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cuppajj · 1 month ago

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MASTERPOST

Synopsis: Beast Ancients AU [BAAU] explores an alternate universe where the ancients corrupt into beasts. With the looming presence of the original five beasts as well, the cookies of Earthbread must grapple with the threat of ten beasts vying for power, domination, or annihilation.

This Masterpost is updated as of 10/24/2024.

GENERAL

RULES

DM rules

Save for a few exceptions, DMs are generally not allowed. Those exceptions include requests for references or help with writing a fanfiction set in the universe. The creator only engages in long and/or frequent DM conversations with mutual followers and friends.

Do NOT DM if you are under 16 years of age. This is a 16+ blog for its general tone.

NO CHARACTER AI / NO AI

Creating a Character.AI or any other chat AI of any BAAU-related character is strictly condemned and nonconsensual. This includes creating a private chat AI and feeding any BAAU related work, or the creator’s art, into any generative AI. NO AI MEANS NO AI.

Fanart

Fanart is allowed, including art including OCs/self inserts. Shipping is also allowed, but explicit NSFW art is not.

[Fanart Tag] - #beast ancients au fanart

Fanfics

Fanfiction within the BAAU universe is allowed with the same rules as fanart. X readers are also generally allowed as long as they are not NSFW.

[Fanfic Tag] - #beast ancients au fic

Please note that lore created for fanfics and fanart should not be interpreted as canon to the primary AU itself. Lore includes anything from worldbuilding to individual character ideas. All canon information and lore regarding BAAU and its world comes from the creator.

TAGS

[Main Tag] - The tag for main BAAU related posts. #beast ancients au

[Askbox Tag] - For questions asked about the world, including its story and characters. NOTE: As BAAU develops, certain information will be outdated. Older asks have a higher likelihood of this. #beast ancients au ask

NOTE: I do not answer askbox questions through DMs. Refer to the exceptions under DM rules for what will and will not pass as a DM question. If your question does not pertain to them and the askbox is closed, please wait until it is open again or else I will not answer!

THE CAST

THE BEAST ANCIENTS

Otherwise known as the Neobeasts, these once noble heroes have turned into shadows of their former selves. What was once a tight companionship has become a fragile alliance between powerful entities whose ambitions clash and contradict with each other; but they have a vested agreement that their original counterparts must be defeated. Their personal goals also spell dread for the rest of the world in their own dangerous ways.

Saint Vanilla Cookie - Beast of Penance

The king of the Vanilla Kingdom was once gentle and selfless, wishing nothing but peace, love, and healing for the world. However, his hopes would turn to despair as pain and hardship began to consume him. Deducing that only he could be the one to save the world from its endless cycle of pain and torment, the Hero of Truth formed a messiah complex that turned his caring, selfless nature into a toxic compassion for the emburdened. His self proclaimed destiny is to bring salvation to the entire world: but where he sees the liberation of souls, the unfortunate feel the agonizing pain of disintegration. For the Beast, it is all in the name of his penitent love.

A never ending stream of tears flows from his face. Some think it’s his immense empathy for the pain and suffering of cookies across Earthbread.

He purifies with his touch. It is painfully lethal, and affects anyone who has a soul. The bodies purified turn into faint white sparkles, but their souls disappear.

He can see through any vanilla orchid that has been planted by gazing into the eye of his staff.

He is next to never angered; he pities what would upset anyone else, including those who villainize him. His smile is also semi-permanent, though it can fade in serious situations or moments of deep thought.

His final goal is to ascend to that of a god: with divine power in his grasp, he could finally bring salvation to the whole of Earthbread. However, he is yet to find a means of doing so, and he’s aware that it will be a long and arduous path. However, over the timeline, his appearance changes the closer he gets to godhood.

He has a group of followers known as the Lambs of Penance.

He was the last to corrupt.

[TAG]

Midnight Lily Cookie - Beast of Sovereignty

Awoken into a world scarred by her hands, Lily struggled to heal the wounds of both it and herself. With the death of one of her closest companions the rise of an unfathomably powerful force, and the threat her other half continued to pose behind the scenes, she forged an ironclad autonomy for herself that disregarded true morality in the name of fixing what was broken. The new guardian of the Silver Tree soon became a queen of darkened lilies, turning her entire kingdom of loyal fae into willing tools of corruption. She will not rest until she has delivered her retribution, and will scower the ends of Beast Yeast and Earthbread to find and wipe the blemishes she created; and if cookies and their civilizations are choked by her invasive vines and parasitic flora, the end simply justifies the means.

Lily is called the Silver Queen, Queen of Midnight, Guardian of the Tree, or Lady Lily. The silver fae have many affectionate names for her.

She has chlorokinesis, and uses her powers for both good and harm. She has made the forest around the kingdom a nigh-impenetrable shield, with blades of grass capable of turning into impaling skewers at the flick of her wrist. The reason for the darkened lilies may also have something to do with it.

Though the Beast of Sovereignty believes in the value of free will, she can just as easily take it away. The Silver Kingdom is a sleeping hivemind, its inhabitants capable of going from autonomous individuals to mindless drones if Lily trills it so.

Saint Vanilla visits her often. In the beginning, the Beast of Penance wanted to purify her first out of his immense care for her, but the queen convinced him to let her witness his ascension instead, the last to go if the time came. Saint agreed, and has now become her closest ally. Being with her exposes how touch starved he really is.

[TAG]

Dragonberry Cookie - Beast of Pride

No greater Passion was the Queen mother’s passion for power, fueled by the desire to stand up to any and all threats that came her way. That gluttonous desire drew her attention to the power of the Red Dragon and their kind, and she soon made it her mission to become a dragon herself. With her soul jam and the legendary power of a dragon, nothing could stand in her way. Blinded by draconic obsession, she imprisoned her former ally, and turned her attention to the rest of the conquerable world. Wherever Dragons had been, her legion of researchers and soldiers would follow, their new prime objective to help their queen ascend. In the meantime, she’s happily enjoyed staying in power on the Hollyberrian throne, drinking lavishly as her family act as mere puppets under her will.

Even as a beast, she’s vey jovial.

While Royal Berry and Jungleberry Cookie are still technically the rulers of the Hollyberry Kingdom, they’re entirely in Dragonberry’s pocket. She will give them direct orders if she feels like it, and they are made to listen.

Despite this, she still has a genuine fondness and love for her family; the thing is that her pride, ambition, and the way she treats her family make it hard to tell. She’s even fond of Pitaya, but it doesn’t stop her from treating her equal like a pet half the time.

She ritually drinks doses of poison to build her immunity to it. It’s gotten to the point where assassins can’t tamper with her juice anymore.

She’s stronger and heartier tenfold, capable of tackling giants out of the sky and leveling armies by herself. She’s always eager for a good fight, which is why she holds the gladiatorial matches and combats uprisings in her tributaries.

[TAG]

Frigid Cacao Cookie - Beast of Solitude

The licorice sea was once the greatest threat to the Dark Cacao Kingdom. All of that changed when its resolute king, against all odds, tamed the nightmare. It was a period of historic celebration in increasingly bleaker times, but it wouldn’t last forever. The king slowly regressed into isolation, falling silent, and one day became completely immobile on his throne. He was still aware of the world, however, aware enough to know that his entire kingdom was beginning to freeze over in dark permafrost. As fleeing Cacaoians were consumed by ice, not even the king’s closest advisers could reach him, until all but the citadel were frozen over. Ever since that day, remaining within the walls has become the new normal for everyone. Licorice creatures roam the streets, and the sea slowly expands beyond the kingdom’s borders. While his servants’ wavering loyalties to him remain, they can only live oblivious to the chaos lurking underneath Frigid Cacao’s shadowed eyes. He is solitary, but soon he will be everywhere; and everywhere will feed the abyss.

He rarely leaves his throne, and all but the First Watcher and a few of his advisors are not allowed into the throne room without summons. Even still, no cookie is allowed to touch him.

While he is stationary most of the time, he is sometimes seen in the hallway or outside in the snow. When he’s outside, on some occasions, he’s seen staring at a frozen Cacaoian, an unreadable expression on his face. Sometimes he touches it, or even kneels.

He rarely shows up to Neobeast meetings, sending the First Watcher instead. However, even those instances are rare, and thus Cacao’s seat in the council chamber is almost always left vacant.

Licorice creatures are always docile around him, and will follow his every command. Cacao’s subjects wonder how…

[TAG]

Celestial Cheese Cookie - Beast of Conquest

It wasn’t enough for Golden Cheese to let go of her kingdom and those within it. No, she didn’t need to cling to desperate hopes until the day she could have her golden city back. She could start right then and there, reviving her kingdom of Abundance into an entire empire, powerful and unstoppable. Not only that, but she could keep going. If the world was her entire oyster, then why not indulge in that fact? Among the desert sands and badlands sits a new and expanding kingdom, touting itself as a safe haven from the ills of the other Beasts. Cookies are encouraged to become part of the empire, contribute to the radiant Sun’s grand design, but she’s aware she’ll have her detractors. Fortunately, they’re all taken care of: she turns them to gold and decides their fate accordingly, whether it be another golden decoration in her palace, an automaton to do her bidding, or another alloy used to forge the weapons of her conquest. And for those who aren’t in her celestial bubble, conquest is all they’ll ever taste.

Her Golden City still exists, kept in an altered state by highly protected servers. The souls still kept within them exist in an in-between state of awake and asleep.

Her appearance changes constantly, especially when presenting herself to others. It’s likely she has avatars of herself, though it’s unknown if her main appearance is her true physical self or yet another one of them.

She can summon countless arms, all with the ability to turn anything to gold. If one arm is cut off, two grow in its place.

She and Dragonberry have a fragile relationship. On some days, they antagonize the other for being a callous conqueror, but on other days, they have the tightest alliance of any beast.

Her eyes frequently shine bright rays of light, making it hard for people to look her in the eye by design. However, her eyes are normal underneath.

[TAG]

THE ORIGINAL BEASTS

The first five fallen heroes, observers of the Neobeast’s rise. They see the new faction of beasts less as new allies and more as obstacles that have made their striving for their soul jam halves more complicated. In turn, the Neobeasts are still interested in defeating them and taking their soul jam halves as well.

Shadow Milk Cookie - Beast of Deceit

As the first Beast to awaken, Shadow Milk was there to see the first four ancients fall to corruption. Believing he could use the despair of Pure Vanilla to acquire his soul jam, his plans were muddled when he became a beast himself. Further still, the body being baked for him was completely destroyed, leaving him a specter in need of another vessel. With his options thin, he’s had to resort to more unconventional means of getting what he wants…

For some ulterior purpose, he’s become Strawberry Crepe Cookie’s benefactor, helping them navigate the world in ways Choco can’t. He sees a common adversary in Saint Vanilla, and claims he needs Crepe’s help in order to defeat him.

It’s unclear if he remembers their name.

Silent Salt Cookie - Beast of Silence

Information TBD. Relevant to Lily Saga

Eternal Sugar Cookie - Beast of Sloth

Information TBD. Relevant to Berry Saga

Has a connection to the protagonist of the saga, might come in after the timeskip.

Mystic Flour Cookie - Beast of Apathy

Information TBD. Relevant to Cacao Saga

What is known is that she views Cacao with more pity than disgust, interested in putting him out of his misery.

Burning Spice Cookie - Beast of Destruction

Information TBD. Relevant to Cheese Saga

Has a connection to Yellow Feather.

THE PROTAGONISTS

Each Beast Ancient has affected someone in some way. The protagonists of their respective sagas grapple with their influence, whether it be to actively fight against them, avoid them at all costs, or seek to understand a deeper plot that leads them right into their hands.

Strawberry Crepe Cookie

Once a magichanical prodigy within the Vanilla Kingdom, Crepe’s sense of safety was shattered the day they became the sole witness to the Beast of Penance’s rise. They escaped with their life but at the cost of their prized headset, leaving them completely defenseless, on the run, and alone. They were eventually found and taken in by the estranged Cacaoian prince, and while they ultimately seek safety together, Crepe’s ingenuity may just carry a key to defeating the Neobeasts; and that fact has not gone unacknowledged by one Beast in particular.

When they ran, they left their headset behind. It had protected them from Saint’s touch, and was the only way they could summon their arms and wafflebots. Before Choco, Crepe had been on the run with nothing to defend themself.

Saint Vanilla is looking for them.

They struggle to stay strong amidst their trauma. They thought they didn’t need anyone, but losing two people who made them feel welcomed made them realize that they had been taking closeness for granted.

[TAG]

Dark Choco Cookie

The missing prince of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, finding his personal redemption. When his father tamed the licorice sea, he was happy but insecure of whether or not his father and the much stronger kingdom truly needed him anymore. Straying far from the mountains, he didn’t know of the fate that would befall his father and the kingdom until he caught wind of the news, which shocked and unnerved him. Deep down he wants to know why his father became a Beast, but with his newfound responsibility in looking after Crepe, he has other priorities. However, the shadow of his father continues to loom over him, and one day, it may finally get to him.

Sometimes he hears the Strawberry Jam Sword calling to him.

He’s hesitant to return to his kingdom.

He’s become crepe’s new guardian of sorts, providing food and warmth for them. Choco also keeps them out of danger while they’re still without their headphones, but he and Crepe are looking for ways for them to defend themself, since he knows they can fight.

[TAG]

Princess & Knight Cookie

Princess was aware of what her family was becoming after her grandmother’s corruption. Complacent, afraid, and submissive under the Beast’s influence, when they were once happy and loving. She yearned for the old days before Hollyberry turned, but she was forced to live in the present, expected to sit and look pretty as her parents were puppetted by Pride. Her tolerance of the new situation could only go so far, and on one fateful night, she donned a cloak and slipped out of the palace, escaping into the dark. Now on the run, she searches for help in taking her kingdom back. Alerted to his princess’s disappearance, Knight Cookie was quick to scramble for her. While he initially tried to convince her to return home, Princess’s headstrong nature ultimately made him choose to stay by he and protect her. At the end of the day, his job is to be her guard…

They are eventually joined by Tiger Lily.

Princess is stronger than she looks, which may have helped her escape Wildberry a couple of times.

There’s no incentive to bring Knight back safe and sound, nor is there any telling what Dragonberry would do to him if it does happen.

[TAG]

Crunchy Chip & Caramel Arrow Cookie

The two had sworn an oath to stand by their king's side to the bitter end. They fought with him as he protected his kingdom from internal collapse. They watched with elation as he brought the Licorice Sea to kneel before them and never threaten the kingdom again. However, when the Beast of Solitude replaced their resolute leader, their vows were put to the test as the kingdom was soon claimed by permafrost. While Crunchy Chip cookie had seen the writing on the wall, Caramel Arrow Cookie remained steadfast even as everyone froze around her. In her desperation to get through to the king, Caramel Arrow Cookie made the mistake of stepping out of line, her arm consumed by ice the moment she reached out to him. Crunchy Chip Cookie was quick to pull her away before she could be frozen entirely, and the two fled into the mountains. Crunchy Chip Cookie has been looking for someone to help bring his confidant back to good health before the frost completely engulfs her, and not only that, but he has been questioning their duties as Cacao’s protectors ever since. If they want to find a way to return their kingdom to normal, what—or who—might they need?

Caramel Arrow Cookie is unconscious most of the time, but she experiences lapses of consciousness, especially when around a heat source. Crunchy Chip’s cream wolves will huddle around her to keep her warm.

The two are looking for someone with deep knowledge of ice, whether it be an ordinary cookie or an elemental who could hold the answer to everything.

[TAG]

Yellow Feather Cookie

In the middle of a harsh golden desert, a single cookie awoke among the sands. She carried no memory of how she got there, much less who she was before. Vague memories of sprawling skylines and illustrious lights dotted behind her eyes, but she couldn’t fathom what they meant. She wandered aimlessly through the dunes until she was found by a friendly team of cookies working under the Celestial Cheese’s exploration and research collective. Given the name Yellow Feather Cookie, she was brought into their fold as a member; but even with her new name and new friends, the burning question of what happened to her still remains painfully unanswered. And when the amnesiac cookie experiences strange phenomena like glitches, digital aberrations, and foreboding visions of a cookie with burning red eyes, it only drives her further to learn the truth.

She is an iteration of Rich Cheese Cookie, a concept cookie for CRK who was ultimately scrapped. Unlike her concept version, Feather is neither a child nor Celestial Cheese’s daughter.

The few memories she has are of the Golden City, which little to none of her cohorts have heard of. They usually assume she’s referring to the kingdom itself.

She doesn’t know who or what the Beasts are, let alone the Ancients. She knows there is a world beyond the kingdom, but her knowledge comes from word of mouth and books she’s read. Perhaps it explains why she’s not alarmed by the visions she gets.

[TAG]

[Lily Saga Protagonists TBA]

SIDE CHARACTERS

These are all the known side characters. More will be added later.

SIDE PROTAGONISTS

Clotted Cream Cookie

The Consul of the Crème Republic, one of the last large safe havens present in Earthbread. With his former allies turning into adversaries, he has had to lead the resistance against the forces of darkness largely by himself. It’s caused a lot of stress for him, but he has tried to retain his strength as much as possible for the sake of his people, even as the walls slowly close in.

Gingerbrave

Has been assisting the resistance in the Crème Republic, working closely with Clotted Cream, the other councilors, and his own friends. While he nervously worries about and for the ancients, he retains his focus on helping those in need in the city, encouraging them to stay brave. He’s become a beacon of optimism among the nervous masses.

Custard Cookie III

The Nephew of Clotted Cream Cookie and close friend of Gingerbrave. After Pure Vanilla’s corruption, he questioned his aspirations to be king. He’s done everything he can to help his uncle’s people while learning about what it truly means to be a leader.

Madeleine Cookie

The Knight Commander of the Crème Republic. Despite everything that’s happened to him and his people, he’s retained his smile and his courage as best as he can. However, a tall shadow hangs over him.

Tiger Lily Cookie

A cookie who has lived in the jungle her whole life, watching from the brush as the Hollyberry Kingdom shifted under the new beast. She finds Princess and Knight while they’re on the run, and joins their party as a guide. Neither her nor her long lost sister are aware of their connection to one another.

Pitaya Dragon Cookie

Chained deep underneath the Hollyberry palace, the Red Dragon is the beast’s highest profile prisoner. To further her mission to become a dragon, they are researched and experimented on day in and day out, while Dragonberry sometimes stops to play twisted games with them. Such include dragging them out to fights, sparring like old friends, or giving them the illusion that they’ll ever have a chance to escape her.

Wind Archer Cookie

Sworn to vanquish the darkness no matter the cost, he has made it his mission to bring an end to all ten beasts who threaten Earthbread. However, some of his beliefs in how to defeat them conflict with the protagonists’, and if he sees anyone as obstacles in the way of his mission, including them, they will need to be cleared.

