#instead of turning into the very monster that owned you for 200 years

[jacqcrisis]

Astarion contains multitudes. I love him.

[y-rhywbeth2]

D&D Vampire Lore Dump #3

Hierarchy (Spawn VS Spouse VS Lesser VS Greater) How they're "born" and the pecking order and what distinguishes a vampire spawn, a vampire bride/groom/spouse, a "lesser" vampire and a "greater" vampire. Also, the various ways a vampire is "born". With a brief nod to the various random species that crop up; for example there are vampires who are elves and there are elven vampires and these are two different things!

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER FOR FIRST TIME READERS: There are two things to note about the lore presented here: First, while the standard stat block in the monster manual is the default, in terms of lore vampires have this annoying tendency to be incredibly, stupidly varied. They are magical monstrosities ruled by the power of symbolism and superstition above anything else.

The next is that D&D is decades old, spans five editions, several settings and hundreds of writers. One guy establishes a piece of lore, and then the next picks it up goes "nah" and writes something else. I collected info from four different source books, all from different editions, which naturally don't entirely agree on how vampires work. Lore never stays consistent and may contradict itself. You may see information somewhere else from a source I don't have that contradicts what I wrote here. If you read this and like some of this stuff but not other bits, take the good and ditch the rest. Larian themselves have not written BG3 totally compliant with some established D&D lore or the original games.

Welcome to D&D: In your own story canon is what you say it is.

Feeding | "Biology" | Hierarchy | Weaknesses and Cures | Psychology

Ultimately, while they can be classified separately, a vampire is a vampire is a vampire. In every edition newly created vampires are enslaved to the wills of their creator, but the concept of vampire spawn as a separate category wasn't introduced until third edition. Even then, they were mainly just normal vampires enslaved to the will of the vampire that made them and the only difference was that they couldn't create spawn, turn into a wolf or command animals. Prior to 3.5e what set the "spawn" apart was the age difference: vampires grew stronger with age, and the fledglings were impossibly outmatched by their seniors.

Age is the cornerstone of the vampire world; it is expected that a vampire is to show due reverence/fear towards their elders while in turn expecting the same respect/fear from their juniors. Younger vampires are to refer to their elders as "Eminent [Name]," "Ancient One"... while older vampires tend to refer to younger vampires contemptuously as "Child" or "Fledgling" regardless of their actual age and power. The age categories shown are used more by scholars and hunters to classify the degree of threat, rather than by vampires themselves. Fledgling - 0-99 years old Mature 100-199 years Old: 200-299 years Very Old: 300-399 Ancient: 400-499 Eminent: 500-999 Patriarch/Matriarch: 1000+

-

Generally spawn are created almost exactly as Astarion tells you. A vampire kills you by draining all of your life energy and you get up with the next sundown as a member of the undead. If you were buried then you are bound to your gravesite, sometimes a vampire who is not buried will rise again, being bound to the site of their murder. Generally though, those killed by vampires who are not buried in a grave are simply dead. Sometimes vampires are bound to the soil of whatever they consider their homeland instead of their grave. …and also some of them have toxic saliva that turns you into a vampire, and some of them are born of curses that they cast on you by making eye contact that make you sicken and mysteriously waste away and rise again a vampire. A vampire is limited in the number of spawn it can create/control. The more powerful the vampire, the more it can have.

Spawn remember both their death and the identity of their killer on waking, and generally grasp what they've become within seconds.

Other ways to create vampires includes necromancy, the influence of Fiends (devils and demons) and divine will. Bhaal, for example, can cause a slain creature to rise as any form of undead he chooses. Vampires made this way are forced to complete whatever purpose they were created for and after the task is complete usually have full free will.

Vampires created by other vampires are freed of their master by either their death or by the master explicitly dismissing them from service. 5e has added a ritualistic gift of blood, but the key factor is still the vampire freeing its spawn willingly. The Turn/Command Undead ability of a cleric can also break a vampire's control over its spawn, temporarily.

