against this tumultuous backdrop that Elizabeth, in an effort to form beneficial social and political alliances, began having young ladies ceremonially presented to her at court. These presentations were small affairs and limited to the daughters of Elizabeth’s most important courtiers. They took place in the queen’s “withdrawing room,” a private room, but located next to larger public rooms, where she could go with a smaller party. The girls were led from a public stateroom into the smaller adjoining room at Hampton Court palace, so that other courtiers would know who was being favored.

At the more private ceremony of presentation, the young girls curtsied to the queen. The young girls had a vivid experience of being watched and assessed, enhanced by the fact that of the roughly 1,500 people in regular attendance at court, only fifty were women. These presentations came to be referred to as “drawing rooms,” and they engendered a curious experience that blended ostentatious display with the familial and private, a mix that would continue to characterize the debutante ritual for its duration

Many of the presented young women served her as attendants and became intermediaries between Elizabeth and the wider circle of her court. They helped Elizabeth to exert control over the nobility by creating an elegant buffer between the monarch and her courtiers. In order to present a petition to the queen, one first gave it to a lady-in-waiting, along with a fee that the lady in question would determine based on her closeness with the queen. Elizabeth encouraged her ladies to charge exorbitantly for this service—not so much because they’d have some independence, but so they would have enough money to be able to gamble with her.

She also regularly rejected petitions based on their lack of generosity toward her ladies. The queen could also be capricious—Elizabeth’s ladies-in-waiting could not marry of their own volition. Elizabeth Vernon spent a week in prison (with her new husband the Earl of Southampton) for marrying without the queen’s permission. Lettice Knollys was banished permanently for marrying Elizabeth’s favorite courtier, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. When Elizabeth discovered that another lady-in-waiting, Mary Shelton, was secretly married, she attacked her and broke her finger.

Elizabeth’s social standards and rituals persisted after her death, with queens taking over control of drawing rooms and social presentations even when there was a king on the throne. Elizabethan presentations-at-court served a very clear political purpose. Though they bore little resemblance to the feverish social theater that characterized the fully developed debutante ritual of the nineteenth century, these court presentations provided the foundation for modern debutante culture and served, too, as its myth of origin.

They show the important link between society and politics, a symbiotic relationship that only deepened as the ritual became institutionalized and spread outward to all corners of the British Empire. Elizabeth’s backroom maneuvers—quick conferences with her ladies or political advisers—provided the precedent for the many political meetings that took place at debutante parties in later centuries, and emphasized the soft power of social settings, which were controlled by women who understood that the way to power was not always hard work or even fortunate birth, but judicious conversation next to a sloshing punch bowl or quivering trifle.

The Stuart monarchs who followed Elizabeth continued the tradition of the drawing room (“with” was dropped from “withdrawing room” in the late seventeenth century), which retained its function as a matchmaking tool. Elizabeth’s successor, James I, arranged the marriage of his favorite courtier, the charming spendthrift James Hay, to Honoria Denny by granting Honoria’s reluctant father a title and royal patent. While these high-level marriages took strategy, marriage law remained chaotic. There was no legislation that defined marriage, and there were no protections for women after they were married. Rather, the absence of law meant that women might be forced into marriage by their fathers, married by capture, or tricked into marriage.

The age of consent to marriage was twelve for women and fourteen for men, and contracts were often made during the “unripe years.” It was a particularly dangerous time to be an heiress. During these years women could inherit property. Inheritance law was not clear on whether her property would become her husband’s upon marriage. Without knowing if they could control their property, many women resisted marriage.

Restrictive regulations for daughters intensified after they were wives, especially if they were considered to have broken proper codes of behavior. If a wife were to be convicted of adultery, she would lose her dowry or marriage portion and her husband could make a good case that she could punitively lose her property as well. There was no comparable financial forfeiture for adulterous men, and courts habitually disbelieved women who tried to defend themselves against claims of adultery. It is not difficult to explain widespread female acquiescence.”

- Kristen Richardson, “Marriage (Market Price).”

[rosesradio]

I’m curious if you ever thought of a valdangelo child where adopted/ bio ( through magic idk😅) I myself am kind of guilty of this and if sos what types of parents would they be you think?

hii!! first of all no need to feel guilty of that, it’s cute 💌

tbh, despite how much i’ve joked with my editor about my love for mpreg, kidfics are like my least favorite fics personally 🥲 they’re cute, they’re domestic, and they just happen to not be my thing. i’ve especially not thought about it with valdangelo since i’ve never written them as older than myself (and i’m still a babey—there’s absolutely no 21 year old women in my Bible Belt town getting married and having children wdym 👁️👁️)

that being said, for you 🫵 i’ve allowed my two brain cells to cook with this concept, and i see two routes:

1.) i reblogged this cute post the other day about jercy praying to hestia for a baby, and i could see the same thing for valdangelo—since Nico gave hestia company and kindness by the hearth when she was otherwise ignored, the goddess may be inclined to answer their prayers. idk how the baby would come to be (pregnant Nico?? 👀), maybe delivered by the wind like those babies in the live action grinch movie (“hey honey, our baby’s here!…kinda looks like your boss…” Or Whatever)

the baby could have physical and behavioral traits from both parents, as well as being a legacy of hades and hephaestus.

2.) in the ceaselessverse i established a foster care system in which aged-out demigods take care of younger demigods in the mortal world. i could totally see nico & leo doing this—nico because he wants to provide lonely children with a safe home, and leo because he wants to give the foster kids a better experience than he had. i think they would both do a ton of research, and foster 1-2 kids during the non-summer months. they would especially foster older teens, as they tend to have a harder time finding a home.

as for how they would take care of them:

i think in the coming months before the child is in their home (in either scenario) there would be some jokes from Leo about all the dangerous stuff he and the kid would do, how Leo would have the kid in his workshop, etc. Nico would scold him about it, though ultimately he can’t stop Leo from doing a bit.

then the child comes, and Leo gets one look at them, and a switch flips. He becomes the ultimate protective, spoiling dad. He doesn’t let the (foster, in this scenario) kid even hang out in the doorway of the workshop for weeks, even if nothing is happening inside. that is, until the kid seems sad that Leo doesn’t want to show them what he works on, in which case he’ll happily show them. i also think leo would teach the kid to be a bit of a prankster, though whenever they prank nico, the kid feels safe knowing that Leo is going to be the one facing the repercussions.

Nico would be a bit of a tough love dad at first—not mean in any sense, though he’s not quick to be affectionate. it’s not intentional, ofc, though it does make the kid a bit anxious. i’d like to imagine a scenario where the kid is kind of spiraling into wondering if Nico even wants them there (of course he does), when a monster attacks. Nico would be so quick to draw his sword and go to bat for this kid, they would have no doubt in their mind about how he feels. and afterwords, Nico would offer things to help the kid feel better—and the kid realizes these things are all of their favorite foods and games, though they thought Nico hadn’t paid attention to know. Little do they know, Nico memorized the information camp gave him by heart before the kid walked through the door.

that’s pretty much all the thoughts i have on valdangelo with a kid, i can definitely see them fostering—and despite their insecurities and challenges, Leo & Nico would handle it like champs 💌

[dcextremefan]

The Writer - Gotham Knigths Jason Todd x reader - Part 1

Warning: I'm writting the reader as a female character because it's been a LONG time I don't write self insert, but you guys can consider the reader as gender neutral too. And there is some Arkham references haha :3 Hope you enjoy it :)

(Y/N) - Your Name

(L/N) - Last Name

Living in Gotham City is a mix of a lot of things, it can be fun, but also can be dangerous. Night crimes, gangs and thiefs, but thank God that in Gotham City there are still heroes who are willing to protect us from any danger.

I was sitting down while drinking my coffee at Pauli's Diner (Arkham Knight reference hehehe), writting something on my notebook until the waitress came serving more coffee.

"Thank you, miss Jones" you smiled at the blondie lady

"you're welcome, and please just call me Sharon, sweetie. You come here ever since you were a college student" Sharon served coffee

"times really pass so fast and I'm almost finishing my novel"

"That's why you need more coffee, and by the way, havin' a boyfriend or girlfriend?" Sharon asked with a smirk

"aah Sharon. You know that I feel awkward with these kind of relationships ever since I graduated"

"I know I know, darling. If you need something just call me. Oh, and tell your parents that I said 'hi' too"

The waitress left the table, you just needed some more minutes to finish writting, your novel it's a romance between an important angel with a human who is an apprentice of the most dangerous sorcerer on earth (yeah, it's a reference of my Mortal Kombat OCs account), and they have a chemistry between them even tho their romance is forbidden.

