#i could talk about her for an eternity like don't test me

[neyafromfrance95]

i feel like when we talk about sauron x galadriel we often focus on either the dynamic itself or sauron's pov, and we need to talk about galadriel's pov more bc it's really fascinating and complex.

for starters, galadriel loves halbrand. it's been confirmed by the creators and by her reaction to him in 2.08. and it was simply obvious from everything leading up to that point. he is her one true love. the only being with from she established a true connection. a comrade with whom she found companionship. she found herself in a soulmate hurt/comfort au when she was with him. and it seems like, no matter how she feels about sauron, she will always love halbrand. what an epitome of tragedy it is to eternally love a man who never existed?

sauron implied that he wanted to heal her when he said that if he wanted forgiveness, he would need to heal everything he helped to ruin, and he took accountability for galadriel's trauma when he apologized for finrod and everything. and i think one of the reasons halbrand had such an effect on galadriel is that his presence really was healing for her. for the first time since finrod, she wasn't alone. she felt understood and believed. he made her open up to him. she could be vulnerable with him. i find it interesting that she mockingly asks him "do you want to heal me", as if making a point that he can't heal her so that she can pretend like he didn't at some point. it adds another layer to her shame too, bc as much as she believes he can't heal the middle-earth, he was able to heal her when he "created" halbrand for her.

she has spent a lifetime harboring a deep hatred of sauron. her main goal in the life being to take revenge on him for her brother. for her, he is a sworn enemy that she's destined to slay. her hatred and ambition to kill him so all consuming and intense that she turned her back on heaven for him and basically willed him back into life.

galadriel is sauron's mirror. she has gazed into the abyss for so long that the abyss gazed back into her. her fight against him has became an intrinsic part of her identity, and we see how now sauron binds her to himself several times, either by guilt or by stabbing her with morgoth's crown, so we can say he has become an intrinsic part of her very being. always there just above her heart.

i think that sauron believes when he says that he would make her his equal queen, i believe that this is what he wants deep down (she is a natural leader, he is a natural follower). but would that actually happen? i don't believe that galadriel would ever willingly join him in mordor not only bc of the light her gaze is fixed on and bc of finrod, but also bc her pride and fear wouldn't allow it. what sauron offers galadriel is basically what jareth offers sarah (labyrinth) - "just fear me, love me. do as i say and i will be your slave." sauron wants galadriel to tame him, in a way, but she wouldn't be able to torture him into submission like morgoth did, as she could never match his strength, even as a dark!witch-queen, and she knows that. unless he repents and joins her in valinor, as a couple, sauron will always dominate galadriel in their dynamic.

trop recontextualizes what we know about galadriel's future. nenya is a symbol of her relationship with sauron and it causes her an extreme sea-longing, and the sea is another thing associated with her bond with sauron. even tho she has family and friends, she feels alone and her heart has greatly desired what sauron's proposal tempted her with for 3000-5000 years! she didn't go to valinor when celebrian did, didn't stay in the middle-earth while celeborn did, she only left the middle-earth for valinor when sauron was gone! and she took nenya with her! with trop context, it doesn't only signify her holding onto power/fight, it signifies her holding onto the only one thing that materialized as a symbol of her connection with sauron/halbrand! so while she passes the test and resists the one ring, i believe she will always yearn for both power and halbrand.

the dichotomy between her love for halbrand and her hatred for sauron is such an interesting concept, as is the dichotomy of her opposing the darkness of the dark lord as the lady of the light while being the perfect mirror of sauron, completely understood only by him, being the only one he is capable of loving, cosmically bound to him by the sea and the blood.

[raayllum]

Arc 3 Predictions Electric Boogaloo

Because there's certain stuff that makes a Lot more sense now even as we're left with more questions, so let's talk about it.

Aaravos and the Cosmic Order / Claudia

So Aaravos wanted to take down the elves and dragons. Now the archdragons are all gone circa S7, which means he can hit the ground running upon his return in seven years. This means that the next target can fully be the Cosmic Council outright, and more recontextualization about how creating Eternal Night would make them suffer (though I don't think he'll repeat plans).

I could see him giving instructions / ideas to Claudia through dreams or visions, and she's armed with her amulet in the meantime and will maybe track down a replacement staff since she doesn't have one anymore. (Or she'll want to steal it back from Callum since it was a product of both her 'fathers'.) Other antagonists such as Finnegrin (maybe) and Kim'Dael (more definitely) will likely be interwoven.

That said, I think there'll be plenty of conflict already for our protagonists to deal with even before any of our old foes show up again.

Aanya + the Fire Ruby Project / Ezran & Zym

With the arrows temporarily able to dispose of Aaravos (even if I mandate he let himself get chained down in 7x07 in order to manipulate Ezran) and his imminent return, Ez and Aanya have an incentive to keep going with Project Ruby Fire. However, we also know thanks to interviews that Aanya has an adoptive brother, and from Tales of Xadia that:

The city is more fortified of late, as there are rumours of internal treason. The farmers worry that young Queen Aanya isn’t old enough or wise enough to protect what’s been built over the centuries.

So what I'm thinking is that adoptive brother Grark may pull a Karim and work on the project behind his sister's back or stage a coup. This could also put Ezran at odds with Zym, as Project Ruby Fire was designed specifically to be good at defeating dragons and to be so destructive that the mere threat of them would be enough (but, of course like the Mage Wars, someone's gonna use it). Having deeper, more politically / personally driven conflicts between Ezran and Zym (he had conflict with one brother, and now another) is also possible now that Zym can speak, and I think they'll take full advantage of it.

Ez and Zym together have always represented Hope the most (3x06), as Ezran found the egg, they're the two young princes turned kings, and are spearheading things forward.

So what happens if/when they start to crack? This could also provide a contrast to Janai and Amaya, as their new nieces/nephews through Miyana and Karim could provide a conflict. Even though the kids themselves will be too young and Miyana convinced to walk a different path, that doesn't mean they won't be used or treated as symbols by somebody else to sow more conflict.

Evrkynd and Elarion

The choice to establish a new city to show the growing unity between elves and dragons makes sense, but it made me wonder why do it now and not as an end-of-arc 3 idea. Then I considered that perhaps it's to set up Everkynd as an Elarion parallel: a glistening, shining city, where after it fell the land was divided and more chaos ensued.

Only Evrkynd will emerge and stand the test of time, of course, with the connection between the two halves being maintained and strengthened. But still, a thought I'll probably have something more eloquent for later.

Callum, Corruption, and the Cube (+ Rayla)

Was thinking over 6x06's "the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you" in addition to the choice in S6 to establish that Callum's father died of a chronic illness / the consistent comparison to dark magic as a plague/infection/sickness (2x08, 5x01, 5x03, 5x04, 5x09, etc). The options I'd considered for how the corruption would manifest post usage usually fell into two camps: instantaneous and complete, or gradual and ongoing. I'd thought the second one would be interesting for a mid-season dark magic use, speculating it'd be like the shadowmonsters in taking a few days or longer for something to take.

I certainly didn't think it'd be a process over Years, but given the seven year timeskip...

I'm picturing something like Callum still taking mushroom salves or potions regularly from Muhko (hence that inclusion for Zubeia) to stave off corruption overwhelm, and giving him parallels to Damian. This would also potentially enhance the feeling of "living on borrowed time" he and everyone, but him and Rayla in particular, are bound to feel as they know they have Limited Time before Aaravos comes back.

I'm also curious as to how openly or how much Callum will be studying dark magic, even in comparison to before ("Well, I've read a lot about it"). He has Viren-Claudia's relic staff, and the corrupted sun stone within it, so there could be interesting ideas or experiments there. The fact that Callum has the Staff and the Cube and the white streak does not bode well for him.

An additional assumption is that Callum will go to Elarion offscreen (cause that is a Long skip) but be unable to find what he's unknowingly looking for (the primal magic book?). I also don't think at this point I have to go into much more detail about CHET given that we've been here with the theory for 4 years, and pieces of evidence at the time that felt like a stretch are now being incorporated, such as:

The Cube pointing to Elarion, which was incredibly important to ancient humanity and Aaravos

Elarion poem is associated with nature (flowers of elarion) and dark-light motif

Rayla is Callum's light in the darkness and his destructive path. She was prepared to destroy him (7x09) and will likely save him in the future.

The flowers of Elarion were involved in a story where they were seen as gifts / "fair exchanges of beloved for beloved". Then Rayla, by Aaravos' own word, was described as Callum's "beloved" (7x09).

The entire conversation with Dark!Callum and the cube in the woods in 7x06 but especially "If you love her, you'll be the you that can save her" and "I have always been a part of you."

Basically: it's not over till the cube is plot relevant and all the foreshadowing / lines of dialogue surrounding it have come full circle in some manner. In Arc 3 we trust.

Misc Predictions / Ideas

that didn't belong anywhere else!

Given that we know Aanya has her older brother and Prince Kasef has a younger sibling, I think it'd be interesting if they teamed up to try and stage mutual coups or something.

Since the archdragons are gone, I'm curious what project ruby fire would be used against. Maybe just other dragons? Or invoking stuff from the past mage wars.

More info on the relic staffs and self-eating I think for sure can be expected, as well as what happened to make Kpp'Ar completely change his mind.

I'm expecting S8 to be catch up and set up much the way that S1 and S4 were.

There are river pirates between Duren and Neolandia (Tales of Xadia) so I could see Finnegrin being woven back in there, although I'd love to go back to Scumport and see any changes Elmer has made.

Kim'Dael feels like a 2 season antagonist to me, in order to reintroduce her (maybe Aaravos inverting the Moon Nexus set her free) and then to draw on her history with the Moon Fam (Bloodmoon Huntress graphic novel).

A lot more lore on the Startouch elves / I'm fairly certain Shiruakh was a star devourer dragon

Aaravos making the Cosmic Council mortal, etc etc.

Sol Regem lore and backstory

[genericpuff]

I was kind of curious: What do you think of Persephone's therapy scenes in episodes 160-161?

I personally liked them, but you and many other LO critics always seem to see things that totally flew over my head (I mean that in a positive way).

I think the idea behind them was fine, just the execution that felt really half-baked. Rachel doesn't like scenes to sit too long so the therapy scene, of course, wound up being rushed in the course of 2-3 episodes (meaning she had to have Persephone dump everything all at once) and while Persephone's dialogue is handled relatively well, the direction of the scene itself feels entirely mismanaged (which is both a side effect of Rachel's directionless writing and the fact that she clearly doesn't want to do more than one of these kinds of episodes so she needs to speedrun it).

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion concerning sexual assault ahead!

Like, let's start with Persephone's intent in going to therapy. Wanting to pursue therapy doesn't just happen suddenly, there's usually a "trigger event" to make someone realize "I need help", whether it be hitting rock bottom or even just going "I feel like I don't have the skills or tools necessary to deal with what I'm dealing with, I need a professional opinion".

Despite Eros advising her to go to therapy all the way back in S1 to address her assault-

-she actually finally goes to therapy in S2 not to address the assault, but to address... how she feels insecure in comparison to Hera who she just found out Hades had a long-term affair with??? At least that's definitely the implication.

And then of course the therapy session itself segues immediately into "Persephone is a high achiever and it's because of her mom being overbearing" which Rachel doesn't connect at all to either the SA or her feeling insecure compared to Hera (which, by the way, barely even has anything to do with her, but she didn't - and still doesn't - have the emotional maturity or self-respect to realize that Hades is a serial cheater-)

That's where the first therapy episode cuts off, and then the next episode immediately opens with Persephone writing her entire backstory on a whiteboard, so we can assume time has passed and she's talked about everything from her childhood up until this point.

Then we get Chiron asking Persephone... what could go wrong if she leaves TGOEM??

Even though we never saw any of the actual sequence so it just feels like a question that's coming out of nowhere? Like did Persephone say during that schpeel that she wanted to leave TGOEM? Isn't that something we should have seen to connect these two trains of thought?

Ah, right, because we have to get into Hades. Because this comic fails the Bechdel test so hard it can't even have a character talk about their trauma or childhood without it seguing into "well there's this one specific main character guy I just really wanna sleep with-"

Don't get me wrong, if Rachel is trying to "deconstruct purity culture" here, I can get her angle with this, if Persephone has been "groomed her entire life" to be an eternal maiden then there's clearly some thought processes about sexual attraction there that are being challenged by her attraction to Hades. But it just feels so rushed purely for the sake of getting her through her trauma and childhood problems and everything that Rachel tacked onto her backstory (in an attempt to make her seem more than just a self-insert) so that Rachel can get her back on track to sleeping with Hades, the one and only man she's clearly ever felt sexual attraction to enough to want to leave TGOEM and question her entire childhood.

And then we get this and I just-

Like first of all, again, Persephone being a complete airhead and not realizing that it has less to do with her possibly being an inadequate partner and more to do with Hades being a serial cheater who also used her as an emotional affair partner;

but ALSO the fact that the conclusion is some "eureka" moment of "you're a bad decision maker" ??? I was a fan of the comic still when this scene happened and even I went "huh?"

Like she doesn't bother to try and connect it to everything she just learned and said about her childhood and how she wants to be the "perfect daughter" who will make everyone happy, Chiron just reduces it to "oh you just suck at making decisions". As if "sucking at making decisions" isn't like, a reactionary extension of deeper problems. She's treating it as if Persephone is some "puzzle" to be solved and her being a "bad decision maker" was the answer when it's undoubtedly just one of many side effects of her upbringing. It feels like she's addressing the cough and not the virus.

Also a little off topic but-

Gotta love how we've never seen Persephone actually employ this homework from her therapist because she's constantly stapled to Hades and the only thing she cares about is his happiness. Literally, I don't think Persephone could possibly answer that question because she's never been independent enough to even learn what makes her happy - she's jumped from wanting to make her mother happy to wanting to make Hades happy but we're supposed to condemn the former and celebrate the latter.

Buuut of course we don't get her answering that question because again, Rachel can't spend more than 30 seconds on a single scene because that would demand too much writing and thought from her. So we cut to Hera having a discussion with Asclepius regarding her scars re-opening, yadda yadda.

By the time we cut back to the therapy session at the start of the next episode (that's three episodes that have been spent basically accomplishing nothing because none of the thought threads tie together in a meaningful way beyond what the audience has to assume) Chiron is conveniently wrapping things up and it's then and only then does Rachel try to actually incorporate the SA plotline that was Persephone's ORIGINAL MOTIVATION in going to therapy.

Now, the scene for the most part is fine, I don't really like how the therapy session was written leading up to it, but her describing her freeze response and how she feels guilty she couldn't "fight back" is a very real feeling that I can definitely say was well written.