There's conflicting information on the extent of the control vampires wield over their spawn. Some state that spawn are forced to not only obey but have a sensation of affection for their master forced upon them (even against their will) and spawn can be forced to take actions that will harm and kill them if ordered. Another source, however, states that while all vampires have an inborn compulsion to obey their maker, the exact level of control is not guaranteed and particularly stubborn offspring may be able to fight back, and that spawn build a resistance to their master's control over time.

Whatever the truth is, vampires don't trust their offspring and don't take chances. When it comes to educating their "children" about their condition, vampires will omit vital information or even teach them flat out lies to keep them ignorant of their own potential and dependent on their maker. One vampire is on record laughing about how he's convinced his spawn that if he dies they will die with him. Vampires are also known to kill their spawn if they're worried that they're growing too powerful or seem to be learning too much… or just because the vampire is worried by the mere idea that they might, even if their spawn are innocent of whatever slight their master is imagining. Vampires do their best to abuse and gaslight spawn into a state of self-debasing terrified obedience where they truly believe their master is an indestructible, powerful being they could never stand a chance against, while they are weak and helpless. Just in case.

-

Aaaand then there are vampire brides/grooms/spouses: Sometimes a vampire develops a fixation on an individual and decides they're going to keep them bound to them for all eternity, untouched by time. To do this they turn the target into a vampire through a slow, drawn out murder via draining the blood out of the target, followed with the vampire feeding the victim their own blood. The spouse-to-be may be permanently lost to bloodlust and die within 24 hours, and even if not the trauma this inflicts on the target is usually too much for the new "spouse" to cope with. Assuming death doesn't follow, the pair are bound together by a sensation of obsessive affection and telepathically linked, much as if they're drinking each other's blood (but without the ability to control each other). Their bond enables them able to share thoughts and share the experience when their partner is feeling a powerful emotion.

Vampire marriage follows a pattern: Eventually, the spouse gets tired of the utter repetitive tedium of existence as combination of a favourite decoration, pet and sex toy that's been put on a display shelf somewhere, and gets rebellious. They start wanting to use their powers and have and do things for themselves outside of their significant other. Said SO then responds by getting jealous and possessive and tightening their grip and putting extra locks on the bars. The emotional link creates a toxic feedback loop and everything escalates from there. Vampire divorce also exists, though only the sire can end the bond (the spouse must agree, but that agreement doesn't have to be given of their own free will). The spouse is then free. Generally the vampire, being so bound up in their chosen spouse and not wanting a free vampire running around on their turf, doesn't want to divorce and instead it's all downhill until one fatally tears the other apart in a rage.

A vampire can't have more than one spouse at a time.

-

At the other end of the spectrum are Greater Vampires. These guys are created when a succubus drains the life out of a living being - a sensation that makes you believe you're in the throes of passion but is actually "quite painful, giving no satisfaction, only utter emptiness." It also destroys their soul beyond recovery. What makes them "greater" than everyone else is simply that they cannot be harmed by sunlight. They have all the same powers as a "lesser" vampire.

Outside of that we have garden variety vampires. They die in the sun, have all the powers every other vampire has and aren't enslaved to another vampire's will. That's it.

All vampires have the following abilities*:

The ability to turn into mist, giving them the ability to fly, very good escapist skills (if you're made of air you can just enter a locked room through the keyhole, after all), and make themselves invulnerable to most forms of damage.*

The ability to mind control others by making eye contact "crushing the will of another."*

The ability to climb or walk on walls and ceilings similar to a spider.

The ability to completely heal from almost any amount of damage within minutes.

Immunity to paralysis (so a Hold spell won't work)

The ability to drain the life energy and/or blood out of a living being, and in the process create a new vampire enslaved to their own will.*

Upon being freed they gain the additional ability to summon rats, bats and wolves to do their bidding, as well as transform into those animals.

*(Most of these traits do not appear on the vampire spawn stat block in 4e or 5e's Monster Manuals, despite spawn being capable of all of the above until that point save creating their own spawn. Only spider climb and regeneration was included.)