The angel is a hero while the human is seen as a villain by the whole society, you were about to finish your novel until some thugs entered into the diner.

"Everybody! Get down" said one thug

You quickly turned off your notebook and hide in your backpack, everyone including you got down on the ground. The big guy who was holding the gun was searching something, or better, someone. He was kicking the tables until he found you.

"found ya. You know why we are here!" said the tall thug

"I-I don't what you're talking about" you answered while stuttering

"liar. There were rumors about you, you just need to give what we want"

One of the thugs who is a female, spotted your backpack and took off your notebook

"this seems to be so important to you" the female thief said

You tried to grab your notebook back, but tall guy pulled you by your hair

"Let her go" the Red Hood has arrived, "You guys have enough courage to taunt an innocent writter"

"Get him!" the female ordered

The thugs started to fight against the Red Hood, none of them were so as skilled as the vigillante, he dodges all their punches and he used his double guns to shoot at them. He impeds the woman and he got her uncoscious. The Red Hood grabs your notebook and give back to you.

"Thank you, Red Hood" you grab your closed notebook

"you know why they were threating you?" Red Hood asked in a serious tone

"I- I have no idea, I was just minding my own business here writting my novel until these thugs came in"

"you're safe now, be careful when you're writting on your computer outside your home"

"I'll listen to your advice, thanks again, Red Hood"

And with that, the Red Hood flies away with his grappling gun, you grabbed your notebook, put it inside in yout backpack, paid Sharon for the coffee and then left the diner.

At the morning, Jason Todd, the Red Hood that saved (Y/N) last night, was helping Barbara with the breakfast.

"hmm so you saved a writter yesterday" Barbara broke the silence

"what?" Jason lifted his head towards the girl

"c'mon Jason, you saved (Y/N) (L/N) last night, a writter of my favorite romance"

"how do you know that?"

"she posted on her writting blog" Barbara showed her phone to Jason, he saw your writting blog. An official page about your books and updates, sometimes you even write about your everyday routine.

"woah, never knew she is that famous. But I don't get it-" Jason got interrupted by Dick Grayson who came along with Tim Drake

"good morning! Who's my favorite little batsiblings doing?" asked Dick with a playful tone of voice

"haha very funny, Dick" Jason elbowed Dick's arm

"you guys saw the (Y/N)'s writting blog?" asked Tim Drake showing his tablet, he is also a big fan of your romance

"yeah, Jason Todd- oh I mean, the Red Hood saved her at the Pauli's Diner yesterday at night" Barbara grabbed Jason's shoulder

"seriously, I started to get jealous of you. I always wanted her autograph" Tim pouted

Jason continued to cut the bread and his siblings noticed his serious face.

"looks like you're not in the mood today. Are you okay?" Dick asked him

"it's weird that last night instead the thugs rob the Diner, they decided to assault that innocent woman for some reason. Quite weird, right?" Jason said

Dick, Barbara and Tim looked at each other with a suspicious look

"and did she say the reason about why?" Dick asked

"no, all she said is that she was minding her damn business while writting her novel" he responds

"but do you remember what the thugs have said to her before you arrive?" Tim ask

"They said there were rumors about her and she just need to give what they wanted" Jason respond Tim's question

"hmm" Barbara thought for a minute and she went to her computer

"what are you doing?" Jason asked

"I'm trying to locate (Y/N)'s through her phone since she posts a lot by it, and you might investigate what's her business" she responded

"soooo... like a stalker?" Tim asked

"no, Tim. Not like that, but if there are rumors about her, I think it wouldn't hurt for us to investigate" Barbara chuckles

Jason sighs while scratching his head and put his hands on his hips

"alright then. Let's do this"

TO BE CONTINUED!

[melrosing]

thoughts on 2.04

liked this episode maybe the most so far. i don't mind the glacial pace that much bc when you're an asoiaf freak even slow episodes are Much to Think About but i did enjoy shit finally getting a move on

the dragon bonds were v moving to me in this ep :( i think it's something they've kind of suggested here and there but not really made much time for before and it's made the dragons less interesting to watch. they feel more like characters when we can see them engaging w their riders and also now im grieving lizards

like ali h finally leaning into the whole 'i don't actually care what viserys wanted' but I still don't feel like the conversation with rhaenyra was the best primer for that. also ali h being a shit mother once again because she feels emotionally divorced from everyone except rhaenyra.... yeah

and wait is she carrying the show's version of maelor?? that would be a weird twist but ok. and then maybe they hide alicent AND helaena from the public eye in this time and play off the child as helaena's (and he's just inherited his gran's colouring). maybe alicent becoming everything she once imagined she despised rhaenyra for i.e. mother of bastards who she would put on the throne, putting her friend's children in mortal danger etc.... im getting carried away but yeah

aemond being the one to ultimately bring down aegon and sunfyre.... right and good

daemon visions!!! im actually so excited about the visions this was what I was most looking forward to since last week. I think the hbo adaptations should really get weird with it bc i genuinely believe fandom and casuals alike have a lot of fun dissecting those and they're one of my favourite aspects of george's books. also rhaenyra being a weird proxy romance for daemon in place of his brother.... im giving this daemon take a little trophy it's insane and they should do more of it

downsides: i still don't feel like they're doing enough with characters like Jace and Baela. im slightly intrigued by the Rhaena stuff (though I think it would've worked better if they'd paid her the slightest bit of attention in the preceding season) but Jace and Baela are still really two dimensional. esp. Baela's relationship with Daemon, they really need to just get into the meat of shit like that sooner rather than making silent nods to it here and there before expending the whole premise in one fall out scene (that's my prediction for how that will go anyway). and yeah jace is just a toast sandwich rn

love the fishy tully armour idk

[jiliansky-blog]

Witch’s love. Chapter 1. A long time ago

Pairing: Morpheus x Witch FemaleReader

Rating: PG

Words: 2770

Warnings: Can be spoilers for Briefly lifes and Kindly Ones

Summary: When Lyta Hall and Furies are coming for Morpheus, he received unexpected help.

Notes: For everyone who asked why I write Morpheus x OC instead of Morpheus x Reader

“Why do I come here?” you asked yourself. “No one even paid me any attention. It was silly to think that my former fiancée regretted his decision”. He was already too preoccupied with his new victim to pay attention to me. So you want to punish him so much. You wanted to spell love charms on him. For him to love again or to never love anyone. But then I changed my mind. You don’t need artificial love. You can’t cast on him any dangerous charms as well. It was against our rules. So You decided to bring him nightmares. And now you watched him tiredly trying to flirt and court another woman. “Shall we dance?” suddenly a stranger in a black suit, and mask, and with black hair appeared right in front of you. “What?” you asked.

“You did come to dance here, little witch, did you?” he whispered with a deep voice that made you goosebumps on your skin. You froze because this stranger knew that you were a witch. What if he was a witch hunter or a demon and came for me? “I’m neither of them”, he said, as he read my thoughts. “Now let’s dance before you start to get attention from people around you”. And you let him lead you into the dance. His one hand was on your waist and the other held your hand. You dared to look into his eyes. They were blue and the stars were shining in them. “So who are you?” you asked.

“You sent this mortal into my Nightmare realm”, he replied. If you weren’t dancing, you would be frozen again. Oh god, is he an Endless? You are so in trouble. What should you do? “You are an Endless”, you said. “Hush, little witch”, he whispered. “I’m Dream of the Endless. And you need to take away your charms of this mortal”. “I think not”, you said even though you were afraid of him. “This mortal betrayed my trust and abandoned me. Do you know what you know what it feels like?” “I know”, he pouted his red lips. “And still you need to undo your spell”. “Why?” you asked. “I heard you, Endless, cursed people for less”. And then you froze and don’t know what got into you. He for sure can curse you too for your disrespect and disagreement. And you ran away from the dance floor. Of course, he followed you. It was stupid to try to escape from him.

But you understood that you are not afraid of him. He followed you and don’t try to stop you anymore. You looked at him. “It will pass away”. She said. “In time”. “I don’t think it will teach him a lesson”, he said. “Nor it will help you. I know something about it. As you admitted”. “Oh alright”, you sighed. “I will release him of your realm”. “Very well, Y\N”, he said. “It is a wise decision”. And he disappeared. I decided that I didn’t have reasons to stay anymore. I didn’t want to see Nathaniel again, so I told my aunt that I had a headache and returned home, where I broke the spell. I didn’t expect to see Dream of the Endless again.