My one gripe with it though - and sure, this might be nitpicky, but here me out - is this:

I don't particularly like that Chiron the therapist just found out about her patient being a rape victim - someone who's also said she doesn't like people grabbing her / touching her without her consent - and then decides the best course of action is to comfort her... while touching her.

Now I want to make it perfectly clear, it's not against the law or even the code of ethics to make physical contact between a therapist and their patient. Loads of patients have made breakthroughs with their therapists that have called for hugs and while some therapists may not be okay with it, there are definitely therapists who are who fully understand that hugs in those moments are the best thing for a person. But it's still a general boundary that is there and even with patients who aren't victims of SA, consent needs to be asked for / given.

So Chiron just... coming over and touching Persephone on the knee, while undoubtedly seen as a "warm and comforting act" by those who have had similar sessions with their own therapists or even just those who have no clue and see it on the surface level as being "sweet", really irks me, because it just seems so tone deaf to do with a character like Persephone who is supposed to be a victim of having her bodily autonomy taken away from her.

Again, it's a small criticism, and undoubtedly a nitpick in the eyes of some, but a simple "can I give you a hug?" from either Chiron or Persephone would have gone a long way in accomplishing Persephone's need for consent and bodily autonomy a lot more than just having Chiron come up and touch her leg without her consent. Please, for the love of god, let Persephone have some autonomy, asking for consent doesn't ruin the moment.

And that's pretty much it, Persephone talks about how she feels like she's tethered to Apollo, and Chiron assures her that's not the case, session over, Persephone goes outside to Hades aaaand notice how we never actually tackled that "I feel insecure because of my partner having former partners?" thing? Notice how the best we got was her talking about her fears of being an "inadequate partner" which focused entirely on her not being "enough" for Hades and being a "bad decision maker" rather than pointing out 1.) Hades' own faults in being a serial cheater that would undoubtedly contribute to her insecurities and 2.) what Persephone could do for Hades rather than what Hades could do for Persephone? It's always "I don't know if I'm good enough for him" and never "I don't know if he's good enough for me."

Yet another F-- on Lore Olympus' Bechdel test. Every single thing tacked onto Persephone's backstory is meant purely to get her with Hades - TGOEM is just an obstacle preventing her from having sex with Hades, the assault is just a framing device to show how much "better" Hades is for Persephone than Apollo, her overbearing childhood is just to show how much more "free" she is now that she's not living with her mother and is living with Hades instead, etc.

No agency, no autonomy, no character, even when it tries.

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 6: Dancing with Darkness

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 6.9k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

“Have you completely lost your mind? You can’t be serious!”

Shadowheart paces in front of you; a brooding scowl darkens the delicate features of her face. This is the third argument with her in as many days about you moving back in with Astarion and the obtuse notion that maybe you could help him regain some semblance of his old self.

Gale was due to return home soon, and you’re not looking forward to repeating this argument with him.

“I need to do this, Shadowheart.”

“You most certainly do not! You don’t owe him a damn thing.”

“It’s my fault he’s like this. I let him down in that ritual chamber.”

I should have tried harder to talk him out of it.

“He let you down,” she sneers, “do not allow him to make you think otherwise. Gods, I requested you stay out of trouble, not go barrelling headfirst towards it!”

“Shadowheart,” you gently grasp her arms to halt her ferocious stomping, “look at me.”

She inhales sharply at your touch, and you recognize that look from when Astarion used to touch you before you were this walking corpse.

You drop your grip, “Sorry. I forget how cold I am now.”

Shadowheart grabs your hands, concern furrows her brows and creases her forehead, “It’s dangerous. He’s dangerous. Don’t do this.”

“I know, but I must try. If not for him, then for myself. I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why would you agree to such a thing in the first place?”

You sigh, “I think you know why.”

“You’re still in love with him.”

There’s pity in her eyes.

“I’m not sure I will ever not be in love with him.”

Shadowheart scoffs at you, but her voice loses its serrated edge, “Do you think he is still capable of loving you?”

No.

Yes?

No. I cannot allow myself the luxury of that fantasy.

“No… I don’t know, but that’s not what this is about. Astarion would have done the same for me once upon a time.”

“There’s no talking you out of this suicide mission, is there?”

You give her a solemn look and shrug your shoulders. There was nothing anyone could say to put an end to this madness. Your decision had been made that night in the Crimson Palace when you had watched him battle with himself as you clung to him.

“What if this is another carefully orchestrated maneuver to regain control over you?”

You shrug, “Then I am a foolish woman.”

“I would argue that you’ve far surpassed simple foolishness. Good Gods.”

“He doesn’t need to plan such an elaborate ruse if what he wants is simply control. I’m his spawn. He has the ability to control me completely at his whim.”

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow skeptically, “Is that what this is? Has he compelled you to do this?”

Has he?

“No. He asked for my help, and I gave it freely.”

Did I?

She huffs, her eyes upcast in exasperation, “I will never understand your deluded loyalty to him. Hells, Gale is going to be furious."

Loyalty or love?

“One angry friend at a time, okay?”

She chuckles with an exasperated sigh, “Less angry, more worried.”

“Your style of worry looks a lot like anger.”

She scowls at you, but one side of her mouth is tugged up in a wry half-smile, “I’ve been told that before.”

Shadowheart takes a deep breath and sits down. Her heartbeat starts to slow, and you nearly want to praise the Gods on your knees for it. That thrumming in her chest clamoured in your ears and made your mouth salivate obscenely. It took every ounce of your control to be in such proximity to her without lunging for her neck.

Astarion has been keeping you fed while attempting to teach you how to hunt for yourself, which is the only reason you can bear to be this close to Shadowheart in the first place. Your lessons are not going well, although he seems to find the spectacle of your ungracefulness extremely amusing.

My, my, how the tables have turned.

“I can’t believe you’re willingly returning to that dreadful palace.”

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m not.”

Shadowheart leers at you suspiciously, “What do you mean?”

“Not living in the palace was part of my… terms. Astarion purchased another residence.”

Her eyes go wide with surprise, “He agreed to this?”

“Shocking, I know.”

“But you will be staying close by, I hope? When something inevitably goes awry, you can return any time.”

“We will be in the upper city, I believe.”

“The upper city?” Shadowheart giggles, “How very posh.”

“Not my first choice, but would you have expected any different?”

She laughs, “No, I suppose not. He always gravitated towards luxury, like an insect to a flame. When is this happening?”

“Soon. I was hoping Gale might be home before I left so I could tell him myself.”

She winces, “It might be best if I do it.”

“I don’t wish to put that on you. I’ll return to tell him.”

“Perhaps, don’t bring Astarion when you do. Gale may be a gentle soul, but his feelings for you might lead him to do something rather rash.”

His feelings for me... I had hoped those were long put to rest. It seems she knows something I don’t.

You sigh loudly, “I know.”

Your fingers shake as you pack what little things belongings you have. Fear coils tepid and stewing in your chest. Shadowheart is right. Astarion is dangerous. There is no telling what he’s capable of or what he might do to you when you inevitably make him angry.

Replaying your recent interactions with Astarion in your head, you evaluate what seems to provoke him. Every time you’ve disobeyed or challenged him, in some way, shape or form, he loses himself. This realization scares you more than not knowing and opens up many other questions. You know what happens when you make him angry, but what happens when someone else does? His new lover, his “business” partners, whoever and whatever they may be, or anyone else for that matter?

I will undoubtedly upset him. I will not be intimated into being his subordinate, not again.

You’ve landed yourself in a precarious situation, and your life, if you can call it that, hangs in the balance, but you’re not unaccustomed to fighting for your life.

I may have finally thrust myself into a battle I cannot win.  

Astarion comes to retrieve you in the early morning to escort you to the place you and he will once again be sharing.

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s very… large.”

He chuckles, “Anything would look large to you after living in a bedroom for over a year.”

The manor is bright and airy. Heavy curtains are hung on all the windows but are pulled back to allow the sunlight to flood in. The shining radiance of the daylight you’re not used to hurts your eyes and causes your head to pound. You still fear the sun. Standing in it makes your stomach churn, and your muscles quiver.

This will take some adjusting to.

Nervously, you walk around the ground floor to familiarize yourself with your new lodgings while Astarion trails behind you.

Entering the large kitchen makes you wonder. In the time you had lived with him before, he would do the hunting for you as he did now and then drop you back off at your room and disappear. He had kept you corralled where he wanted you like an animal, and you had never witnessed him eat anything, blood or food.

I will not let myself be controlled like that again - no matter the consequences.

“Do you eat food now?”

“I can dine on both as I see fit, but I won’t if it bothers you.”

I miss food.

“It doesn’t,” you wave at him dismissively, “You can eat or drink whatever you please.”

Astarion gives you a sultry gaze, “Whatever I please?”

You ignore his provocative tone and climb the wide staircase. You peek into a cozy library. It seems Astarion has moved his rather impressive book collection already. The filled shelving reaches up to the high ceiling. The room has only one small window, which is covered to keep the sun’s bleaching rays from deteriorating the texts.

You continue down the long hall, which has multiple bedrooms off of it. You look into all of them curiously.

“Which room is mine?”

“Whichever one you want. There are several; take your pick.”

With all your charisma, you plaster an angelic smile on your face, “I want the biggest one.”

“I… uh-”

He’s still adorable when he’s flustered.

“Relax, Astarion,” you smile at him wryly, “I’m well aware that’s your room.”

“I could be convinced to call it our room.”

What? Nothing has been ours since he ascended unless he was saying candied falsehoods.

“That’s not what this is, is it?”

His eyebrow cocks, “What do you mean?”

“Trying to get me back into your bed?”

“To what end, my dear?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Power. Control. Possession. Pleasure. Take your pick.”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

You scold yourself inwardly while running your fingers through your hair. You were still angry with him, of course, but you were letting it get the better of you.

“Sorry. I’m still-”

“Apology accepted,” he halts you with a resigned sigh, “I am angry at myself most days.”

Who is this person?

“I have business I must attend to in the city today.”

Your eyebrow cocks, “Business?”

“Yes.”

“With that terrible woman?”

He chuckles, “No, not today.”

“Something is off with her, Astarion. Be careful.”

“Oh, pet. Your jealousy is utterly adorable, but she’s harmless.”

You pivot swiftly, scowling, and poke your finger into his chest hard, “You will not call me “pet” anymore. Do I make myself clear?”

“I… Yes, I understand,” he looks around anxiously, “it never bothered you before.”

“You mean when you were a spawn?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t own me then. Moreover, you didn’t want to. It became a slight as soon as you thought of me as nothing more than another pretty possession.”

His knows knit together, “I do not wish to own you.”

“You have held it over me on multiple occasions.”

Astarion’s red eyes shift around as if searching his memories, “I have, haven’t I?”

“Yes.”

“Apologies,” he bows shallowly, “I’ll work on it.”

I am sure you will.

“You didn’t bring many things.”

“I don’t have many things anymore. I left it all behind when I left…”

Your words trail off, but Astarion finishes your sentence for you.

“Me.”

You nod, “Yes.”

“I’ll have your belongings brought from the palace.”

What?

Your eyebrows shoot up, “You still have my things?”

There’s no way he kept them all this time.

“Of course, darling. One doesn’t simply throw away perfectly good magical items. It would be a ghastly waste.”

“I figured you would sell it all.”

“I admit, I considered it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I’m… not sure,” he waves his hand dismissively, “I just never got around to it, I suppose.”

Too busy bedding the trollop.

Ugh.

“How far is your business in the city?”

“Not far,” his brows knit together, “Why?”

You point to the windows, “The sun.”

“Right, of course. We will have to figure out where the limit is.”

“Astarion?”

I need to know.

“Hm?”

“Do you control it?”

“Control what, love?”

“The sun protection. When you sent me away, you eluded that you have the power to grant me that benefit or not. I need to know if this is another thing you can control me with.”

Astarion takes your hand in his, a sincere expression on his face, “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“You might if you get angry enough with me, which you will. It’s a certainty. Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

This does not bode well for me.

Pulling away from him, you step back from the sunlight spilling through the nearby window. You shiver noticeably as you try to swallow the harsh truth that you might very well end up as a pile of ash on these floors one of these days.

Astarion squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, “I won’t allow the sun or myself to hurt you.”

“How can you be so sure of that, Astarion?”

“I just am.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He shrugs, “It’s the only answer I have for you right now.”

You point at the room furthest from his, “I’ll take this one.”

“I’ll leave you to get settled then. I will inform you before I depart.”

The room is large, and the heavy curtains are already drawn, suffusing it in darkness. It’s furnished with a generously sized bed, a few wardrobes and several little tables with oil lamps and candles. A pair of plush chairs with a damask patterned fabric sit off to the side of the bed in front of a small stone fireplace with ornately chiselled dragons, vines and fire inlaid with gold and silver.

A small room just off the main holds a wooden tub and glass washbasin. You note there are no mirrors in this room, but you had spotted several throughout the manor.

Not that I need a mirror, but I imagine he can’t get enough of staring at himself now.

Crawling onto the bed, you wrap your arms around your knees and take deep breaths of useless air to try and settle the disquietude sitting heavy in your belly. Being here with him, knowing he was just outside that door and could barge in at any moment, was terrifying. You’ve been desperately trying to hide your fear from him since he came to fetch you this morning.

Shadowheart had tried to talk you out of this again before he had arrived, and you find yourself wishing you weren’t so mulish. You had been adamant with her that this was what needed to be done, but your resolve was wavering, especially with the knowledge that he did have control over your protection from the sun.

Had I known, would I have agreed to this?

Probably. Idiot.

Am I trying to get myself killed?

Maybe.

Rolling over onto your side, your eyes brim with tears. You have not known joy for so long, and you wonder if you simply agreed to this in the hope that he might end that suffering, whether on purpose or by accident. You push yourself into your meditative state to allow yourself some peace.

A knock jolts you from your trance, and for a moment, you panic, looking around the unfamiliar room. You never thought you would miss the smell of Shadowheart. She carried the fragrance of safety but also food. You console yourself with the knowledge that at least your friends are safe from your insatiable hunger.

Slipping off the bed, you unlock and open the door. Astarion is attired grandiosely, and you wonder what business he’s going to, but it’s none of your concern.

He’s so handsome it’s nigh on unlawful.

“I’ll be taking my leave now. The curtains are all drawn. I am unlikely to return until late.”

“Okay,” you look past him and around the dimmed manor, “thank you for letting me know.”

“You will be okay here on your own?”

“I’m not going to go chasing nobles through the streets if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckles, “Not what I meant, darling, but thank you for the assurances. I’ll see your delicious self later.”