There are also other kinds of vampires. Nosferatu are mutated by their curse into obvious monsters, and aren't harmed by sunlight. While typical vampirism affects anything, there are other types of vampirism that are pickier about hosts. Elven vampires are killed by moonlight instead of sunlight and hate plants so much. Gnome vampires age rapidly, can turn into ghosts and inflict seizures on people they touch. Then there's the vampire dragons, and the vampire illithid (which is what you get when you somehow infect a tadpole with vampirism and use it for ceremorphosis) and the vampyre - which is a type of vampire with a pyromania problem…

D&D gets a bit silly with vampires, sometimes.

EDIT: OK, apparently I didn't specify enough. Astarion is a normal vampire with the sunlight weakness. Elven Vampirism is a different type of vampirism that affects elves and half-elves, but he doesn't have it. Otherwise Cazador wouldn't be able to have human, gnome or tiefling spawn.

[astarion-obsessions]

I have a fic idea floating around in my head after I read a dialogue from Astarion I didn't come across in my playthrough:

Spoilers for Astarion's story and romance ahead!

"Once, in the first decade of my slavery, I found a darling boy who I couldn't bear to bring back to him. So I ran, instead of hurting that sweet man. After Cazador caught me, the bastard sealed me, starving, inside a dusty tomb, all on my own, for an entire year. A year of silence. Months of scratching my hands raw, trying to carve my way out. More months of not moving at all. Months wishing only for death. So don't you ever judge me for doing what Cazador ordered. Nothing can make up for that. Not even Cazador's death."

And this hit me really hard, like, I can't even begin to imagine what bottomless desperation and hopelessness Astarion must have felt.

So, I have an idea for a fic with a monster hunter Tav, who is the very boy Astarion has saved back then. And I'm being realistic, I will probably never write this fic, so I thought I would share my idea with you guys at least. So here it is:

Tav is this exact darling boy, all grown up now. Astarion sees the resemblance at first sight but he's changed so much that he tells himself that it's not him, it's not the man from almost 200 years ago. When Tav tells his name, Astarion is somewhat relieved. The man he spared all those decades ago had another name. He's been called "xxx" not Tav. The resemblance of their names Astarion chooses to ignore. Because Tav doesn't seem to know him at all according to his behaviour.

Only when Tav introduces himself with his full name, Astarion is hit full force with the now undeniable realisation that this is indeed the man he's refused to bring back to Cazador. Suddenly he feels like the young vampire spawn again, who didn't know what horrors would await him after this fateful rebellious act. How he would suffer just because he wanted to spare this man's life.

But why hasn't he said something? Astarion hasn't changed since then, even without a reflection he is absolutely sure of that, so Tav must have recognised him the second he saw him. So why?

Then it dawns on him. He's forgotten. Tav simply doesn't remember him anymore. Why would he? It's centuries ago. Even for an elf this would feel like a lifetime ago and they've never met again. He was just a fleeting, irrelevant occurrence of an almost deadly night for him, nothing more. And Astarion doesn't even think of reminding him. What purpose would it serve?

Yet, in the days to follow Astarion can't help himself but think about it every time his gaze so much as brushes the figure of their party's de facto leader.

He's seduced him once, he could very well do so a second time. After all, he needs his protection secured. And so he casually asks to everybody around for whom a loved one waits at home. None for Tav, as far as Astarion interprets his silence to this topic.

But then, when they encounter the Gur in the swamp, Tav reveals that he's a Gur friend and also a monster hunter. He greets Gandrel as an old friend and assures him that he will be back in town for sure. But when Gandrel tells Tav why he is there, mentioning the missing children and him hunting a vampire called Astarion… Tav reacts as if he's never heard of him.

Astarion is completely baffled and can't decide what to feel, what to do. He's anxious because of the Gur hunting him, having expected for Tav to just turn him in, but he didn't and now Astarion is anxious and utterly confused. He feels like a helpless animal, trapped in a corner, about to lash out, do anything and everything to be safe.

They part ways with the Gur, wishing him well, and then there's silence. Smothering, deafening silence. Astarion doesn't dare to ask. Ask why he's covered him up. Ask if he remembers. Ask anything at all. Because he's afraid. So so afraid. And if this encounter has taught him anything, it is that he will never be safe, never be free as long as Cazador lives.