But you met shortly after the ball. A few days passed when someone came to your aunt and she called you. And you were shocked to see a familiar figure. Now he was without the mask and you could see white skin and a sharp nose. He was quite handsome. He was more handsome than Nath. He smirked when he saw your reaction. “Miss Y\N”, he nodded.

“I did what you asked”, you said, trying to calm down. “Why do you come here?” But deep inside you felt flattered that Dream of the Endless bothered to visit you.

“Do not be worried”, he said. “You are not in trouble. But I may need your help. I need the help of a witch”. “And you decide to come to me?” you asked. “Yes, as for now you are the only witch I know”, he replied. “I doubt it, Dream of the Endless”, you dared to smile. “Morpheus”, he said. “What?” you asked confused. “You can call me Morpheus”, The Endless said. “Morpheus”, you repeated. “As a god of sleep”. “Exactly”, he nodded. “It’s one of my names”. “So, what help do you need, Morpheus of the Endless?” you asked. You understood if he doesn’t threaten you anymore, then you are not on his bad list. But you still need to be careful.

Turned out that he needs some potion or spell. Someone needs to wake up. And then he appeared in your life more often. He needs some witchy stuff and then you understand that he makes up the reason to come. Even though you caught yourself liking him eventually. He was silent and serious most of the time. But when he smiled, it was like the sun came out of clouds. And it made your heart beat a little faster. “Wait a minute”, you say after another visit. “You are the Endless. You don’t need the help of a witch to wake people up or to put them to sleep”.

“Do you want me to leave you for good?” he asked seriously. Yes, if you are planning to make him confess that was the wrong move. He is definitely not used to confessing feelings easily. “No, I don’t want you to leave”, you replied. “I just really am interested in why you came. I didn’t think you liked me after the ball”. “I am interested in you”, he came closer to you and your heart started to beat faster again. “Actually I want to court you”. “What?” it was a surprise. “I want to court you”, he repeated seriously and then suddenly he took a bouquet of flowers from somewhere. It was beautiful red roses.

“Is it for me?” you asked confused and delighted at the same time. “Of course”, Morpheus gave me flowers. “Do you like them?” “Of course”, you smiled. “It’s unexpected, but it is a pleasant surprise. And I…you can court me I think…” He was too close to you now. You can sense that he smells like rain and coffee and something else. Something mysterious.

He returns in a few days. He brought another bouquet of flowers and jewelry made of rubies. “You will spoil me”, you smiled. “I haven’t even started yet”, he smiled. “I want to invite you to the lake”. “To the lake?” you asked surprised. “Yes, if it’s alright with you”, Morpheus replied. “And also, this necklace is not just jewelry. It can help you to come to my kingdom anytime”.

“Oh”, you said. “I’m flattered. And the lake is totally alright with me”. It was a surprise for you. But you keep falling for him, even though you feel shy around him. You didn’t expect the Endless to fall in love with you. And you still wait for it to become a dream or some cruel joke. Yet, you feel thrilled and anticipated. And you dream about him before sleep. You dream of his touch and kisses. All other men are nothing when he is around. And you almost forget about Nath. “I will look forward”, you smiled.

He smiled and disappeared. You were very busy before your meeting. “I hope, you will take me with you”, said your aunt, while you were looking for a suitable dress. “Everyone already is talking about you and his man. I trust you because you know what beast for you. But witchcraft won’t save you from gossip and the aftermath of it”. “I don’t think he will marry me”, you said and sighed. “If that’s what you mean. And I won’t stay here forever. I will leave eventually”. “Why then are you courting you, if he doesn’t want to marry you?” she asked.

“I don’t know”, you shrugged. “Perhaps, he was just intrigued by fancying the witch. Who knows what men like him think?” “I think he likes you”, she said. You hope that he likes you too. Because you start falling for him. It’s hard not to fall for this mysterious and handsome man. “I hope you forgive me”, you said when he came for you. “My aunt insisted on going with us, because of my reputation”. “There is no need for that”, he turned to your aunt. “I will take care of it. And nothing will happen to Y\N reputation”. “How?” you asked.

“No one will see the two of us”, he said. “There are two options. First, I will make an illusion. The second we will make it, but in the Dreaming”. “You want to court me in my dreams”, you said. “If I must”, Morpheus nodded. “No”, said your aunt before you could answer. “You need to court her in reality too because people know, that you came here”. “Aunt!” you sighed. “At least a few dates”, she added. “Very well”, Morpheus was too serious. “First, we come with your aunt. And then we decided. Are you ready to go?” “Yes”, now you have the chance to answer first. “Are you ready, aunt?”

“Yes, let’s me take my book”, she smiled. “Do you want to visit the Dreaming?” he asked when your aunt left the room. “I do”, you replied. “But she makes sense”. “You want everything to be appropriate”, he admitted. “I do”, you smiled. “Fine”, he smiled again. At that moment my aunt returned to the room and you can go to the lake. You need to admit, that he knows how to court. He was very gentle and attentive. When he touched your skin, it was covered with goosebumps. His fingers were cold, but his touch was like silk. Even with your aunt nearby, you were trembling with emotions.

“Are you still scared of me?” he asked. “No”, you replied. “It just…like a dream”. “It’s never just a dream”, he smiled. “So what do I need to do to appear in the Dreaming?” you asked. “You just want it”, he replied. “I can show you everything. To make the date beyond yours or other’s people imagination”. “Sounds tempting”, you smiled. “You just need to wish”, he whispered.

You wished it to happen. To meet in a place where you won’t be bound by people’s expectations. To have him without even other people looking. You can even kiss him here. So you waited for this more even than your date in the real world. “You are going to take his invitation”, admitted Aunt when you returned home, “Yes”, you smiled. It will be the place where you don’t need to think about propriety.

“You need to be careful”, she said. “He is a powerful creature. Now he is fond of you. But that may not last forever”. “I’m aware of it”, you reassured your aunt. And in the night you appeared near the castle. Morpheus came to meet you. He was even more stunning than ever. He wore a long black robe and his hair was unruly. “So, that’s the Dreaming”, you said. You tried very hard not to look at him all the time. Even though he was so beautiful. He just smirked at your casual voice. “Only the small part of it”, he replied. “I can show you everything. Actually, I prepared something”. “The lake?” you smiled. “No, something else”, he smiled. “Wait and see”. He brought you to the beautiful meadow with butterflies and the lake and many wonderful trees. Such a marvelous place to visit in the dream.

“Wow, that’s really marvelous”, you smiled, amazed. “Thank you”, Morpheus smiled. “It’s Fiddle’s green. The heart of the Dreaming. And now we are going to have a picnic”. “A picnic?” you smiled wider. “Really?” “Yes”, he looked satisfied with himself. “I know that you wanted one, but you were afraid of other’s people opinions”. “You are so attentive”, you smiled. “Everything for you, my little witch”, the basket with different food and wine appeared on the grass. You blushed at his words. “Why you were so surprised when I started courting you?” he asked and poured wine for you.

“I didn’t expect the Endless to be the fancy ordinary witch”, you said. “I’m nothing special really. Even my magic is not very powerful”. “You are charming”, he said. “And you dared to argue with me, even when you knew that I could put you in nightmares”. “Who would think that you like when someone doesn’t obey you”, you smiled and took the glass of ruby wine. “I glad, you took my invitation”, Morpheus smiled. “You look more…free”. “No other people's expectations”, you smiled. After you tasted wine and some other delicious food, you found yourself closer to him. He was too close, but you didn’t mind. And at the next moment, he kissed you. That felt like really the beginning of something even more beautiful.

Nowadays You remember about it even now. You were sure that when Sleepy sickness began something happened to Morpheus. You tried to find him but failed. Now the Sickness is gone and you stop trying to contact Morpheus. Until the bird knocked into your window. “Hello, birdie”, you said, opening the window. “My name is Matthew actually”, said the raven. “But hello to you too”. “Oh no”, you sighed. “You are his raven, aren’t you?” “Yes, and you are Y\N?” he asked. “Yes, I'm surprised he remembered about me after all this time”, you admitted. “Did you fly here on his behalf?” “He had never forgotten actually”. The bird replied. “And no, Lucienne sent me”.

“Lucienne sent you?” You were surprised. “Yes, because you know boss…He would never ask for help, even when he was…” he said. “Captive, I assume”, you said. “Yes”, he almost sighed. “But now he is in danger again. It’s a long story. And Lucienne said that you may not agree to help him after your history, but I decided to give it a try”.

“What happened?” you asked, feeling anxious and scared. Yes, you were still mad at him, but you didn’t want him to be hurt. Or worse. You couldn’t help him when he was captive, but you can help now. “Someone haunts him”, he said. “Furies. The woman who lost her child wants to avenge him and now they are coming because he did something”.