[Post for Princess, Pitaya, Crepe, Chip, Carrow]

SIDE ANTAGONISTS

Wildberry Cookie

Dragonberry’s right hand and loyal bodyguard, who has retained his sworn oath to be by her side since before her corruption. Where Dragonberry is bold and valorous, Wildberry is cold and lethal, dealing with the Beast’s messes lest she chooses to involve herself in them. Even though he is aware of what his kingdom has become, his loyalty to his adoptive mother keeps him at her side. He was in charge of monitoring his rambunctious niece when she was in the palace, steering her away from her grandmother’s personal matters; but on the night she ran away, he had discovered her plot far too late. Dragonberry has ordered him to track her down and retrieve her, and no matter how many times she escapes him, he will never let up until his duty is fulfilled.

First (Second) Watcher Cookie

After Caramel Arrow’s departure, the Second Watcher was appointed to the new First Watcher. When the Neobeasts hold meetings, he is sometimes sent in Cacao’s stead. More information TBA

Cream Wafer Cookie

The right hand of Saint Vanilla, bishop of the Lambs of Penance. He is in charge of all of the cult’s operations, aiding in fulfilling his lord’s wishes. Saint Vanilla himself has little involvement in the operations beyond certain rituals and appearances, as the bishop and his followers do everything for him in his stead. It gives the beast time to walk the world by himself, dedicating time to the affairs of the other Neobeasts among other personal goals. Despite preaching peace, love, and pacifism, there’s a gleefully dark glint in his eyes when pain is delivered in the name of the light.

Like Saint Vanilla, Wafer uses a vanilla orchid as a wand. However, he can’t see through it; instead, it’s used to mark souls for purification, drawing the beast’s attention to whoever gazed into the flower.

Before Saint, he was likely from the Crème Republic.

Holy Dart Cookie

The lambs’ best marksman and surveillance operator. Once a sister of the Pastry Order, she found a new name and purpose under Cream Wafer, and serves him in the name of Saint Vanilla. Because the Beast frowns on the notion of killing, the darts she uses to snipe from the shadows merely tranquilize; it’s the only thing keeping her from being regarded as one of the most dangerous assassins to wield the bow. Her knowledge of the world around her makes her formidable; since she wears her honorary bandages, her senses are incredibly keen, and she can tell where her target is from the slightest noise or change in the air. Victims of her darts are taken back to the lambs themselves, for whatever purpose the bishop has sought for them.

OTHERS

Black Raisin Cookie

Pure Vanilla’s old friend and Strawberry Crepe Cookie’s found guardian figure. She had been by the ancient’s side as he declined, doing everything she could to ensure he remained hopeful. However, not even her kindness was enough to save him. One day, she was embraced by the light, leaving nothing but her raisin crows behind. Many of them now follow Crepe around.

Espresso Cookie

Strawberry Crepe Cookie’s lab partner who entrusted an important journal for them to keep.

Silverbell Cookie

One of Midnight Lily’s closest friends and guards. Despite his loyalty to her, he’s been quietly questioning the state of his kingdom under her.

The Triple Cone Trio - TBD

The Legendaries - TBD

NOTE: As of current update, the whereabouts of the Cookies of Darkness are still TBD.

THE STORYLINE

NOTE: The official timeline of BAAU is a long way from being finalized. However, the AU takes place across a vast stretch of time, so there are plot points and elements that happen before and after a time jump. It’s unclear when BAAU properly begins, but there has been a gap in time long enough for the Neobeasts’ presences to have become the new normal for Earthbread.

The Vanilla Saga - The storyline that revolves around Saint Vanilla Cookie.

Features Strawberry Crepe and Dark Choco as the main protagonists. This is considered the “main” storyline.

The Berry Saga - The storyline that revolves around Dragonberry Cookie.

Features Princess, Knight, Tiger Lily, and later Pitaya as the protagonists. They are traveling Earthbread while evading Wildberry and the Hollyberrian guards sent after them.

The Cacao Saga - The storyline that revolves around Frigid Cacao Cookie.

Featues Crunchy Chip, Caramel Arrow, and later Dark Choco as the protagonists. They are searching for a cure for Carrow’s permafrost injury, which may also be the way to heal the entire Dark Cacao Kingdom. However, there may be someone they need to find—but who knows if he is the key to helping them, or an instrument that will make everything much, much worse.

The Cheese Saga - The storyline that revolves around Celestial Cheese Cookie.

Features Yellow Feather as the protagonist. The story follows her as she seeks to recover her lost memories and remember who she is, drawing her into the battle between the beasts of Destruction and Conquest. One of them is hiding a secret, the other is hiding a truth.

The Lily Saga - The storyline that revolves around Midnight Lily Cookie.

Features two protagonists who are to be revealed in the future.

THE WORLD

The Kingdoms of the Beasts

The Vanilla Kingdom

Founded, destroyed, rebuilt, cleansed: when Penance awakened, his light awoke in every corner of his kingdom, and sparkling dust drifted through the air like a sea of stars. Now, the kingdom has become the base of operations for the Beast and his loyal followers, many of them descendants of his royal subjects. No one else but them live here anymore; in some places, it’s easy to think it’s a ghost town. However, the moment one steps through the gate, they will always have the feeling of being watched. The Council Hall is the primary room where the Neobeasts gather for meetings, but the unsettling feeling never leaves the others.

The Hollyberry Kingdom

Things about this kingdom have changed in ways ranging from subtle to drastic. Its lively culture of partying and drinking have remained, imbued with a bigger emphasis on strength and battles. No place is this more apparent than the coliseum that hosts events every week, where the strongest warriors from across the kingdom and the ones captured outside it are brought to fight each other for the amusement of the Beast and her citizens. On special occasions, the Red Dragon themself is brought out for her to show off and subsequently defeat - another one of her mind games that keeps them subservient.

The Dark Cacao Kingdom

Choked by blizzards and permafrost, it’s hard to navigate through the tundra the Beast of Solitude has made the place. Licorice creatures skulk the kingdom’s snowy plains and the frozen streets. Most Cacaoians have been frozen where they stood the day the frost consumed their homes, but those who survived live within the Citadel itself, the last haven where all the Beast’s servants and warriors remain. They are hesitantly loyal to their King, believing he will someday wake up from whatever nightmare plagues his mind; until then, they remain unaware of the darkness and hunger that lingers beneath the seams.

The Celestial Kingdom

Even those who antagonize the Beast regard her kingdom as a desert miracle. Celestial Cheese revitalized her kingdom, spreading it across the desert and beyond and welcoming anyone and everyone into its fold. Some even regard it as a safe haven in itself: it’s guarded by warriors made of gold, flanked by advanced proximity sensors. Those the Beast of Conquest doesn’t want, such as Lambs or Hollyberrian spies, are warded away before they can pass through the walls. Life feels normal, like a dream even, for all of the cookies who live there: cookies who once belonged to their own villages and settlements in the desert, now taken in by the Beast and given everything they wanted and more. It keeps them happy, it makes them believe that her conquest is just—and it keeps them oblivious to what happens to those who refuse to be conquered. Those who reject her grand design end up part of it, one way or another; and next to no trace of them or their settlement survives.

Some of the residents in Cheese’s kingdom include Cacaoians who managed to escape during the great freeze.

The Silver Kingdom

Isolated from the rest of the world. Through the hostile, deadly forest that protects its borders, and indeed much of the safest entries to Beast Yeast, lies a kingdom ever at work. Ordinary silver fae live most of their days doing what they’ve always done, caring for themselves and their kingdom in whatever duty they have. Under the Beast of Sovereignty, their individuality freedom is as valued as their devotion to her. From ordinary fae to Silver Tree knights, they are as dedicated to the kingdom’s protection as they are their queen. While she is no conqueror, her kingdom is expanding its reach through its spreading flora, kudzu-like walls that overrun and choke anything and anyone it reaches. Others living in Beast Yeast have become increasingly aware of the Silver Kingdom’s presence, but direct means to either negotiate or attack the fae have been unsuccessful. On the other side of the world, Crispians like those in the Creme Republic have failed to reach the continent, its ships struck out of the sea and sky by vines and plants. Many cookies who venture near there are never seen again.

The Safe Havens

The Crème Republic

One of the two largest safe havens in Crispia. Maintained by the Convocation of Elders, the republic’s internal differences have been mostly set aside as they unify under the need for stability and safety. In the shadow of the Beasts, there is only so much they can do to remain out of harm’s way, but the Elders and the Consul know that they will one day have to fight. Until then, the Republic has prioritized its citizens’ safety, harboring and maintaining contact with resistance groups, and researching any way to end the threat of the fallen heroes.

Parfaedia

Protected by high walls, this city has stood vigilant against outside enemies since the time of legend. However, the Beasts pose its biggest threat yet: housing ancient research and relics, Parfaedia has no doubt drawn the attention of a few of them. It remains in close contact with the Creme Republic, and the two cities share information and updates about anything related to the Beasts, their movements, or internal affairs that require assistance. Both are also aware that the third magical city, Scovilia, once part of their triple alliance, cries for help underneath its new ruler. Both cities strive to liberate it one day, but they need to prioritize keeping all citizens and refugees within their borders safe.

Others

Scovilia and Dragon’s Valley

Annexed into the Hollyberry Kingdom’s expanding territory. Dragon’s Valley in particular is the site of Hollyberrian dragon research, and the Beast has made it a pastime to frequent the place and quash any revolt before it has the chance to grow. Dragonberry is very fond of Scovilia in particular, its strongest champion added to her collection of gladiators.

The existence of the Cookie Kingdom is still being decided, as it has little importance to the game’s story.

EXTRA

MISC POSTS

The very first BAAU post [original neobeast references]

Full picture of the masterpost banner

Average neobeast meeting [meme]

All I Ever Wanted [animatic]

X reader headcanons

TAG LIST [for easier access]

Main tag

Askbox tag

Fanart tag

Fanfic tag

Old Masterlist [Includes links to more specific asks/questions]

Old FAQ

Creator’s note: Thanks for reading!! If any of the links above do not work, please let me know. -CJJ

#beast ancients au #temporary pinned #special thanks to the vanillaverse crew for proofreading!#beast ancients au masterpost #masterpost #crk au #cookie run au #cookie run kingdom au #cr au #cjj arts #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom

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irisintheafterglow · 1 year ago

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invisible string (gojo x you)

summary: the story of the first time megumi used ten shadows.

wc: 3k

cw/tags: fluff to angst/comfort and back to fluff, canon-typical violence, mild language, mentions of kidnapping, weapons (gun, knives), established relationship with pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart)

note: coparenting megumi? coparenting megumi. something about little megs at a dog shelter is just so cute to me but then yk we gotta have the soulmate-tie-object angst/comfort because it's impossible for me to write solely fluffy jjk content hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are appreciated <3

“Alright, Megs. Let ‘em rip.” You nod reassuringly despite the hesitancy riddled on his face.

“Are you sure I’m not going to hurt you?” His voice is small, different from his usual boredom. For the first time in the two years since you’ve met him, Megumi was scared. He was scared of causing you harm, and for good reason. Even though he was barely taller than your hip, Satoru believed it to be a good idea to tell him that, in the future, he could grow to become the next god of the Jujutsu world. It made the boy slightly nervous, then, to unleash something that he wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could control. “I’d rather test with Satoru in case something goes wrong.”

“You want to test with him or test on him, bud?” You smirk at his pursed lips and frustratedly furrowed eyebrows. It was no secret that he’d rather see your boyfriend get hurt than you, even though nothing could touch Satoru since he mastered unconscious activation of Infinity. “If you really want to, we can wait for him to get back from his mission, but that won’t be for another few days; I’d really like you to try out the technique with at least one of us with you, but it’s ultimately up to you.” You never wanted to push him into something that he didn’t want since he was already caught in a delicate balancing act. It was hard enough having the Zenins’ prized technique and even harder to prioritize relatively mundane spelling tests. If he were with his power-hungry relatives, you knew education and training would go hand in hand, but he’d also be taught that strength equals worth. That’s not shit you nor Satoru wanted such an inherently good kid to be learning.

He bites the inside of his cheek in contemplation and you can see the gears turning in his mind. “I don’t know how to…say it.”

“You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to; you just do the thing with your hands.” You squint against the sun hanging high in the sky, bathing in the warmth that radiated from the school’s courtyard. An idea crossed your mind of bringing Megumi inside where there’s less light, but he stops you before you can say anything.

“No, it’s not that. I know how to do it, but I…don’t.” His eyes avoid yours in shame and you kneel down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “I don’t know how to connect with them and I don’t know how to fix it.” You smile softly and gently ruffle the spikes of his hair.

“It’s okay, really. Let’s get lunch and then we’re gonna make a pit stop before we come back; does that sound alright?” He nods and the tension in his shoulders dissipates. “Go get your bracelet.”

He groans in protest. “Do I have to? It’s all the way over–”

“Megumi.”

“Fine.” His little steps run up the stairs in the direction of his backpack and you glance down at the shining black ring on your right hand lightly glowing with Cursed Energy. It was a gift from Satoru that you received a few months prior and a third of a shared present between you and Megumi.

“As much as I love you, it’s way too early to get married.”

“What? No. I wouldn’t propose using something as boring as that.” He shakes his head adamantly as Megumi inspects his gift with all the care of a scientist analyzing radioactive material. For all you knew, maybe it was radioactive. With a sly grin, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. “Look closer. I didn’t get it just ‘cause it’s shiny.” Your eyes narrow and you gasp when you see the faint aura of blue Cursed Energy imbued in the ring. “See it?”

“Why does it do that? It’s not a weapon, is it?”

“Wait and see,” is all he whispers before he takes the beaded bracelet from Megumi and slides it carefully onto his wrist, cinching it securely. “Alright, Megs. Tell me what you see.”

“It’s a bracelet,” the boy deadpans as his eyes flick up to Satoru’s boredly.

“Well, no duh, it’s a bracelet. Tell me all your practicing hasn’t been for nothing.” Satoru gives Megumi one of his rare serious expressions and you see the lightbulb flicker to life in Megumi’s brain. His eyes narrow in concentration on the bracelet and his mouth opens in realization. Satoru’s eyes shine in determination as he asks the boy what he sees.

“What color–”

“Blue. Light blue, like the sky.”

“Mhmm, good!” Your boyfriend hums triumphantly and pulls out a chain he must have been hiding under his shirt. Slung on the chain is a single black pendant glowing the same color as your ring and Megumi’s bracelet and you smirk in understanding.

“You’re putting GPS on us? Didn’t know you were the stalker-type, babe.” You admire the ring and stick your tongue out teasingly when Satoru’s expression becomes defensive.

“For the record, I am most definitely not that type.” A flash of amused skepticism blinks across Megumi’s face and you both catch it. “I’m not! I’m simply giving the people I care about a way of contacting me if something were to go wrong and they need me.” He crosses his lanky arms across his chest, huffing an indignant exhale.

He’s so cute when he acts angry. “Oh, when we need you, hmm? What about when you need me to get you toilet paper at three in the morning because you didn’t check before going to take a–”

“I’m still here!” Megumi’s slightly panicked voice pipes up and you can’t hold back your laughter any longer, doubling over and covering your teary eyes with your hand. Your boys start laughing with you, Satoru chuckling defeatedly and Megumi smiling a little nervously.

“So, what? We hold these and talk to you like walkie talkies?”

“No, that’s what phones are for. If one of these breaks, everyone else’s will too and I can use the Cursed Energy it releases to track where you are.”

“How will you know which one of us broke it?”

“There’ll be a significantly larger release of energy, or so I’m told.”

“Does it repair itself afterward? Or will I have to get a new one every time you forget a towel in the shower?”

“No, and I forgot to mention that these are for emergencies only. Dangerous emergencies only.” Your face falls and the big picture hits you like a semi-truck. He wanted you two to be connected to him at all times with essentially a direct SOS line to the most powerful human on the planet. He wanted to be able to save you, even if you couldn’t reach him through technology. The fact that he needed to think about this felt like several hundred needles in your soul. “But!” His serious aura is gone in a snap. “I’m already with you all the time so these will probably just become redundant.”

“Thank you, Satoru. This is really thoughtful of you.” You reach for his hand and give it a squeeze, the melancholy smile he shoots you making your heart ache. “Megs?”

“Thanks. I’ll get strong soon, though, and then I won’t need it.” Your boyfriend breathes a subtle sigh and smiles sadly.

“That’s exactly the point, buddy.”

From that moment onward, the ring stayed on your finger at all times, even when you showered or went to bed. It was there as you drove to lunch with Megumi, there when you called a friend for a last-minute favor, and there when his voice quietly asked from the backseat where the pit stop was going to be. It was there when his little hand wrapped around your pinky while you walked up the steps of the shelter, and there when you gave the front desk your name. The rich darkness of the band glittered as you were led outside into the yard and met with the cacophony of barking dogs, and stayed there while an attendant brought you two enormous Husky-Shepherds.

“What are we gonna do with them?” He hesitantly stands behind your legs, peering at the animals sprinting about the play area.

“We’re gonna help you make a connection, Megs.”

When the two dogs first enter the field, they bolt to the other side and back multiple times. After they seemingly run out their excess energy, they make their way to you and Megumi, who reaches out a cautious fist for them to sniff. He laughs softly when they affectionately lick his hand and nudge their heads against his body. Despite being huge compared to the little boy playing with them, the dogs were incredibly gentle and obediently brought back the ball whenever he threw it for them to fetch. At one point, he turns back to look at you with a grin brighter than the sun as the dogs race across the grass for the ball. You watch him observe the dogs in awe when they play-fight, tumbling over each other and lightheartedly nipping at each other. In the short time that you’re there, Megumi creates a game with them where he creeps around the perimeter of the fence; when they inevitably follow behind him, he jumps into a funny stance and the dogs leap away playfully, tails wagging faster than helicopter blades. You take a video and send it to Satoru, hoping it makes him just as happy as it was making you.

When the time comes for the attendant to take the dogs back to their kennels, Megumi has both his arms wrapped around the dogs’ necks and his head buried into their thick fur. You crouch next to him, rubbing his back while he kisses each dog on the forehead and commits their faces to memory.

“So are they going to be adopted?” He asks on the walk back to the car.

“They are. They’re gonna go home with one of the shelter’s volunteers who just so happens to be my friend from middle school. When I told her you were working on Ten Shadows, she invited us to meet them to better understand what it’s like having dogs.”

“I liked it.” His dark eyes twinkle more than you’ve ever seen before. “I like dogs.”

“I’m glad; I really am. Do you wanna get ice cream and try out your technique again at school?” He gives you a fierce nod and you smile, opening the door as he climbs into the back of your car and immediately grabs hold of his stuffed wolf.