Now he needs Tav on his side more than ever. He could ensure his protection against the other Gur. Astarion won't be having one second of peace before this is sorted out, but he doesn't know what to do. Maybe Tav just wants to turn Astarion in himself? Maybe that's why he's never said anything about remembering him. Because he was laying low, waiting for the right moment to strike and take him back to his master. To the very man Astarion has spared him all these years ago.

Perhaps this is what he gets for saving a monster hunter. The very embodiment of a vampire's fiend.

What he doesn't know is that Tav became a monster hunter shortly after the tragic night he met Astarion. But not to hunt the spawns, but to hunt the ones who made them what they were. To hunt power hungry vampire lords. Just that Cazador had been too mighty for a rookie like Tav back then. So he learned. He fought. He hunted. To make a difference to spawns like Astarion.

When they settle down for the night, Astarion's mind is racing. He is sure that Tav will now make him his prey. Astarion needs to act. Fast. He volunteers to keep watch in the first shift- and Tav joins him.

They haven't talked directly to each other since before the Gur, and Astarion is still a nervous wreck, but tries to pull himself together. He chooses to overlook the fact that Tav very well knows what he is, be it since the Gur or - let's be realistic - since the first time they've met outside the nautiloid, and reveals to him that he is a vampire.

Tav already knows this and says so. He reveals that he's known since they met… 200 years ago. So there it is. The proof that he indeed remembers Astarion, he just hasn't said anything because he wasn't sure Astarion remembered him. How could he not? He was a gorgeous sweet boy, one that Astarion might have been seriously interested in… in another life.

Tav tells Astarion that he didn't see him for what he was right away, but their first encounter weighed so heavy on his chest, that he couldn't stop thinking about it. He met some Gur back then, who came around a lot, so they talked about anything and everything. When the Gur mentioned why he was in Baldur's Gate, it hit Tav like a brick to the face. He saw the connection to the night with Astarion clearly, and that's when he knew Astarion was a vampire. Most likely a spawn.

Tav recognised that the Gur had a very… one-sided opinion of vampires and their spawns. But now Tav could put two and two together and guess what Astarion had done for him. He's spared him.

After this crucial realisation Tav had searched for clues, hints, anything that would lead him to Astarion. He would hunt every now and then, wouldn't he? But after almost a year of nothing but a name - Cazador - Tav decided to move on, fearing that Astarion had just vanished.

But even so, their night together has influenced Tav to an extent he didn't know was possible. He had wanted to see the world, to experience its wonders. His tribe had warned him that it was a cruel world, but Tav heard its calling and couldn't just ignore it. And yet, no words could have prepared him for what he had found.

But now that they found each other again, Tav is determined to help him, and Astarion finds himself in a storm of feelings. Would things truly turn to his favor? Could he really dare to let the hope sprout once again after all these hopeless, horrifying years of abuse and domination?

Astarion had learned quickly - and painfully - just what it means to grant himself the luxury of something delusional like hope. But maybe this time he truly has the chance to defy the odds…

Will Tav stand by his side? Will Astarion overcome the demons of his past and find his true self? Will Astarion and Tav work out what they mean to one another on the way? It's a journey with twists and turns and a future utterly uncertain…

Let me know what you think! Maybe I'll get motivated enough to start writing this fic if some people are interested in this scenario...

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 20: Spider Donut

Ahuhuhu...I seem to have lost track of time. Has it really been three weeks!? Oops. But I didn’t want to wait a whole year to post these, even though I did learn quite a lot while making them. I’ll have to remake these next October so the glaze is more purple than black!

It was only a matter of time before Undertale recipes made their way into this Deltarune-inspired cooking blog, given they share the same creator and are alternate universes or timelines of each other. Here in the Castletown Café, we’re very familiar with Muffet’s Spider Donuts: made by spiders, for spiders...of spiders. Indeed, Muffet is a known cannibal, not only eating small regular spiders but also shown to try to eat other monsters (and one human) by turning them into baked goods. Whether or not she has successfully done that, we don’t know...