“Wait, what?” you asked. As far as you know, Furies punish someone who spills the blood of his relatives. But they wouldn’t come just because someone asked them. Especially, for vengeance. Morpheus didn’t tell you much about his family, but you doubt he would kill his own blood. “Boss killed his son”, the raven said and it terrifies you. But also make everything so much clearer. That’s why the Furies are coming for him.

“He didn’t want to kill him”, Matthew continued. “It was his son’s last wish. And now the boss should pay”. “But why do you come to me?” You asked. “I couldn’t stop Furies”. “You can stop the witch who protects the woman that woke Furies”, he said. “Perhaps, that can help him”. “Another witch?” you asked. You didn’t meet any witch for a very long time. “Who is she? And why she is doing it?” “Well”, here comes awkward silence. “He called her Thessaly. And they also have a history”. “Well, that’s explains a lot”, you said. “If he breaks her heart…” “Actually, it was the other way around”, he said.

“Oh”, you said. It was an unexpected plot twist. This witch broke his heart; he should kill his son, now this. It was difficult for him. “I will help you, but I need to meet him. And…I need to prepare everything. I should know what spell the other witch did”. “I don’t know if the boss will meet you”, the raven said. “But just know that we don’t have much time. Something else?” “I should know, where she is”, you said. “And it would be easier to do from the Dreaming. Perhaps, I can enter her dream”. “Not the best idea”, he said. “Boss won’t be happy. And I hope that you don’t tell him”.

“Do you want to save him or not?” you asked angrily. “I can’t help if I don’t know all the details. She can block me as well”. “Alright, that makes sense”, he sighed. “I will tell Lucienne and the boss”. “Good”, you nodded. “So tonight I will visit you in my sleep. I still have a necklace Morpheus gifted me”. The raven flew away and you sighed. Time to meet ghosts from the past and to be a real witch.

@shadowqueen1318 @mypsychoticlove @justathirstyhoe​ @ladymoztaza

[sheepheadfred]

Ectoberhaunt Day 11: It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Summary: Two scientists yearn to open a portal to the afterlife. Studying both death magic and the science behind it, they make a portal never seen before. Sadly for them, it fails. Their youngest decides to see if he can fix it for them.

Ao3 link

It was a dark and stormy night in a far off isolated village. The sleepy village lay dormant that night, safe and warm in their beds. All but one pair of necromancer alchemists. Two adults, parents in name only, who are determined to find a way to the afterlife with a portal. The two worked tirelessly into the night, day after day and night after night. Nothing else matters for days at a time.

Their two kids raised each other. Protecting each other, caring for one another. Over the years as their parents lose themselves more and more with their research. One could even call it an obsession.

Their goals ranged from getting proof to capture to extermination of spirits and demons as a whole, already sure their unproven theories of their vileness were fact. Their two kids watched as it consumed them, experiencing only small doses of attention and affection when they remember other things exist outside of their work.

The elder child was smart and studious. Always trying to figure out how people work to make sense of their upbringing. Constantly trying to help even when not wanted. She was the 'normal' one. Happy and seemingly well adjusted, she was still shunned by the town. Only paid attention to when helping someone else or decrying her parents for acceptance. Her smarts in the 'right' ways made her the golden child. A privileged which allowed her to criticize them to their face and they'd sometimes listen.

The younger, smart in his own right, believed in his parents like many young children do. The small village didn't like that and encouraged, or at times just enabled, other young children to torment him. The belief waned as he aged but it was too late in the villagers' eyes. The ignored son of the town fools.

The young boy loved the stars and desired to go there himself when he was grown. An aspiring astral mage and scientist, two feeling interlinked to him. A desire for the unknown and to mix magic and science made him more alike to his parents than he would like to admit.

The boy had two friends, a techomage and a maiden of the green. One friend constantly wants to advance what they have and the other wants to enhance and preserve the natural world.

On one stormy night in particular, the two 'town crazies' celebrated their crowning achievement. A portal. One to connect the mortal realm and the one of the dead. It was the thing they are most proud of ever making. Over a decade in the making.

They brought their children into their workshop to show them the portal activation.

...

It failed to work.

The researchers fell into a depression from said failure. Doing barely more than the bare minimum of self care, let alone any care for their kids.

Such a disheartening sight deeply saddened the boy. His sister did all she could to get the two to leave the lab and house, claiming it would be good for them to take a break. But the boy saw how hurt they were that their passion project they spent all their time on failed. All that work, all that neglect, over the years. For nothing.

He wanted to check out the portal runes and tech they intermingled together. His friends wanted to join him, curious and wanting to help.

The three snooped where they weren't supposed to. The workshop, abandoned as it was, felt like a void. An unwelcoming void full of dangerous potions and spell work mixed with wires and circuitry everywhere they look.

The portal itself was a deep, cavernous maw in the wall surrounded by wires and metal and strange, necromantic- otherworldly even- runes. A void threatening to consume all who enter.

Activation runes are all over the inside, covered in wires that were hidden by the void. Shadows drawing in all light, beckoning those into its dark abyss. A warning and a siren's call.

His friends checked its outside in case the adults missed anything. The boy wanted to see if he could fix it on the inside, knowing the most on how his parents' stuff worked.

He put on protective gear his parents had lying around their workshop, just his size. His parents always wanted their kids to join them in their work.

Taking a deep breath and into the unnatural cavern he went.

Shadows loom and the black void deepens on his trek into the man made abyss. Unsecured wires litter the floor, causing him to trip multiple times as he goes in blind. Human eyes no longer working the deeper he goes.

So deep, where he could no longer hear his friends, he found runes etched into the walls. They were there before, at the start, but have increased in quantity. Etches have become grooves in the walls to the now sightless boy. Only able to tell what rune they were due to familiarity.

He cut himself on one of the runes, the deep grooves sharp and unsafe even for the protection he put on before. At least, that's what he thought occurred.

One more trip given to him by the wires endangering the walkway and his now bloody hand hit the wall to catch himself.

The rune lit up.

Man made cave once darker than night lit up in an unearthly green and the boy knew this would be it. He's too deep to get out in time.

Death energy and electricity converged onto him, the conduit who activated it.

All was green and agony.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

i have this excerpt from Notes from the Warsaw Ghetto: The Journal of Emmanuel Ringelblum printed and framed

Like, I paid an etsy seller to print it for me on the nicest cardstock with the best ink, and then I waited in line and paid a stupid amount of money to have it framed at the Michael's custom framing counter. And I have zero regrets. I've probably posted this excerpt here before but I don't care. It is everything.

The heroic girls, Chajke and Frumke—they are a theme that calls for the pen of a great writer. Boldly they travel back and forth through the cities and towns of Poland. They carry “Aryan” papers identifying them as Poles or Ukrain­ians. One of them even wears a cross, which she never parts with except when in the Ghetto. They are in mortal danger every day. They rely entirely on their “Aryan” faces and on the peasant kerchiefs that cover their heads. Without a mur­mur, without a second’s hesitation, they accept and carry out the most dangerous missions. Is someone needed to travel to Vilna, Bialystok, Lemberg, Kowel, Lublin, Czestochowa, or Radom to smuggle in contraband such as illegal publica­tions, goods, money? The girls volunteer as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Are there comrades who have to be rescued from Vilna, Lublin, or some other city?— They undertake the mission. Nothing stands in their way, nothing deters them. Is it necessary to become friendly with engineers of German trains, so as to be able to travel beyond the frontiers of the Government General of Poland, where people can move about with special papers? They are the ones to do it, simply, without fuss, as though it was their pro­fession. They have traveled from city to city, to places no delegate or Jewish institution had ever reached, such as Wolhynia, Lithuania. They were the first to bring back the tidings about the tragedy of Vilna. They were the first to offer words of encouragement and moral support to the sur­viving remnant of that city. How many times have they looked death in the eyes? How many times have they been arrested and searched? Fortune has smiled on them. They are, in the classic idiom, “emissaries of the community to whom no harm can come.” With what simplicity and modesty have they reported what they accomplished on their journeys, on the trains bearing Polish Christians who have been pressed to work in Germany! The story of the Jewish woman will be a glorious page in the history of Jewry during the present war. And the Chajkes and Frumkes will be the leading figures in this story. For these girls are indefatigable. Just back from Czestochowa, where they imported contraband, in a few hours they’ll be on the move again. And they’re off without a moment’s hesitation, without a minute of rest.

He only namechecks Chaike Grossman and Frumka Plotnicka here, but I can tell you for a fact that he's also referring to Tossia Atlman, Tema Schneiderman, and Lonka Kozybrodska. At least.