To your surprise, he continues to talk about the dogs even after you leave the shelter.

“Would you ever get dogs like them?”

You can’t help chuckling at the earnest hope in his innocent eyes and you wipe ice cream from his chin with your thumb. “Why, you want me to get dogs so you can play with them all the time?”

“Yep.” He takes another confident spoonful of ice cream. The sun finishes its descent over the horizon as the sky rapidly darkens. You can see the moon in the reflection of Megumi’s eyes. “Do you think Satoru would get dogs like them?”

“Satoru can barely take care of himself, Megs, much less two other living creatures.” Cool night air breezes past your face while you finish the last of your ice cream.

“He takes care of you and me.”

“That is true. Though, sometimes it feels like we’re taking care of him, huh?” He snickers, meeting your gaze contentedly before his eyes flick over your shoulder, to something behind you. His eyebrows furrow in suspicion.

“Do you know him?”

“Who?”

“That guy. He’s been watching us for at least ten minutes.” You don’t look back at what Megumi sees yet, not wanting to raise unnecessary alarm. Instinct tells you something is wrong, but not your sorcerer instincts. You sense no immediate threat from Cursed Energy, but can detect the malicious aura from miles away.

“Cursed Energy?”

“Not that I see.”

“That’s weird. Is it okay if you finish your ice cream in the car?” He agrees wordlessly, eyeing the figure behind you that now walked closer as you turned to face it.

The man looks at you with a revolting sneer and nods to another person you’d seen lingering by where you and Megumi were eating. There were more men now, all with an equally predatory expression that made your skin crawl. Before you can grab Megumi’s forearm and start running, a hand darts out with a knife. You dodge it easily, but the momentary distraction takes your focus away from Megumi. One of the men grabs him and you scream only to be cut off by a rough hand over your mouth. You wiggle out of your assailant’s grasp and kick back hard and he goes tumbling down the sidewalk. Autopilot takes over while you take down each attacker until the sound of a readied gun makes you freeze, cold metal pressed against your back from someone you didn’t sense.

You catch sight of Megumi struggling in one of the attackers’ grips and shake your head, pleading with him to stop so he doesn't get hurt. He does, eyes wide with anger as you try to slow your racing pulse. The men were using Cursed Tools, you realized, but had no Cursed Energy which is why you couldn’t sense them coming. With sudden death at such close proximity, you couldn’t do anything but wait for an opening to attack.

“This the one?” The man holding Megumi shoves him forward and it takes all your willpower not to grab him and kill everyone within a three mile radius.

“Yeah. That’s the kid they want.”

“What do we do with his little babysitter?”

“Kill ‘em. Get rid of the body.”

You have half a second to concentrate as much Cursed Energy as you can to your back before a bullet collides with it and you fall forward trying to push back against the energy-infused metal struggling to pierce your skin. With a pained cry, you successfully reject the bullet but it knocks the wind out of you, your forehead hitting the sidewalk while you futilely try to pull yourself up. Head spinning and barely able to summon any amount of Cursed Energy, your hand against the concrete gives you an idea.

“Megumi, my ring!” Your voice sounds hoarse but he understands, throwing his hands together in the position you’d been helping him perfect for a week. You can’t tell who the screaming is coming from; but, in an instant, a gigantic white dog is tackling your assailants while an equally large black dog goes for the throat of Megumi’s captor. In that opening, the boy rushes forward, sliding the ring off your finger and smashing it to pieces. The beads of his broken bracelet clatter to the floor at the same time his technique wears off, the huge dogs returning to black voids. You grab Megumi and stumble to your feet, forcing as much Cursed Energy as you can physically create into your hands while your back hits a wall.

Not that you need it.

A telltale wave of vibrations hits your ears and your shoulder sag in relief when he finally takes form between you and the surrounding ring of men.

“Hiring mercenaries and kidnapping? That’s low, even for them,” is all he says before he’s moving faster than you can blink, and in seconds he’s cradling your face gently while the men groan in agony behind him. Your arms are locked around Megumi, holding him close to your body, but you don’t realize that you’ve slid to the floor with your back against the wall. Satoru briefly checks Megumi’s face but returns to you when he deems him safe. “Hey, babe. You can let go of Megs now; I think you’re strangling him.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry, baby.” You let your arms drop but Megumi’s arms stay squeezing around your torso, like you’d disappear if he stopped. “I hope I didn’t steal you away from something important.”

“Nah, I was finished anyway. I was souvenir shopping, in fact. I found a very delightful pair of socks with pandas on them that I wanted to get Yaga.” You chuckle and his hands brush stray hairs from your forehead. “Thanks for keeping my kid safe, sweetheart.”

“Our kid,” Megumi murmurs against your chest and Satoru turns a shade pinker. “You didn’t almost die trying to make sure I wasn’t kidnapped.”

“You almost died?” Electric blue eyes dart to you in alarm and you tiredly shush his worries, reassuring him that you did not, in fact, almost die.

“It was just a gun with Cursed Bullets. Not sure why they brought that if they were only trying to take Megs.”

“Probably thought he’d be with me.” Your boyfriend draws his mouth into a tight line and you lightly punch his shoulder. “Ouch, what was that for?”

“Stop thinking like that. I didn’t get hurt because you weren’t here. If it meant making sure he was safe,” you glance down at the boy curled into your body, “I’d get hurt like this a thousand times more.”

“Alright, let’s get you both home before that becomes a possibility.” His arms effortlessly snake under your back and legs, lifting both you and Megumi off the ground and pulling you close to his chest. The familiar, roller coaster-drop feeling of warping envelopes your body and you close your eyes.

When you wake, two pairs of arms wrap around your body as Satoru’s stretches over both you and Megumi, whose arms are firmly wrapped around your torso. A bright blue eye lazily winks open. Of course, he’s awake. You hush him before he says anything, glancing down at the sleeping boy between you both. He nods but his voice is still a loud whisper.

“I’m so damn mad I missed his first Ten Shadows.”

“It’s okay, babe,” you say as your thumb brushes over Satoru’s cheek and you think about Megumi playing in the yard with the two huge dogs.

“I doubt it’ll be the last time he uses it.”

[1] New Message - Volunteer Announcements

Today at 12:07 P.M

We are proud to introduce our Shelter Volunteer of the Month: FUSHIGURO MEGUMI (7 yrs old)

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #fushiguro megumi #jjk angst #jjk fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo fluff #gojo angst

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al-the-remix · 3 months ago

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BuckTommy Whump Week Day 1: Canon typical injury // Wound neglect

Thank you to the @bucktommywhumpweek mods for putting this together (and sorry it's a day late!) uhh...I have no idea how to tag this one, so just enjoy! Again, please excuse any grammar/spelling errors, they'll be all fixed by the time these make is to Ao3.

It was a pretty house, with arched windows and the pristine white walls of a Spanish revival that had recently had some love and attention given to it. Evan had told him some meandering tale that Tommy had had a difficult time following about ghost phone calls and haunted desolate suburban homes. It was one Tommy couldn’t quite believe, but enabled nevertheless; he’d overheard stories about the Loz Feliz murder house, scuttlebutt around the water cooler and during lulls between calls. He’d never given the stories any real consideration, and gave them even less now that he was faced with what looked like a totally innocuous family home.

Maddie had settled herself at the end of the dining room table, her whole body angled towards him, hands folded around her coffee mug, radiating warmth as she waited patiently for him to spit out what exactly it was that had brought Tommy to her home on her day off.

Tommy hadn’t really known what to expect when he had called her. They’d never had the chance to spend much time one-on-one, whether it was Evan or Howie, there always seemed to be someone else hanging around, dividing his attention. Now he wishes he’d reached out sooner and under more pleasant circumstances.

“So, what is it you wanted my advice on?”

Tommy drew his own mug closer to his chest, lacing his fingers around it to keep himself from fidgeting. The steam from the tea felt warm on the underside of his chin and he had to bite down on the skin of his inner cheek to quell the sudden swell of emotions that rose inside him.

“Evan wont let me look after him.”

The corner of Maddie’s mouth twitched up in a moment of brief amusement, then tugged down in a sympathetic half-smile. “Welcome to the club.”

Tommy found himself laughing despite himself, the noise thick and a little wet in the back of his throat. He hoped that part was quite enough to slip beneath her radar.

If Maddie noticed she didn’t acknowledge it, much to Tommy's relief. He already felt foolish showing up here to needle his boyfriend’s sister for relationship advice, even if he had been invited, he didn’t need to get all emotional about it too.

“Have you talked with Evan recently?”

“I have, but I can’t say that he was exactly forthcoming. Not that he ever is when he’s injured.”

“Right,” Tommy looked down at his hands. “Which I understand, I’ve had strains before, they’re a drag and it’s annoying having to be on the bench for three weeks, but they’re worse if you don’t let them rest.” She was watching him with clear understanding as he rambled.

“What happened,” Maddie asked gently.

Tommy rubbed at the side of his nose, feeling a little sheepish. “You’re a nurse so you know. Anyway, it sounds silly now, but he wanted to go to the gym the other day–which it’s way too early for–and we got into an argument about it. I wanted to give him space, but now he hasn't texted me in three days and I don’t know what to do. I tried to call him earlier, but he didn’t pick up. I just don’t know how much to push.”

In Tommy’s experience, the line between caring and overbearing was a thin one.

Evan had never seemed to shy away from going after Tommy’s attention when he had wanted it, whether that meant asking for tours he didn’t really need, or playing sports he didn’t actually like, or organizing a coffee date to apologize when he hadn’t needed to. Maybe it had been presumptuous of him, but Tommy really had expected Evan to reach out sooner rather than later; and the longer the silence went on the more deliberate it felt, like maybe he’d overstepped some invisible boundary Tommy hadn’t even considered looking out for.

Maddie watched him with a kind, sympathetic expression. Maybe at first glance most would say she and Evan didn’t look much alike, but to Tommy it was clear in their eyes, and their smiles, and their big hearts.

“I don’t know how much he’s told you yet about our parents or our family situation.” She spoke carefully, as if weighing each word with her consideration. “But I think you might find that he does want someone to look after him, he’s just worried that once you see it, all the raw, messy bits he likes to hide, you won’t want to stay.”

Tommy was all too familiar with raw and messy, not that Evan knew that yet. And maybe that was part of the issue, he’d been so preoccupied with letting Evan set the speed and seeing where it took them, that he’d allowed his own role in this dance to fall to the wayside. He’d told Evan that he was interested, but did Evan know to what degree? Maybe he’d been too concerned with scaring Evan off to really open up the way he should have by now.

“Has that happened before?” Tommy asked when he’d worked the words past the frog in his throat.

She tilted one shoulder up. “He thinks it has, and that’s enough.”

Tommy considered that, staring down into his milky reflection in his untouched tea.

“Here, have a biscuit,” Maddie offered, pushing the plate of neatly arranged shortbreads across the table at him.

Tommy gladly took one. In spite of what Evan had suffered through with his parents growing up, he was lucky to have her.

///

For once the afternoon L.A. traffic didn’t get under Tommy’s skin. He gladly welcomed the prolonged drive home to turn Maddie’s words over in his head.

In many ways Evan’s body was sort of like a haunted house: possessed by a ghost that wasn’t his, neglected because of it.

In Tommy’s pocket there was an extra key on his keyring, freshly cut and matching his own. It had sat there for a week, fucking with his head while he’d waited for the perfect opportunity to offer it to Evan. Sure, it was fast, but there was just something about the way Evan had weaved so snugly into Tommy’s life that had made him want to forgo all of his usual hesitancies and firmly erected walls in favour of having Evan be able to come and go from his house as he pleased. And Tommy liked the idea of finding Evan already in his home at the end of the day. He’d hoped that Evan might take it as the signal it was: that Tommy wanted him around permanently, taking up space and leaving his dirty socks all over Tommy’s house.

Most of all, Evan made him want to be brave. Now Tommy wasn’t so sure.

Evan had navigated their first few months of dating with his foot pressed firmly on the gas and very little inhibition, leaving Tommy reeling in his wake. He wasn’t accustomed to being pursued with that much earnest persistence, especially by men who up until very recently considered themselves straight.

///

Maybe he’d overlooked the very real possibility that all that inertia may be overcompensation for something lurking below. That when all that confidence melted away and all the forward momentum Evan had built up hit its peak, Evan wasn’t fully prepared to handle the descent that lived on the other side, not on his own.

That was okay, Tommy was a pro at handling those. If only Evan would let him.

Tommy tossed his keys in his hand as he made his way to the front door, thumbing the rough edges of the newly cut key. He wasn’t sure how many things Evan truly had of his own; he’d heard about the bicycle and the brother, and he knew that what Evan did have he fiercely guarded, his own space and his bodily autonomy were at the top of that list.

Tommy had witnessed the way wounded and sick animals could go from gentle to aggressive in a blink of an eye out of fear and pain. He wanted Evan to know how invensted he was in this relationship, but also didn’t want to be the one to corner Evan, to make him feel trapped and like he needed to lash out to be understood.

It was a fine balance.

The house was dark and quiet, he hadn’t expected anything else, but still he tried not to let his disappointment settle in the pit of his stomach and make a home there. That wouldn’t help anything.

He made his way to his room, not expecting to find a big formless lump on his bed or that it would groan when he flicked on the lights.

Tommy just about jumped out of his skin, swearing black and blue. Evan was lying on top of the bed covers, his sneakers still on his feet. It looked like he had half-heartedly attempted to undo the laces on one before giving up.

Evan lowered the arm he’d flung over his eyes against the light, squinting at him where Tommy still hovered in the doorway.

“Hi,” Tommy said, at a loss for anything else. As far as Evan’s expressions went, the one he was wearing was fairly unreadable.

“Hey–So, you’re going to be mad at me.” Evan let the words out in one big sigh, like they had been pressed up tight against the starting gate of his teeth.

Tommy risked taking a step closer to the bed. “I promise you I’m not.”

Evan let his head thunk back against the mattress, eyes locked on the ceiling, and muttered: “I think I strained my strain.”

Caught off guard, Tommy had to press his lips together tight to suppress the laugh that bubbled up in his throat. This wasn’t exactly the moment for it.

Evan was still staring at the ceiling, looking miserable, even after everything Tommy couldn’t help but feel fond. “Stay still, I'll go get the ice pack.”

“That won’t be hard.” He heard Evan mumble as he went to dig the gel pack out from the back of his freezer, grabbing a bottle of Advil and one of the water bottles Evan had left in his dishwasher for good measure.

When Tommy returned Evan had indeed not moved. He settled himself on the foot of the bed, pulling Evan’s skinny ankles into his lap as he began working away at the laces. “How did you get into my house?” Tommy asked as he worked. That really should have been his first question, he could feel the heavy presence of his eyes in his pocket. Well received or not, he probably should have offered it to Evan a week ago.

“You’re a firefighter, you should know those little fake rocks are a dead giveaway to anyone trying to break in,” Evan huffed, sounding more like himself. “At least invest in a garden gnome or something to throw them off.”

Tommy chuckled, catching Evan’s eye. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time my boyfriend decides to break into my house.”

Evan’s gaze dipped down to where Tommy was working the first shoe off his foot, quiet for a few moments before he said, softly: “Thanks.”

Tommy just grunted as he started working on the laces of the other high top. Evan really needed to invest in some proper weightlifting shoes, but Tommy wasn’t exactly raring to get into another gym centered argument so soon.

When he’d finally wrestled both shoes off, Tommy got Evan sitting up against the headboard, and situated himself on the edge of the mattress at his knee so he could slip the ice pack under the meat of his calf and hold it there.

“I can do that if you want.”

“It’s fine. I’m happy to,” Tommy said simply, giving Evan’s ankle a squeeze where his other hand rested. He wasn’t expecting Evan’s eyes to dart off to the side, a rush of air leaving his lungs with a hitch that snagged Tommy’s attention.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this,” Evan said, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

“Be a mess, you know, a nuisance.”

“Do what? Evan–”

“Evan, I don’t think you’re a nuisance,” Tommy said, trying to catch his eye.

Evan shot him a flat, red rimmed look. “I broke into your house. I was stubborn when you were just trying to look out for me, and then too much of a chicken to call you back when you were worried about me.”

Tommy stroked his thumb over the exposed bulb of Evan’s ankle bone. “I shouldn’t have pushed,” he said softly.

Evan shook his head. “I want you to push–you weren't even pushing–not really. I just, I really like you.”

Tommy felt a sappy smile spread across his face. He let go of Evan's ankle to take his hand instead, giving it a squeeze. “I really like you too.”

Evan let out a wet sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, his face a startling red. “I really like being your boyfriend.”

“Good,” Tommy said, “because as your boyfriend I want to ice your leg for you, even when you’re being stubborn about it, even when you don’t call me back.” Evan’s eyes dipped away to the side like he was preparing to sidestep Tommy’s sentiment again and he figured this was his moment to lay it all out there. “This isn’t too much. You’re not too much for me, but if it’s too much for you, too soon, you need to tell me, because I’m serious about this Evan. I want you to be around even when things are messy.”

Tommy reached into his pocket, pulling out his keychain and began to work the new key off the ring. “Maybe this isn't the right moment, but I had this cut a few weeks ago, and so if you'd like, you can just let yourself in next time instead of having to hunt through my garden for fake rocks.”

Evan stared at the key Tommy held out to him, a dumb founded expression on his face. “You got that made for me?”

“Yeah–”

“You don't plan on going to Ireland any time soon do you?”

His eyes were like big wet saucers, infinitely vulnerable and Tommy frowned. “What?”

Evan's face crumpled, one big hand snapping up to cover it as he muffled a sob.

“Okay, okay,” Tommy soothed as he climbed gingerly over Evan's legs to sit properly on the bed beside him. “Come here.”

He was relieved when Evan let himself be pulled against his chest, wrapping his arms snugly around Tommy's neck.

“I'm sorry I was a dick and for the crying, my leg just really fucking hurts,” Evan mumbled into Tommy's now soggy shirt collar.

Tommy rubbed his back in calming circles. “It's okay, I don't mind, and I forgave you pretty quickly. Just next time please call me back so I know you're alright. I want you to.”

Evan moved just far enough away so he could get a good look at Tommy's face. “Me too–all that stuff you said–it's not too much for me either,” he said and pulled Tommy into a wet, kind of snotty kiss.

Tommy cradled Evan's face in his hands, it was short and sweet, Evan's sinuses too blocked up for anything more than that, but at least he was smiling when he broke away from the kiss, out of breath.

“I was kind of worried you were going to break things off with me, that's why I didn't call you back," he admitted.

“Evan–” Tommy tried, but was cut off.