There are no spiders or monsters in these donuts; just flour, eggs, sugar, the usual ingredients for baked cake donuts. The description of Spider Donuts state that they’re made with fresh Spider Cider in the batter, so we’re using the next best thing: apple cider!

Many apple cider donut recipes call for reducing the apple cider by heating it over the stove and letting it simmer down to just a smaller amount, usually half a cup. This is done to reduce the amount of liquid that goes into the batter as well as to pack the donuts full of that apple cider flavor!

The recipe I followed from Sally’s Baking Addiction included apple pie spice - something I don’t have - so I made my own by combining cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, allspice, and ginger. The exact measurements of each will be listed in the recipe.

I created my own recipe for blueberry glaze by cooking frozen blueberries, blending that into puree, and then adding powdered sugar and a little melted butter. If there is anything I’ve learned from creating my own glaze recipe, it is to SIFT YOUR POWDERED SUGAR FIRST! Otherwise you’ll have lumps in your glaze that heating it up won’t fix! I’d sift it at least twice to get most of the lumps out before adding it to the blueberry puree.

Unfortunately, this glaze was too dark - so although blueberry puree sounded like a good idea (and maybe if it was fresh instead of frozen or less puree was used, maybe the colors would have been brighter), maybe it should be something else, like blackberry - or just basic vanilla glaze with food coloring added. I need to experiment first.

The webs are super easy: just melt white chocolate chips, fill a piping bag, and pipe on your white chocolate spider webs! You can use the microwave or a double boiler, but be careful if you choose the microwave because you can burn it easily that way. You can make your own “makeshift double boiler” by filling a saucepan with water and placing the lid of the right size upside down over the water so you can pour the white chocolate into it and use that as a shallow dish.

Liiike this!

As you can see, it needs to be a metal saucepan with a matching metal lid, not glass, and no hole(s) in it for steam to escape. Idk if they still make lidded saucepans with metal, holeless lids, come to think of it...since I use several that are part of a set made in the 70′s!

SPIDER DONUTS:

2 cups (or 250g) all-purpose flour

3/4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp baking soda

1 and 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp allspice

1/8 tsp ground ginger

1/8 tsp ground nutmeg

Sprinkle of ground clove

1/4 tsp salt

1 and 1/2 cups (or 360ml) apple cider - reduced down to 1/2 cup (or 120 ml)

1 large room temperature egg

1/2 cup (or 120 ml) room temperature milk

2 tablespoons (or 30g, or 1/4 stick) melted unsalted butter

1/2 cup (or 100 g) packed brown sugar, light or dark works fine (I used dark)

1/2 (or 100g) cup granulated sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

Glaze:

2 or 3 tablespoons blueberry puree

1 cup (or 200g?) powdered sugar

2 tablespoons (or 30 g, or 1/4 stick) melted unsalted butter

Topping:

About 1 cup (or 200 g?) white chocolate chips, melted

Heat your apple cider in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Have it simmer for up to 10 minutes or more, stirring occasionally. Keep checking every 5 minutes afterward to make sure it’s evaporating. You’re likely to still have a bit more than 1/2 cup after 20-30 minutes, that’s okay. Pour the reduced cider into a 1/2 cup measuring cup, and feel free to drink whatever’s left.

While the reduced cider cools, preheat your oven to 350 degrees F (or 177 degrees C) and grease your donut pans (you’ll need at least two 6-cavity donut pans).

Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and spices together and set aside.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the melted butter, egg, brown and granulated sugars, vanilla, and milk. Pour into the dry ingredients and stir together while slowly pouring in the cooled apple cider reduction. Stir until fully combined and no streaks of dry flour remain. Your batter will be slightly thick. Do not overmix, it affects the texture.

Spoon or pour the batter into the donut cavities. I just scooped it in, but you can try using a piping bag, which is recommended in most cake donut recipes!

Bake for 10-12 minutes or until fully risen and not shiny. The tops should be a nice golden brown, and a toothpick inserted in should come out clean. Also, if it springs back when you poke it, that’s another sign they’re done. Use whatever testing method works best for you.