Once you hear Astarion leave, you take another lap around the manor mentally making note of where all the windows are and inventory of all the exits.

Just in case.

In the kitchen, your eyes fall on a shelf full of extravagant and exotic wines, liquors and spirits.

Can a vampire spawn get drunk?

Fuck it.

Let’s find out.

You pick up whatever bottle your hands land on first, uncork it and gulp it down. You cringe at the taste of bitter, vinegary ash on your tongue. The liquor sits precariously in your stomach, a balmy tingle arising and spreading through your limbs. It’s been forever since you’ve had a drink, quite literally a lifetime.

You could never indulge in such stupidity when living with Shadowheart and Gale. Anything that could alter your mind or dampen your resolve was not a risk you could take, but here, the only person you were endangering was yourself.

An acceptable risk.

Finishing the bottle, you pick up another and take it to the large dining area, sitting at the dark wood table with delicately carved legs. You’re desperate to feel the numbing caress of the spirits as it fuels you with the courage you’re currently missing, even if that courage is nothing but a hoax being played on your dimmed mind.

Time passes by in a blur as you sit there encased in your own self-loathing and morbidity, and old memories you wish you could forget start to surface as the authority you have over yourself slips.

“Wake up, Astarion.”

You reach out but go to jostle him a little to pull him out of his trance, but his hand catches your wrist, and his eyes open in narrow slits.

“My favourite travelling companion, what can I do for you?”

“Keep your voice down, or you will wake the others. Get dressed and meet me at the edge of camp. Bring your weapons and wear your armour.”

Astarion sits up and peers around the camp. The others are all fast asleep in their tents around you. He cocks an eyebrow at you, confused but nods his understanding.

You creep as best you can through the camp away from his tent, but rocks grate harshly under your feet with every step. You stop and look around constantly to be sure you haven’t awoken anyone else.

“Gods, if you keep making that ruckus, you’ll get us both caught.”

Astarion’s sudden appearance by your side makes you jump, and he grabs you before you can clatter to the ground and muffles your breathy shriek with his hand tightly over your mouth. You pull his hand away from your mouth and scowl at him. You keep your voice in the quietest whisper you can.

"Not all of us are imbued with your talents, Rogue.”

“No, Sorceress,” he tuts, “that’s readily apparent. Do you trust me?”

“What are you on about?”

He smirks, “Don’t scream.”

Astarion sweeps your feet out from under you and lifts you effortlessly. He quietly carries you the rest of the way out of camp before setting you back down with a smug half-smile.

“You didn’t have to carry me.”

“Darling, I’m surprised you made it to my tent without waking the others. I heard you coming a mile away.”

“Why didn’t you say something then?”

He shrugs, “I wanted to see if you were coming to plunge a stake through my ribs.”

“And if I was?”

“Then I would have had to stop that pretty little heart of yours,” he pokes a finger into your chest, “Now, what are you waking me up for in the dead of night? I do need my beauty sleep, you know.”

“I’m going to go take care of the Gur tracking you. I thought you might enjoy the show, and if you care to lend a hand, I wouldn’t say no to the help.”

His eyes widen in surprise, “Why? You ever so vexingly made us walk away from him earlier.”

“Karlach and Wyll are not murderers. I didn’t want to stain their hands with blood against their will.”

“But you are? A murderer, I mean.”  

For you, yes.

“Sometimes… sometimes death is necessary, and I’m not afraid to do what’s necessary. I won’t allow him to make a deal with the Hag, hunt you down and take you back to Cazador.”

“How very… sweet.”

“Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there and stare at me like I’m your next meal?”

“A man can dream. Lead on, my dear.”

With only the two of you, the battle with the Gur is fatiguing and arduous. He is well-equipped and trained, but your magic is a draconic firestorm. Astarion took him by surprise, allowing you both to land several attacks before he could recover. You hold back and let Astarion land the killing blow, driving his dagger deep into Gandrel’s chest.

Regardless of your magical prowess, you don’t make it out of the battle unscathed.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine. He caught me with an arrow or two.”

Astarion grabs your hands and shoves them hard against your wound, “Keep pressure on it. Hold on.”

He jogs over the Gandrel’s backpack and starts rifling through it. There’s concern inlaid in his features that you haven’t seen.

Well, other than for himself.

He returns to your side quickly and hands you a Potion of Healing, “Drink up. Preferably, before you bleed out.”

You roll your eyes at him but drink the potion happily, which eases some of your discomfort and refuels your body.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Astarion. Really, but you’re injured as well.”

“I’m already dead, my dear. Not to worry, I’ve been in far more dire straits. We are positively bathed in blood. We can’t return to camp like this unless you wish to appraise the others of our nighttime activities.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“There’s a river near that village. We can wash up there before I sneak us back into camp.”

You nod and start toward the river. The night is clear, and the moonlight is enough to light your way without the need for extra magical assistance.

When you arrive at the river, Astarion strips down without hesitation and wades into the running water. The pale light from the moon washes him in an otherworldly brilliance. A gentle breeze stirs his hair and casts frolicking shadows over him.

Gods, he’s beautiful. Mere words can’t do this man justice.

A haughty smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “Are you going to join me or just stand there gawking?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. You know I am all for shallow praise.”

You strip off your trousers and blood-soaked robe but hesitate when it comes to your undergarments, feeling suddenly shy as his crimson eyes pour over your body.

“Bashful tonight, are you? You were not so reserved when we were getting lost in each other in the forest.”

A rush of heat washes up to your face at his teasing, and he chuckles. With a deep breath, you calm your flighty nerves, strip down and wade into the river.

“I thought you said one or two arrows caught you.”

You look down at your body and see several wounds marring your flesh where arrows grazed you. There is a rather deep puncture wound in your shoulder where you had to pull one out mid-battle. That one would have lodged itself right into your heart had Astarion not pushed you out of its path at the last second.

“Or three or four. Who’s counting?”

Astarion’s fingers graze over the wounds lightly, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Are you concerned for me or at the waste of my blood?”

He shrugs, “Can it not be both?”

You huff an exasperated sigh and turn away from him, scrubbing the blood off of your hands, arms and body. Astarion’s chest presses up against your back, and his arm wraps around your waist carefully.

His lips ghost over your ear, “Thank you.”

“Drinking the expensive stuff, I see.”

Astarion’s voice nudges you out of your thoughts, and your eyes lazily drift to him leaning in the archway, observing you with an earth-shatteringly handsome smirk.

“I’ll pay you back for it.”

He laughs, “Your tab is running rather high these days - a rug, shirt, and now several bottles of imported liquor.”

“Sell my stuff like you were going to.”

“No, darling. I don’t need coin. Although, if you keep drinking like this, I may have to start picking pockets again.”

Astarion takes a seat at the table with you. Reaching over, he grabs the bottle and takes a long drink. He smells like his familiar self, but there’s a tinge of tangy blood, and it’s not his. He looks on edge, something frightening in his body language, and your throat constricts.

“How was your business meeting or whatever you’re up to?”

“Disappointing. I’d rather not discuss it.”

“You’re angry.”

“Yes.”

It comes out as a warning that makes your hair stand on end, and you fill your body with the weave, tugging on your inherent talents.

“Shall we go and get you some food and continue your lessons?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea tonight.”

He takes another swig from the bottle and sets it on the table. His finger taps the side, making the glass ting sweetly.

“I will change, and we can be on our way.”

“I said not tonight, Astarion.”

“I will not allow you to go hungry. We are going.”

“No!”

With a dark, dangerous growl, Astarion swiftly rises from his chair, grabs you by the throat and slams you hard against the wall. Your head bounces off of it with a loud thud, and stars burst in a spectacular light show behind your eyes.

Your head swims groggily, “Stop, Astar-!”

He increases the pressure on your throat, causing your words to cut off abruptly in a strangled wheeze.

“Or what, sorceress?” he laughs menacingly, “Are you going to burn me again?”

His eyes are once again listless and piercing, and he scowls at you grimly.

This is what I’ve agreed to. This is why I’m here.

I’m an idiot.

His grip on your throat stops you from being able to speak. If you’re going to get through to him this time, you’re going to have to resort to violence. It was something you didn’t want to do because violence seemed to escalate him further, not calm him down, but you can’t do anything pinned to this wall.

Thankfully, since Astarion has been keeping you fed, you’re stronger, relatively clear-headed, except for the liquor, and in control of your body.

Swinging your feet up in a swift motion, you plant them on his stomach and launch him backwards off of you. His grip is ripped away, and you clatter to the floor.

“You ungrateful petulant ingrate!”

“Astarion,” you croak, “I’m begging you. Listen to my voice and come back to me.”

“The Astarion you knew is long dead, pet. I should have let you burn!”

He’s taunting me, trying to provoke me. I have to keep my wits about me.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I… I-”

You’ve got him fumbling. Righting yourself, you launch at him, wrapping your arms around his neck with your legs secured around his hips. You cling to him and bring your lips to his. It feels like kissing a stranger and makes you want to cringe. He’s rigid and tense. His mouth is set in a hard line under yours.

You squeeze your eyes shut and say a small prayer to any God listening, hoping this works. If it doesn’t, you’ve lost before you could even really begin.

You feel the shift in him start as he trembles savagely against you. His hand grabs a handful of your shirt in a tight fist, and he grits his teeth.

You shift your lips away from his and bring them near his ear, “I’ve got you, Astarion. Fight.”

Squeezing closer to him, you lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. All you can do now is wait and see if he can find his way out of the sadistic purgatory he retreats to when this thing, whatever it may be, takes over his control, compelling him to be this monster.

Your heart aches for him. All Astarion has wanted as long as you’ve known him was not to be a puppet, a slave to someone else’s whims and desires. The promise of power and eternal safety is what made the ritual so appealing to him. What a cruel joke it was to end up a slave to a version of yourself you don’t recognize.

Astarion’s hand snakes up your shirt and slides smoothly over the skin of your back, pulling you closer, “I’m back, little love. You can let go now.”

I don’t want to let go.

Releasing your grip on him, you slide back to the floor and step away, feeling unexpectedly shy.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, but you’re afraid.”

“I have good reason to be.”

He nods, “You do.”

“I need your consent, Astarion.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“If this is to continue, I need to know you’re okay with the… physicality. I can’t fight you back. It only drives you further away, and it will end up getting me killed. The only way I’ve been able to break you free from the chains your thoughts hold you with is… well, you know.”

You shift on your feet anxiously with your hands wrapped behind your back while he stares at you.

“Why do you think I would not be comfortable with such an…. arrangement?”

“You know exactly why, Astarion. If this is to continue, I need your assurance that I’m not pushing any boundaries.”

“You have my consent; do what you must, but do not allow me to harm you. Fight me if that’s what must be done. Fight me with everything you have. Don’t hold anything back.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Astarion.”

Even if I could.

The back of his fingers glide tenderly down your cheek, “Do what must be done, my love.”

No.

“Fine.”

He nods, and relief floods the vibrant red sea of his eyes, “If you do not wish to go hunting tonight, that’s fine. If that’s all, I will retire for the night.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“What happens when someone else makes you angry? Someone that’s not me.”

His voice is dark, cold and grim, “They don’t survive.”

Oh… How many people has he killed? 

“I… see. Goodnight.”

Astarion doesn’t even look at you as he turns around and retires to his bedroom.

Withdrawing to your room, you lock the door and slide into the empty bed with a dismal sigh. He may not have said it outright, but the urging nature of his voice telling you to “do what must be done” was daunting.

Was he telling me to kill him if I must? Even if I were capable of it, could I do that to him? If it came down to my life or his, whose would I choose?

Too many questions, not enough answers.

You try to pull your trance over your consciousness to blanket it, but it doesn’t come. The events of the night weigh too heavily on your mind. Not only did you have to be wary of upsetting him, but you also had to be wary of anyone else who might aggravate him.

That’s why he smelled like blood tonight… Someone lost their life to his demons.

In truth, the people he was doing “business” with were probably hardly people who deserved to be saved anyway. Regardless, you worry that every time he gives in to these gruesome impulses, he might lose more and more of himself until there are no traces of him remaining.

A very fine mess indeed.

You toss and turn in your bed, trying to find a comfortable position. Your senses are all heightened and alert. You’re scared to sleep, to leave yourself vulnerable to attack with him so close by. A locked door will not keep him at bay if he decides he no longer wants to participate in this experiment.

“I won’t allow the sun or myself to hurt you.”

His words surface in your mind. How could he possibly know that? He just admitted that he kills others who provoke him, likely without remorse or thought. He had sounded so resolute when he said it as if it was just a simple matter of fact and not simply conjecture.

He hasn’t killed me yet, I suppose.

You spend the rest of the night flip-flopping around in your bed, lost in thought and unable to find any rest. 

You’re still wide awake, sitting in your bed when a knock at your door finally rings through the silence. When you answer it, the sun streams in bright and glorious, and you jump back, a reflexive habit, falling to the floor.

Astarion approaches you with sorrowful eyes, offering you a hand up, “You’re safe, love. I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

You take his hand, and he hauls you up on your feet, “It will take some… adjusting to, I think.”

“Your belongings have arrived. Would you like me to have them bring it to your room or leave it downstairs?”

“Are they living or spawn?”

“Living.”

“Leave it downstairs. I can’t be trusted around them. I’ll bring it up myself.”

Astarion bows, “As you wish.”

He disappears out your door to give directions to whoever has been sent to fetch whatever belongings remain at the palace. Soon, you can hear hearts beating heavily with effort, and it sounds like a euphony lullaby. It marks your guts stir with well-known, unslakable sanguine thirst.

Crushing your eyes shut, you dig your nails into your palms harshly, causing shallow wounds that weep blood to give you something else to focus on other than the siren song of the living.

One day without food and I’m already losing it.

Astarion’s hands find yours, and you lurch at the sudden contact, “They’ll be gone soon, darling. Hold onto me.”

You need to anchor yourself on something, anything, and you fold your arms around him and hold on tightly, gripping handfuls of his coat. You put your ear to his chest and try to focus on the sound of his beating heart. His hand rubs your back comfortingly. It feels like forever to you before a voice rises from the staircase.

“Master Ancunin?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve finished.”

“Very good. You may leave.”

“As you say, saer.”

The door shuts, and the beating tune of hearts fades slowly. Your hands finally unclench and stop tugging on his jacket.

“Getting blood all over my clothing again, I see.”

Shit.

“Sorry. I… I wasn-”

A low laugh catches you off guard, “Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ve learned not to wear my fine clothing around you. You’re always bleeding on me, burning me, or throwing me across courtyards, after all. Look at me.”