So far the count of Jewish women (that I'm aware of) who have responded to "They are a theme that calls for the pen of a great writer" with a book (or long-planned book) are three: me, Dr. Lenore Weitzman (who won't return any of my emails) and Judith Batalion (who did return my emails, had lunch with me, and told me that Dr. Weitzman wouldn't respond to her emails either). I hope more Jewish women--in and out of the academe--continue to take up this call, and I hope they keep getting published and aren't rejected because it's "too similar" to mine and Batalion's. No like seriously like two months after I signed with my agent, and one month after I got my book deal, I received a rejection from a lit agent saying that my book was "too similar" to Batalion's. Ok first of all it's not. I read Batalion's the day it came out, and they're very different books with very different focuses, goals, and approaches; the only thing they have in common is that they're both about this underserved, underappreciated group of amazing women. There SHOULD be multiple books about each and every one of them. There SHOULD be multiple books about one day Tossia spent in Vilna. Every white man who looked sideways at WW2 and the American Civil War have like, 87 terrible books dedicated to them, and I DEMAND at least 3 for each of these women. And 17 for Queen Zivia. (Who does have a biography, written by Bella Gutterman). Plus a biopic. So this post went in a direction.

tl;dr:

[killerbananas]

Mutual

Jean just has to stand around looking handsome for you to fingerfuck yourself to the thought of him.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 396 wc | afab!reader x Jean

Warnings: smut; dilf!Jean; caught masturbating, piv sex, strangers bangin’, obligatory dont be dangerous babes but this is smut so enjoy

AN: Repost from my old account. Original AN: Yes, I was inspired by Can’t Hardly Wait except something to satisfy this DILF fever I am currently afflicted with.

Imagine Jean, the hot divorcee you keep eyeing in the corner of the potluck you’re crashing as your friend’s plus-one, shooting you a charming grin that makes your knees weak. It’s as if every muscle below your belly button is pulling to your apex, incurring the debt of physical contortion be paid in the oasis it pools to nourish the thirsting hunger. So nonchalantly enchanting is the way he looks at you throughout the evening as you hover where you feel you’re not being, hopefully, possibly, probably too obvious. Yet, after you get a little distracted by your friend elbowing you from your stare, you notice the focus of your ache has vanished. The wetness soaking your panties is distracting, causing each step to drive your mind back into the gutter until you make a few quick turns to find the bathroom and work your pussy to the brink of a blinding orgasm until the door bangs open.

You rip your soaked hand from down your pants and make to dodge the figure that bolts inside. He doesn’t notice you at all it seems, because you immediately hear his fly rip down, encouraging you to try to tug the shut door back open, only to get resistance that steals your breath for a moment, which must cosmically transfer to Jean’s lungs, because the door rattling only precedes his gasp by a millisecond. He realizes pretty quickly the entirety of the situation, and you in turn as well, because his face is red when you meet his eyes.

He catches perfect glaring sight of the wetness coating your fingers, the flush to your face, the way your shirt doesn’t quite sit right on your shoulders, riding up your stomach. When he considers this evidence, his face slowly changes into something entirely more predatorily hungry as he tilts his head while the blush on your face only seems to soak up all his lost in the dawning of molten arousal that gathers to burn in a dark part of him. Not but a minute later, you’re hitching your thighs over his hips while he fucks you on a stranger’s bathroom sink, letting you milk his cock while he thrusts stars behind your eyes. Not twenty minutes later you’re riding shotgun while he drives back to his place to make sure you avidly remember how those stars fuckin’ shine.

Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney   @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @downbadpie @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado

[phonkscribes]

Trivial.

He'd anticipated that you'd get injured, one way or another. Demons have a pension for wanting human blood, either spilled for the sake of feeding or just for the sake of taking it. What could you do in retaliation of the inevitable? Weaklings get crushed, by that of which is stronger than they are, and Urizen was power absolute. He should've seen to your disposal himself, as insignificant as you were to his plans. Though there is something that is so perplexing about you that hinders your eventual demise. There is something that even he cannot ignore.

Or, Urizen crushing on a GN! Reader and rushing to their aid.

He's convinced that it will pass.

Like a dull ache or the bite of hunger after having starved, but even those things require something to be satisfied. What could he need of you? You're a human, a mortal. The only thing that you could grant him is an easy meal. You, who is so insignificant to the king, would stand no chance. You would die before you could even process what had happened.

"Is that so?", you had asked, feigning confidence with a face that dared to smile at him.

Urizen reaffirmed, even if he didn't need to. You believed the behemoth as he sat upon his throne. He could hear your heart beating so quickly in your chest that he was surprised it hadn't leapt out of your throat and pulsed on the floor. It's a fitting reaction. All humans should cower before him, they should recognize that he is their superior in every shape, way, and form.

And yet you stood in front of him.

What pushed you to act so defiantly? What motivated you to speak to him with such impudence? He desired to know, perhaps the only other thing he desired aside from the fruit of the Qliphoth. The demon looked down upon you with that hint of irritation in his guarded gaze, a great many of his eyes fixating on your small figure. It was one of the few things he pondered when it came to you: your confidence and why he was allowing you to live while in his presence. Perhaps it was because you weren't a real threat to him, something that could be dealt with in an instant if he willed it. Maybe he just found you amusing, the way that a jester entertains a king.

Subconsciously, he had began to think of you as such.

When you'd journey through the demonic tree just to see him, he found himself becoming still, straining his ears to pick up on the sound of your heart. Amidst all of the inhabitants, yours was the most distinct, the quick pitter-patter that echoed when you ran and fought the lesser beings after your mortal blood. You'd managed to appear before him quite a few times, so it never crossed his mind that you would ever be in any real danger. That meant that you were formidable enough to come to him unscathed. Though something unpleasant struck his ears as he sat, rooted to his seat.

He thought he misheard, the sound passing, until something rich met his nose. It was a scent he could recognize, a fragrance that only belonged to one soul he knew.

Well... what did it concern him?

You were unlike that of any other mere mortal. You were the jester that came through to visit him, to entertain the king of hell. Your laughter grated his ears, like nails on a chalkboard, such an irritating sound. Such a pest... and yet he listened. When you went on about matters that did not concern him, he held his ears open, he took them in and remembered them against his wishes. The quickness of your breathe when you dared to approach him also was quite prominent in his memories, the way you were careful with your words and how you paid attention to the way he'd narrow his gaze at you with contempt.

Your demise should be the most entertaining act of them all, watched and observed with bravado, but that was not the case for the king.

He wanted to be there for it, to see it himself. If there was going to be anyone to bring you to ruin, it would be Urizen and by his own hands. The demon rose from his seat, summoning the crystalized yamato to his side to carve open a path to where you currently stood. He ought to delight in this, it was something he was convinced of as he stepped through. His gaze was indifferent as he made his grand appearance, your familiar scent wafted through the air, the aroma being another alluring.

There, right there, you sat-- or rather knelt.

The bodies of a few devils laid at your feet, but he could see where you'd been harmed. Your body quivered from the pain, the sharp twist in your side being one that only stung worse by the minute as you glanced at the wine that flowed from the gash made by those terrifying claws. Two Death Scissors materialize as the Qliphoth bleeds them through, the apparitions laughing at your miserable state while their king approaches. Their cackles fall upon your ears as you feel the ground shake beneath you, but you're relieved as you look to see Urizen drawing closer. A quick and painless death would be ideal compared to getting cut in sections or impaled by the scissors of the devils before you. You expect that the king means to crush you to death with a stomp of his powerful leg, or blast a hole through your head with one of his lasers.

He does no such thing, that look of abhorrence remaining in his gaze as he kneels to pick you up. You're so incredibly small compared to him, small enough to fit in his hand like you belong there. Your blood coats his rough palm as he looks at the two demons that float in the air. Urizen dares them to try something, to question his power or to challenge his decision to spare this meager human. The ghosts remain, silent though curious, undoubtedly. Their minds are not capable of forming any coherent thoughts, their only instinct was telling them to kill you and to feed on the blood of your corpse.

And yet... they are intelligent to know what it would mean to challenge the king of hell, the ruler of all demons.

It is why they have the sense to vanish from his sight, less they want their existence to be pointless.

In his hand, he brings you close to his face. Urizen inhales deeply, savoring the way you make his mouth salivate. You watch as he parts his lips to let his tongue slither out and lap at your wound to clean it, as if catching the juices of tender meat right as one takes the first bite. Your taste is more saccharine than anything he's ever tasted before, and the urge to devour you right then and there creeps into his mind like a dull whisper. Your heart hammers so delightfully in your chest, the crescendo of this act. He might've brought you closer to his jaws. What was keeping him from ending your life, from taking that fruit from the tree and savoring it.