While you wait for the donuts to cool, get the ingredients ready for the glaze! Combine 1 cup (200 g?) of frozen blueberries in a saucepan with 2 to 3 tablespoons of water. Cook over medium-high heat and let the berries bubble for a few minutes. Once fully cooked and a nice hot berry sauce has formed, remove from heat.

Have it cool a little before pouring it into a blender or food processor. With the puree setting, blend until smooth. Measure out 2 or 3 tablespoons of blueberry puree and add to a bowl.

Sift your powdered sugar a couple of times before adding it to your blueberry puree. Melt 2 tablespoons of unsalted butter and add it to your glaze mixture, stirring until your glaze forms.

Dunk cooled donuts halfway into the glaze to frost the tops. Let dry while you melt your white chocolate.

Over medium heat, heat water in a saucepan and place a fitting holeless metal lid upside down over the water - or just use a double boiler if you have one.

Pour the white chocolate chips into your saucepan lid/double boiler and let melt, stirring occasionally. Keep an eye on your chocolate so that it doesn’t burn.

Once your chocolate is fully melted, scoop into a piping bag fitted with a small round tip (you can fill your piping bag by placing it tip side down in a glass so it stands upright, keeping it open by curling the ends around the rim of your glass). Pipe white chocolate spider webs onto your donuts, working quickly before the white chocolate hardens back up again.

Ta-da! You now have delicious apple cider donuts with blueberry glaze and white chocolate spider webs! A multitude of flavors all wrapped up in one Spider Donut - hold the spiders.

Sources:

???, Sally, “Baked Apple Cider Donuts”, Sally’s Baking Addiction, sallysbakingaddiction.com, 9/14/2018. Link: https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/baked-apple-cider-donuts/

Jeanne McDowell, Erin, “Baked Apple Cider Doughnuts”, The New York Times, cooking.nytimes.com. Link: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1019593-baked-apple-cider-doughnuts

Zhang, Catherine, “Baked Blueberry Glazed Donuts”, Catherine Zhang, zhangcatherine.com, 5/24/2021. Link: https://zhangcatherine.com/baked-blueberry-donuts/

[goodluckdetective]

TUMBLR VERSION

FIC: SLEEPING GIANTS 1/2

Ship: Durge/Astarion

Fandom: BG3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Rating: M

AO3

Summary: 

Astarion earns his freedom covered in Cazador’s blood. The Former Chosen of Bhaal earns their freedom drowning in their own. A look at two different aftermaths of breaking free.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to whatever this is. Like one part “the horror of being controlled and falling in love with someone who knows that same horror” one part “you can kill the puppeteer but the scars from the strings don’t leave as soon as you cut them” one part “the game doesn’t have time for a long introspection after these two big scenes but that’s why fanfic writers exist” and one part “uses durge and Astarion as character foils and enjoys the light bouncing back and forth.” The background ships are very background which is why they aren’t in the main tags. The title comes from the Crane Wives Song of the same name. This is two chapters but each can be read on their own. The second chapter I'm aiming to have up in like two weeks max? (I also want to shoutout edelgarfield's series "cardinal, sunrise, morning star" which gave me the idea to do the Urge sections in second person. It's fantastic and you should read it.)

FIC BELOW:

Ever since Rune heard the name Cazador Starr, they’d thought about killing him.

It was a nice use of channeling the Urge when it got bad, turning the desire to tear and maim onto a worthy target. Rune had pictured casting hold monster to hold the man in place while they’d cast lightning bolt right between Starr’s eyes. They’d considered using insect plague and watching as bugs tore the man apart piece by piece as he screamed for death that wouldn’t come. Once they’d learned how to cast Daylight, they’d smiled at the mental image of forcing the vampire lord to stick his head directly into the sphere.

Like Rune’s other urges, they resisted acting on them (though they did relish casting Daylight right in front of Starr’s face). But that resistance was only so Astarion could get the kill instead. It was his to have; Rune was not going to take it from him unless they were asked to.