“Look, maybe I have a penchant for self-sabotage, but I'll, uh, try to be better with that.” He laced their fingers back together, resting them against Tommy's knee. "I haven't wanted something this badly in a long time. It's kind of scares me."

"Me too," Tommy admitted, "I meant it when I said I was serious about you."

Evan's smile did something that made Tommy's heart jump in his throat. "Good, because I think I'm going to need a ride to the doctor's tomorrow."

"I think I can manage that," Tommy said and reached for the ice pack where it had been left forgotten on the mattress. And maybe after that Evan would want to come back to his house and stay a while.

#bucktommy #mine #bucktommy whump week

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wordsinhaled · 4 months ago

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hi there! I started following you after seeing your essay-long answers to DBD things in tags, and it made me very happy to see someone as deeply analytical as me about this show.

I wanted to ask you: if you were given the final say, how would you want the show to confirm both Charles' bisexuality and his romantic feelings towards Edwin (as both can be done at different points)?

Personally, I can't get the idea out of my head that it will be done with some kind of tragic goodbye, somehow Charles and Edwin have to separate, and Charles either verbally confirms it or kisses Edwin goodbye. Not saying that's what I want, but it's what I expect the writers to do.

Hope you're having a good day.

btw, would love to hear you talk more about timerogue (Fifteen/Rogue), I need more essay-long analysis about those two.

Hi there! <3 I am so happy you have enjoyed my tag rambles! And thank you so much for asking this great question, I had a lot of fun thinking through it!

I have many thoughts on this! Sticking them under a cut eventually because it is a long post!

Re: Charles' bisexuality: So the thing is I think that the DBDA universe generally seems to eschew labels in favor of showing rather than telling the audience what the characters' identities are. For example Jenny is interested in dating women, which is clear from her dialogue, and she goes on a date with Maxine, but she's never labeled anything. Edwin is never labeled anything by anyone in the narrative, either, but the narrative shows us that his only love interests and his desires and romantic feelings are for other boys. I would argue that we have been shown textually that Charles is bi, already, the same way the show shows-not-tells us other things. Charles by the end of the first season feels bi enough to me in a way that just feels like someone... living a bi life, and not yet realizing they might in fact be in love back with their best friend. I don't know how else to put it but I hope that makes sense. (My alternate, slightly sappier version of canon is that Charles fell for Edwin the first night, but has shoved it down for the duration of their friendship, but the former feels more likely as the direction I think we see on screen.) We are being told Charles is bi:

In the way Charles himself draws parallels between why he likes Crystal (his romantic love interest) and Edwin, pointing out they share the exact same traits

In the way he gives Crystal and Edwin the same genre of deep, loving gaze

In the way he thinks Crystal is fit, and he checks Edwin out, on multiple occasions, but only flirts with Edwin overtly in episode 8 ("My smile is pretty convincing," plus more than the usual amount of physical touch/proximity and less plausible deniability) once he can be assured by Edwin's recent confession that doing so will not be poorly received

In the different kinds of softness and masculinity he displays around both Crystal and Edwin

In the way that, despite not knowing the ending, he draws a parallel between himself and Edwin & a pair of lovers from classical mythology as though it is the most natural thing in the world to bring up the story of Orpheus & Eurydice, making overt the romantic potential of his relationship with Edwin

In the way he is so quick to write off that the two jocks were "just best mates" the way a person does when they are recognizing their own queerness in themselves and have to keep themselves safe from it, because of the environment that they are in (Charles being the Sports Lad, needing to fit in with other sports lads, and needing to avoid the censure/violence of his father)

And coming off the above, in the way that Charles navigates along the toughness-sensitivity spectrum within the social constructs of being "the brawn"

In the entire sparring scene in episode 1, tbh. The rituals are very intricate /drops mic

I understand the importance that's been placed by fandom spaces on "confirmed canon" queerness that is spelled out in so many words, given a label that can be pointed to to say "This character is definitely this!" but I think (and this is just my personal opinion) it can be reductive sometimes, and I don't really want Charles to label himself in that kind of way, just as much as I don't think the other characters needed the labels to "confirm" the queerness of their relationships or indeed of the show; having him be the one to do it for being bi would set him apart. I also think taking into account the time period that he grew up in, Charles would care more about living by the truth of how he feels and how he can use those feelings to connect with the one he loves, than what to call it. I just don't think we're gonna get like a "Hello my name is Charles Rowland and I am a verified bisexual"-type scene in season 2, and I think that's okay, and I don't really think that's the way for the show to 'confirm' it. Mind you I would love to see Charles talk about how it makes him feel to realize his feelings, and how his feelings for Edwin are different compared to how other people make him feel, because god, I love Charles so much and I just know such a scene would both destroy and heal me. FEEL YOUR FEELINGS, CHARLES <3

I think it says something really important that many, many, many people took one look at Charles Rowland and said: "Oh, he's bi." Not like... he has bi energy, or could plausibly be bi, or whatever; for so many people he just resonated as being bi, in a very organic way. (I know there are people who do read Charles as being straight/having rejected Edwin in s1, and I respect that, but they probably will not like my ideas about Charles very much, then, tbh.)

For what it's worth, though, Jayden's acting choices playing Charles, and the way Jayden (and George) have addressed the 'straight best friend Charles' line of questioning during interviews, both make it seem to me that Jayden is intentionally playing Charles as bi and we are already supposed to understand this for what it is, based on Charles' actions—just as we understand similar things about other characters inner worlds we are shown. Whether Charles is consciously aware of it yet is more the up-for-debate part to me, personally. It's like he is dancing right on the edge of the revelation, or something, but his actions (and his EYES) are speaking for him pretty loudly already.

As for how he confirms it more obviously? Hmm. Well, I'll admit i think a kiss between them would be lovely, if only because I think it would quite possibly be the Most Kiss a kiss could be, with all of Charles' tenderness and adoration for Edwin poured into it. I also think it would be in-character, given Charles canonically misses kissing, and wants to do it with people he's interested in romantically (see Crystal).

Charles struggles with being able to admit romantic feelings out loud because he is scared of his own capacity to hurt Edwin; after all the only example of "romantic" love he has seen was his parents' marriage. Charles is a person who acts first, thinks later, but in this process of understanding what he feels for Edwin he's taking his time and being the opposite of impulsive. This shows how important his relationship to Edwin is to him and his commitment to Getting It Right. Even with that deliberateness, though, I think it would still be easier for him to express himself through a tangible action like a kiss than through words—at least at first.

It reminds me of this scene from the first draft of Maurice between Maurice and Alec. Alec is struggling to verbalize his feelings for Maurice, although he does know he feels them. He can say other things, but naming love for what it is is the challenge; and in the end they use a shared memory of a time Alec showed his love through actions (running through the rosebushes just to see Maurice's face) to communicate and mutually understand their love for each other. Similarly, Charles finds it difficult to admit a deep romantic love aloud, but his actions speak louder, in his determination to retrieve Edwin from hell ("There's no one else—no one else—I would go to hell for") and he can allude to the romantic implications of the act, by referencing the Orpheus & Eurydice myth. It similarly becomes, I may not be able to say the words, but you and I both know the lengths i would go to for you.

Maurice : "I love you, sir be damned." Alec: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel." Maurice: "I don't want to hear that." Alec: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?" M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled."

As far as the catalyst for Charles revealing his feelings... a tragic goodbye��gosh, as heartbreakingly compelling as I know seeing George and Jayden act that out would be (I know they would crush it), I really hope the writers don't do that to them! The thing about Payneland that is so refreshing to me is how they manage to subvert trope expectations and break out of the tragic narratives they are placed in, and I think they would ultimately defy any attempt at separation. As Edwin says, "I will make sure that doesn't happen," about them ever being split up. I am rooting for a happily ever after for them, because they have both been through enough, and have fought tooth and nail to stay together.

Steve Yockey has mentioned potentially having Desire of the Endless cameo on the show and I also think having them and Charles interact would be a fascinating way to bring to light some of the deep-rooted stuff Charles struggles with around love (and would nicely parallel Edwin's experience with the Cat King which catalyzed his Charles-feelings realization). I also like the idea of the team maybe meeting a couple during a case who parallel Edwin and Charles and are romantically involved. Seeing that would allow Charles to externalize the way he feels for Edwin by seeing it reflected back to him by other people; sometimes things are easier to pick up on in others than in ourselves. I think that would be a fun way to get him to see what's been there under the surface for some time :)

Oh my god this got so long asfhlgkjhg SORRY

(I'm sure the Doccy Who fixation will come back in time for the Christmas special! :D)

#dbda #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #payneland #charles rowland

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the-marshals-wife · 2 years ago

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The Bad Batch Having a Token of Their Love For You Would Include (Bad Batch x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I love these boys so much and I thought of this instead of going to sleep all week. I really hope y'all like my idea for Echo's especially. He deserves the galaxy and more.❤️ (I also had extra ideas that are definitely still in character but probably "anachronistic", so I just labeled them bonus. I mean we have finally 'caf'' aka coffee in SW canon, so maybe there's hope for hoodies 🤭)

Description: Bad Batch x Fem!Reader | Warnings: none, just lots fluff and kisses | Gif credit: user mutantfactor

★ Bad Batch Tag List ★ @dantes-devil-huntress @sageislostinspring (comment to be added!)

Hunter

He would get a tattoo of your name

Hunter did not need his heightened senses to be certain that he had fallen in love with you - if anything, they just strengthened his conviction that you were the one he was meant to find

Being the intensely devoted and thoughtful man he is, you were on his mind constantly, and he wanted a symbol of his love to be as a part of him as you had become

He didn't even tell you at first because he wanted it to be surprise

It wasn't until he changed into plainclothes for an undercover mission that you noticed the new black ink on his right bicep

You grabbed his arm and stared at the Aurebesh letters spelling your name

"You like it?" he asked, a little nervous

Speechless, you pulled him into a kiss

"I'll take that as a yes" he smiled, before getting another embrace filled with kisses

Whenever you have time alone together, you love to slowly trace the letters with your finger and listen as he dreamily talks about the future

Later in your relationship, he would want to add to it with a portrait of you, and someday, the names of your children

Bonus: he would keep anything you gave him like a pendant or a ring and wear it whenever he could (this man would totally wear one of your scrunchies and make it look hot - a product of his 'girl dad' powers that you find very attractive)

Wrecker

He would keep your shirt to cuddle with

The only thing Wrecker has ever been discreet about in his entire life is his feelings as he was falling for you

It wasn't for lack of trying. He had been officially head over heels for months, but every time he tried to tell you, his words suddenly came out wrong

You thought it was adorable, and you were sure he'd figure out how to say what he was feeling when he was ready. It just gave you more opportunity to realize you were falling for him too

What you couldn't figure out, however, was where your favorite shirt had disappeared to

That is until, after days of searching, you finally caught a glimpse of it tucked beneath the pillow in Wrecker's bunk

You were stifling a giggle when he walked up behind you, looking nothing less than mortified

"Oh, Y/N! That! I uh...I found it on the floor and I was going to give it back to you! But it smelled really nice, and pretty...like you, and um, then I forgot..." he stammered, his face bright red

You smiled and kissed him on the cheek, "Keep it."

In the weeks following, you would refresh it with a spray of your perfume every so often when he wasn't looking

He would also draw doodles of you whenever he had downtime

You were all on a mission not long after the discovery of that day, and during his watch, you rolled over to see him drawing in the sand with a stick. He'd scribbled your initials together within a heart, surrounded by a dozen tinier hearts.

Suffice to say he was not the only one feeling absolutely smitten from then on

Bonus: speaking of shirts, you would absolutely be the couple with the "If lost, return to ___ + I'm ___" tees (likely worn with your matching homemade 'friendship' bracelets)

Tech

He would keep a recording of your voice and laughter

Tech is a private person when it comes to his emotions, but he feels very deeply, even if he isn't sure how to best express his growing affection for you (he thinks it's obvious, after all)

It's this very reason why you doubted that he returned your feelings at first, until you walked by him one day and heard the sound of your own laughter, playing over and over

"What's that?" you questioned, now recognizing the moment that had caused your sides to nearly split (Wrecker had just taken the most dramatic fall into mud you'd ever seen, immediately after bragging he was 'too heavy' to slip)

Tech muted the sound and kept his stare on the datapad, "I capture auditory recordings of all of my interactions for analysis, and file away important data for later reference."

"My laughing is 'important data'?" you smirked as he hesitated for only a moment

"Well, no. Not technically. It is, however, a pleasant sound that reminds me of you, and one that I would like not to forget. By that reasoning, it is important to me," he stated, calmly meeting your awe-struck gaze

It took all your strength not throw yourself into his arms right then and there. He went back to filing his recordings, oblivious to the fact that he had just irreversibly won your heart

He'd also incorporate you into some of his private passcodes

Anything from your initials to your eye color to your favorite flower - just some of the many details that he associates with you and remind him of how much he cares for you

Bonus: if he had a lockscreen/background, it would definitely be a picture of you. He would also be the type to make you a playlist of your favorite songs all from memory because he knows you that well

Crosshair

He would engrave your name on his rifle

Crosshair is a man of conviction and loyalty, and when he was certain that he could trust you with his heart, he wanted to display his loyalty in turn

Modifying his rifle in any way at all is significant, so ingraining your name on the scope is a very personal gesture to him

He caught you completely by surprise on a mission, casually showing it to you while you had watch together

You were stunned to see your name glistening in the firelight, every letter expertly etched into the smooth metal, "Cross, I can't believe you would do that for me..."

"Your love makes my aim true," he replied, wholly sincere

This one remark sealed your fate, giving you both the courage to lean in and share your first kiss

"Then you will never miss," you whispered afterward

You spent the rest of your watch sitting close together in soothing silence under the stars

He would also carve your initials into the wall of his bunk

Wherever he would go, you would be there also. His devotion is unyielding, and you have a partner until the galaxy itself burns up

Bonus: a huge sign of his affection would be letting you wear his clothes. He may act disgruntled, but it's all in jest because would be the boyfriend that's extremely proud to see you walking around in his hoodie

Echo

He would have your handprint on his armor

It seemed like a lifetime since he'd had the handprint from Captain Rex on his chestplate that had meant so much to him through those long years of war

When Echo is sure of something, nothing can move him from it. Not much time was required for him to know that he wanted to share his life with you, and that he wanted your handprint on his armor

He confided in you quite a bit about his past in the GAR, and you knew about the original print, but you never dreamed that he would ask you to replicate it

"Are you sure?" you asked in disbelief

"I am, Y/N. There's no one else whose mark I'd rather carry with me, and no one I want by my side more. On and off the battlefield," he confessed, taking your hand in his

Tears welling in your eyes, you dipped your other hand into the red paint on the table, placed it carefully onto his chest, and pressed your lips to his

More than a symbol of love, you both knew this was a vow to keep fighting for a free galaxy where you could build a future together

He would also have a photo of you in his personal things

He's not afraid of letting his relationship with you be known around his brothers, but his horrifying experiences imprisoned by the Separatists have made him extra cautious in all things. He keeps his photo of you safely tucked away and never brings it on missions, not wanting to risk it falling into the hands of anyone who would ever want to harm you

Instead, whenever you're apart, he holds his hand to his chest before he drifts to sleep and dreams of you. The nightmares are all but gone

Bonus: you two would totally have matching caf mugs with snarky sayings. "Grumpy parents in the morning" vibes all the way

#the bad batch imagine #the bad batch headcanons #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #echo x reader #star wars imagine #star wars headcanons #the bad batch #my writing #yes wrecker's and tech's are a bit longer #they're my faves what can i say? 🥰#plus echo and yn are totally married now i don't make the rules 🤭#the bad batch x reader #bad batch headcanons

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onpointedfeetandbrokendreams · 4 months ago

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Day 2 - Painland Week

Day 2 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

Prompt: Myths / Legends

Tags: Post-canon, Case-fic

TW: None

Edwin stopped writing mid-word - which, in hindsight, should have been the first evidence that something was wrong, if Charles hadn’t been distracted - and he asked:

“Sorry, wait a tick, you said you are trying to retrieve a lost sword from a lake, and the sword’s name is?”

“Excalibur, yes,” finished the client.

Edwin tapped the pen over his notebook twice, not even pretending to go back to taking notes - second evidence - and threw the universal ‘closet, now’ look at Charles. For his part, Charles had been listening to the conversation like it was something happening inside a bubble, or on the television, something he wasn’t a part of. His brain had been stuck on a very different train of thought ever since the client entered their office, because the first thing Charles’ mind supplied him with was ‘wow, he’s hot,’ immediately followed by ‘uh, that’s new, since when do I find random boys hot’ and ‘wait, does that mean I can finally be not straight and return Edwin’s feelings?’ - all in all, very confusing thoughts to have in the middle of a potential case.

He did follow Edwin to the closet, though, because it was muscle memory to follow Edwin anywhere without question.

“So what do you think?” Edwin asked, “a curse?”

“It could be, if the missing sword is cursed that would explain why he can’t find it in the lake,” Charles replied, trying to cut through the haze enough to form a sensible thought.

Edwin raised his eyebrows in confusion. It was unusual for them to not be on the same wavelength, they rarely needed to explain themselves further during conversations on almost any topic. It made Charles feel like he had failed some kind of test. “Mr. Rowland, the reading assignments are mandatory to every student.”

“What are you talking about, Charles? There is no sword.”

‘What?’ Charles didn’t say, not eager to repeat the experience.

Edwin apparently could see right through his desperation, because he sighed with that ever-present hint of fondness and explained:

“This man thinks he is Arthur Pendragon, the once and future King of Britain, on a quest to find his missing sword Excalibur. There is absolutely no way that it is true, hence the hypothesis that he might be cursed. It is not unheard of for ghosts to develop mental illnesses, but it usually involves more rage and screaming, thinking you are the long lost King of Britain seems too specific for that.”

Taking a breath he didn’t really need, Charles focused back to the present to catch up with Edwin’s reasoning. “I think we should play along, if he has been cursed, there has to be a reason, maybe he will lead us to the artefact, or the person who cast the spell on him.”

“That is a brilliant idea, Charles,” Edwin agreed with a smile, more to tell him that they were back on the same track than anything. It sent that shiver up his spine that happened every time Edwin looked proud of him.

“We have decided to take your case, sir Pendragon,” Edwin declared as they returned to the office.

“Thank you, my kind subjects,” Arthur replied, and Charles, who was now in control of his mental faculties, had to fight to suppress a snort. He pushed all the ‘men are hot’ thoughts in one of those carefully locked boxes he had started collecting after Port Townsend to consider at a later date, or maybe never.

The hike to the lake where the magic sword was supposed to be was incredibly nice.

“We should do this more often, mate. I mean, mirror travel is cool and all, but look at the view!” He pointed to the mountains in the distance, the clear sky, and he felt excited like that one time he went camping with his friends when he was fifteen - before those same “friends” ended up murdering him.