Looking up at him, he brushes your hair back, “You didn’t sleep at all last night. Why?”

“How do you know?”

“I can hear you tossing around in here.”

Shifting away from him, you cast your eyes at the floor, “I’m not used to sleeping at night.”

Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

How does he always know when I’m lying? I’m able to persuade most people, but not him, never him.

“I should get my things.”

“Would you like a hand?”

“No, thank you,” you smirk, “I’m sure Master Ancunin has more important things to do.”

He chuckles, “Cheeky pup, aren’t you? If you need help, you know where to find me.”

You have to make several trips to bring all your old things to your room, stacking boxes and crates in a corner.

I didn’t realize how much I left behind.

Astarion kept all your clothing, robes, quarterstaffs, circlets, and various enchanted rings and necklaces. It takes hours to unpack, sort through it and put it away.

Reaching into a long crate, you pull out the Cazador’s quarterstaff, Woe. You reflexively throw it to the ground, and it clatters on the wooden floor with a loud bang. You shuffle back away from it as fast as you can, as if it were threatening your life by simply existing.

Astarion appears in the open doorway to your bedroom, seemingly out of thin air. He perceives the horror afflicting your expression and looks around as if searching for danger.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out a little too fast, “Everything is fine.”

His eyes search the room and land on the quarterstaff strewn on the floor.

“Quarterstaff troubling you, my dear?”

“Why did we keep this thing?”

“It’s a decent item,” he shrugs, “I’m sure it has its uses.”

Images of Astarion completing the ritual and ascending froth over in your mind.

The red glow of his eyes. The sound of the other spawn and prisoners popping. The maniacal laugh that resounded from him.

You recoil, cringing, “I don’t want it. Get rid of it.”

He picks it up and turns it over in his hands, “Why? It could be useful.”

“I don’t care how useful it could be. I don’t want it. Sell or destroy it. I couldn’t care less but get rid of it.”

He cocks a brow at you, confused, “If that’s truly what you want. Perhaps I’ll give it to Elowyn.”

“Elowyn?”

“Ah, yes, you don’t know her name.”

The mulberry-haired woman.

A jumbled fusion of betrayal, anger and jealousy rises like bile in your throat, “Don’t you dare, Astarion.”

“Why not? You said you don’t want it, and I have no use for it.”

“She’s dangerous. Something is off about her.”

He giggles, “Jealous, are you? That’s very cute.”

Jealousy does not begin to describe it.

“You never listen to me. I said she’s dangerous!”

“Darling, she’s a mere human. She’s no more of a danger to me than a fly is to carrion.”

“You’re blind if that’s what you truly think, Astarion.”

“Care to elaborate on your analysis of my relationship?”

Relationship? Ouch.

That stings.

“I’m assuming she knows what you are.”

“She knows I’m a vampire. Nothing more.”

“Gods, for someone smart, you’re dull sometimes.”

He laughs, “Am I?”

“Give me the fucking quarterstaff. It’s safer in my hands than it is in hers.”

“No, you said get rid of it. I will oblige your request.”

You cast Telekinesis, ripping it out of his hands, and grasp it. It feels repulsive in your palm, and you shudder, fighting the urge to throw it to the ground.

You level a challenging glare at him, and the intonation of your voice is defiant and harsh, “I said it’s mine.”

You catch his eyes shift again. The telltale sign you’ve irked him in some form, and you wait for the inevitable strike. Astarion grits his teeth, but keeps his eyes open, staring into yours boringly.

“May I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Please.”

There’s urgency in his voice, and you watch as his hand balls up into a shaking fist.

He’s trying to fight it himself, but he needs my help.

“Yes.”

Astarion crosses the room quickly, ripping the quarterstaff out of your hands and throwing it to the ground. His lips meet yours with desperation, like you’re the single thing in existence that will keep him afloat.

His hands find your waist and tug you closer to him, crushing himself against you. Your eyes flutter shut, and you’re engulfed and consumed by the depraved thoughts swirling through your head.

His kiss turns rougher, more insistent, and you murmur against him. He takes the opportunity, and his tongue slips between your lips. Any rational thought you were capable of is blown away in a supernova of sensation and is replaced by desire and passion alone.

You want him. You want him with everything you have and everything you are so entirely you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted anything else more in your life.

Astarion grinds into you with a rumbling groan, and you can feel his pulsing erection. He guides your hips and rolls them against himself, eliciting a shuddering pant from you at the exquisite friction against the throbbing in between your thighs.

“Gods, you feel good against me.”

His voice breaks you out of your passion-fuelled delirium, and you push him away, taking several steps back.

“Are you back?”

“Oh yes,” he coos, “I’ve been me for quite some time now.”

“Great. Now, get out.”

“What? You can’t be serious. Look at you; you’re practically vibrating with need, as am I, quite obviously,” his eyes shift towards the bulge in his trousers with a devious grin, “We could assist each other.”

“Go get Elowyn to assist you.”

His brows knit together, “Is that really what you want?”

“What I want hasn’t mattered to you for quite some time, I imagine.”

“What do you want? Name it, and I will make it yours.”

You.

You point at Woe, “I want you to destroy the quarterstaff.”

“What?”

Will he? I’m pushing my luck.

“Destroy it. Snap it in half. You’re strong enough to do that, are you not?”

“Of course, but-” he sputters.

“No, “but,” Astarion. You either do as I ask, or you decline. The choice is yours.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow slightly and shift to the quarterstaff lying where he threw it. He picks it up, inspecting it raptly. His crimson eyes slither up the surface of it while his hands do the same.

With a growl, he easily snaps it in two. A bright flash of light emits as the magical enchantment is released, making that terrible, hideous thing nothing but an inert hunk of useless, gleaming metal.

“A pity,” he pouts, “I do hate to waste perfectly good treasure.”

He actually did it?  

“Thank you, Astarion.”

“I aim to please,” he bows shallowly, “Now get ready. The night is almost upon us, and I imagine you’re ravenous.”

In more ways than one.  

Thank you to everyone who reads/likes/comments/reblogs! I plan to keep updating as long as people seem to be enjoying the story.

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

[writterracoon]

Hades 2

Lately, I've been a bit obsessed about Hades 2, I've been watching people play the test run , listening to compilations of interactions and scouring theories.

While doing all of that, I noticed something of a pattern, a theme that often came back and I think I may have found out one of the MAIN theme and conflict of the game and I've seen nobody talk about it yet, so here we go.

More under if you're not against being possibly spoiled.

I think one of the major themes of Hades 2 is going to be about Humanity and its complex relationship with the Gods, the way the gods treat mortals and the way mortals treat the gods.

here are my evidences

The interactions

the first thing that put me on this path was this interaction between Melinoe and Nemesis.

In this conversation, Nemesis and Melinoe are talking about Retribution and Justice and how Nemesis believes that Kronos taking over the underworld and challenging the Olympians may be what they deserve. Notice how Nemesis specifically mentions mortals and the Golden Age.

For those who don't know, in greek mythology the Golden Age was the first Era of Humanity and when Chronos was the ruler of the heavens. It was a time of peace and harmony for humanity where there existed no plague or famine, there was no need to work as they could simply pick their food from nature itself. They lived long lives, remaining youthful and died peacefully in their sleep.

Nemesis is I think trying to hint to Melinoe that maybe the situation is not exactly as black and white as it first seems and that humanity may have a bigger role in this than first thought.

A second interaction i want to bring to mind is about Moros and his relationship with mortals.

Here Moros admits that sometimes he because of was simply bored he would knowingly bring doom and pain to Mortals ending their lives painfully.

Archnea's interactions are also the strongest contenders for that theory, as they bring back that theme of divine cruelty, the gods view of mankind and how they callously treat them.

She has been wronged by the gods for the simple reason that she was better than them at something and they naturally couldn't stand it so they cursed her to live as a spider. She is filled with resentment for them and even warns Mel not to trust them. Also, note how she admits she fears the gods more than she fears Chronos.

2. Dora

Now Dora is a bit particular because we don't know much about her, but I have seen a theory and some interaction with Moros seem to be pointing toward it, which is that she might be Pandora, the original sinner of Greek mythology.

the myth of Pandora goes a bit like this: During the Golden Age, after Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gifted it to humanity, the gods decided to punish Prometheus by punishing humanity. They built Pandora, a woman beautiful beyond compare, and gave her a box full of the evils of the world. They then send her to seduce Epimetheus Prometheus's brother, who despite his brother's warning is promptly seduced by Pandora's beauty and welcomes her into his home. She then opened the box and released the evil of the world upon mankind, thus ending the Golden Age. Only hope stays inside the box.

Again if this is indeed true, it would follow the theme of the gods inflicting pain and suffering upon mankind for petty reasons, uncaring about the consequences of those actions.

3. Hades I

During the first game, many interactions points toward the gods general uncaring attitudes about mortals. Demeter thinks it was a mortal who stole her daughter away, so she decides that she will punish them all by starving them with an eternal winter. The other gods make almost mention of it only to say how much it annoys them.

4. Speculation

This part is not so much about evidences and more about speculations about the story of Hades 2 based upon my theory that mankind is going to be central in this tale.

The reason how Chronos is so powerfull, powerfull enough to free himself from Tartarus and claim the Underworld for himself, is that mortal were tired of being the gods' playthings and prayed to him, they prayed for his return, for the return of the golden age, where pain and suffering were unknown to them and the gods weren't using them for their own amusement.

The gods are going to have to deal with the fact that their poor treatment of humanity has consequences and those consequences are the return of Chronos and a second titonomachy.

Melinoe will propably have to face the fact that Chronos is wrong in challenging the gods and that the current status quo cannot be sustained any longer. The Olympian gods will have to change how they treat mankind if they wish to even have a stand a chance against chronos.

(TLDR, The Olympian gods have treated mankind like shit for a long time and now they are dealing with the consequences of those actions when the mortals are praying to Chronos to come back and restore back the golden Age where their lives weren't even half as awful. Melinoe will have to deal with the fact that her family might very well deserve what is happening to them and if she wishes to save them, the gods will have to change.)

[scar-lie]

Hi! Could you maybe do a heavy angst where reader found out that Nat is cheating but still go home to Nat cuz she have no one to go, and then maybe Nat realising but it's too late cuz reader is dead! Pleaseee and Thank you!

-L

Widow [Natasha]

I DO COMMISSION JUST DM ME FOR THE INFO

Summary : Everything is lifeless in Natasha's lifee

Pairing: Natasha Romamoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Cheating,

Word Count : 1,432

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it let me know.

Everything seems blurry; every second passing by feels like eternity; the noises that surround her are getting muffled by the voices inside her head; and the scene in front of her feels like a dream, a nightmare that she fears in this world.

"Grand that our sister, Y/F/N, may sleep here in peace until you awaken her to glory, for you are the resurrection and the life. Then she will see you face to face and in your light will see the light and know—" Everything is suffocating: the people gather around for today's event; the sound of the rain with thunder; and the prayer from the priest in front of her.

It's all too much that she doesn't know how to feel—guilt, sadness, mourning, or disgust toward herself. She stopped listening to the people around her, but her mind kept running to the old days where everything seemed like a dream in their paradise but got tainted with horrifying blood.

It feels like she never gets to clean up her ledger after all.

(FEW MONTHS EARLIER)

Y/N's mind is messy; the scene she saw a few minutes ago can't seem to register in her head—or she just didn't want to believe it—and Y/N doesn't hear the car pulling up the driveway; she keeps stirring the dish she's cooking for dinner.

"Y/N?" Natasha shouts, panicking and worried about what's going to happen even though she already knows what's waiting for her, and as much as she hates to deal with it, she has to face it.

Natasha stopped seeing you steering something in the pot and focused on your thoughts, which made her hand sweat, so she slowly but cautiously walked to you.

"Y/N? Baby?" She whispers softly when she finally reaches the kitchen table, keeping the distance in case you don't want her near you.

"Y/N?" Natasha calls you out a bit louder, which makes her so anxious that she starts to pick her own skin on your hand.

You snapped out of her thoughts when you heard your name being called, and you know who the person is: Natasha, your wife for over 5 years now, the woman you love dearly.

You sighed and took a deep breath before you turned off the stove and turned around, trying to be as calm as possible and give her the warmest smile that you could.

"Oh, you're home; sorry I didn't hear you." You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to be as positive and unsuspisious as possible.

Natasha frowns at your acting; this isn't what she expects your reaction to be; she expects you to pack your stuff or rage at you; she expects you to shout at her, but she didn't push it and went to her plan and apologized to you.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, I swear it doesn't mean anything, I-I love you." Natasha softly begged, slowly walked toward you, and took your hands on hers.

"What are you sorry for?" This clearly caught Natasha off guard; she does know what was happening to you, whether you're pretending you didn't know or you truly don't know, and she can't read you; she doesn't know either way.

"The affair," Natasha simply said, playing it safe and trying to test you.

"What affairs, wh-what are you talking about?" If you're in the running for the Oscar for best actress, you're definitely winning the award.

"Are you having an affair?" You asked with knotted eyebrows and a questionable tone.

"Uhm.....no, sorry, just.....forget I said anything, okay?" Natasha quickly withdraws and kisses your forehead, hugging you tightly, afraid you will be gone.

She would rather lie to your face than lose you; she doesn't know if she will be in her right mind when you're finally gone, and she can't imagine the future without you.

"Dinner's ready; are you hungry?" You asked, tapping her bicep, and she nodded, then proceeded to kiss your face.

"Stop, please," you whisper and beg her, and she smiles and nods, letting you prepare the dining table while she goes upstairs and takes a quick shower.

You can't sleep or think straight; your mind is only focusing on what happened earlier. You look over your shoulder to your wife, who's sound asleep while her arm is wrapped around your waist.

You sigh, seeing her peacefully sleeping form behind you while you can't seem to find a little bit of tiredness in your body to fall asleep.

Your mind is filled with thoughts: how she held her, the way she touched her, kissed her, and pleasured her, the things she did to you, and the things you have done with her that she's now doing with another woman behind your back.

The promise you both held in front of the altar is now broken; her loyalty and faithfulness had been tainted with dark ink, which ruined your marriage.

The promise of in sickness and in health is on the edge of your marriage, but you decided against it; you chose to be silent and blind to her lies.

Even though she cheated on you, you can't leave because you have no one to run to, no place to stay but this house, no one to call but her, and no one to hold on to if you decide to break the marriage.

You risk everything to be with her; you lose your acting and modeling career; you turn around on your family; you push away your friends just to be with her; and now, you have no place to go; you have no one but yourself.

"Nat?" Natasha snapped out of her thoughts when Wanda tapped her shoulder, worried.