(If Astarion had died, if you had failed to get him free before the dark ritual completed, then Cazador Starr would be dead by your hand. You would ensure he lived long enough to know the agony he deserved. You’d kept Bonedaughter’s notes about what she’d done to you, back in Moonrise. One could get very clever with torture when someone refused to die. You thought of taking inspiration from the kennels, when you’d looked at the history of your lover’s suffering and saw potential instead-)

Rune pushed the thought out of their head and shook off the sneer that started to creep across their face. They had to keep it together, keep the Urge under lock and key. Astarion, who was currently covered in the blood of his 200 year nightmare, could not afford for Rune to lose it. 

They watched as Astarion wept on the stone tiles, wanting to embrace him but knowing it might not be wanted. Instead, they stepped close enough so if Astarion desired, he could easily reach out and touch them. They didn’t get a chance to see what he would choose because the rest of Astarion’s siblings came to greet them. As the matter of settling the spawn was resolved and the fate of the Gur’s children revealed, Rune spoke only to clarify events and back up whatever Astarion decided. It wasn’t until they made it out of the palace that they said anything somewhat resembling an order, and even then, they chose each word with care.

“We can call it a day after this if people need it,��� Rune said, looking at Astarion. Everyone needed the rest, they were all exhausted, but Rune would not force such a thing. Should Astarion wish to keep going, Rune would send Shadowheart and Karlach back to camp before sharing a list of tasks that were mostly errands, but essential ones; buying potions, collecting materials. Things Astarion could do with shaky hands and an unsteady step. He wasn’t physically hurt, Shadowheart had ensured that. Should Astarion need to keep busy, to put off the part of the day where he could sit down and take it all in, then Rune would ensure he had it. 

Rune was well practiced quieting their own loud thoughts with busywork.

Astarion agreed to the rest, and Rune mentally filled away their list of busy tasks for later. Instead, the party headed back to the Elfsong where they had decided to set up camp ever since Astarion’s siblings tried to drag him back. It wasn’t as good as a private residence, but vampires would still need to be invited into their rooms should they wish to enter, and that was far better security than the open air. With Cazador dead, they could save some coin by camping outside again, but Rune knew Astarion would want some privacy, and that was better obtained in their shared rooms. 

As they approached the Elfsong, Rune took a look at their partner. Astarion had put his armor back on, but he was still drenched in blood. That would draw some attention, even in a place used to mercenaries. 

Back in the mansion, between freeing the spawn and running into the Gur,  Rune had handed him each piece of armor after Astarion asked for them. They watched as Astarion struggled to secure the clasps and resisted the urge to help, knowing they needed Astarion to ask for their assistance first, less they bring back memories Astarion wished he could forget.

“Shadowheart, Karlach, go ahead,” Rune said. Karlach tilted her head, and when Rune nodded, she grabbed Shadowheart’s shoulder. They departed inside the tavern, Karlach pulling the door behind her so it didn’t slam shut. Astarion didn’t even notice them leave. Frankly, he didn’t seem to notice anything at all, a wide eyed blank expression to his face that Rune was horribly familiar with.  Rune reached for the clasps on their cloak and released it from their armor, before holding it out to Astarion. He turned to look at them, but that vacant expression was still there, like he was looking through Rune rather than at them.

“To hide the blood a bit, until we get to our rooms,” Rune explained, lifting the cloak higher. “So people don’t stare.” They would have cast invisibility on him, but they’d burned through most of their energy entering the mansion and fighting Cazador. If they knew it wouldn’t upset Astarion later, they would overextend themselves and cast it anyway.

(You cast far more spells than you should have, hoping for a brief glimpse of fear on Cazador’s face when your lightning bolt tore through his assembled minions. You’d hoped he knew what you were, you saw the book in his chambers after all; he’d been reading about Bhalspawn. Would he know what he’d brought down upon himself, for treating Astarion as a stain on his shoe? Would he realize you were the most dangerous thing in his manor turned tomb? )

Astarion’s gaze sharped and he took a quick breath in, like he’d been rapidly thrust back into his body from wherever he’d mentally gone. Rune forced themself away from the Urge in tandem. He took the cloak and wrapped it around himself, putting up the hood. It was a little large on him, Rune was taller than the vampire by half a foot, but in these circumstances, that was ideal. Rune heard him mumble something that sounded like a thank you. 