Edwin put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “That is a good idea, perhaps we could take a small vacation after this case is closed.”

It was nice to see Edwin like that, more open, more relaxed. Not having to fear Death separating them, or Hell coming back to take him had done wonders in improving his well-being, which made a lot of sense if Charles was honest. Now that he had seen Hell himself, he had no idea how Edwin had kept it together as well as he did for over thirty years after he escaped.

“I will have you two executed if you do not find my sword right now,” the client declared.

Charles was quick to bow, not trusting Edwin’s bedside manners enough. “We are sorry, sire, we promise we are doing everything we can.”

They looked everywhere on the lake and around it, Edwin even tried different spells to reveal hidden magic, but they found nothing.

“There must be something we are missing, he does not have the object binding the curse on his person, and I can’t find anything of worth in this place,” Edwin said, moving a bit further from where Arthur was looking longingly at the middle of the lake.

“You know that sentence you wanted to write on the wall of the office? ‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth’, maybe he really is what he says.”

Edwin looked a very balanced mix between flustered and impressed. “While I appreciate you remembering my favourite quote, I think if King Arthur existed, we would have heard about it before.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Charles conceded.

While they were going over their notes again, trying to notice something they might have overlooked, or a different spell they could use, an eerie figure appeared next to their client. It was a very pale man, all dressed in black.

The next moment, they were sprinting towards him at full speed.

“Who are you?” asked Edwin, while Charles retrieved his brand new cricket bat from the pocket universe he carried in his backpack.

The man, or being, or whatever he was, smirked, which was an odder sight than if he had manifested eyes all over his body, or a flaming wall behind him. “You must be the ghost detectives my sister is so fond of.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am Dream of the Endless, I apologise for the inconvenience my escapee might have caused you,” he continued, ignoring Edwin’s disbelief.

“Dream of the Endless,” Charles repeated under his breath, trying to make sense of the words. “So your sister, who is fond of us is…”

“Death,” he said, matter-of-factly. “She wishes you would stay and say hi, sometimes. For now, I thank you for your service.”

He turned to keep talking to Arthur then, and after a while the two of them disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, leaving Charles and Edwin to gape at the empty space where they had been.

“Well that was an experience,” said Charles. “So he was, what? A dream?”

“What a thought, to stop and say hi to Death,” Edwin exhaled at the same time. He was smiling his relaxed smile again, and Charles found his eyes stuck on the curve of his lips, the hint of tongue and teeth peeking from them.

“So, you fancied the once and future king?” the lips moved to form the words, before going back to that beautiful smile.

Only when the meaning registered, Charles blinked. “What? No, of course, I-” he started, before remembering that they did promise each other no more lies, “maybe a little. Didn’t you? He looked like, I don’t know, the perfect example of man, the one you would expect to see on an advertisement for the entire species?”

Edwin pursed his lips, in that expression he made when he was trying not to laugh. “I can admit that he was objectively good looking, but, you know, blond hair and blue eyes is not really my type.”

He said it in his prim tone, the same way he would say ‘pass me that green book on supernatural diseases’, but there was no mistaking the flirtatious glint in his eyes.

Charles stopped. For a moment, it almost seemed like Edwin knew something that he didn’t even fully know himself, something carefully hidden in one of those boxes “to consider at a later date or maybe never” that he had been collecting. But flirting was like a second nature to him, so he couldn’t help but replying:

“Yeah, and what is your type?”

“Let me see,” Edwin said, slowly, carefully, stepping closer with every word. “Tall, athletic, big dark eyes, unruly hair,” he was right in front of him now, “likes to throw himself into danger to protect others, what else? Insanely clever and perceptive. Shall I continue?”

Charles took a deep breath, his eyes were fixed on the small space between them. “I think I should tell you something.”

If it was on anyone else, the fake surprised expression would have fooled him, but he knew Edwin’s eyes and smiles better than his own. He had to struggle to remain serious, even if he appreciated it for what it was: a way to give him the time to set the pace of the conversation and to take the lead.

“I have never allowed myself to think about it before, you know, with my dad being the way he was, but lately I have been noticing that I am attracted to guys as well. At first it was only one specific guy, but-” he stopped, cringing at the way it sounded, “What I mean is, I didn’t say anything because it was something too important, I had to be sure, and it’s easier to admit you can like someone when you have nothing to lose from it.”

The flirty smile turned into a soft one as Edwin said:

“You have every right to take your time and experiment, you don’t have to say anything, I apologise if-”

Charles stopped him very effectively by cupping his face with his hands. “I don’t want to experiment with anyone else, I think I’ve locked up these feelings for long enough.”

Edwin’s eyes widened, he looked like every ounce of confidence he had mustered up until then had left his body. “As much as I pride myself in my detective abilities, I need you to please say it out loud at least once. It’s been quite difficult for me to believe it, even when you were not at all subtle.”

“I like you,” Charles said immediately, wanting to erase the insecurity from his face. “I haven’t stopped thinking about your confession and what it could mean for our future, and I think I am finally ready to take you out on an official date, if you still want that.”

It was Edwin who leaned in first after that, but like it happened many other times, they met in the middle, instantly on the same wavelength again.

Distantly, almost completely hidden behind the all-encompassing sensation of Edwin holding him and their lips pressed together, Charles thought about how absurd it was that he had to thank the fucking King of Britain for finally managing to have this conversation. Edwin would tease him for all eternity.

#painlandweek #dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #edwin payne #charles rowland

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midsummer-semantics · 3 months ago

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under the dancing lights

Small break while I do a million other things but here's *checks calendar* day 16 of @steddieangstyaugust.

Prompt: Halloween

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Underage Drinking, Cemeteries, Canon Complaint (question mark???), Ambiguous Ending

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

He isn’t sure why he’s out here. It’s not like there’s anything left, anything calling him to action. The kids are old enough to trick-or-treat without supervision, Robin is with Vicky at a party he didn’t want to third-wheel to, and everyone else…

The point is, traipsing through Roane County cemetery on Halloween night seemed like a good idea when Steve is three Jack and Coke’s deep and unsure of where he fits into the regular world. He bought a dozen flowers on the way here just before the shop closed for the evening, like he couldn’t risk showing up to the cemetery empty-handed for some reason.

Barb’s grave is overrun with flowers 365 days a year, three years running. Steve leaves several of the carnations in the bundle he carries at the tombstone, begging forgiveness as he does every few months. He hasn’t told Nancy what he does, even when he’s accompanied her a few times. He simply stays silent, lets Nancy grieve, and returns a few weeks later to replace the dead ones when no one is paying attention.

Next is Bob Newby, whom he didn’t know, but the kids did, so he drops a couple of flowers off out of perfunctory expectation.

Billy is the one of the hardest, his grave near Steve’s dad’s grandparents’ joint plot. He tends to spend a little more time here, aware of how the plot feels under his knees, remembering how Max looked as she lifted in the air under Vecna’s influence. Sometimes, Steve comes just to sit, to stare at Billy’s name and curse his existence, even if it brought him Max. Other times, Steve sits and talks, tells his rival how his step-sister is doing, how Steve learned to plant his feet, how regardless of what a piece of shit he was, no one deserved to deal with the bullshit the Upside Down had to offer. He leaves one flower out of obligation, but he doesn’t linger like he normally would.

He leaves a few at Chrissy’s grave, not just because she died, but because he knew her, even vaguely because she was a cheerleader while he was still on the basketball team. And because Eddie would want him to.

He flips off Jason’s grave as he passes it.

Three years — less than, technically— since the first death. Almost three years since Steve took Jonathan’s nail bat and made it his weapon of choice against the monsters that lurk beneath their feet.

Over half a year since Max went into a coma that doctors — UD connected or otherwise — or Eleven haven't been able to wake her up from.

Seven months since Eddie Munson was added to the list of people Steve couldn’t save.

The sun has dipped well past the treeline on the edges of the cemetery by the time he reaches Eddie’s grave. There’s no one else around, thankfully, but Steve knows it’s only a matter of time before some idiot high school kids make their way to the cemetery to get trashed and try to see a ghost or fuck near one of the graves. He should know, he was one of those idiot kids not too long ago.

There’s writing on Eddie’s headstone, scrawling letters spelling out MURDERER in red spray paint. One of the R’s is backward, Steve notes, rolling his eyes, a gesture that makes his vision swim a little. It’s not the worst thing that’s been blasted across the headstone since it was placed, but it’s by far the dumbest. He sets the remaining flowers down at his feet as he crouches to examine the writing closer. It’s dry, but it can’t have been there for more than a few days considering he was just here for Eddie’s birthday and had cleaned the last slur himself. He should have brought a bucket and brush instead of the stupid flowers, but he’s a little wobbly from the alcohol and the idea of going back to his car for any reason other than to go home and pass out alone sounds terrible. He’ll come back tomorrow and clean it, plus whatever gets done to it tonight probably. Maybe he should have brought his nail bat. Camped out next to Eddie’s grave and waited to see who exactly is doing it so he can make sure they know never to do it again.

Steve loses his precarious balance, falling back on his ass in the cold, damp grass with a soft “oof!” The flask in his back pocket digs into one cheek, and he shuffles around until he can extract it, then leans back on one hand while the other holds the cool metal.

“Probably stupid to drink more, but I doubt you’d give me shit about it,” Steve says to the grave, holding the flask up like he’s making a toast before closing his eyes and taking a swig. He actually hates whiskey, but it was all that was in the house since it’s his dad’s favorite, and beggars can’t be choosers.

Still, he coughs a bit as the straight liquor burns a path down his throat — he really should have brought some kind of chaser with him, but hindsight and all that — and then lays back on the grass as soon as it clears.

He keeps his eyes closed, breathing through the slight roil in his stomach, and imagines what it would be like if he simply sank into the ground beneath him. Not like if vines were to spring up and drag him under, but if he just slowly melted into the earth the way one feels like they’re melting on a really plush mattress.

It’s only a slight comfort that the grave he’s lying on is empty. Otherwise, his vision of being swallowed by the earth might come with the extra twist of Eddie’s hands dragging him down Evil Dead-style.

He snorts to himself, his head lolling back and forth a bit. Eddie would have loved that reference, he knows it. He may not have known him for long before. . . before, but he’s sure of it regardless.

After a moment, he brings his hands up to rub the heels into his eyes, waiting until he sees stars before he opens them. The stars continue to blink for a few seconds as his eyes adjust to the inky black sky.

Wait.

No.

There are stars dancing. Little lights swaying to and fro in front of his face, with more popping up around him. He turns his head in awkward directions against the grass, knowing he’s getting foliage in his hair the whole time, watching as more blink to life.

He shuts his eyes again as he sits up, but when he reopens them, they’re still there. It’s too late in the year for fireflies, too cold this late at night at the end of October, and yet the lights dance regardless.

“Whoa,” he breathes, feeling a distinct sense of deja vu to when he was blitzed out of his mind on Russian truth serum and staring at the ceiling of Starcourt.

One of the stars comes close to him, wisping against his cheek like a tickling feather before flying away. Another does it to his left arm where he’s holding himself up, another to his hip where his shirt has ridden up slightly under his windbreaker. Steve giggles uncontrollably as another brushes his forehead and he turns his head to follow them. There’s another, and another, and another, and as he reaches out to catch one—

“Having a good night, big boy?”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieangstyaugust #Halloween #is he a ghost?#is he a vampire?#is he an asshole who actually survived in human form and waited until now to reveal himself?#who knows!#Consider this CYOA

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askchilchuck · 4 months ago

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Hey, how can I help you?

(Please read below before interacting)

Hi! My name is Sophie! This blog has gotten enough traction that I feel the need to lay some ground rules for it.

1) This blog is intended to be PG13 so I don’t have to exclude younger fans from participating. I will not be answering anything that wouldn’t fly in canon, or is adjacent to it. Anything explicitly sexual, or can be construed that way will not be answered. This decision was made a couple months in, so do be advised there is some more suggestive content on the earlier posts on this blog. If you don't want to see that kind of content, stick to the newer posts.

2) Nothing related to suicide please. I tried playing it off the first time but between myself and some people around me, even the “KYS 🥰🥰🥰” jokes really aren’t funny, especially recently. Asks including it will not be answered.

3) No firearms. Related to rule 2.

4) Please no spammy asks. I’m honestly not sure how to answer them, and they clog up both the blog itself and the main tags.

5) No political asks. I understand how terrifying the results of the US election are, but I really need this place to be a break from all that. For my sake and yours. We both need spaces where we can recharge from this. Chilchuck doesn’t know what’s going on anyway, he deserves to live in ignorance from it. I love you.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to bully him, but these things cross a line for me. Thank you for understanding.

If you’re an RP blog, you’re more than welcome to interact! Even if you’re not a Dunmeshi blog! I don’t always have the time to do reblog chains, though, so please don’t feel bad if I miss you there. It’s easiest for me if you submit RP as an ask when the box is open. Sorry for any inconvenience this may cause. If you’re 18+ and interested, I also do private RP on my Discord, linked on my Dunmeshi side blog.

IN LIGHT OF DUPLICATE CHARACTERS:

I think that’s awesome and also really funny. I encourage it. We’ve already got a loose MCU/multiverse plot line going on so we can totally make it work, too. Hell yeah. Hilarious. Love that. /gen

Blog lore:

This blog takes place loosely post canon. I try to avoid spoilers, but little things here and there are inevitable. Chilchuck has made up with his wife and they’re currently working on their relationship. Chilchuck is also in therapy. This is for a few reasons.

1) I don’t think he’d actually answer any of these if he wasn’t.

2) He doesn’t talk about it a lot, but it was one of his wife’s conditions before giving the relationship another go.

3) He just. Should be in general and I have control of it so it’s happening lol

My Chil is bi, but in the middle-aged “everyone’s had gay thoughts before” kinda way, cause I think it’s funnier that way. He also gets high from time-to-time now that he’s not dungeneering anymore.

Folks kept turning him into different things/animals, so goldstar/⭐️ anon gave him an amulet to put a stop to that. "Marcus" also altered the spell on the amulet to encompass all transformations, since inanimate objects weren't initially included.

Squeaker also used a device to prevent any crab transformations specifically from occurring, as well as ejecting all crabs within a 20 mile radius.

There’s also a cult stalking him for some reason. (This is an ongoing problem. They haven't hurt anyone, and they seem to only be targeting Chilchuck.)

The TVA (Marvel) is loosely involved as well as previously mentioned. Squeak fixed it (or so she thought. There's now a DMCU situation going on.)

Also, Chil’s knowledge of the blog/Tumblr varies depending on what would be funnier, but generally he’s aware of the internet. He only uses his phone to answer your asks, though. He has no idea how to do anything else and has no desire to. This means he doesn’t fact check people or knows anything about the greater internet experience. No one knows how he got the phone, or how it’s holding a charge. Don’t worry about it.

ADDENDUM:

Chilchuck has recently started googling slang, and anything else that might be confusing or annoying to him. However, he hates the search feature and trying to find answers on individual websites, and will take the AI generated answers without question.

I myself don’t talk in the main posts, unless it’s tagged #ooc. Otherwise, I’ll always talk in the tags if I’ve got something to say. Or replies. Or DMs. Main post is the only place I’m in character unless specified otherwise.

Emoji anons:

•⭐️/goldstar anon

•🦉/owl anon

•👻/ghost anon

•♡/heart anon

•🐭/mouse anon

•🍬/candy anon

•🥣/bowl (cereal?) anon

•🐻🏀/bear basket ball anon

•🃏/joker anon

•🟣/Gojo Satoru

•🪻

•🐦‍⬛

No other heart variants have been claimed. Also, heads up to all emoji anons, I’m going to start using just one tag for your asks going forward to make tagging easier! So I’ll just be using the emoji variant from here 💖

If you want to hang out with me in a less censored environment, I also run @chilfucked and @askchilchucknsfw which are 18+ only. I will ban all minors who so much as breathe on those blogs. I’m not joking.

I also reserve the right to update these rules as time goes on, so please check them again before submitting when the ask box is open again. Thank you!

#ooc #blog rules

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yennefer-of-vengerbergs · 12 days ago

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Masquerade

Kinktober 2024 - (an extremely late) Day 16 - Formal Wear (from this prompt list)

Rating: E (18+)

Pairing: Astarion x Syanna (my Dark Urge OC)

Well...this was supposed to be a quick little one shot, but instead of that, it just went completely out of control, with me adding more and more to it, and expanding a bunch of stuff. And honestly? I want to expand it even more 🤭So this idea will most likely end up being reused and even more expanded in my fic series too😁(at a much later date, but still, at least I have this written down for when the time comes). It definitely wouldn't be the first one shot I want to rewrite/reuse to incorporate into it at some later point either 😁

Summary: Astarion and Syanna attend a masquerade as part of their search for a way for Astarion to walk in the sun once more. After their successful search, and an evening spent teasing one another, they indulge in each other.

Tags: sexually explicit content, inappropriate use of spider climb ability, clitoral stimulation, handjob, vaginal sex, PiV, multiple orgasms, vampire biting, vampire spawn Astarion, established relationship, post-canon, post-game

Word count: 5.3k

Dividers from here

Tag list: @iizven | @bg3-fanfic-reblogs

If you want to be added to my tag list, please let me know in a comment or message!

Read below or on AO3. Comments are appreciated so please feel free to leave them and let me know what you think 💖

Life after defeating the Netherbrain had been intriguing for both Syanna and Astarion - after all, there were still plenty of adventures to be had, a world to travel, and their goal of finding a way for Astarion to walk in the sun once more had certainly taken them to interesting places. Unique even.

Or, simply put, it had allowed them to experience things they hadn’t had the chance before, one such example from those years being the masquerade that they found themselves in need of attending.

Thrown by some noble or other, a collector of occult and magical curiosities, whose name they hadn’t bothered remembering, it was a lead on information that they needed, as well as a welcome change of scenery.

And, if they were to be honest, it was also the perfect excuse for them to simply…dress up. Have some fun while they were there.

Pretend to be the noble Lord and Lady Ancunín for an evening.

At the same time, it was something which was not a common occurrence for them, and as such, they made sure that everything would go smoothly, planning their moves - or rather, Syanna was the one who actually planned what would need to happen, from gathering any and all information she could on the layout of the estate during the day, to where they would need to go in the manor to search for the scrolls and books they needed, along with how to not get caught during the entire ordeal.

Astarion was still very much, ‘not a details person’, as he had always put it, hence why he hadn’t been as involved in that particular stage of their preparations. Even so, it did not mean that he did nothing. On the contrary, he was very much responsible for acquiring their invitations, which, quite naturally, he had done by pickpocketing them from someone who had been legitimately invited, during a night market, which he and Syanna had also coincidentally gone to.