Your hands.

Your hands at either side of his cheeks, a feeble attempt at a hug.

It pulls him from his thoughts, and the whisper in the back of his mind quiets itself. It's replaced by the sound of your voice. Even when it's so close to him like this, you speak softly, letting your words be carried like the wind as he holds you.

"Thank you"

Thank you?

A human who thanks a devil... how trivial.

Urizen dislikes the way he can hear you smile, the way that you rest yourself in his hand as your wound begins to heal. His energy was imbued the moment he gave you that 'kiss'. This feeling, it was one he recognized within the husk of his former self. In this form, he thought he was incapable of feeling it, but even now it has him in its sweltering grasp. The king of hell grunts, nearly growling at you, but he says nothing of it. The yamato is summoned again, and with it he creates the gateway to return to his throne. He's taking you with him.

Where you will be kept safe at his side, until he can comprehend why the idea of losing his jester is as insufferable as they are.

[sharoscylla]

it's been over a year since BG3's full release so i'm gonna say it

i don't think myrkul actually did resurrect isobel thorm from the dead. based on her description of what happened - and the facts that in that same cemetery they made a point of having a tomb with someone wearing Boots of Feign Death + malus had that sharran paralysis amulet - I think she was put in a form of Feign Death either by an agent of Shar, Shar herself, or Malus as a way to prod ketheric into joining malus in shar worship. (also that shar specifically didn't let isobel die JUST to spite selune and melodia who would naturally be waiting for isobel in the afterlife) I think it's as simple as somebody realizing 120~ years later that she only SEEMS dead in there and lying their ass off to convince ketheric that they resurrected her instead of waking her up, with myrkul backing up the lie because honestly he doesn't have very many active worshippers at any given time, and none so powerful as ketheric is or was.

i also don't think isobel is ketheric's only child! dialogue + ingame journals make it pretty clear to me that gerringothe and thisobald are ketheric's chlidren, based on the fact that they're more elfish than isobel and ketheric I'm guessing those two maybe had a different mother than isobel, and ketheric was a shit dad but neither selunite or sharran even though his uncle malus was a sharran. Ketheric meets melodia, converts to selunite worship for her, eventually they have isobel and he's supposedly a pretty good dad to her, which, you know, probably raises the hackles on his adult children who had to live with a cruel and demanding father. thisobald had his own terrible shit he was up to prior to being trapped there forever in the shadowcurse, but other than being a bitchy embezzling boss gerringothe was just... trying to save up money to flee town and never come back, and the shadowcurse trapped her there before she could find the courage to actually make the leap.

speaking of which, the thorms are czarr-levels of incest coded. I know I've been saying I'll write the Thorms Were All Molested By Ketheric And Malus manifesto for a year now, but that will have to wait for when I'm slightly less busy. ... or, well, it'll feature in the Ripley Savage AU, but they're just now getting into the Underdark in that one, so, you know, it's a ways away.

This is not Gortash Apologia (...probably just a bit) but do you really expect me to believe Zariel went "Yeah sure, I'll take this 21 year old tiefling with no specific skillset that's exactly like a million other mortals, and not only will her soul not be in danger from this deal but I'll make sure she doesn't die of shit that would normally kill a person to death, just so i can spend a couple years grooming her into a super strong warrior that will do cool tricks for a few years before her inevitable mortal demise, at which point i still won't have possession of her soul so it'll be fucking off to the fugue plane at that point, here's A Big Pile Of Super Rare Infernal Metal I Invented During My Reign Over The Last 130-140 Years, I'll also let you study the blueprints of the guy who is designing her heart engine because that's definitely the kind of information I want floating around the Material Plane where anybody could get their hands on it/you".......... no man. I think Gortash paid/convinced Zariel to take Karlach and make her strong. Zariel probably did not want Raphael building himself a stronghold in what should have been her domain, so I can believe that they came to an agreement as a way of mutually spiting or undermining him, and I think - considering the steel watchers were just in the prototype stage when Florrick last was in Baldur's Gate within a tenday or two, i do not believe for a second gort just sat around on the materials and plans for a decade without *starting* the project - that he didn't actually get his hands on the plans or materials for the watchers until his durgeheist much much more recently, say 1-2 years ago at the most. "But karlach said Zariel said XYZ when-" zariel lied. why would the archdevil of avernus be the one telling the whole truth here. at that moment Gort was Karlach's Main Person (her parents dead, she flat out says she loved him and respected him and was happily building her life around being his trusted bodyguard) and Zariel needed to make sure Karlach would be easier to control re: depending utterly on Zariel to survive etc. once she had the engine installed it'd be even easier to control her - soul coins, keeping her in the middle of the blood war front lines instead of screwing around asking questions or making alliances - and of course, zariel couldn't have known that karlach was ultimately indomitable, even if it took a decade for her to slip her chains.

I know... I know, it was already the product of years of labor, and stuff like multiple act 3 storylines didn't end up getting the amount of attention they deserved... but i wish there was a magical item crafting system beyond "1 sussur weapon/eye of the absolute spear/mourning frost/exactly 2 grymforge items"+alchemy. We found all that mundane jewelry and all those gems and I don't care if it would have all been mid equipment, I want to have been able to make the campers all wear matching Rings Of +1 Besties. I also hunger greatly for "hey, if you're going to spend 30+ hours in Act Three anyway, and you have the money for it, why not just buy an apartment or house for you and the squad and decorate it as you see fit" + the fallout 4 style settlement creator post-game. Even if I couldn't get past the level 12 cap I'd still be out there hunting monsters to make my village safe + get supplies to make my village/house cool looking + attract stronger villagers. please let me create a city-state. i desire it so much.

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Eight

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary:

In which Astarion hurts his own feelings, and he and Liv have an important conversation. CW: Discussions of past abuse.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

Petras sleeps until almost noon. Vampires don’t need nearly as much sleep as mortals, so the fact he’s resting this long tells Astarion that things really had been bad wherever he was. He doesn’t exactly feel bad for Petras, but he does….understand. He wishes he didn’t. He wishes Wyll hadn’t asked him to do this, to stare his past so plainly in the face. 

He’s not worried about Petras being a danger to himself or anyone else. Not really, but still, he keeps some measure of watch over him anyway. 

Liv had been exceptionally understanding about the whole thing. And he’s grateful, even as he knows he’s made a rather grave error with her. He’d kissed her. It hadn’t really meant anything, it was simply a means of distraction. But she just wants to pretend it never happened, as if he could be so forgettable! And why should they forget the whole thing? Kissing her had felt nice enough. She’d seemed to enjoy it too, and well, he can’t remember the last time he’d just kissed someone and it hadn’t gone further. 

This is the part of his life that’s so tricky to navigate these days. He’s free, has been for two glorious years, but in some ways, he hasn’t ever left his old life. He’d paid for blood with sex for a very, very long time, either for himself or for Cazador. Being unwilling had only gotten him beaten or starved, Cazador used both rather ruthlessly. Sex wasn’t about pleasure or enjoyment…it was a transaction, a performance, a necessity until it was so divorced from his wants that his body didn’t feel like his anymore. 

The insidious bit of it all was that Cazador had made every boundary crossed, every limit pushed feel like it had been his choice all along. Afterward, when the guilt and shame kicked in, it was only ever his own damn fault. Cazador loved to point out how deviant trading sex for blood was, so quick to tell him that no one outside his club would ever understand, could ever let that little fact about him go. And even though he hadn’t wanted to so much of the time, he hadn’t realized that feeling as though he couldn’t say no also meant he couldn’t say yes. Even two years free and he can’t quite break out of the habits and spirals created in that damn club. 

He’s gone out with people, of course. There never seems to be a lack of interested parties. But it’s his interest that forever seems to be the problem. Though in fairness, he’s never bothered spending a lot of time getting to know anyone. Perhaps that’s what made things with Liv different. They’re…friends. He knows her, and she knows him or the parts of him he’s allowed her to see anyway. Perhaps that’s why it hadn’t felt terrible when she touched him. 

And she just wants to forget it? It’s utterly unfair. What he needs to do is figure out how Liv really felt about the whole kiss before he had to run out the door to retrieve Petras. What changed in the time they were kissing and the handful of hours before he’d returned home? 

“I can’t sleep if you’re going to sigh to yourself every five seconds,” Petras says. Or more specifically the pillow-shaped mound that is Petras says. 