"Ye-yes?" Natasha whispers, looking up at her with a defeated face.

Everyone is already on their way home; do you want us to drive you off? "Wanda looked at her with sympathy while Natasha looked around to the darkish raining field and saw no one but her teammates, the Avengers, who dressed in all black with black umbrellas, looking to the both of them, waiting.

"Oh........uh, no, thank you. You all can drive back; I want to stay here." Natasha gave Wanda a sad smile and tapped her hand that was in Natasha's bicep.

"Are you sure? We don't want you to be alone." Natasha nodded at Wanda.

Ok," even though Wanda didn't want to leave her alone, she didn't push Natasha; instead, she pulled out her handkerchief and extended her hand to Natasha.

"Take this at least," Wanda said. Natasha looked down at the white handkerchief with a flowered design at the edges.

She swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw it. It's your handkerchief, one of your favorites; it's one from your mother, which is why you love it, but when Wanda joined the Avengers, you decided to give it to her as a welcome gift.

"Thank you," Natasha whispers, taking the handkerchief while her tears keep flowing down her cheeks.

"Call us if you need us." Wanda gives Natasha a smile and finally turns around to join the team and go home with them.

The team is worried for Natasha, especially Clint, when they see Wanda walk on her own, but they respect Natasha's decision and let her mourn.

The team didn't know what happened; you decided to keep it to yourself. When you decided to stay, not a single soul knew that you knew about the affair.

Natasha doesn't know what to feel; she doesn't know what is the right thing to do; she feels guilty and disgusted for having an affair; she's sad that she missed the last few months of her life with you when she was busy somewhere else; and she's mourning the loss of her love, her greatest love.

You're her life, the sun in her dark and rainy days, the rainbow in her sky, and her nature in her land; without you, she will be nothing, a useless woman who seeks her lover's embrace; she will never be Natasha Romanoff without you in her arms; she'll go crazy if ever so

Now she's soaked from standing alone in a cold, rainy cemetery, standing in front of your newly fresh grave in all black, her umbrella long forgotten that she dropped, crying silently while looking at the dirt in front of her, a nightmare that she didn't expect so soon to come true.

She's now living under her own name as a Widow.

[anonymouzee]

AMARANTHINE - Dr. STONE

sum☆: "ᵉˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ! "𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙴 (adj.) undying, immortal, eternally beautifulIn which Stanley Snyder, Xeno Houston Wingfield, and (Y/N) Ambrose were trapped in an unexpected stone world that had been petrified 3,700 years before. However, they were 'infiltrated' by some foreign brats all of a sudden.Of course, they don't give up without a fight, do they?

warnings:. all characters are 18+!!! violence. language. FICTION!! don't like it? scroll away!! first ever post on this app. english is not my first language, so ugh.(Dr. Stone x Reader)(Dr. STONE : New America City Arc) MANGA SPOILER

(CHAPTER 6) Z=154: Spy vs. Spy

"we'll find the enemy science leader...

"...and capture him!!"

"<...and to assassinate him!!>"

Senku and Dr. Xeno exclaimed in unison, while the troops of the enemy kingdom and the other members of the kingdom of science were now exploring the forest to complete their respective missions.

The rhythmic crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound breaking the serene tranquility of the forest. Stanley and (Y/n) were deep in thought, their minds racing with the complexities of their mission. Suddenly, a faint rustling sound caught their attention. They turned to see a young woman dressed in a striped dress, her footsteps trailing behind them.

"<So, can we trust this Gen guy?." she asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

(Y/n) glanced at Stanley, her eyes seeking his opinion. "<Luna,>" she began, addressing the woman, "<Xeno entrusted you with infiltrating the enemy's ship. Do you think you can handle it?>"

Luna nodded, her expression a mixture of determination and nervousness. "<Of course, I can,>" she replied, her voice a bit shaky. Even after all these years, she still found it difficult to converse with (Y/n) without feeling a sense of anxiety and intimidation. Despite her fear, Luna admired (Y/n) deeply, seeing her as a role model.

"<I wish you luck then,>" (Y/n) said, turning her attention to their weapons. As she prepared for the mission, Stanley responded to Luna's question about Gen.

"<Trust?>" he scoffed. "<Anyone who trusts an enemy who just double-crossed his own people needs an appointment with a head doctor.>"

"<We'll pump him for intel, but keep him at arm's length otherwise,>" Stanley continued. "<Odds are he's a spy.>"

Luna agreed, her voice a bit more confident this time. "<Right, sure. I mean, duh. Obviously! I realized that too. That was me testing you, Stanley. I didn't think you'd get careless, but I had to be sure!>"

In the distance, chaos began to unfold. (Y/n) climbed a towering tree, finding the perfect vantage point to observe the enemy's base. She brought out her binocular telescope and began scanning the area.

Meanwhile, below, Carlos and Max were expressing their loyalty to Luna. "<No way, Miss Luna! I'll carry every last one if I have to!>" Carlos exclaimed, his voice filled with determination. Max echoed his sentiment, eager to impress Luna with his bravery.

"<What? Now you're up for the job? Why don't you take a nap while I carry the cargo?>" Carlos retorted, his competitive spirit ignited. Max, eager to impress Luna, joined the fray, and soon the two were engaged in a heated argument.

"<You're not carrying a thing, Luna,>" Stanley's voice cut through the bickering. He lit a cigarette, a calm demeanor contrasting with the chaos below. "<And that's non-negotiable. Not a thing. That heavy stuff could leave marks on your body, and you've got a job to do.>"

Just then, (Y/n) shouted from above, her voice echoing through the trees. "<You four there, quit talking and come up here!>"

Stanley, Luna, Carlos, and Max scrambled up the tree to join her. As they reached the top, Carlos's eyes widened in astonishment as he beheld the massive enemy ship.

"<So that's the enemy ship?>" he asked nervously.

"<KAHHH! IT'S HUGE!!>" Max exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

"<Wow, this other science-pro isn't half-bad,>" Luna said, her admiration growing. "<Of course, he's nothing compared to Xeno!>"

(Y/n) handed Stanley her binoculars, allowing him to get a closer look at the ship. "<I think this is a perfect spot,>" she said, as Stanley taking the binoculars from her hands then kissing them.

"<So, we should begin measuring and not waste time,>" (Y/n) continued, pulling out thermometers and weather vanes and handing them to Stanley. Stanley picked up the weather vane and lifted it into the air, placing it on the top of a tree branch to begin taking measurements.

"<Do these... measure temperature and humidity?>" Luna asked, holding her own thermometer.

"<They're made by Doc Xeno, who tends to be overly helpful,>" Stanley replied. "<Despite my insistence I could figure out that stuff using my senses. Well, extra data'll only help with accuracy, I guess.>"

"<And is that a weathervane?>" Carlos asked, his curiosity piqued.

"<Kah kah kah! Why take all these readings? You playing weather reporter?>" Max chimed in.

(Y/n) answered their questions, her voice calm and authoritative. "<It all affects bullet velocity.>" The other three were taken aback by her explanation, realizing that Stanley was carefully tracking the environmental conditions to ensure the perfect shot.

"<No way... from this distance?>" Luna looked at Stanley with a mixture of awe and apprehension.

"<I'll snipe the enemy science leader... with a rifle made by Xeno's science,>" Stanley replied, his voice filled with determination. He positioned himself on his stomach, finding a clear view of the ship through his scope.

"<We've got a glimpse of the area via spy plane. This is the optimal firing position,>" he said, remaining still.

"<We... we're gonna kill them...?>" Luna looked up at Stanley and (Y/n), her eyes wide with uncertainty.

"<Just their science leader,>" (Y/n) replied, preparing her own gun and reloading it.

"<Isn't that kinda awful?>" Luna asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Stanley's glare was immediate, silencing Luna's question. "<Just kidding! Just making sure that those two wimps don't try to chicken out of this! That's part of my job!>" Luna exclaimed, her panic evident as she averted her gaze from Stanley's intense stare.

"<That's our Miss Luna, cool as a cucumber!>" Max and Carlos exclaimed, their admiration for Luna growing.

"<I've got goosebumps!>" Max added, his voice filled with excitement.

"<So what's the job of mine you two mentioned before? And why am I wearing this striped outfit...?>" Luna asked, her curiosity piqued.

"<Each stripe is five inches,>" Stanley answered.

"<You'll be our yard stick, Luna,>" (Y/n) finished.

"<By matching up with my crosshairs, I can calculate the distance to the target,>" Stanley added.

"<You're about as young as they are, Luna. So they're less likely to see you as a threat. Board their ship, and find Dr. Taiju, their science leader,>" Stanley instructed.

"<(N/n), help Luna get close to the ship, will you?>" Stanley requested (Y/n), who nodded and began to descend from the tree.

"<No need to ask twice, captain~ Come on now, Luna,>" (Y/n) purred, motioning for Luna to follow her.

"<Ri-right!>" Luna replied, her voice a bit shaky. With an awkward silence, (Y/n) guided Luna towards the lair near the ship.

"<luna, dear>" (Y/n) called out, her voice carrying a sense of urgency.

"<Yes...?>" Luna responded quietly, her attention drawn to (Y/n).

"<Xeno and Stanley may not know this, but I have a feeling that Dr. Taiju is not the science leader...>" (Y/n) revealed, her voice filled with a hint of intrigue. Randomly telling Luna her suspicioun despite not being close with the younger woman.

"<Huh? How so?>" Luna asked, her curiosity piqued.

"<Just a feeling. Anyway, word of advice, trust your instincts,>" (Y/n) replied.

"<Huh... right...>" Luna nodded, her mind racing.

The two came to a stop at their intended spot.

"<I suppose here is fine. Good luck,>" (Y/n) said, bidding Luna farewell.

Luna watched (Y/n) walk away, her heart filled with admiration. She was truly her role model. But then, remembering her mission, she immediately began to mess herself up to look as if she had been harassed or hurt.

'I'm Luna, the smoothest operator! Luna, the capable gal!!' Luna exclaimed in her head as she emerged from her hiding spot, tears in her eyes and her appearance disheveled. How could anyone not help a poor girl in such a state?

Ryusui and Senku noticed Luna's crawling figure on the ship's ladder.

From afar, Stanley observed the scene with interest.

'Sailing out to sea could've saved them, but they're staying put because... they're reluctant to abandon an ally. Lucky these kiddies are so naïve. And softies like that... won't ignore a girl crying for help,' Stanley thought to himself.

Meanwhile, (Y/n) decided to return to the factory, knowing that Stanley and the others could handle the mission properly. She decided to accompany Xeno, who was 'tormenting' Gen.

As (Y/n) walked away, she glanced back at Luna, carrying out her mission.

'You sent a spy into our ranks? Well, here's our counter-op. Two can play at this game,' she thought as she continued to walk away.

"Help me please! I'm desperate to run away from that horrid Dr. Xeno and his kingdom!!" Luna cried out desperately, her voice filled with emotion as she pleaded for help from the crew of the Perseus.

Mozu perked up, his attention drawn to Luna's appearance.

"Hm? She's cute," Mozu mused, his eyes lingering on Luna. However, his comment was quickly met with disapproval from Kirisame.

"Not the time nor place, Mozu," Kirisame admonished, her voice stern.

Senku stepped closer to Luna, his presence drawing Ryusui's attention. Ryusui couldn't help but smirk, his mind racing with possibilities.

'Hmph. Tough call here,' Ryusui thought, his suspicion of Luna growing. 'Of course, I want to help her... but we can't take her at face value.'

Luna looked up as she heard Senku's footsteps approaching.

"Are you hurt, miss? Have no fear, you're safe now! Please, come onto our ship," Senku offered, his words laced with charm. Luna couldn't help but blush at his kind demeanor.

"Th-thanks..." Luna replied, her voice a bit shaky.

"Let's get you some first-aid below deck!" Taiju said, offering to help Luna. Kirisame took Luna into her arms, carrying her towards the ship to tend to her wounds.

"Turning on the charm, huh?" Yuzuriha sweatdropped, amused by Senku's actions.

"Really, Senku...?" Kinro echoed, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

Meanwhile, at Tsukasa's group, they were discussing their strategy.

"We only have a general idea of where Chrome, Kohaku, and Gen went," Suika said.

"Right, we need intel," Ukyo added.

"Capturing their science leader will allow us to seize the initiative. Yes... any information about the enemy would be helpful at this point," Tsukasa concluded.

Back on the Perseus, Luna internally decided to fulfill her mission while most of the crew remained suspicious of her.

"We're really letting some suspicious girl board the ship?" Nikki asked warily.

"Who cares? She's cute," Mozu replied, his admiration for Luna unabated.

"Senku's a man, if you know what I mean! And maybe doe-eyed blondes push all the right buttons for him!" Yo exclaimed, teasing Senku.

"Naw, this isn't what it seems..." Yuzuriha countered.

Senku smirked mischievously. "Ku ku ku... we'll extract all the info we can outta this girl and send a coded message to Tsukasa and the special forces." He added with a devilish grin, "It's spy versus spy! Black-hearted schemers. Trying to outfox each other! I told'ya it wasn't what it seemed!"

At the same time, (Y/n) returned to the factory, eager to report on the ongoing mission.

"<Ah dear, you came back earlier than I expected,>" Xeno said, noticing (Y/n)'s arrival. He snatched her hand, pulling her closer to him and grabbing her waist delicately.

Gen stared warily at the two, his eyes darting between them as they swayed around the room, creating a peaceful yet suffocating aura. For him, it was a suffocating moment, but for the two, it was a peaceful one.

(Y/n) noticed Gen's stare, her eyes meeting his. She held Xeno's hand and her other hand on his right shoulder, returning the stare with a cold look.

"<Yes, Luna successfully infiltrated the ship, and at this moment she's looking for the science leader. But I have a feeling... that their science leader, Dr. Taiju, is only a decoy,>" (Y/n) said, her voice filled with conviction. Gen's eyes widened slightly at her statement, but he managed to suppress his reaction.

"<Oh~ is that so? Mind telling me more, dear?>" Xeno asked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"<Well, to begin with, I doubt that our foreign guest, Mr. Gen, would have promptly told us his previous science leader's name,>" (Y/n) continued. "<As a result, I thought he might be using a fake name or another name as a cover-up to avoid being caught. Second, he claimed to be a magician, is that correct? According to what I've known, magicians can use psychological tricks to hide their true identities. I'm not sure, but I have a feeling that Mr. Gen might also be what is known as a 'mentalist,'>" (Y/n) concluded.

As (Y/n) spoke, Gen couldn't help but look at her in horror. This woman is really dangerous, he thought. But he managed to maintain his composure, looking at (Y/n) as if he were unaware of her accusation.