Then, there was also the matter of their outfits, masks and jewelry, which only meant that he had targeted the best stores he could find, his lockpicking tools granting access long after their doors had closed for the day, Syanna there with him, invisibility spells at the ready in case something went awry, which would have led to them needing a quick getaway.

And he had been particularly pleased with the outfits that he picked out - his consisting of a dark teal jacket with silver embroidery and varying accents in a lighter shade of the same color, while Syanna’s was a dark green dress with gold accents and accessories throughout. Then, he chose gold jewelry and hair accessories for her, a pair of intricate ear cuffs, made of white gold for himself, followed by a pair of matching black masks, with precious stones and peacock feathers, as well as black ones framing them.

He was absolutely certain that they would both look simply exquisite in them.

To complete their image of nobility, they also practiced certain mannerisms and habits that would allow them to better fit in for the evening, as well as a few dances that Astarion had picked up in his past life - a skill that had been required of him whenever he had to entertain palace… guests. Because of that, he had never cared for the activity since, but seeing as Syanna had no way of knowing whether or not she even knew how to dance, Astarion had taken it upon himself to help her with it.

As it turned out, they needn’t have worried much about that.

“...now place your hand here and step…” Astarion paused, “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.” he noted.

Syanna looked at him, slightly confused.

“Why? Am I that bad at this?”

“Quite the contrary, my dear. I’m starting to think you’ve done this before.”

She scoffed.

“Of course I did, because in between all the killing and plotting and the internal politics of leading a murder cult, there was plenty of time to dance around the temple of Bhaal.”

Astarion couldn’t help the giggle that left him.

“Oh yes, I can already picture it, you naked, covered in blood…”

“I thought this was about dancing.” she interjected.

Astarion gave her a pointed look for interrupting.

“…Dancing on an altar after a kill…” he sighed.

Syanna laughed, amused by how he seemed to be enjoying his little daydream.

Astarion cleared his throat.

“In any case, you’re no beginner. Rusty perhaps, quite rusty, if I’m being honest, but that’s nothing we can’t fix, especially with such a dedicated teacher as myself.”

A giggle left her as Astarion pulled her close.

Finally, there was the issue of having to access the restricted area of the manor, where guests would not be allowed entry during the party, which only meant that Astarion would have another opportunity to show off his skills with lockpicking and - more likely than not - disarming traps. And, of course, Syanna would be at his side once more, ready to cast any spell they would require at a moment’s notice.

With their plan in place, all that was left was to prepare for, and then attend the party.

And that had been a process all in itself.

Using one of the many scrolls of Mirror Image that they kept a steady supply of, especially for him, Astarion carefully got dressed, paying particular attention to how everything fit and looked.

Perfect as always, naturally.

And just as naturally, the mask complemented his outfit wonderfully, tying everything together. As for the finishing touch, he then added the pair of ear cuffs, which ran along the entirety of his ears, their design intricate, suiting him beautifully.

In Syanna’s case, watching her get ready had certainly been interesting, to say the least, from how she had summoned two mage hands, which were busy intricately braiding her hair - it still intrigued him, how she was always able to manipulate spells with such ease, and in ways that others versed in magic could not, be it by extending their reach, casting them on multiple targets or by twinning them, suiting whatever need she had - to how she was carefully applying her makeup.

“Well, aren’t you a clever little multi-tasker?” he couldn’t help the little quip.

Syanna smiled, stopping briefly.

“Of course.” she turned to look at him, the mage hands following her movement, continuing their work. “You have to admit, it’s efficient.”

“Oh, certainly.” he agreed as he walked over to her. “And effective.”

“Hmm…” she looked up towards him, through her lashes, smiling softly, “Thank you.”

He leaned down to kiss her, distracting her just enough to cause her concentration to waver, both mage hands seeming to falter, as if they no longer knew how to go about braiding hair. Not enough to end the spell entirely, but it certainly made him want to tease her some more.

Deepening the kiss, one hand brushing over her face before reaching her neck, his thumb gently rubbing the skin there, he was pleased to see how she melted into his touch, while her own arms went to wrap themselves around his neck. Pulling her up to her feet, Astarion drew her closer to him, his hands moving lower and lower over her body, enjoying everything about the moment they were sharing, from how velvety smooth the fabric of her dress felt under his palms, to how she sighed into the kiss, or how she pressed herself into him even more, wanting more of that closeness, and even the giggle that left her once his hands came to a stop on her ass, gently squeezing.

“Really?” she couldn’t help grinning once she pulled away.

Astarion pressed another kiss to her lips.

“I don’t think you can blame me for that, love.” he gave her another squeeze, as if to prove his point, “You do look positively stunning in that dress, after all.”

“Why, thank you.” she was still smiling, “So do you. Very dashing, if I do say so myself.”

A chuckle left him.

“I should think so, seeing how easily distracted you were just now. Or did you not even notice your little mage hands disappearing?”

Astarion was smirking.

Of course he was.

And of course he was right - she hadn’t really paid any kind of attention to what was happening with her hair, or the mage hands, once he had approached and started kissing her.

She laughed at the thought.

“Would you rather I was entirely focused on my hair instead of you?”

Astarion’s reply was to pull her into another kiss, more passionate than before, his hands moving over her once more, taking full advantage of the deep slits her dress had. Reaching her thighs, he lifted her into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around him.

“Do perish that thought, darling.”

Syanna giggled, delighted by the moment’s playfulness in its entirety.

“I think you’ll be fine. It wouldn’t be the first time you manage to distract me like this.”

And it most definitely would not be the last, if she knew him at all.

“Then why don’t I distract you some more?” Astarion suggested, a sly look on his face as he walked them over to their shared bed, setting her down gently on its edge, so she was sitting, one of his legs settling between hers, running his hands over her arms. “I already have some ideas.”

She laughed again.

“We’ll be late.”

“Fashionably late, darling. It’s only fitting, if we want to blend in for the evening.”

“There’s fashionably late, and then there’s the hours we’d be late if we do this now.” She countered, although unable to contain the smile on her face as he caressed her.

“Ah, and here I was, hoping I would get to tear that dress off you now.” He pretended to be wounded by the thought of not being able to do so.

“Then we’d never make it there. Besides, I actually like this dress.”

Astarion waved a hand at nothing in particular.

“I’d steal you a new one.”

“Ah, my hero.” she grinned.

“Aren’t I just?”

It was such a familiar exchange between them, and she still loved it every time.

“Then maybe you can hold off on ripping this off until we get back? And then-” she leaned up, pulling him into a brief kiss, “-I can spoil you in whatever way you want.”

Astarion considered it for a moment, before looking at her with that look that could only mean he was up to no good.

“Or, we could sneak away during the party itself.”

Syanna giggled.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

”When it comes to you, darling? Always.”

She brushed her fingers over his cheek, her affection clear in the small gesture.

“I’m flattered, truly.” a sigh left her, even if she was still smiling, “But I really should finish up my hair, see how much of a mess it is and all that.”

Ever the gentleman, Astarion helped her back to her feet, his hand still holding hers as he led her back to the small vanity she sat at before. He moved behind her, then noticing that there hadn’t been much damage done, besides a loose braid that had mostly come undone.

“Here, let me.” he said, taking the strands of hair in his hands, undoing them completely before starting over, with him taking his time, enjoying that small act of comfortable intimacy between them.

After all, small things like that, those little moments of intimacy, so casual, yet significant, were still among his favorite things to do with her.

Not long after, he had finished the braid, securing everything in place with the golden accessory she had passed him when asked, which he followed by holding a hand mirror behind her, so she could see the result.

Smiling, she turned around to look up at him.

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

Once he handed Syanna her own mask to put on, they were ready.

After their arrival, they bid their time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip away and into the restricted wing of the manor. While waiting for said opportunity, they, quite naturally, had also decided to enjoy themselves as much as they could.

So, they danced, something which they never had the chance to do before, each step, each touch, each twirl, each glance in time with the music, each teasing remark and joke they made adding to their enjoyment of each other’s company and of the evening.

What a difference the right dance partner, the right occasion made for him. With her, it was truly enjoyable.

They also sampled the most expensive wines, with Astarion mixing in some of Syanna’s blood to his when no one was nearby to see, to make it more palatable. In Syanna’s case, she also enjoyed the food, trying and tasting whatever caught her eye, both savory and sweet.

And it had all been exquisite, with each drink and item of food a delicacy.

They also listened in to conversations for anything that sounded interesting, be it just gossip or a slip up or more about valuables.

A passing mention of expensive jewels here, talk of rare and magical artifacts there, the absolute scandal that two women spoke of in hushed whispers…It was all intriguing, or at the very least, rather entertaining.

All in all, it certainly had been a fun evening for them, a very welcome distraction from their usual ones consisting of long travels and searches, or of completing whatever contracts they would take on for money.

Then, it had finally been time to make their move, which they hoped would end in a resounding success.

And following that, it would simply be a matter of making their way out, unseen and unnoticed.

“Be still, somebody’s coming.” Syanna whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Astarion stopped what he was doing as she then whispered the incantation for an invisibility spell, obscuring them both as a guard did his rounds, walking past them.

Once the guard was far enough from them, Astarion resumed his lockpicking, dextrous hands making short work of the locked door in front of them, finally allowing them to quickly slip into the empty room, thankfully unnoticed, shutting the door behind them. Only then did Syanna drop the invisibility spell

Both looked around the large room, assessing it. Something between a library and a trophy room, there were plenty of shelves and display cases to go through.

“Now, if I were something that had information about vampires walking in the sun, where would I be?” Astarion mused.

“I’m hoping the answer is ‘in its own dedicated section’.” Syanna quipped.

Astarion raised an eyebrow at that, to which she simply shrugged.

“What? It'd be better than having everything thrown in at random, wouldn’t it?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto his face.

“I can’t say you’re wrong, darling. Maybe even a few direction signs to point us the right way.”

“See? Now you understand my vision.” she laughed. “So, what do you want to take?” she motioned in the room’s general direction, “Bookcases and shelves? Or the display cases?”

“Hm, the display cases. Can’t have you clumsily trying to pick the locks, now can we, darling?” he looked at her smugly, teasing her about the time he had attempted to teach her how to pick a lock.

Besides, there was a greater chance of the display cases being trapped, and he certainly would have preferred to be the one dealing with that risk, not her.

“Then maybe you should consider doing a better job of teaching me how to do it.” It was Syanna’s turn to smirk.

“Excuse me?” Astarion pretended to be deeply offended by her statement, “I will have you know, I’m a very dedicated teacher.”

She raised an eyebrow at that.

“Oh yes, you whispering filth in my ear was a very interesting lesson in lockpicking.”

“It’s an experimental method, darling.” he retorted.

She giggled in response.

“Of course, what else could it possibly be?”

“Precisely.” Astarion leaned in, whispering to her, a hand brushing over her cheek and down her jaw, towards her neck.

So smug. With good reason. But so smug.

She shifted slightly, moving so that she would be looking at him, staying just as close to him.

“Well, my oh so clumsy self will be searching the bookshelves.” she leaned in, as if for a kiss, but stopped, “I wouldn’t want to distract you in any way, after all.”

She turned away, making her way towards one of the bookcases. She heard Astarion chuckle behind her.

“Cheeky.”

Syanna was certainly pleased with her search, having found the books she was looking for. Excited, she carried them back to where Astarion was.

“Look what I found!” she grinned, lifting the tomes slightly, to show them off.

Astarion returned the smile, feeling the same excitement she did, or rather, even more so.

“Excellent, darling!” he continued to pick the lock of the last display case, “Give me just a moment and I’ll take those off your hands. They do look terribly heavy, after all.”

She laughed softly in reply, still giddy as she waited for him to finish. Moments later, the case was finally unlocked, with Astarion grabbing what they needed from it.

“And…one more little souvenir...” he picked up the last of the scrolls from the case, adding everything into the bag of holding they had taken with them, before reaching for the books, “...now, let me take those as well…”

Once everything had been tucked away, the bag hidden in the pocket of his jacket, he pulled Syanna into a kiss, smiling and pouring all his affection into it as he drew her closer to himself, holding her there, leaving not even a semblance of distance between them.

It was all so surreal to him, so thrilling, finally having promising information on being able to walk during the day once more. Even if he had learned to accept the shadows as a part of himself, it was still something that he missed and wanted to enjoy once more.

In their excitement, the kiss became more passionate, touches were suddenly filled with a need for even more closeness than before, with their hands roaming over each other, wherever they could reach, a need that was punctuated by how they gripped and squeezed and lingered. That, combined with the inherent risk of them being in a restricted area made everything all the more exhilarating, small groans of pleasure leaving them both as the kiss deepened.

A sigh left Syanna as she pulled away, almost breathless. Astarion’s hands lingered on her as he went to kiss her neck instead.

“You know, darling, I think this counts as us sneaking away…” he trailed off.

She exhaled, an amused noise leaving her.

“That would be true, yes.”

Astarion hummed in further agreement as he moved, guiding her towards a wall until her back was against it, a small gasp leaving her as he pressed himself against her, one hand moving lower and lower until he could grip one of her legs, bringing it up and wrapping it around himself.

“So…I was thinking we could take advantage of that…” he continued, leaning in closer, pausing when their lips were barely touching.

Syanna nodded, her eyes half-lidded.

“We could.” she grew serious for a moment, “Is it-”

He kissed her again, smiling into it once more, before she could finish her question. He knew what it would be. And he loved her even more for it, something which always touched him, again and again, each time she would ask it.

It all made him positively giddy with excitement, which only made him want her more.

“Gods, yes.”

Syanna smiled as Astarion returned his attention to her neck, gently nibbling along it in between kisses. She, in turn, began to run a hand through his curls, gently letting her nails scratch along his scalp, enjoying the little hums of approval he let out at the sensation, all while her other hand came to a stop on his waist. A hum of her own left her lips as she felt Astarion lingering on a particular spot on her neck, especially paying attention to it as he kissed her there, his tongue teasing and licking, his fangs gently grazing, the question silent, before he uttered even a word.

“May I, darling?”

She tilted her head to the side, fully exposing her neck to him.

“Always, yes…”

Placing another kiss on the same spot, he then bit her, his fangs piercing her skin, trying to be as gentle as he could, his free hand slowly caressing her, his touch soothing her. Even so, his bite still made her groan from the sensation, the pain mixing with the arousal that had started to slowly make its way through her. Her grip on him tightened as he drank from her, the leg he had wrapped around himself trying to draw him even closer, followed by her quickened breath, her racing heart, another gasp leaving her as she felt his own arousal growing, pressed against her as he was.

Moments passed, and he pulled away from her neck, but not before applying slight pressure to the small wounds to stop the blood flow from them.

Smiling, she looked at him through half lidded eyes before pulling him into a kiss,not caring and not bothered in the slightest by the taste of blood that still lingered on him.

It all felt hazy, with nothing else mattering in that moment, only him and how he made her feel.

How tantalizingly close he was, pressing and grinding himself against her once he had hiked up the fabric of her dress, having moved it out of the way.

How he then went to run his fingers over one of her ears, making her shiver.

How, at some point she couldn’t quite pinpoint, his hand had left her thigh, instead slipping between her legs, lightly teasing her through the fabric of her lingerie, all while his other one made its way down from her ear to her throat, and lower still, until it reached her breast, palming and teasing and kneading it.

How utterly breathless his kiss left her.

How their eyes didn’t leave each other, too caught up in one another as they were.

And, as was always the case, how she wanted nothing more than to reciprocate that, to spoil him in all the ways she knew he liked. So, she let her own hands roam over him, wherever she could reach, teasing touches lingering, insisting wherever he particularly enjoyed them.

In turn, he was emboldened by it all, tugging at her underwear, moving it to the side before letting his fingers ghost over her. Teasing her for what seemed to be the longest moments, a soft moan left her when he eventually parted her folds, finally applying that exquisite pressure that he knew she enjoyed to her clit, followed by the way his fingers rubbed and then moved along her, making her moan yet again, something which was always most delectable to him.

Wanting more of those noises from her, to see more of those reactions that always spurred him on, always adding to his own enjoyment, he began to tease her entrance. Humming in approval once he saw just how much of an effect he had on her already, he returned his full attention to her clit, rubbing circles on it as she moved her hips, chasing more of his touch. His mouth found hers once more, muffling the sounds of pleasure that left her as he continued to spoil her.

And he so enjoyed spoiling her, lavishing her with his full attention whenever they made love…

So he did just that, his fingers continuing their ministrations, as he still kissed her, be it on her lips, along her jaw or even lower, on her neck until she was crying out for him, her climax having built and built until it finally washed over her, its intensity rippling through her as she held onto him, her grip on him tighter than before.

Eventually, Syanna shifted slightly, letting her hands wander lower on him until they reached his trousers, where she began to tease and stroke him through the fabric, enjoying the way he groaned and pressed himself against her palm. Or the way he then moved towards her when she pulled her hand away, which only made her grin.

“Patience, love…” she teased, as she unbuttoned his trousers, lowering them alongside his underwear, finally freeing him.

“You’re a-” another groan left him as she ran a finger along his length, with her then teasing his sensitive tip, “a cheeky little thing…”

“Only for you.” she smiled, kissing him as she carried on, spreading the precum that had already begun to gather before gently grasping him, her hand beginning to move along him.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Intent on having him enjoy himself thoroughly.

Listening to each moan and each sigh that left him as she continued her movements, pumping him in her hand, her thumb teasing his tip, her other hand on his chest.

Astarion then took her by surprise - stilling her movements, he then gripped her, lifting her up, her arms and legs wrapping around him as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted so much more of her, to feel her warmth, her heat, everything that she was and that she would give.

Pressing himself against her once again, he left no distance, no space whatsoever between them, wanting nothing more than that absolute closeness between them.

And he kept moving in closer, kept pushing against her, until he was crawling up the wall and then onto the ceiling with her, something which made her let out a squeal, both surprised and delighted by the change, followed by the way she tightened her grip around him.

“This is new.” she couldn’t help the grin that appeared on her face.

“Well, I am a paragon of innovation, after all.” he smirked.

“Then-,” Syanna could only giggle, “-why don’t you show me what you had in mind?”

Astarion kissed her, his body keeping hers pinned against the ceiling, something which only made her moan softly as she felt him so close to her, his hips moving once more, grinding against her.

Arousal gripping her once more, she moved one of her hands between them, reaching for his cock, taking and guiding him between her legs, to her entrance. Moans left them both as he pushed inside of her, so easily and so eagerly.

Then, as he began to thrust into her, she found the sensation entirely different than usual, given their current position. While he was technically on top of her, it was also true that she was the one above him, which only made her want to meet his movements even more, eagerly matching his pace and rhythm each time, the intensity of it all enough to drive her mad.