“I am not sighing,” Astarion protests.

“You’re right. It’s more like huffing.”

“We don’t even need to breathe.”

“And yet,” Petras flicks a hand in his direction.

“You should get up anyway. It’s nearly noon.”

“And?”

“And we have things to do today.”

Petras sits up, his hair a wild tangle, but he does look a bit better than last night. “What major plans could you possibly have for us with the sun shining?”

“You need necessities like clothes and whatever you use to make your hair look better than it does right now,” Astarion replies. 

Petras laughs. “I don’t have any money. I figured it would just be like the old days and I’d steal all your good shit.”

Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid. Now get over here, did Alkham allow you to have access to the wonders of same-day delivery?”

“No, just like Cazador, he didn’t allow us tech.” 

It doesn’t mean that Petras doesn’t know how to use it though. Astarion had gotten very creative in his years under Cazador, and also very good at guessing the phone passwords of clients while they were sleeping. For a long time, the whole wider world was only the glimpses he could steal from a stranger’s phone screen. He navigates to the local store’s website and then hands his laptop over to Petras. 

“Buy what you need, and I’ll work on getting you a phone.” 

Petras stares at him. “You’re being nice.”

“No, I’m being practical. There’s a difference,” Astarion replies as he begins searching for prepaid phones and which stores he knows will deliver here. 

“Liv is nice too,” Petras says. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can tell that Petras isn’t looking at the computer at all, instead, he looks rather lost. He saves them both the indignity of meeting his gaze and keeps staring at his phone. “That does appear to be her default setting, yes. What’s the problem? You’re here freeloading off of me and complaining about it?”

“When Wyll told me he was calling you, I hadn’t realized you’d really gotten out. I thought you were like the rest of us. Just jumped from one bad club to another. I asked him what the difference was, and he said it was that you had help. That you weren’t alone. He did this for you, didn’t he?”

The simple answer is yes. Wyll had taken him in, supported him, and gotten him help through various organizations. And he’d needed the help rather badly. The world had seemed so overwhelming to him then, and he hadn’t accepted any of the help with gratitude or grace. He wasn’t alone in that. At the group therapy class Karlach had dragged him to, and Wyll had all but mandated he attend, he’d discovered that suffering doesn’t save anyone. It certainly doesn’t make them kind or good. The only impulse he’d escaped years of abuse with was to avoid being under the power of anyone else ever again. It had only been Wyll’s goodness and Karlach’s patience and Shadowheart’s persistent kindness that had dug him out of that particular endless pit of bitterness. 

He won’t tell Petras any of this; he doesn’t owe him that explanation. “Yes. He wasn’t an asshole about it either. Which I’m realizing now was probably a lot harder than it seemed.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Petras says. “I just want to be free.”

Astarion knows that feeling well. “Well, you’re free now, and as long as you continue not being the worst, I probably won’t turn you out.”

“Your generosity knows no bounds.”

“I know. I’ve even got a lead on a job for you. It’s an old gig of mine. Both of our resumes are a bit lacking in practical skills, but I’ve got a friend who works at the Elfsong, and they always need someone to babysit the VIPs.”

Petras' eyes look rather dead. “And what does that entail?”

“A lot of smiling and agreeing and making sure they always have drinks. The Elfsong isn’t like…that. Besides, it’s just until you figure out something else.”

“That…doesn’t sound that bad, actually.”

“Good.” Because the organization Astarion gets to hand Petras off to has a requirement that Petras have a job first, so that had been his first concern. 

Petras puts in an order, and an hour and a half later he has a small collection of things to call his own, including his own clothes because Astarion wasn’t about to let Petras loose in his closet. He goes to shower, and Astarion remains in the living room sitting in a chair and watching the sun filtering in through the curtains. He wants to talk to Liv and types out an entire text before abandoning it and jumping over to the Weave instead. He’s willing to admit this truth, but perhaps not entirely. 

FangtasticLover: Have you ever looked at someone and realized that you’re looking at your past self?

Books>People: No, but I think that’s how my sister sees me. Why?

FangtasticLover: Just ran into someone I used to know, and I don’t know that I like what I see of my past in them. 

Books>People: But isn’t that a testament to your own growth more than anything?  

FangtasticLover: I suppose you’re probably right. 

Books>People: I usually am. 

And just like he knew she would, Liv somehow knows the exact right thing to say. He is miles away from what Petras is now. And it still rankles a bit acknowledging that, but there’s a bit of pride there too…in just how far he’s come. And he absolutely shouldn’t, but he can’t resist trying to get Liv to talk about the kiss. He wants to know what she really thought of it if it really meant so little to her. But he’s not sure how to ask about it without giving himself away. So he can only hope she’ll mention it herself if he presses a bit about how she’s doing. 

FangtasticLover: I haven’t asked about your roommate in a while. You’re not still fighting are you?

Books>People: Definitely not fighting. Actually, I sort of need some advice on that front, but I don’t feel like I can tell anyone else because I don’t want to violate his privacy…

Here it is. Gods, it’s almost too easy to get her to tell him things. 

FangtasticLover: Happy to provide advice. After all, what else are pocket comrades for?

Books>People: I’ve discovered a secret my roommate is keeping. And it feels dishonest to not say something as it’s a pretty big deal, but at the same time, I don’t want to force him into talking about it if he doesn’t want to. Does that make sense?

Astarion feels as though a bucket of ice water has been dumped over him. She knows? About what exactly…clearly not the app she wouldn’t be doing this about the app…would she? 

FangtasticLover: I guess that depends on what exactly you’ve learned. 

Books>People: Well, he’s a vampire apparently. Which is fine! I don’t care. I just wish he’d told me, you know? 

Well, shit. How long has she known? 

FangtasticLover: Well, that’s quite the revelation. And it’s really fine with you? You really don’t care?

Books>People: Of course it’s fine. It’s just part of who he is. I admit that it shocked me a little when I realized it last night, but he’s still him. I know that there’s plenty of rumor and prejudice out there, so maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. But I trust him…and maybe it seems like that doesn’t go both ways? I don’t know. All of this is further complicated by the fact he brought home another vampire who is currently crashing on our couch for an undetermined amount of time.

Was that what had changed? She had kissed him, realized what he was and decided she didn’t want him? Well…that’s…usually the opposite of how that works. There’s a sort of sinking feeling in his chest, but he doesn’t dare name it. Instead, he keeps messaging, very much against his better judgment. 

FangtasticLover: So you’re currently living with not one but two vampires? 

Books>People: Apparently? The second one is temporary. Probably. But what do you think I should do? I don’t like feeling like I’m lying to him, but I also don’t want him to feel as though he has to tell me anything he doesn’t want to. 

And now that he knows her, he knows he should have just been honest from the beginning. He wouldn’t have had to tell her everything, wouldn’t have had to explain, but now he knows he’ll have to. Because he wants her to understand why he didn’t tell her. And it feels wrong to be asked about this, to provide advice on something so deeply entwined with him. It doesn’t stop him from replying. 

FangtasticLover: I’d give him a chance to tell you. Maybe he has a good reason for not sharing. 

Books>People: I’m sure he does. I’ll keep it to myself.

He’ll need to tell her soon then. Sit her down, make a big deal of the whole thing. Act surprised when she inevitably tells the truth about already knowing. It’ll be a relief to be out in the open about that at least. Still, some part of him is disappointed…as though he’s read the last pages of a really good book and spoiled the ending for himself. 

***

True to Astarion’s word, Petras is a constant, but mostly unobtrusive presence in the apartment. Both he and Astarion seem thrilled when she arrives home from work, no doubt glad to be passing the time with someone other than each other. But there’s something amusing about being met at the door and immediately inundated with demands for attention from them both. Petras slots into her and Astarion’s established routines rather easily, joining them for games and evenings watching Crown of Shadows, only half paying attention as he scrolls enthusiastically on his new smartphone almost as if he’s never had one of his own before. 

But on Thursday evening, Astarion texts her and asks if it’s alright if he goes into the office for the evening. She knows what he’s really asking is if she’s comfortable being home alone with Petras, and she’s unbothered. So that evening after dinner, she invites Petras to join her in watching her favorite baking show. 

He seems strangely fascinated by the whole thing, particularly interested in the different baking techniques and adding his own nonsensical commentary to the judging of each. 

“You know, we could try making something from the show this weekend if you want,” Liv offers. 

Petras looks genuinely excited at the fact before reigning it in. “I don’t….I don’t really eat sweets.”