"<We-well, how can you say that, Miss (Y/n)? I'm sure it's just a suspicion, right? Ye-yes, I'm a magician, but I'm an inexperienced one, you see... I-I mean look at me, I'm weak and helpless..., and plus, you don't have concrete evidence...? R-right?>" Gen defended himself, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to portray himself as a vulnerable and naïve person.

"<Hmm... I suppose you're right about that. I apologize for my false accusation,>" (Y/n) said, her voice filled with sincerity. However, her true intention was to expose him to Xeno, who was now deep in thought about her earlier statement.

"<Oh, it's alright, Miss (Y/n)...>" Gen responded, his nervous smile masking his relief. He sweatdropped, still shaken by her revelation.

"<Hmm... I suppose you're right, dear, but first, let Stan and the others finish their mission so we can discuss this later. I'm sure Stan will like to hear your thoughts,>" Xeno said, kissing (Y/n)'s hand and releasing her from his embrace.

"<I guess...>" (Y/n) replied, her expression neutral.

Unbeknownst to the two, Gen continued to stare at the group in the distance, his mind racing. 'Crap..., it seems this mission is more difficult than I expected, especially with this very observant lady on their side. She might expose me at any moment! Miss (Y/n) a woman you are!' Gen shuddered at the thought.

[bow-of-aros]

Day Sixteen: Cackle

Summary: Steph wants to know if Peter, Ruth, and Richie want to come over to her place, but Ruth and Richie have decided to be pains in the ass so Peter doesn't think they should be allowed to.

They don't exactly take too kindly to that :)

-

Guys. GUYS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! I literally went crazy writing this fic why haven't I written them before?????? They're so precious and I just alsdj;kflasjkdsajdp you know?? Anyway, I hope that y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it <33

-

Peter was hanging out with Ruth and Richie at Richie’s after school.

Well, technically, they were supposed to be studying for the biology test at the end of the week, but it was only Monday, and none of them were that nervous about it.

And, the call of Super Smash Bros was just too strong to resist.

After winning his third game in a row, and subsequently performing his third victory dance, his friends started getting really competitive, which was a little terrifying considering the baseline level of Ruth’s competitiveness on any given day.

“Come on, Peter!” Ruth whined after a Smash Attack sent her flying off the platform, “When the hell did you get good at this? What happened to little Petey Pie who used to jump into the void all the time?”

Peter dodged an attack from Richie, floating up into the air just to slam back down, “He got sick of his friends kicking his ass all the time and decided to do some ass-kicking of his own. HA! Take that, fucker!”

The screen flashed as Ruth and Richie groaned, proclaiming Peter as the victor once more.

“You are not playing as your main next time! You can be, like, Doctor Mario or something.” Richie was already setting up the next game thanks to his eternal claim as player one.

I’m the best of you! And you’re the best of me! And together we are free—

“Hey Steph! What’s up?”

Peter ignored the way Richie gagged at the sound of his ringtone and how Ruth’s eyes lit up at Steph’s name, pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder in order to select Steve from the collection of avatars before either of his friends could get to it.

“Oh, nothing much!” Steph’s voice came through a little tinny, and Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he was on speaker while she did some chores around the house.

“I was just wondering if you had anything planned tomorrow night.”

As Steph was talking, Ruth was doing her level best to crawl across Peter’s lap and put her ear up to his phone despite his attempts to elbow her away.

“Lemme hear!” Ruth hissed.

Peter just stuck his tongue out and redoubled his efforts.

“Uh, no, not really!” His phone jostled as Richie tried to wedge it out from under his ear and Peter had to snatch it back, “Why do you ask?”

“Are you doing alright over there, Pete?” Steph’s voice was tinged with amusement as though she could see the human pretzel that Ruth and Richie were dragging him into.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine!” Peter swatted Richie’s prying hands while attempting to use his feet to keep Ruth away, “What were you gonna ask?”

He could hear something rustle as Steph picked her phone up, turning it off of speaker mode and holding it up to her ear.

He could also hear the overlapping “Come onnnnnnn,” and “We just wanna say hi!” from his friends as Richie tried once again to worm his fingers around Peter’s phone.

“Ah!” And wriggling right against his neck.

Silence echoed as Ruth and Richie exchanged evil looks.

Aw fuck.

“—if you three would want to hang out at my place?” Peter had missed the first half of that sentence due to the now-sporadic squeezes at his knees and more purposeful scratching at his neck, but he was sure that he could make an educated guess.

“I, uh, I don’t know if they can mAKE ihit.”

He’d nearly gotten through the whole sentence without cracking, but then Ruth had started spidering her fingers in the soft spot behind his knees which she knew was unfair, and a small squeak had broken through.

Peter did his best to seal his lips shut as Steph said, “Aw, are you sure? My dad will be out and I can order all of us pizza.”

“Mhm!”

You see, Peter would feel bad about lying to Steph on a regular day. But, considering that his friends had decided to be conniving assholes today, he figured that she would forgive him just this once.

“Are you sure that you’re alright? You sound kinda…nervous.”

Steph sounded genuinely concerned, so Peter kicked Ruth back into the couch and threw an elbow into Richie’s gut so that he could scramble to his feet, trying to subtly catch his breath.

“Yeah, sorry!” They were both already up and after him, so Peter had to dodge grabbing hands as he said, “It’s just that I think Ruth and Richie are too busy being annoying little brats to hang out tomorrow night!”

Twin gasps echoed through the room as both Ruth and Richie’s jaws dropped in indignation.

“How dare you—”

“Spankoffski get your lying ass over here!”

Peter dove out of the way just in time to hear Steph’s “Ohhhhhhhh,” of realization before she broke out into laughter.

“You really had me worried for a second there, Pete!” Richie caught him around the waist and started the not-so-difficult process of wrestling him to the ground, “Maybe you can come over and they can join when they learn to behave!”

It seemed like Ruth heard that last part as she let out an affronted “HEY!”

“Yeah, I think that would be bEST—Wait! Richie nononono shihihihit!”

Ruth managed to pry his phone out of his hands as Richie went straight for the kill, drawing out frantic cackles with ruthless clawing at his ribs.

“Hey, Steph!” Ruth said cheerfully as a sudden jump to Peter’s upper ribs startled a shriek out of him before falling back into hysterics.

“This is for playing the same overpowered character in Smash Bros! SMASH ATTACK!” Richie cried as he vibrated a hand into his victim’s stomach, prompting him to curl up in hopeless defense.

Meanwhile, Ruth was still talking to Steph, “Oh, we would love to come over to hang out! But,” she added, cutting Peter a sly glance, “we don’t want to intrude if Peter doesn’t want us there!”

She stood there for a moment, nodding to whatever Steph was saying, “Of course! Here, you can ask him yourself!”

And then she hit a button on his phone and Steph’s voice rang out, “Hey Pete! So, I was just talking to Ruth and I wanted to double-check if you were totally sure about them not being able to make it tomorrow night.”

“Steheheheph! Hehehehelp!” Was all he could get out in between fits of laughter.

His friends broke out into giggles as Steph said, “I can’t do much for you right now, but if you bring Ruth and Richie over I could help you out with some well-earned revenge! How does that sound?”

Peter could feel Richie’s fingers falter at the threat and see the faint blush rising on Ruth’s face through the tears that had begun to form in his eyes.

“Okay! Deal! They can come!” He took advantage of Richie’s moment of hesitation to get out his response and quickly rolled away, popping up to snatch his phone back out of Ruth’s hands.

“See you tomorrow! Love you! Bye!” And he hung up the phone to the sound of Steph’s laughter before whirling around to his so-called friends.

Peter flung one choice finger out at Ruth, “Fuck you!”

And then the other at Richie, “Fuck you more!”

They just grinned at him as he slumped back down on the couch and reached for his controller, “I think I deserve to kick your asses for a bit now.”

The groans that they let out were undermined by the way they both picked up their own remotes before sitting on either side of him. Richie leaned against Peter while Ruth dropped her head on his shoulder, and the warmth seeped through to his very core.

Well, Peter thought as Richie hit play, there are definitely worse ways to spend an evening than with my two best friends.

Now to kick. Their.��Asses.

[lennonhead]

Shadow Generations thoughts

what a great game that has Sonic Generations as an added bonus

the Shadow the Game lore is back in a big way, treated super seriously. the level of angst has not been seen since the height of Shadow's popularity, and that is excellent. part of me feels kind of cathartic sympathising with his problems. whether they're relatable or completely out there, his numerous trials in life never stop him... He keeps going, no matter what... I LOVE YOU SHADOW!

I love his painful TF cutscenes. he holds his head, moaning in pain, and then you get a manta ray to swim on. what the hell. it brings me so much joy. really channelling middle schooler conceptualisation energy, which is what Shadow deserves

related: YOU'RE A KID YOU'RE A SQUID YOU'RE A KID YOU'RE A SQUID YOU'RE A

back to the manta ray though. it was extremely fraught fighting Metal Overlord on that stupid thing. Metal Sonic, my dear son, was not going easy on me. I was getting my ass kicked. I had to stop and take a break for a couple days. then I came back and got a B rank immediately. I don't understand

I love the trash talk Shadow dishes out with the bosses. they all hate his guts and he parries them harshly even if he literally doesn't remember them (poor Mephiles). Shadow is so cool

I was really sleeping on Omega. he's a super minor character here but all of his dialogue is great. I worry now that I missed some and I want to go back. his attempt to cheer up Shadow is to invite him on a killing spree. he doesn't care about Shadow's baggage, he likes him for who he is now and doesn't walk on eggshells because he's Troubled. I think they're perfect for eachother and I kind of ship them now, doomed to fail because Shadow is a Victorian widow eternally in mourning and Omega is Omega

Maria is wonderful in this game and it's unfortunate that I mostly played it after seeing the movie. Movie Maria is the best interpretation of her character. this is the best she's ever been in the games, though. the first scene where she hugs Shadow and he just doesn't know how to react is heartbreaking. I love the little details about her life on the Ark, I just think it's interesting. she likes Italian food and is proud of her schoolwork. she feels more naturally sweet instead of more of a symbol of innate goodness and purity. it makes the end of the game hit really hard

that was a romantic love confession. fight me

Gerald's journal is one of my favourite things in the series, honestly. it has the difficult task of making all the convoluted rubbish that happened in the 2000s Sonic games make sense as a series of events, and I think it succeeds. the cosmic horror flavour is great fun. it definitely wouldn't stand on its own as an AU 1950s sci-fi horror story, but as part of a Sonic game it's incredibly strong storytelling and humanises a lot of outwardly ridiculous elements. I'll talk about it in a few separate points

that picture of Maria in a wheelchair and looking really Not great vindicates all of our fan art

Maria designed the rocket skates. she has talent and would be making OCs with one angel wing and one devil wing and convoluted backstories if that kind of thing existed in the early 1950s. her and Shadow are a great duo

the Biolizard being developed from tests on lizards implies that Shadow in turn is derived from a regular earth hedgehog. Gerald's development and Black Doom's DNA made him a rubberhose cartoon thing. that's wild, because it raises questions about the origins of the other Sonic characters. Sonic is from Christmas Island, which IRL was a site of nuclear testing for the British Empire, so that could provide a little explanation at least, but what about the others? how far back does all of this go, was Shadow the first of his kind? I'm imagining Gerald looking at Shadow in his fermentation tube and thinking to himself "that guy needs shoes and white gloves as soon as possible. he looks indecent without them"

I wonder if we will meet Eggman's other cousin anytime soon

back to the game itself. THEY BROUGHT BACK THE "IT'LL BE A DATE TO DIE FOR" LINE OHHHH MY GOD. I joked that I would next be expecting the "this is like taking candy from a baby, which is fine by me" line but alas, it was not to be

Shadow also didn't swear. I was hoping for just one "damn" for old time's sake 🥲

the ending was really crushing. Shadow worked so hard to confront his past and move on, with Rouge as his witness, and now he's back to square one. he was deeply hurt all over again. it gives the impression that he will never be able to truly heal. this is clearly a narrative choice, and a really sad one. Shadow crying makes me genuinely sad for him and I just want to hold him. as I've said before, Shadow was my first crush, and no matter how old and jaded I get I will still be very fond of him. to me, he represents a time when I was innocent. I was a loner too, not of my own choosing, and I related to him and admired him. I do like revelling in his angst, who doesn't? but the Shadow Generations ending broke through all the meta stuff that's built up around him. I guess that's how I can describe it

for my last point, I'll end on a happy note. there's a lot of concept art as collectibles, and I'm not usually someone focused on collectables but some of these drawings feel really valuable. there's a few pieces of Shadow the Game development art where Sonic is still drawn in the Sonic CD style, and I absolutely love that

tl;dr

I LOVE SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG!!!!

[beansnsoup]

Can we get Xavier protecting reader? Like maybe Bianca I’d jealous of their relationship or smth and is being mean to reader and Xavier is really protective and sweet?

Yes I can!

☆

Jealous Girl

Xavier Thorpe x gn!reader

Summary-:You were so happy to finally call Xavier yours, but everything come at a cost, out of all the people that could've been his ex, it just had to be Bianca Barclay.

Warnings: Bullying, slight angst, tinsy bit of violence, lmk if there is anything else!

-

I got out of your 3rd period this morning due to my teacher needing work done in the library, he was a good teacher, but he put all his paperwork onto his students. Honestly, I could never understand it, but then again, I wasn't complaining.

I began to walk up to the front desk to give the work to Thornhill until I overheard a few female students talking beyond the shelves,

"They're trying way to hard. He probably just asked them out as a rebound."

Oh my God, are they talking about me?

I had just gotten with "The Tortured Artist" of Nevermore, Xavier Thorpe. He and Bianca Barclay had broken up a few months ago, she's 10 times more irritating than she already was. She would always target me, I was just like any other kid at the school, an outcast, so I don't know why she had to single me out all the time.

I stopped my tracks so I could keep listening to their conversation.

"Right? It's honestly embarrassing. The way they were holding his hand today while walking down the hallway was so weird."

They all laughed, then Bianca chimed in,

"They probably brainwashed him or something, honestly can't think of another reason he'd want to ask them out."

That's when I decided it was time to find Thornhill and get out of here, the bell was going to ring soon anyways. I could feel myself getting lightheaded, I wanted to cry, I couldn't wait for the end of the day so I could let it all out.

I eventually find Thornhill and hand her the paperwork, she thanks me, and I leave the library. The hall is scattered with students, I feel an arm wrap around me, I look up towards the direction to find Xavier. "Hey there," he smirks at me, I give him a light smile in return, he furrows his eyebrows at me.