There were barely any coherent thoughts left in her, only the way that she focused on him, on each thrust and drag of him inside of her.

On how he too was starting to unravel, his movements becoming more erratic as he indulged in her more and more, his eyes not leaving her.

How her body tensed, both from the sheer pleasure of it all, and from the strangeness of being on the ceiling, as if she was bracing for a fall at any moment. She knew that Astarion wouldn’t let that happen, that he would hold her there, safely and securely, she trusted him to do so, but the sensation remained all the same.

Then, there was the way in which the purr of his voice would bring him and only him back into focus once more.

“Eyes on me, love.”

She complied with his request, which only added to the overwhelming sensations and pleasure she was feeling. Seeing him that way, so genuinely enjoying himself, taking his own pleasure just as much as he was giving Syanna her own, hearing those amazing noises that he made in the moment - all the ways in which he would moan, or whimper, or groan - alongside the way he seemed to just want to bury himself in her until they became one…

It was electrifying, as if sparks would soon fly from the sheer fervor of it all.

And he would not stop, making her moan so wantonly, louder with each thrust that reached that spot which always drove her mad, more and more, until finally, he brought her over the edge once more, with Astarion following soon after as his own release came over him and into her.

Sparks were too insignificant a word to describe how they both felt.

Astarion couldn’t help the breath that he exhaled.

“Tell me something, darling…”

She looked at him curiously.

“...Why did it take us so long to try this?” he finished his question.

Syanna laughed.

“Well, you know they say, better late than never and all that.”

He hummed in approval, relaxing ever so slightly into her.

Then, he tensed up.

“Syanna, darling? You might want to hide us with one of your spells right about now.”

Nodding, she quickly cast an invisibility spell on the both of them just as the door opened.

The guard from earlier entered the room, muttering something about useless coworkers.

Astarion couldn’t help but grin at the man’s tirade.

“First that useless bastard forgets to lock this door, then there’s the weird noises coming from exactly this room…I swear, if there’s another possessed artifact here, I’m quitting tomorrow…Unless someone snuck in, then I’m getting fired tomorrow. Either way, good riddance.”

He then continued walking the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary, all while still ranting, before stopping abruptly.

“You know what? Fuck this. I’m quitting tonight. If someone did sneak in here, good for them. And if something got stolen? That stuck up bastard had it coming.”

His mind made up, the guard turned around, leaving the room. Once the door behind him had closed and been locked - no doubt the guard covering his tracks - Syanna dropped the invisibility spell. Both she and Astarion were grinning before they burst into laughter.

“Well, goes to show what being a bad employer gets you.”Astarion quipped.

Syanna was still giggling. She then cleared her throat.

“Good for that guard though. Now, let’s go, before someone less disgruntled decides to do the rounds.”

Agreeing with her, Astarion began to move across the ceiling and down onto the wall, with Syanna holding on to him for dear life, now that she was no longer distracted by him.

Once back on solid ground, they both made themselves as presentable as possible before looking for a way to leave the room.

After all, it wouldn’t do at all, to cause any problems for their friend, the guard.

“I think the windows here,” she pointed towards the opposite wall, “actually face the gardens. With any luck, they won’t be too crowded.” she then turned to look at Astarion, “So I’m thinking we just fly out of here, and avoid anyone out there that way.”

Astarion nodded, agreeing with her as he took out the bag of holding, searching for a scroll of Grant flight to use on himself.

She then opened the window.

“Let’s go then, darling.” he pressed a quick kiss to her lips,”I can’t wait to get back to our room now.”

She grinned.

“Is that so?”

“Well,there’s plenty to celebrate, wouldn’t you say so? And you did mention something about spoiling me in any way I would want once we got back, didn’t you, darling?” he purred.

Syanna couldn’t help but laugh, a low, throaty, delightful sound, which he enjoyed greatly when it came from her.

Incorrigible, indeed.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 smut #astarion x the dark urge #astarion x durge #astarion x oc #my writing #my oc: syanna #astarion x syanna

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queer-ragnelle · 3 months ago

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hello..👋👋

as someone who wants to get into arthurian legends.. where do you think I should start? is there a precise canon to follow? oh and.. this might be a stupid question but.. how would you describe guinevere's and lancelot's relationship...? i personally really like them because of what I've heard online, but i got shamed for liking it a while ago from people who really hated guinevere and said gawain or galehaut(not sure if i spelled it right) would be better for lancelot..

Hello anon!

I have a Beginner’s Guide to Medieval Arthuriana pinned on my blog. There’s no precise canon to follow, but you’ll get the most bang for your buck reading the works of Chrétien de Troyes and the Vulgate Cycle. Much of what Chrétien developed ended up in the Vulgate, like Lancelot rescuing Guinevere from kidnapping, but there are more elements added from other stories, such as Lancelot’s upbringing in the lake which originated from Lanzelet by Ulrich von Zatzikoven. On the other hand, Yvain’s journey as Knight with the Lion doesn’t make it into the Vulgate, so that’s worth reading on its own.

Regarding the part about people shaming you: block them if you haven’t already and anyone else who does so in future. I’m terribly sorry those people were unwelcoming as you begin to read and learn about Arthurian Legend. Let that not reflect on the community as a whole—there’s many lovely people here that’ll be happy to help you along. I hope you’re able to cultivate a positive online experience to the best of your ability and start enjoying the legends with us! :^D

But back to the fun stuff—I also really like Guinevere/Lancelot! My favorite dynamic is when Arthur is included too, but Guin is my number one pick for Lancey. ;^) It’s hard to describe them in so few words but I think it’s important to establish that they’re friends. This is an oft overlooked aspect that really deserves attention. They care for each other deeply. She helps him out of his madness and he helps her out of danger. This is something Arthur couldn’t do for either of them, much as he wanted to. That’s what makes the pair special, to me.

As for shipping wars about medieval characters….kinda ridiculous! And shaming other people over it is just abhorrent. I’m sorry you had to deal with that! Personally I enjoy Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot and Galehaut/Lancelot. I think it’s obvious I favor Gawain with his wife Ragnelle lol but Gawain/Lancelot is fine too. Gawain can have a little Lancelot. As a treat. I even enjoy “crackship” type pairings, like Bedivere/Lancelot or Kay/Lancelot or maybe a little [unrequited] Agravaine/Lancelot, and if the author or filmmaker chooses to write her in a positive light, Elaine/Lancelot as well. But that’s just it—there’s certainly no such thing as a “better” person(s) to couple with Lancelot. It’s literally fake. It’s fiction. It’s for fun! Doesn’t sound like the people you’ve encountered were having very much fun and put that on you, which was wrong.

Here I’d like to mention I run a discord server called the Arthurian Theater Server. Every weekend I stream TV shows and movies, mostly Arthurian, sometimes random fantasy. But it’s more than visual media—my friends and I share resources, character playlists, art we made, stories we wrote, we’ll liveblog retellings or newly discovered medlit translations, and discuss anything else Arthurian! We have custom made emojis for all the knights and ladies, a variety of original art stickers of the characters provided by several members, and an array of sounds bites ripped from films and TV for the soundboard to be played while streaming. Tumblr can be a little hard to navigate with the unreliable tag system, so this server is dedicated to an organized and moderated exchange of ideas and content. You’re welcome to join us!

Let me know if you have any other questions, it’s never a bother. Take care!

#arthuriana #arthurian legend #arthurian mythology #arthurian literature #queen guinevere #guinevere #sir lancelot #lancelot du lac #ask #anonymous

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theladyismyshepard · 9 months ago

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Hi there I haven't requested anything here in almost 2 years now and I won't lie I miss it, so if it's alright can I ask for Astarion and shadowhearts separate reaction to the Reader who is a magic user coming from a different world where magic is seen as a disease and those who have control of it are marked with a lightning like mark on their cheek

(Similar to the bearer mark from FF16)

I actually have a dusty old draft that's been collecting 2 years worth of cobwebs and it's a WIP that haunts me every time I see it when I open my drafts... and that just so happened to be a request of yours @adryanscott... so for you? Anything at all. The outline seems a little different, but bear with me

Tags: Mentions of abuse, torment, descriptions of chronic illness, Bearer enslavement canon to FF universe

Will You Be My Final Fantasy?

You were but a child when the magic lying dormant beneath your skin burst forth, crackling at your fingertips and ready to be cast. You were but a child when you yourself was cast away by your own parents, your entire world shifting upside down when you were sold off to the highest bidder. Gaia did not feel too much like home anymore, not when the people you had come to know as family and friends looked upon you with such disdain. The neck-breaking pace of which you had gone from carefree to chained was a shellshock that you were forced to adapt quickly to lest you learn the lesson of just how expendable you really were to your own people. At first, it had cut you so deep down that it pierced your soul.

Once the branding tattoo had marked the flesh of your cheek to signify the power brewing underneath, you were scorned. The people of Gaia thought you to be diseased and more monster than human. They feared your power and what you might be capable of, so they had come up with the idea of the bearer mark. Not only did it act as a red flag to warn others that you possessed natural magic and that you were owned, it dulled your powers in a painful way that left you with a permanent uncomfortable itch just beneath your skin. No amount of scratching or tearing away at the skin of your cheek would bring you relief, and at first, your struggle provided a great source of amusement for your enslavers until you began slacking on the quality of your duties.

As the years gave way to decades, the fiery fury that fueled your desire to see another day had slowly begun dwindling. You felt as if you yourself was an upturned hourglass, and with each grain of sand that flowed with time, your hope for something better faded with it. All you were living for was an end… an end to your torment, an end to your captors, an end to your miserable existence. You weren’t sure if you’d call yourself lucky or not that your Masters demanded back-breaking physical labor from you rather than casting spells at their convenience. With each draw of your magic, you felt a stiffening in your bones that brought with it a deep chill that was impossible to ward off. Maybe you were diseased…

The day had started as any other had in the past couple decades, with you rising in time with the sun to get prepared for a gruesome day of withering yourself away to nothing. As you glanced up to the sky to watch the first peeks of sunlight bleeding into the blanket of night, you couldn’t help the furrow of your brow when you noticed a small tear. Your lips parted, but as you took a step forward for a closer look to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating, there was an audible ripping sound as the tear in the sky widened into a large hole. Before you could even feel fear chill the blood in your veins, there was a gigantic ship soaring through, and across the horizon. You had never seen such a horrific-looking vessel that had long, flowing tentacles such as the one overhead at the moment, and your flight instincts kicked you into overdrive as it veered in your direction.

There was no time to register the long, fluid shadow of the tentacle hovering over you before it struck, and all you could do was watch on in horror as your hands began to disintegrate. First, you lost feeling in your fingers before the cracks broke apart your wrists, leaving nothing in its wake. The disintegration process didn’t take long to travel along the lengths of your forearms and up your biceps, and no amount of harsh gasps of air could pull enough breath into your lungs. You were fading fast. As your arms disappeared, you began to choke on the tightness in your chest before ash peppered your tongue and lodged itself along the walls of your throat. With a final gurgle, your eyes disintegrated and darkness enveloped you until there was nothing left.When you had awoken, you discovered yourself in a world where nearly everyone wielded magic. It was a culture shock that left you reeling, and even though you witnessed open displays of magic, even from some of your own party members, with no repercussions involved, you didn’t feel safe enough to expose yourself for what you were.

Shadowheart –

Even as you found yourself drawn towards Shadowheart, and felt yourself relating to the air of mystery (you understood better than anyone the need to bury the past and never let anyone see), you were so traumatized and so used to being seen as an animal to be used until broken that you could not speak the words. You were too fearful of being cast away yet again.

When Shadowheart had kissed you after revealing some of her own memories, you had tasted the bitterness of both the wine and of your own backstory on your tongue. It was the perfect moment to open up to the cleric, especially when you had never seen her eyes look so soft as they did when they gazed upon you at that moment. She had even asked you about your Bearer’s mark…but panic had seized control over any inklings of rationality you had left, and you had mumbled something about “everyone else had one” and “giving into the peer pressure”… The romantic atmosphere didn’t go any further than that, and you were grateful because the tightness in your chest proved too distracting to properly worship Shadowheart’s body. As you learned more and more of Shadowheart and who she affiliated herself with, you gauged other people’s reactions and deduced that her magic was frowned upon by many.

Her head never ducked beneath the weight of heated gazes sent her direction, and she never faltered at barbed words spat at her. You were in awe of how confident and self-assured she seemed in her worship, and you felt the connection between you two surpassing just your ability to relate. You admired Shadowheart to the point where you wanted to be more like her. You wanted to be free… But as you glanced between the woman you had come to care for and the shackled Nightsong, you couldn’t help thinking that Shadowheart was the true one in chains. To give blood, sweat, and tears your entire life and still have to fight through fire for any scraps of approval… it sounded too close to home for you. And if you yourself could never be free of the chains still holding you to Gaia, you would fight like hell to rid Shadowheart of hers.

You knew talking her down would prove challenging, but what you didn’t expect was how easily you had revealed your magic to the indignant woman. It was the accusation of you being clueless and ignorant spat so venomously at you that did you in. What do I know?! What do you know?! And it was the same moment your irritation boiled over that you remembered that she would never know if you refused to say something. Before she could turn her assault back onto the Nightsong, you sent a wave of your worst memories through your connection, and you were so overwhelmed yourself that you didn’t notice Shadowheart falter.

You can smell the leather of bootstraps as your bones snapped beneath heavy stomps. You can feel the sting of your open wounds rubbed with salts. You can hear the mocking laughter as your body writhes in a pool of your own blood. The stench of your boiled flesh was so pungent that you could almost taste it. There was a gnawing hunger that threatened to eat away at your stomach, and after a while, any thought of food would make you sick enough to dry heave. Through it all, there was the constant heartbeat in your cheek where the mark was tattooed. Sometimes you fear that the poison used in crafting the ink had seeped into your very pores and was burning you from the inside out. You were itchy, and so very stiff… And you couldn’t tell anyone. Keep your pain hidden. No one can help you. They’ll all hate you. You’ll be sent ba–

There were hands cradling your face, and the abrupt touch had you jolting out of your memories. Shadowheart was standing before you with tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Concern and anger had flared across your connection as she glanced you up and down, desperately searching you for any lingering wounds or scars. Her eyes stopped on the lightning-shaped mark on your cheek, and you felt her thumb trace the skin below it, too hesitant to cause you additional hurt. You hiccuped as you became emotional at finally revealing the extent of your torment to the woman you loved. Your hands were shaking as you reached up to loosely grasp at her wrists, and she curled one hand around the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together.

“Never again,” Shadowheart swore thickly past her own tears, “No one will ever harm you again, not for this, not for anything…”

Your shoulders shook as an impending panic attack loomed over you.

You were taught to be ashamed of who you were, that you were less of a being and deserved the world’s spite just for being alive. You had watched people just like you call upon their magic one time too many, and the stiffness in their bones overtook them and morphed them completely into stone before withering away to dust. You were afraid of yourself for a very long time, and here this woman stood before you with nothing but love and sorrow on her face. Sorrow for what you had gone through, sorrow that you felt forced to hide from her, sorrow for you thinking you were anything less than perfect. She leaned up to place the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt on your mark, and butterflies filled your stomach as your heart started racing.

“You have always been magnificent… I love you,” Shadowheart insisted earnestly, both of her hands now holding you close by the back of your neck, “And magic or no magic could make me need you any less, I assure you… Could you ever hate me for my magic?”

“Wh- No!” You rush to insist, but your shoulders deflate as her point reaches you… Maybe it was time to finally let yourself believe that you were really out of that place, and you never had to go back.

“I know what it’s like when something is too hard to let yourself believe… but you’ve helped me to see that there just might be the sweetest of rewards in doing so,” Shadowheart said before capturing your lips in a kiss intended to banish all doubt, and when she pulled away, she finally turned back to the Nightsong with nothing but sympathy in her heart.

You watched on in amazement as Shadowheart broke three sets of chains all at the same time.

— — — — — — — —

Astarion —

Despite the fact that a vampire had threatened to kill you in self-defense and still joined your party, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully open up. Each time his silky smooth words were close enough to reach you, your chest would seize up, keeping any and all secrets trapped within. As the weeks turned into months, you and Astarion had grown closer along the dusty trail. You had helped him to feel safe enough to confide in you about Cazador and the torments he had endured by his Master’s hand. You had felt your own misery and pain bubbling within your vocal chords, just begging to be released and revealed to the vampire. If anyone could understand the years of enslavement you had gone through because of your magic, it would be Astarion.

But throughout decades of cruelty, punishment, and humiliation, the one thing you never learned how to endure was being looked at as if you were something to be treasured rather than exploited. You knew where to cover when the blows started coming, you knew how to disassociate when the hunger set in, you knew what it was like to be more dead on the inside than on the outside… But you didn’t know how to react to any display of affection. How were you supposed to respond? You never quite learned how to convey compassion or how to accept it, and all you could do was curse yourself when you’d notice his shoulders slump the tiniest bit before his signature smirk was back in place to hide his own vulnerability.

But you had seen the smallest glimmer of how truly broken Astarion was, and now that you did, there was no unseeing it. Every sugary drawl, every deflecting answer, every flirtatious banter, it was all a facade, one that always seemed two steps away from crumbling. You wanted to help him, to fill in every fissure of his cracked heart with your presence until the very idea of Cazador was gone from his being, but you still felt too diseased yourself. When your fingers itched to reach out and comfort him when you’d notice the foggy haze of the past clouding over his eyes, you’d instead lift them to scratch at your burning bearer’s mark.

And bless him, Astarion had asked you about the tattoo one night after you had let him feed from you. You two were lying side-by-side as you gazed up into the vast blanket of stars, and there was a comfortable silence between you two that had only been broken by the question. He made no immediate comment even though you knew he felt you tense up next to him and you greatly appreciated it, especially knowing his penchant for starting trouble and watching others flounder in it. Before you could even attempt to think quickly on your feet, his hand had snuck down between your bodies to grab yours, and you were the one linking your fingers, squeezing his grip as the tension left your body. Only when he felt you fully relaxed did he assure you that that sounded like a topic better suited for another time. Your clasped hands never let go, even as you two fell asleep.

When your travels had brought the party to Baldur’s Gate, it was a chaotic mess with people wedged into any and every crevice. There were murderous cultists, sneaky thieves, and Astarion’s “sibling” spawns lurking about. The vampire tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the warnings, and he was successful to those on the outside looking in, but the tadpole connection was a deeper rooted relationship that proved nearly impossible to withdraw from. His emotions were a waged war, going back and forth and back again, and you so badly wanted to reach out and grab his hand to comfort him just as he did for you, but you had the same suspicion that this was a topic better suited for another time.