Right…vampire. She has so many questions about that. She’s seen Astarion eat, and now understands why he didn’t seem to enjoy it or ever have any opinion on where she ordered them food from. So can they eat and just choose not to? The internet had been no help in that regard, insisting that they only drink blood when she’s definitely witnessed otherwise. 

“No worries, if you change your mind though, it could be fun,” she says. Some part of her, probably the part most like her mother keeps moving into hostess mode with Petras. Concerned with his comfort, and wanting him to enjoy his time in their apartment despite the fact that Astarion has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t necessarily want Petras here a moment longer than he needs to be. 

“I’m a little surprised Astarion has a roommate whose idea of fun is baking. How did you meet him anyway?” Petras asks. 

“Astarion didn’t tell you?”

Petras shrugs. “He’s a bit tight-lipped when it comes to you and pretty much everything else in his life.”

Well, that’s very much true. “We were introduced through mutual friends. I was looking for a place, and he had an extra room. I didn’t actually meet him until I moved in.”

“Wow, that uh…must have been something.”

Liv laughs. “Yeah, well, I was sort of desperate. I thought he didn’t like me for the first few days, actually.”

“He doesn’t exactly make it easy.”

And she knows they’re not talking about her anymore. The words are said with a laugh, a conspiratorial wink thrown in her direction, but there’s an undercurrent of something there. “Has he always been prickly?” 

She keeps the question vague, sure that asking anything deeper than that is likely to result in a side-step or a change in topic. Whatever else is happening here, she knows Petras has likely been instructed to keep Astarion’s secrets and she doesn’t want to unravel whatever promises Petras has made. 

He considers her question, tapping his chin dramatically. “Prickly is a nice word for arrogant asshole.”

“And yet despite all that…he’s still helping you.” 

Petras sighs. “Wyll said he would. I didn’t believe him, and now I sleep on his couch and have my first shift at the Elfsong tomorrow night.”

“You excited?”

Petras shrugs. “Sure. It will be nice to do something for myself and Astarion says Karlach and I will get on like a house fire. Whatever that means.”

“I haven’t met Karlach, but everything I’ve been told makes me believe she gets on well with everyone.”

“That’s good,” Petras says, glancing away. “I just…I…don’t really have any schooling or qualifications or anything. I feel like I’m supposed to have dreams or goals or something, but everything just feels out of reach.”

She wants to ask him more, but she knows this sliver of vulnerability is all he’ll be able to offer her without revealing his and Astarion’s secret. “I’m sure it feels that way right now, but give it some time. You don’t have to figure it all out in a day. Work this job, get on your feet, and then you’ll figure out the rest.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not, but it is possible to start over.” She’d know. 

Petras lets out a sad laugh. “I’m not entirely sure about that.”

They don’t talk about it again, and the next evening Petras heads out the door just after sunset with a cheerful goodbye, leaving Liv and Astarion alone in their apartment for the first time in days. As usual, Astarion is mostly absent while she cooks and eats dinner, only reappearing once she’s begun cleaning up. 

“Could we…I was hoping we could talk?” Astarion says, gesturing towards the living room. He looks a little nervous and keeps adjusting the hem of his black cashmere sweater.

She turns the sink off and dries her hands. “Alright.” 

He’s standing somewhat awkwardly next to the couch but offers her a strained smile as she approaches and he gestures to the other end. She takes a seat and waits. Is this it? The moment where he comes clean? Or is he going to broach the subject of that kiss again? Some part of her can’t shake that just days ago they were kissing on this very couch. She feels her cheeks warm, but she tries to punch down the feeling. 

“I think there’s something I should tell you,” he says. “Nothing big or terrible! Just a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.”

Ah, here it is. Liv does her best to keep her expression unchanged, but there’s a little thrill in her chest. He trusts her. 

“It’s just that I happen to be uh…well…a vampire.” He rushes the last words, tacks on a slight laugh that seems more nerves than any real humor. There's a practiced air to it, as though he'd rehearsed this whole thing. “Petras too,” he adds, belatedly. 

The lack of surprise must show on her face because he sighs. “And you already knew. Did Petras say something?”

Liv puts her hands up. “No, no, nothing like that. I just…I put the pieces together a few days ago. I didn’t…I didn’t want to force you to talk to me about it though. I’m sorry.”

He rolls his eyes. “Well, what gave it away? I thought I was being quite thoroughly mortal.”

“Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?” 

He glares at her. 

“You can probably stop buying groceries you don’t use…”

“Oh yes, that will be nice. Well, good talk.” He stands to go, clearly frustrated. 

She grabs his hand. “Come on, don’t go. I have a million questions.”

He looks down at her in surprise, and then at her hand on his. She pulls her hand back, feeling her face warm. But he does sit back down. 

“I won’t answer a million questions, but I will answer a few,” he says, words careful. 

“What do you eat? I’ve seen you eat food, but I assume that there is also…you know.”

His eyebrows raise. “Blood? Yes, of course. I have a freezer hidden in my closet. Speaking of, can I move my blood back into the kitchen now? Free up some closet space?”

A freezer in his closet? What in the hells? “You want to put humanoid blood next to the pizza rolls?”

“Of course not. I want to put animal blood next to the pizza rolls. Those things are absolutely vile by the way. I can eat food, it just…tastes like ash.”

“So you don’t drink humanoid blood?”

He shrugs. “It’s not exactly easy to come by. What do you know of vampires? I’m not talking about the folklore and the scary stories, but how they live in a city like Baldur’s Gate.”

“They tend to live in covens, right? Night clubs are popular - pay your way with blood.”

“Have you ever been to one?” he asks. All the joking is gone, his crimson gaze is steady, somber. 

“No. Shockingly, the club scene wasn’t really my thing.”

He smiles slightly at that, but it falls away into a grimace. “I was at death’s door when Cazador turned me. Offered me eternal life while I was bleeding out in the street - a mugging where I didn’t have the good sense to hand over my money and keep my mouth shut.

“I was angry and afraid to die. That was a long time ago, things were different then, but being a vampire was still half a life. Not quite alive, not entirely dead, and entirely dependent on the blood of others to survive. Back then we had to survive in secret, but Cazador had money and connections and I had nothing and no one.”

Oh. So this isn’t really about him being a vampire, but whatever else it means. Whatever else is connected to it. She doesn’t know quite what to say, so she just lets him keep talking. 

“Eventually, he opened the club. It sounded like a sort of paradise. Endless partying, willing people coming in begging to be bitten. A little bit of danger and the forbidden for a bit of blood. After all, what’s more desirable than a vampire? But Cazador was greedy, and people wanted more than booze and a moment with my mouth at their neck. It happened slowly…pushing my limits until suddenly it was the norm and I was trading sex for blood. For him, for me…and if I didn’t acquiesce…well…” He trails off then, letting her fill in the blanks.  

“Do you know what the worst part was? I could have left at any time. But that was the danger of Cazador…of men like him. They make you believe that what they’re offering is the best you’ll ever have. That there’s nothing else outside of what they offer.”

No wonder he didn’t want to tell her this. Everything about this breaks her heart. It also fills in so many of the questions she’s had about him and his past. “Where is he now?”

“Rotting in prison. My friend Wyll, he was the social worker who came in to talk to us after we got pulled out. He took me home and helped me figure out how to live a life outside that club.”

The pieces slide together. “And that’s how you know Petras.”

He sighs. “Unfortunately.” 

“I’m so sorry, Astarion.”

He grimaces. “I don’t want your pity. I didn’t tell you all of this because I want you to feel sorry for me. I didn’t even really want to tell you at all. I don’t like…being thought of like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like a victim! Like someone who believed the lies of someone so terrible and didn’t simply walk out the front door!” He’s retreated inside of himself, his eyes hard, his shoulders tight. 

She knows she needs to say the right thing here, so she begins, words careful. “It’s not pity, Astarion. You are my friend, and it makes me upset that you went through that because no one should have their trust and boundaries violated in that way. I don’t think any person is defined by what other people have done to them. When I look at you, all I see is you . And now I just feel like I have a fuller picture of what that means, and I’m grateful that you shared it with me.”

His eyes widen, but there is still a hint of suspicion in them. “You’re not upset I didn’t tell you from the beginning?”

Not at all. “You don’t owe me or anyone else explanations about your past.” Especially when they’re rooted so deeply in trauma and violence. 

They sit in the silence of that statement for a moment. He fumbles a little with a series of beginnings. “I…thank you. I appreciate that. The world isn’t often an understanding place.”

She looks at him then, her roommate, her friend. She sees the whole of him now and understands his obfuscations and why he felt like he needed them. “No, but people might surprise you.” 

“Well, you’re certainly full of surprises, anyway,” he says, offering her a faint smile.