"Hey, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

"I've got to get to class."

I move his arm from my shoulder and walk off to my next class, I hate to leave him like that but I'm just not in the mood right now, if Bianca and her friends are telling the truth I'm just a random rebound he asked out on a date out of pity.

Thank God Enid is in this class, I could really use her right now.

"Hey! Oof, you look rough." She informs me.

I look at her, "Yeah, I overheard Bianca and her friends talking crap about me and Xavier in the library this morning and I can't help but think that they're right."

"Oh my God? What did they say?"

"Just saying how I'm just his rebound to get over Biance and that I'm trying too hard, etc."

Enid just looked at me in shock, she opened her mouth to say something, but the teacher started talking so she shut her mouth. I wonder if she agrees, what if everyone agrees?

It's hard to pay attention when my mind has drifted so far away, I feel like I should talk to him but at the same time I don't want to see him, not because I'm mad, just because I'm ashamed, scratch that.

He's ashamed of me.

"Okay, that wraps everything up, everyone remember to read chapter 10 of your books and go over your notes for the test tomorrow!"

The bell rings, I feel like it's been an eternity since I have entered this class. I walk out before Enid can catch up to me, I don't think I have ever felt this zoned out. Praise the Gods this is my free period, I go out to the center courtyard and sit at one of the benches. I don't even pull out my book, I just sit there staring at the grass in silence.

I hear footsteps walking towards the area thinking it's just a teacher,

"How pathetic."

I look up to find Bianca, wonderful. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm running an errand for Thornhill, but it can wait. What's your damage, how dare you corrupt him like that?

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, well, who. You need to stop being Xaviers little 'partner.'" She puts the last part in air quotes.

I just look up at her without saying anything, she adds to her last sentence, "He's only with you because he was so terribly in love with me that he needed something to distract him after we broke up, and it looks like he went with a pet."

I continue to stay silent, the more she talks the more I'm convinced she's right. I began to get up from the bench and walk towards my next class earlier than usual, she grabs my arm, "Where do you think you're going?" She pulls my back so are faces are inches apart and brings her hand to my throat. How did I get here? Why did I go on that date with him?

"Hey!"

Someone shouts before her grip can get any tighter, I look around with squinted eyes then start gasping for air as she lets go. She backs away, "What the hell Bianca?"

It's Xavier.

"Someone had to do it, they had it coming, they've brainwashed you Xavier, you're the crazy one."

He just looks at her, he grabs onto my torso to help walk me to his dorm, once we finally reach the dorm room I start to cry all the tears that have been pent up since this morning.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, you're fine." He brings his hand up to my face, I grab his hand and take it off of my cheek and walk over to his bed. Xavier gives me a confused look and sits next to me on the bed, "What's wrong with you? You've been acting like this all day."

I didn't want to talk about it, or let him see me for that matter, but it was now or never. "Are you ashamed of me?"

He gives me a blank stare, "What? Of course not, what would make you think that?"

"I overheard Bianca and her friends talking about how you only asked me out because you needed a rebound and you felt bad for me."

He chuckles and moves a piece of hair out of my eye, "I think we've learned not to trust Bianca; I didn't ask you out to get over her, I asked you out because I think you are an amazing person and pretty at that."

I smile at him and give him a small kiss, he pulls me in for a hug as i lean into his touch,

Sorry if this is a lil short

I finally feel complete again.

[toomanyfandoms-notenoughfics]

Celestial Beings

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦: 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨

Characters- Alastor Moody, Molly Weasley, Reader

Summary- It's an introduction to our Reader's situation, laying the groundwork for the rest of the story. Don't worry, Remus and Sirius will be in the next chapter.

Word Count- 1,342

Warnings- None really for this chapter, slight mention of torture

Confusion is the first thing (y/n) felt. Then it was the raging headache and the pain in her lower abdomen. She opened her eyes, only to be met with more darkness, the sound of dripping water echoing throughout whatever room she was in. (Y/n) was not sure of how she got here, or even as to where “here” is.

The last thing (y/n) remembered was sneaking out of Borgin and Burke’s while everyone else was distracted. Just needing a bit of fresh air. Then, right as she shut the door and rounded the corner, there was a flash of color and the world went dark.

Suddenly the old iron door swung open with enough force to make the cement wall behind it crumble ever so slightly. Light followed soon after, the person who had entered silently casting Lumos. (Y/n) squinted, trying to grow accustomed to the now very bright room, shielding her eyes with her arm.

“You’re up,” grunted the man. “Finally we can talk.”

(Y/n) stayed silent, taking the opportunity to survey the room they were in. Room was too nice of a word, it was more like a cubby. The walls and floors seemed to be either stone or concrete, cracks covered the one farthest from the door. In one of the corners was a sleeping bag with an old ratty blanket.

“Are you listening to me?” Barked the old man. “If not I suggest you start, otherwise this will begin to be quite unpleasant for you.”

“I’m sorry, but was that a threat or a promise?” (Y/n) taunted. “Because either way I don’t care.”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t think you quite grasp the situation here. I’m very willing to do whatever I must to gather information out of you, regardless of my own morals and emotions.” He lowered his wand, just enough so (y/n) could see his face.

(Y/n) recognized him instantly, and it must have shown on her face due to his chuckle. His eye, or rather the prosthetic he had for his eye, gave him away instantly. This wasn’t one of Lucius’s loyalty tests, nor was it someone who she could easily run from. This was Mad-eye Moody, an Auror known for going to extremes to get what he needs.

“Now, perhaps you need some time to think on my offer, after all, I hit you with a very strong stunning spell. Who knows,” Moody shrugged. “Maybe some more time in the dark will be just what you need to get your thoughts together. I’ll come back tomorrow, hopefully, your stance will have changed by then.”

“I highly doubt it.” (Y/n) sneered. “After all, if you are my captor, that gives me all the more reason to stay quiet.”

Moody put out his light and shut the door, leaving (y/n) in complete darkness yet again. She slowly felt her way across the floor, finding the sleeping bag and blanket. She sat, cross-legged on the sleeping bag, pulling the blanket onto her lap.

“Is this a test?” She thought to herself. “Could he be secretly under a curse? Or maybe he’s been in on it from the beginning, plenty of death eaters are on the other side as spies, some with deeper covers than others.”

(Y/n)‘s eyes started to adjust, it wasn’t pure darkness but there wasn’t any true light source either. She could faintly make out the barrier spells on the walls, and more importantly the door. The pale blue shade helping give the room a form, like seeing on a grid, with no detail just the dimensions. She ran her hand across the wall, watching the spell turn into darker hues the closer she got.

Sighing she rested her head against the cool wall, closing her eyes. “Test or not, I hate this place. I can’t even tell how long it’s been since I woke up, let alone since Borgin’s.”

It seemed to be an eternity before the door opened once more, this time a woman holding a lantern entered. She was red-headed, a little plump, and had the faintest of smiles on her face. She looked (y/n) up and down, and the smile slowly disappeared, instead replaced with pursed lips.

“Dear, did they not give you a change of clothes? Or at least a pillow?” The woman tutted. “Well, can I interest you in some stew? Just made some for dinner, and figured you might be a bit starving as well.”

“Wait, I’ve seen her before, she isn’t a Death Eater. This can’t be a test, not unless the Weasleys have suddenly changed their opinions.” (Y/n) backed farther away, causing the Weasley woman to frown.

“I promise it isn’t poisoned. Might be a bit cooled off by now, but still enough to be edible.” The woman reached behind the door, bringing out a small wooden bowl and setting it on the ground. “Here, I’ll take a bite first to prove it.”

“I’m not hungry.” (Y/n)‘s stomach however believed otherwise, grumbling in betrayal as she spoke.

“I’ll just leave it here, in case you find yourself hungry later.” The Weasley woman said, backing out of the doorway. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you some light and a change of clothes. Moody seems to think the only way to go against someone is to behave the same way they would.”

(Y/n) sat there and waited for the door to shut and the light from under it to fade. As soon as she was back in the dark she snuck forwards towards the bowl. Very carefully and very slowly she searched the floor for it. Grasping the bowl with both hands she started eating ravenously.

Gently placing the bowl back in front of the door, she stood up, stretching her legs out. Wiping the sides of her mouth with the back of her sleeves she chuckled. The stew was better than anything Narcissa ever had someone else make. Feeling along the walls, (y/n) started walking in circles, watching the colors grow and fade as she moved her hand along the barriers.

After concluding there were no weaknesses, (y/n) found her way back to the makeshift bed. She had found where the dripping was coming from, it was on the wall left of the door, almost perfectly nestled into a crack in the corner. She wrapped the blanket around herself, opting to fall asleep rather than await another visit while staring at the nothingness of her room.

When (y/n) woke up for what seemed to be the 100th time, nothing new or changed in the cell. The blanket was still scratchy, there was no light, and her bones ached. She felt around, finding a small bit of concrete, and threw it towards the door. Just as it reached the barrier the door opened, filling the room with blinding light once more.

“You know, a heads up would be nice.” (Y/n) groaned, squinting towards the door and watching Moody enter in. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Have you had ample time to decide?” Moody ignored her remarks, shutting the door behind him and hanging the lamp on a small hook next to him. “It would be much easier on you if you just answered my questions without a fight. Otherwise, well, I’m sure you’re familiar with all the different ways to get people to reveal their secrets.”

“Go ahead, what’s really going to happen,” (Y/n) stood up and stretched. “It won’t matter if I tell you the truth or not, you’ll never fully believe I’m being honest. It’s okay, it’s not like I plan on telling you anything anyways. What would be the point if I know you won’t believe me?”

“I had a feeling that’s how this was going to go,” Moody pointed his wand at (y/n). “Just remember, I gave you an out.”

“No you really didn’t.” (Y/n) thought to herself as Moody cast the first Cruciatous Curse of many.

~~{𝘌𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦}~~

[starres-stuff]

Day 27: Memory FFXIV Write 2024

Memory: something remembered from the past; a recollection.

An entry from the journal of Viviane Jienuex-Vimaroix

Someone asked me today at the bakery as I was packaging their order if I had a favorite memory. It is not a question that a stranger normally asks to make small talk and at the time I was not certain how I would answer it. So I told them I did not. The customer was an Au Ra, who grew up in Thavnair, her Father one of the Radiant Hosts, she shook her head at me and insisted we all have a favorite memory, to recall it we have to tap into life's flow. 

It was not a strange concept for me, I had been told before that time and memory flowed like a river both moving to one point where it became part of something else, and that would become part of something else. The eternal passage of life. That was what it was called or as Doshaine had called it one night, The Way. 

Still, I could not think of one singular memory that I would deem my all-time favorite, and even after this mysterious Raen left my bakery I could not get the question out of my head. It lingered there as I packaged other orders and was there as we did the baking for the morning. It followed me home as I walked through the Beds and into the garden Kovalt has cultivated with love and understanding. Through dinner, I heard that question again and eventually, it begged me to sit with my journal to think. Still, there was no favorite to find there were just so many that I had recalled since I was asked the question. 

After our visitor was gone, Xixa had turned to me and told me that the Spinner sent the Raen to test my growth, that she was a voice who knew well the tapestry and how it flowed into the next chapter of life. It was not the first time I had been tested on my faith and growth but it has been the hardest to date. The longer that I sit with these thoughts and this question, I come to the realization that no, I do not have a single favorite memory, it is not that simple and it is quite impossible as memories are forged with every person we know and every place we had ever been. 

Our memories are special to us whether they are good or bad. They let us monitor our growth and see our changes. They remind us of what did not work for us and what we should do more of. Every significant event in our lives, large or not, becomes part of our flow and for me, I had no singular favorite memory as they were all special to me. They helped shape who I have become today. 

There are more dangerous things that dwell in the flow as well and fight to keep us from going forward. Stagnation, lack of trust, and anger just to name a few. They are the traps left in our memories to halt our growth. They become lenses we look through when we look at others and as soon as we see them that is when we push people away. We use those things to build walls around our hearts and minds to stay safe. We were fooled once and never again. Then slowly we begin to treat that person as we were treated until the day comes that we have transformed them into ourselves at the height of our hurt. 

It is such a complex thing, memory. It can build hopes or destroy our dreams depending on what we do with it. We can seek tomorrow with an open heart and mind, or we can become trapped in the past and relive it with people who do not deserve our scorn but do deserve our love. They deserve that place in the flow uninterrupted by our fears. 

If I see the Raen again, I will have an answer for her. No, I don't have a singular favorite memory, I have many. This includes meeting her for she brought to my mind all these rich thoughts, and through doing so pointed out to me my flaws. To go forward I can no longer look back to the darkness behind me or worry about what the future has in store. I must dwell here in the present and now. It is where the adventure truly is after all. 

V.J.V

[bee-bzz]

some Brazilian songs that represent some ppg couples because I think you guys are missing out on Brazilian music and I'd like to share.

(this is gonna be a long post so buckle up)

Blossick

"They tell me: the world is in your hands

I guess I let it go then

no, of course I don't love you

but in trying to forget you I'm already remembering us

and if I remember, don't answer me

I swear I don't love you, I just had too much to drink" - Não Te Amo (don't love you), Jão

"I won't talk about love, no

because I don't like anyone

if one day I did, what a shame

(...)

and I won't talk about your eyes

it makes me say the things that I'm afraid to

because they show me what I didn't want to see

and I won't even mention your mouth

I won't say I love you

after spending so long trying to hide it

and I don't even know what I'm talking about

every time I open up I give you an opening to fuck me up" - NÃO VOU FALAR DE AMOR (won't talk about love), Lagum

"Why did you never love me?

why did you hurt me

pretended, lied, never loved me

I wish I could tell you that I

never felt anything for you

I wish that I could uncry

the tears that already ran

and if it already ran (it'll dry)

and if it already dried (no one saw)

I will send it there, to the bridge that fell

this letter that doesn't say" Carta Que Nao Diz (letter that doesn't say), Mariana Froes, Rodrigo Alarcon, Ana Muller

Butchercup

"I like being immature with you

I like to give myself and get lost

I want to be able to nag you on your every manner

smoking anything, just to entertain myself

I risk my life just to see you

all of our youth runs through our veins

it's just, I'm weak, fragile and stupid

to talk about love

but if it's with you, I'll do it" Imaturo (immature), Jão

"The first time I saw you

something told me

"this is gonna end badly"

on the second time, I had the same impression

but I'm not one to listen

to my intuition

it's like something between chaos and stress

but that kind off messes me up

in a good way

baby, don't make me crazy

because I already am

it's just, there really should be a test

anything, a simulation perhaps

to avoid getting into a trap

instead of a relationship

you tell me you hate my outfit

and I really love your dress

when I have the chance to take it off

you tell me that you love me

and I hate you

in a strange way

because nothing is weirder than loving" - EU TE AMO (I Love You), Lagum

"Tell me you hate me

but say you don't live without me

I'm a plague

miss "no shame" from your garden

you're jealous

but you love to watch me dance" - Bem-Me-Quer (He Loves Me, like from the "he loves me, he loves me not" thing), Rita Lee

Boomubbles

"I made these blues for Bia

but Bia won't come and hear

I won't censor the beauty

it's in her nature

living loose around here

I composed sweet melodies

so she would be moved by them

I rhymed with melancholy

my day-to-day without Bia

but Bia doesn't care" - Blues Pra Bia (Blues for Bia) , Chico Buarque (he's like a father to me)

Note: translating this man's songs is almost sacrilegious. Please go listen yourself to at least feel the vibe a little bit. He's a master of lyricism.