But you felt it, boy did you feel it through your connection… The same haunting feeling that clung to your bones, the chronic illness that stiffened your joints and left you too restrained in your own body, the horrific notion that you would never really belong to yourself, not ever again. Astarion’s back was rigid the entire way to camp, all traces of his charismatic aura gone. He was on edge, and would remain so forever until his Master was defeated, releasing him from the invisible chains still binding him. The rest of the party knew well enough to give him space (though everyone pretty much had their own problems they were in the middle of overcoming), but you would not leave him to wallow in the burning itch to go forth and rip, tear, kill…

You had the sense to bump up the urgency of seeking out Cazador’s lair and striking him down in Astarion’s name… but if he was as powerful as led to believe, and if there would be a chance of losing each other, that night wouldn’t be for Cazador, it would be for you and your love for Astarion, for him and his love for you. If he required a night of distraction to get him to the impending final showdown the next day, you would offer whatever he needed; If he needed blood, if he needed words, if he needed your body… With each gentle kiss that you placed on his skin, he seemed a little less further away. And as you watched him cum and was immediately brought to your own peak as well, you knew then that you would do anything to free this beautiful man.

You let that thought guide you as Astarion was forced under Cazador’s influence once more. The sight of him entrapped in the red beacon of his Master’s control had petrified you. To reach his full Ascension, Cazador had to absorb the special spawns’ life source, reducing them to a pile of ash, and you were paranoid with each attack he unleashed, each time he opened his mouth, that he would utter the spell to take Astarion away from you. When you could no longer withstand the mental torment, you raised your hand, and watched the magic crackle to life at your fingertips. Your cheek was burning, and you could see from your peripheral that your lightning-shaped mark was glowing, but you didn’t let it dissuade you. You were on a mission to save your lover, and you would use everything in your arsenal to do it, including your magic, even if it crystalized you in the process.

Your party members were thoroughly surprised to see you casting spells, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Cazador was staggering on bended knee before attempting to rush back to his coffin. As Astarion dropped to the ground, he wasted no time in chasing after to peel the lid away before Cazador could begin healing himself. A weight lifted from your own chest when Astarion drove a dagger through his biggest nightmare over and over until his own sobbing pain began bleeding dry. He was free… and you will be, too…

As you stiffly knelt at Cazador’s dead body, right beside Astarion– always beside Astarion– you cupped his cheek with one hand, and grabbed the back of his neck with the other before bringing him into the sweetest of kisses. You scratched at the hairs at the base of his neck and before you could talk yourself out of it, you released all of your memories through your connection. You felt his gasp on your lips, but you pressed on, he deserved to know your biggest secret considering he shared his with you. He needed to know that you saw him… far deeper that he originally knew. You could taste his tears even after he pulled away.

“Oh darling…” Astarion whispered, his throat raw from screaming himself hoarse while boiling over, “I hate that you understand a little more than others… and I hate that such a beautiful soul like yourself has been bruised so heavily.”

You sagged into him before hugging him tightly. He began petting your hair and cooing praises into your ear, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead every so often. You eventually craned your neck and caught his lips into a kiss, and if he couldn’t sense the love through it, you made sure to spread the warmth through your tadpole connection. His lips curled into a smile wide enough to break the kiss before he collected himself enough to pepper a handful of quick kisses onto your own bashfully grinning mouth.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me–well…” His eyes momentarily cut down to Cazador’s body before meeting yours unwaveringly. “And I would continue to love you lifetimes after you were gone, only hoping you would return to me again someday.”

He dropped a reverent kiss to the back of your hand, brought you into one last searing kiss, and moved to stand, helping you up as he went. Astarion had a way of making you feel so safe and loved, even when exposing yourself, your body and your secrets. He would always assure you that he has his own skeletons in his closet… but at least they were finely dressed might he add.

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fetish4juggalos · 2 months ago

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Pretty please make a Jerome x reader and the reader is punk ‼‼

Jerome Valeska and a punk reader headcanons

sooo i’m back?? sorry this request was from like last year but i haven’t posted since last year and thought this would be a good way to start back my possible return. I have 2 actual fics in the drafts so if you’re interested in actual fic ideas submit a request or more head canons to hold me over pls.

Not my best work but i have been gone for nearly a year so i thought it would be good to get something out

I apologize in advance for spelling and grammatical errors.

Jerome’s entire following is a large majority alternative people so you being punk isn’t really new territory for him

Jerome doesn’t really fit into a subculture himself. He doesn’t know or cares to fall under any titles but you being immersed in your subculture fascinates him

Punk is a subculture that completely goes against the ideals of being rich and following authority’s expectations which he can resinate with being a rebel and growing up a poor circus boy

Watching you diy things out of the unexpected is one of his favorite parts of you being punk. He loves watching you turn things from old technology or clothes/ materials and scraps into clothing, weapons, and accessories

Another one of his favorite parts is your hair and makeup. Watching you do your liberty spikes or even any of your less extravagant hairstyles always intrigues him as well as your messy makeup

He’s asked you to do his makeup like yours taking a small liking to the smudged smoked out eyeliner and even asking for you to do liberty spikes on his hair when it was a little longer

He’s not really thrown off by the idea of crust pants or a crust jacket. Let’s be honest Jerome doesn’t scream amazing hygiene and he probably doesn’t even notice you do this on purpose

He’ll listen to you talk all day about lace code, and punk culture and background, and music

Obviously he’s very fuck the police so that being one of your life mottos and beliefs is a big win for him

He’s seen you steal stuff from Jervis but never says anything and it drives Jervis crazy. You also steal stuff from him but he doesn’t care when he’s seen you turn it into something cool

If you do any kind of spray paint or graffiti work he thinks it’s the best shit he’s ever seen and loves to see either your tag somewhere when he’s out doing god knows what or messages that he knows is you

Had you spray paint Jermone was here on different buildings throughout Gotham and it ended up on the news

Because alot of punk clubs in gotham were Jerome followers and you’re close to him he’s appeared or come with you to some of your underground clubs to make guest appearances

He’s made you some patches and pins by taking material and writing on it with markers and attaching it to safety pins or letting you sew it on

Instead of calling you doll he calls you rag doll because of the way you dress and present

#gotham #jerome velaska #jerome valeska x reader

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mystra-midnight · 3 months ago

Text

— FOLIE À DEUX | chapter i

pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x atreides ! ofc (leiana)

tags: mentions of rape. mentions of torture. brief suicide attempt. arranged marriage. mentioned canon character death.

w/c: 2.5k.

a/n: so recently i started writing on a dune roleplaying site, and honestly, I'm in love with everyone; they're all so insanly creative, and i love reading their threads. admittedly, i'm not sure when this idea spawned, but i'm really enjoying writing it. its not often i feel comfortable writing stories with original characters, so any feedback you have is wildly appreciated!

Thick lashes fluttered beneath the waning sleep spell; hers, his, was impossible to know. The room was warm, sweat pooling on silken sheets beneath them, making their bodies feel heavier as their limbs moved restlessly. Sleep slipped away like water through cracks in the sand. The floor was rough, the textured concrete catching at her skin, his skin, impossible to know.

One moment, there was darkness; the next, light, blinding, shining in her eyes, his eyes—a blackened sun, Giedi Prime. She knew because he knew. He knew because she knew. And then pain, all-consuming, starting from nowhere and spreading everywhere. Their vocal cords vibrated in a scream, the kind that welled up from the pit of their stomachs and stole the air from their lungs. It seemed to fill the room, echoing the sound of fear, pain, and death.

Her eyes, his eyes, flashed open, and the visions were gone.

Memories of the future danced behind the blur of tears in her eyes as her chest heaved with a shuddering sob—the sting of wounds not yet suffered induced a hysteria that threatened to consume her. The screams, hers, his, continued to echo around the prison chamber, mingling with those of the handmaidens who served House Atreides.

In the low light of the prison cell, memories of what had happened upon Arrakis came rushing back to her—betrayal. That was the only word for it. Political intrigue had led to the Atredes bloodline being eradicated, all except for her. And now she was a prisoner to House Harkonnen, the last Lady of Castle Caladan.

Leiana scrunched her eyes tightly shut, desperately willing herself back to sleep as the screams became crescendos. But she could not; instead, she settled for pacing the small cell to pass the time. That was until she saw him exit the room opposite her cell—her captor—and her emotions overwhelmed her as the handmaidens' screams turned to broken sobs.

She could smell their tears in the air and the coppery scent of blood and other bodily fluids.

"Stop this! Please!" She yelled, her fingers tightening around the bars as she glared at Glossu Rabban. Hot tears streaked down her face, leaving lines in the dirt decorating her olive-hued skin. The Beast, and indeed he was one, smiled in a sick way as he approached. He was not dressed in the traditional Harkonnen armour, the one she had seen him wearing that night, but rather in much less.

Leiana watched as he adjusted himself, tucking his flaccid cock into his trousers, making a show of it. She wanted to be sick.

"Why?" he asked, tilting his head to the side in an innocent gesture that belied his brutality. She wanted to scream. Why. Why? Because he was hurting them, taking possession of their bodies, and subjecting them to horrors none of those beneath Atreides rule had ever known. Duke Leto was kind; he did not believe in revenge. He governed in much the same way. Their people knew love and prosperity.

He was so close, standing on the other side of the bars; if she had a knife, she could end their torment. Duncan had shown her how, Gurney, too. Aim for the throat, slash, don't stab, make it deep.

His hand snaked between the bars before she could retreat, thick fingers curling around her shoulder. His thumb pressed painfully into her collarbone as he pulled her against the bars, leaving her face pressed against the rusted metal.

"Life is cruel," he said, leaning closer so his bulk pressed against the bars. She clawed at his wrist, manicured nails tearing into his pale skin, blood welling up to fill the shallow scratches. Leiana managed to suck in a breath of air, the only thing that kept her focused enough as her face pressed painfully into the bars, threatening to bruise her skin.

"Why should their deaths be anything less?"

"You're hurting me."

Glossu Rabban would not kill her; this she knew—he could not afford to. Through her, The Baron would regain his rightful and legitimate control of Arrakis, gain control of Caladen, and unite the ancient and noble houses of Atreides and Harkonnen. So no, Rabban would not kill her, but then again, a quick death had never been the Harkonnen way.

He would rape her. He would beat her. He would breed her. And that would be what killed her: the loss of freedom, forced to submit to a man so terrible and cruel. Leiana would be a caged bird, pregnant and swollen with his seed time and again until she lost the will to live, choosing instead to allow the desert to claim her.

Rabban reached through the bars with his free hand, pushing the hair from her face in an almost caring gesture. "You will be my wife." He spoke plainly, his words holding a promise that filled her with dread, turning her blood to ice until hell froze over. Leiana tried to fight him, attempting to knock his hand away, only for him to seize her wrist, his strength threatening to bend and break her bones.

"You should watch," Rabban continued, his tone soft, a sweet whisper as he traced one finger along the elegant line of her jaw, tilting her face to meet his heated gaze. "Watch as they take my cock, my Lady, as they birth my bastard children. You will learn how to be a good broodmare."

He felt the muscles of her neck shift beneath his fingers only a moment before a globule of spit hit his face, just below his left eye. For a moment, the world stood still, time and space falling away until there was only them: herself and the Beast she thought to provoke.

There was a choice to be made, his, hers. Leiana refused to be subservient; she would bear him no children. She would force his hand, let him kill her as he had killed Duncan.

Glossu Rabban would not claim her—his temper was too great to control, or so she assumed. She would ensure he could not control it. Leiana would question his every decision and speak against him during political affairs; she would betray him and kill him if the opportunity arose. He would have no choice but to discipline her or appear weak in front of his peers.

Leiana was strong, and though she could survive whatever torment he delivered, she would not fight to live. She would choose death before him.

The Beast swore in the language of House Harkonnen. The vowels were heavy and rough, the meaning lost to her. His fingers closed around her throat, the capillaries beneath her skin bursting, letting the blood rush to bruise in the shape of his fingers. She imagined her end would have been worse if the bars had not been between them. Bloody and violent, her body beaten and bruised and broken, but it would be the end nonetheless.

Darkness blanketed her vision, a cone funnelling it so that his face would be the last thing she saw as she struggled to gasp around the constriction of his fingers. She was crying, trying to, soundless sobs shaking her lithe frame. But she was smiling, and he hated her for that.

"My Lord."

She hardly heard the voice as her limbs started to fall limp, fingers and nails falling from his skin as a heaviness set in. She could see stars, or rather, she thought that she could. Something bright in the darkness as her lids drooped.

"What is it?" Rabban answered, pinning the servant with a hard stare. He had not yet released her. She did not hear the servant address him that way, the lack of formal title, but it seemed neither did Rabban.

"The Baron requests her presence, my Lord."

There was a moment, a single heartbeat of time when she saw her consciousness slip from her body. She saw them as though floating above them, but the rope was still there, holding her to her body and refusing to relinquish her. Rabban’s control was far greater than she'd anticipated. This would not be the day.

Leiana fell to the ground when he released her, spluttering, sobbing, and retching as dusty air filled her lungs and breathed life back into her body.

Leiana had been permitted to bathe in preparation for dinner with Vladimir Harkonnen, a small kindness given the current circumstances. The water had been scolding, leaving her skin tender as she dressed; the pain was a sting, but it soothed her all the same. During this time, she learned that her things had not been burned. This came as a surprise, as did the summons. It had been. . .

Two weeks, her mind whispered the words. She had been held in the dungeons beneath Arrakeen for fourteen days, trapped while the corpses of her family rotted and burned. A sob welled up in her chest, threatening to break her resolve.

She could see Duncan and her father in their final moments if she closed her eyes. She had not seen her mother or Paul but knew both had perished in the city's sacking. Such was the gift and curse of the Bene Gesserit, taught to the Atreides children by Lady Jessica—to know things impossible to know.

But she would not cry for them, not this night. Leiana had to put herself first now, for dinner with Baron Harkonnen would be no easy feat to survive. His brilliance and patience in political affairs were well-known. She had to keep her wits about her.

Swathed in ivory-white fabric that hugged her hips and did nothing to hide the bruises on her skin, she entered the room. Leiana intended to wear them with honour and defiance. The Baron was seated at the far end of a long table decorated with wines and meats.

"My Lord," Leiana greeted with a deep curtsey, her dress fanning around her. It was a trained mannerism, not one of affection or respect. The Baron, aware of their complicated history, acknowledged her with a nod.

"Lady Atreides," his gruff voice echoed lowly. He did not look up from his meal but instead motioned for her to take the seat at the opposite end of the table. Leiana slipped into it, observing him in quiet contemplation: he was a grotesque man, so large that he could not walk beneath the weight of his own girth, instead needing to be carried by suspensors. She imagined that, in his youth, he would have been quite handsome, as many Harkonnen had been. But in his old age, he had grown fat and treacherous, more dangerous than ever.

She waited until he resumed his meal, the sound of his cutlery scrapping the porcelain plate grating on her nerves before she, too, ate something. Her stomach knotted in protest, not because the meal had been tampered with or poisoned but because she had eaten only gruel for fourteen days. The texture of it had been like sand on her tongue, but she'd forced herself to swallow mouthful after mouthful.

This meal was a heaven-send in comparison. They ate silently for a time, the tension in the air palpable before his voice broke it.

"You know the reason I have summoned you, yes?" The Baron asked, still not taking his eyes off his plate. He ate like his appearance: with greed and excess, his portions were enough to feed a small family. Leiana chewed at the inside of her cheek, carefully considering her words.

"I must confess that I do not, my Lord."

At long last, his eyes rose to meet hers, spider-like, twinkling with shadows beneath the lights. The muscles in her jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth, stealing herself beneath his stare.

"Your marriage."

"I am not married."

"You are to wed my nephew—the Na-Baron."

At that moment, the air was knocked from her lungs. Naturally, the dinner was a trap, which she was prepared for. Still, she felt much like a fly desperately trying to escape the clutches of a spider. Her resolve was absolute, however—she would not marry him. "No," Leiana spoke plainly, her voice painted broadly with defiance and the faintest trace of disgust.

"No?" He echoed.

"No."

"You seem to have the impression that you have a choice in this matter." His expression was stern as he spoke, and he watched her with beady eyes, regarding her with genuine curiosity and a distinct disdain. The Baron was renowned for playing cat and mouse games, but who was the cat, and who was the mouse?

Leiana placed her utensils on either side of her plate, her fingertips lingering on the knife's handle, and she stared at him. The gears of her mind spun rapidly, thoughts flying from one to the next. "There is always a choice to be made, Lord Harkonnen."

He watched her, his cherubic jowls twitching with amusement when he saw how she tapped her index finger upon the knife. The action gave away her intentions before she knew what they were.

"You think to kill me? You know you could not."

On the one hand, he was correct; she could not kill him and hoped to survive. But on the other, he was so terribly mistaken. Leiana did not move; she only stared at him with fierce defiance. "No, not you. There can hardly be a wedding, let alone a marriage, without a bride."

"Ah, I see," he mused with a soft hum. "You would act cowardly, Lady Atreides, and prematurely end your family bloodline?"

"Yes." Her answer was firm, brokering no room for negotiation. "I will make this abundantly clear to you, my Lord. I will choose death, time and again before I wed your nephew. That is my choice. I will not marry Glossu Rabban." She saw how his mouth twitched, the dangerous gleam in his eyes; panic seized her.

The Baron appeared unfazed by her defiance, utterly unconcerned by her refusal. He was calm, sipping on a glass filled to the brim with blood-red wine. Alarm bells rang in her mind like sirens, and at that moment, she felt a noose tighten around her neck. She had played into his hand.

Leiana did not hear the doors swing open; only the Baron's spider-like eyes briefly flicking away, taking in the presence of another alerted her. Her heart slammed against her breastbone with such force that she feared it would break. Rabban had come to claim her, rape her, and breed her.

She moved on instinct, standing quickly, her chair threatening to topple, fingers scooping up the knife and raising it to her throat. The serrated edge kissed at her skin, tore at it. Aim for the throat, slash, don't stab, make it deep.

Her wrist was seized before she could complete the act, the blade ripped from her grasp and thrown somewhere across the room, leaving globules of claret thickly down her skin. And then she had known the truth.

"My Lady." The closeness of his words was startling. Once more, the tension in the air was palpable, the room as still as the morning air as his gaze lowered to her lips, broken only by the Baron's smug chortle.

She could feel his warmth as he walled her against his chest, and now, practically touching, she could smell him, too.

Feyd-Rautha.

"My nephew, Lady Atreides. The Na-Baron.”

—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

#feyd #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x leiana #feyd x leiana #feyd x leia #feyd rautha dune #feyd fanfiction #feyd fanfic #folie à deux - chapter one #dune fanfiction #dune fanfic #dune

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