"Whoever sees you walking past me like this

doesn't know what suffering is

having to see you in this way

always so pretty

contemplate the sun of your eyes

losing you in thin air

in the certainty of a love

thinking of myself as nothing

because without your kindness

I feel so alone

I drown myself in loneliness" Anna Júlia, Los Hermanos

"Love of my life

from here until eternity

our destinies were traced since maternity

cruel passion, unbridled

I bring you a thousand stolen roses

so you can forgive all of my lies

and all of my blunders

exaggerated, thrown at your feet

I really am exaggerated

I adore a crafted love" - Exagerado (exaggerated), Cazuza

[galvanizedfriend]

I’m about to be cheeky and ask whether we could have a sneak peek of the next chapter of the Wolf????? Or am I being too rude in asking that 😂.

Hi, nonnie! No, it's not rude at all!

I got this part out of the opening scene of the chapter, but I have to warn you that I am yet to review or edit anything, so it might change a little bit yet.

It's Caroline and Kol having a rather spiky heart to heart. I hope you like it! 🥲

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"I was wondering when you'd come out."

Caroline sighs. Of course, Kol would know she was there. She wonders what it means that he didn't tell the others. Maybe he was trying to spare her, or maybe he just didn't want her presence to overshadow a moment that should be entirely about Davina. Either way, she's grateful.

"I almost didn't. Wasn't sure I should even be here, to be honest."

"Where are your loyal wardens?" he asks flatly. "Don't tell me they're so overcome with guilt after condemning an innocent girl to hell that they couldn't indulge in a bit of gloom. It's their favorite kind of party."

"Klaus wanted to come," Caroline admits. "But I told him not to. Didn't think it would be wise."

Kol huffs out a weak snort. "Since when does he care about being wise?"

"He doesn't," she replies. "But I do."

"Right. And he always listens to you." He pauses. "It must be nice to have family who gives a damn about what you think."

Caroline's jaw sets. She lets her eyes focus on the elegantly carved letters of Davina's name on the headstone. It's beautiful, but rough. Not a lot of details, no quotes or messages about her being a good friend, a loving girlfriend. Feels hurried. Unfinished. Less than she deserved.

"I hated Davina when she tried to Klaus," she says after a moment, words tumbling out of her mouth without consent before she can give them a second thought. "I didn't hate, hate her. Not really. But in that moment, while she was there screaming her spell from the top of her lungs, saying that he'd lived long enough… I hated her then. She didn't really care whether he survived that whole thing or not. She wanted to get you back and she was willing to sacrifice whatever it took to do it."

"What are you on about?" Kol turns to her, a sharp edge to his voice. "Nik didn't die."

"Because Marcel betrayed her, and Stefan and I let an unstoppable huntress with a magic stone loose in the city to create enough diversion that could have backfired in so many ways, just so we could stop it. And then I killed Aya with my bare hands before she could have the chance to try again, and took back the white oak bullet she was going to use to test the effectiveness of Davina's de-linking spell,” she lists. “If that sounds like a too long and complicated combination, it's because it was. It took a village for Klaus to get out of that place alive, and if any of those things had failed, he wouldn't be here right now. And even then, Davina still managed to break his sire line, which made him vulnerable, including to Lucien, who was then free to threaten him and everyone else at will, because his life was no longer tethered to Klaus'." Kol's expression darkens. If looks could kill, Caroline would probably drop dead right there and then. But still, she keeps going. "She knew what she was doing, she knew the consequences, and she didn't care because getting you back meant more to her than Klaus' life."

"I wonder why," Kol hisses. "You talk as if Nik hadn't given her extraordinarily strong reasons to have such disregard for his well-being."

"I'm not questioning that, Kol. Klaus is… Klaus. Whenever someone tells me they hate him, I just assume they have a good reason. It's usually the case. She did, too. But that's beside the point. What I'm saying is that she made a choice that night, and I’m sure it wasn’t an easy one, if not for Klaus, then for everyone else who stood to lose if she failed, including Marcel. We're all put in impossible positions sometimes, and we have to make choices that we might regret for the rest of eternity."

"That's brilliant," he says, lips twisted into an awful smile. "I expected that kind of bollocks from Elijah, but I thought you, of all people, would not try to defend the indefensible."

"I'm not defending it. And I understand your anger, Kol. I really do. Better than I wish, actually. I never wanted Davina to get hurt or to pay for what she did. I don't think she deserved what happened to her. You trusted your family, and… They let you down," she says, her voice fraying around the edges. "You're right. You should hate us. You, Marcel, Vincent. I would hate us, too. But what I can't stop thinking is that I hope I'm never put in the same position as Elijah and Freya. I hope I never have to find out who I would be willing to sacrifice for my daughter, or for Klaus. I wish I could say that I would do the right thing, but the truth is… I don't know. And I would hate to find out. Because there is no right answer. There's only a guilt that eats away at you, and then living with the consequences of your choice. I mean, yesterday would’ve ended in a funeral either way. If not Davina's, then mine and Klaus'. I'm sure you'd be happy to have her back, and regardless of your feelings for us, you'd feel sorry for your niece. But because of what Elijah and Freya did, I'm here today, and Davina is not. I'm grateful to be alive, but I'm not happy. No one is. I wish it didn't have to be like that."

Caroline swallows around the tight lump in her throat, forcing back the tears threatening to escape. Somehow, she doesn't think she gets to cry over this. Not here. Not in front of Kol.

Kol's jaw clenches, his face scrunched up with an emotion she can't really define.

Caroline hesitates, considers telling him that he will always have a home with them, but decides not to. He doesn't want to hear that right now. Not from her, anyway.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Kol," she says instead, and means it. "I really am."

Then she turns away and leaves him to mourn Davina in peace.

[dolche-tejada]

Since the show put this eternal debate about the validity of Joel's decision back on track, I wanted to talk about it and explain why Joel was right. Note that I'm not talking about Joel's reasons so don't tell me "yes, but Joel wasn't thinking about that so...", that's not the issue. The issue is his decision in itself.

Btw, I specify here that I talk about the show but considering its fidelity to the games, my arguments also work concerning them.

So... let's take a look at Ellie. Firstly, she was unconscious at the time. There's just no way to justify that. Marlene or the fans who defend the Fireflies can speculate all they want about what Ellie would have wanted, the truth is that we fucking don't know. We know for sure that she wanted to help produce a cure, but at the time, no one knew that this would require opening her head and killing her.

If Marlene was so sure of what she's claiming here, she would have woken up Ellie to give her the choice. But she didn't because she knows it's bullshit she's saying to convince both Joel and herself.

I'm sure I'll be objected that in TLOU 2, Ellie blamed Joel for preventing her from dying on the operating table and that given the fidelity of the series to the games, this will surely be the case in the next season. Yeah but that's irrelevant too, it's not the same Ellie. In a few years, especially during adolescence, we change a lot.

Then, since we're talking about Ellie's consent, I would like to remind you that regardless of whether she was conscious or not, she's a 14 year old girl. I have the impression that too many people tend to forget that, no one at that age can make the decision to sacrifice their life with full knowledge of what they're giving up and with the maturity to think about it properly. Especially when the 14 year old girl in question is victim of survivor's guilt after having seen several of her close ones die.

For those who have trouble visualizing what I'm saying, I'll make an analogy : If an adult slept with a 14 year old and the latter justified herself to you by saying that she was consenting and that it was her choice, would you find this relevant ? Of course not, because almost everyone knows that there are decisions that children/teenagers can't consent to !

Now that was just about Ellie, but what about the cure ? Because in spite of all the utilitarian debates about whether or not Ellie needs to be killed for the greater good, we're forgetting one essential point : What proves that the Fireflies could have made a cure ? Because whether it's in the games or in the show, there's no real evidence of that. Even the Fireflies don't know anything about it, Marlene and the others directly assume that they will be able to create a vaccine from Ellie's Cordyceps even though they barely had time to do some tests on her while she was unconscious.

Hey you know what ? Even Marlene implicitly admits that they don't know about it : "Our doctor… he thinks that the Cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth (…) He thinks it could be a cure, Joel."

They literally had no plan or certainties, they didn't even take the time to conduct any in-depth study of Ellie, of her blood for example to find a way to produce a vaccine without killing her. They just chose the easiest solution out of impulsivity without worrying for a single minute about the opinion and safety of the concerned one.

Whether it was for the greater good or not, all of Marlene's justifications are based on biased assumptions and intellectual dishonesty. Joel hurt many people and was wrong about a lot of things but certainly not about stopping reckless morons from butchering his 14 year old daughter.

[twistedreads]

A Name To Remember

synopsis; Allie and Dean just welcome in their first son, now it's just time to come up with names..

Warning: none

Genre: Fluff, Cute

_

Dean

I couldn't stop staring at him—at my son.

The little guy was bundled up like a burrito in Allie's arms, his tiny fingers poking out of the blanket. I'd been holding it together pretty well through the labor and the whole holy shit I'm going to be a dad realization, but now? Now it was real. He was real.

And damn, was he perfect.

I leaned back in the crappy hospital chair, stretching out my legs and giving Allie my signature smirk. "You know, I'm not saying the kid should be named after me," I said, because, come on, I couldn't resist. "But, let's be real, Allie, Dean Junior does have a certain ring to it. Strong, timeless—total chick magnet material."

Allie didn't even bother looking at me. She just rolled her eyes, her hair a sweaty, tangled mess, but somehow she still looked beautiful. "Dean, I just spent twelve hours in labor. You're lucky I don't name him something like Eugene just to spite you."

I clutched my chest dramatically. "Eugene? Babe, come on. That's cruel and unusual punishment."

"Dean," she groaned, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

I held up my hands. "Fine, fine. I'll behave. No Dean Junior." I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I watched her with him. My son. That still felt weird to say, but in the best way. "But let's not kid ourselves—he's already got my good looks, so I'm still winning."

That got a tired laugh out of her, which was kind of the goal. "Can you try to take this seriously for, like, five seconds?" she asked, though her voice was softer now.

I shrugged. "Serious Dean? Fine. Coming in hot." My voice lowered as my gaze dropped to him again. He was so damn tiny. His little nose was scrunched up, his fists clenched tight, like he was ready to fight the world already.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, shifting my eyes back to Allie.

She sighed, looking down at him. "I don't know. Nothing we talked about feels right. He needs something strong. Something meaningful."

I nodded, my mind already drifting. Something meaningful.

And that's when it hit me.

The name was there, as clear as day, but as soon as I thought it, my chest tightened. It had been years since I'd let myself think about him for too long. Not because I didn't care—I cared too much. Thinking about Beau always brought me back to that time. To how I felt after we lost him.

Beau.

He'd been my best friend. My brother in everything but blood. Losing him had wrecked me. And worse? I'd nearly wrecked myself afterward.

"What about Beau?" I said, my voice quieter than usual.

Allie froze, and when her eyes met mine, I saw the understanding there. She didn't need me to explain. She knew.

"Beau Maxwell," she said softly, testing the name.

I nodded, my throat tight as I stared at our son. "Yeah. Beau Maxwell Di Laurentis."

For a second, neither of us said anything. Allie's fingers brushed over his tiny hand, and I could see the tears shining in her eyes. "You sure?" she asked.

I let out a breath, nodding. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Her smile grew, but her eyes stayed glassy as she glanced back down at him. "He'd love that, you know."

I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah, he would. And he'd make sure I never forgot it. You know how cocky he was—he'd probably call it the greatest honor of his life and then spend eternity bragging about it."

That earned a laugh out of her. "That definitely sounds like him," she said.

It did. Beau had been one of those people who lit up a room just by walking into it. He was quick with a joke, fiercely loyal, and the kind of guy who made everyone feel like they mattered.

And then he was gone.

It had been our senior year. Beau was driving back from a family dinner with his dad when they hit a patch of ice. He didn't make it.

I'd spent months after that drowning in booze and bad decisions, trying to numb the ache in my chest. Allie had been there at first, trying to help me through it. She'd held my hand, listened to me, and done everything she could to pull me out of the dark.

But I'd been too far gone to let her. I'd missed her play—the one she'd worked on for months, the one that mattered more to her than anything—because I'd been too busy getting high and drunk.

That had been the last straw. She'd called me out, told me she couldn't watch me destroy myself anymore, and then she left.

And you know what? She was right to.

That breakup had been my wake-up call. Losing Beau had broken me, but losing Allie? That was the moment I realized I couldn't keep going the way I had been. I had to get better—for myself and for her.

It took time, but I did it. And when she was ready, when she was finally willing to give me another shot, I made damn sure I didn't screw it up again.

I squeezed her hand now, bringing us both back to the present. "This feels right," I said, my voice low. "It's like a way to keep him with me. To keep a part of him alive."

Allie nodded, her eyes shining. "I think it's perfect," she said.

I leaned forward, brushing a finger over the baby's tiny hand. He curled his fingers around mine, and I felt something crack open in my chest, something I hadn't realized I'd been holding closed for years.

"Yeah," I said, smiling through the tightness in my throat. "It's perfect." I paused, letting my usual grin sneak back into place. "Plus, now I get to tell everyone my kid's named after the coolest guy I've ever known. Present company excluded, obviously."

Allie rolled her eyes, but she laughed, which was exactly what I'd been going for.

"Obviously," she said, her voice warm.

I leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead before looking back at him. "Welcome to the world, Beau Maxwell Di Laurentis," I murmured. "No pressure or anything, but you've got some big shoes to fill, kid."

The little guy let out a soft noise, his tiny fist waving in the air like he was already protesting.

Allie smiled, leaning her head against my shoulder. "He's going to be amazing," she said quietly.

I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. "Damn right he is."