He didn’t need to thank them: not for this. Rune held out a hand, should Astarion want to grab it, and when he didn’t, lowered it without comment.

“Let’s go straight to the room. Follow me.”

The Elfsong was loud and boisterous at this hour, people settling in for the evening. A bard played a jaunty tune on their fiddle on one of the stages and Rune briefly wanted to smash their instrument for daring to be so cheerful. No one paid them much mind as they went directly to the stairs and headed up to the rooms on the second floor. The room to the main suite was open and Rune glanced at everyone as they walked inside. Everyone else was crammed inside the small space, almost comically so, paying attention to Shadowheart who was talking in a low whisper. Likely explaining what happened in the depths of the Starr palace. 

Rune walked past the group, shaking their head at everyone inside before Astarion followed behind them. Their room was close to the entrance and Rune closed the door behind Astarion as soon as he was inside.

“Alright, we’re here.” Rune took a look at the tiny room and their gaze went instantly to the wooden bathtub in the far right corner. It was an extra cost to obtain at the Elfsong, but given everyone hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks, it was worth the coin. Rune didn’t really get much out of baths, they didn’t find the way of bathing relaxing with the Urge constantly humming in the background, but they understood how it might be appealing to someone who didn’t deal with their particular affliction. They turned back to Astarion. He wasn’t quite looking through everything anymore, but he still seemed lost, his gaze darting all over the room.

“If you want, I can run you a bath. For the blood.” Rune regretted the addition as soon as it left their mouth. What else would the bath be for? Stupid, stupid. “Would you like that?”

Astarion snapped his head up to look at them. When he spoke, his tone was as sharp as his fangs. “I can run my own bath, I’m not an invalid.”

Rune expected this at some point; the deflection, the attempt to hide away his own wounds by lashing out at others. They didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on their main point. 

“That’s not an answer.”

The fight drained out of Astarion in an instant. His shoulders drooped, a sigh escaping his lips. He looked so very tired. 

“Yes, you may,” he said and with that, Rune got to work.

The wooden tubs at the Elfsong were enchanted, which Rune suspected was why they had such a high rental price. By activating the cantrips on the side, one could fill or empty the tub with water without going to the task of bringing water up from the kitchen. Heating said water was another matter, and for that, Rune’s magical powers would suffice. They stuck their hand into the water once it filled the tub and cast Prestidigitation. Steam came off the top of the surface, not hot enough to burn but enough to be pleasant, and they removed their hand, wiping off the excess water onto their robes. When they turned to Astarion, he’d already peeled himself out of his armor, but his smallclothes remained. Rune gestured to the tub.

“Alright, it should be fine.” They got back onto their feet and took a step away from the tub. “I can wait outside if you want, or go downstairs.”

Rune would prefer to stay, if this was their decision to make. Not to gaze at Astarion’s body, but to be able to remind themselves that he was alive, that the ritual had failed. 

There was a moment, back at the manor, when Rune thought it was all over. When they’d looked to their side to see Astarion gone, suddenly across the room in the same hellish bindings as his fellow spawn. In that instant, before Astarion screamed at them to free him, they’d feared the ritual was done, that Cazador had succeeded. That all that would remain of a man who responded to their heritage with empathy and stole them extra ink for their journal was their memories and the cruel visage of Cazador Starr. 

No, Rune would rather stay. Here, they could easily remind themselves how things had actually gone. But should Astarion want them to go, they would. They would walk downstairs, order a pint of ale, and rely on their faulty memory to remind them.

Astarion walked over to the tub and poked the surface of the water. It rippled, and he looked down in it, like he thought he could see his own reflection if he waited long enough. After a moment, he looked back to Rune.

“Stay?”

Rune nodded and went to pull over a chair to sit in as Astarion fully undressed and got in the water. Before they sat down, they grabbed Astarion’s armor and pulled it over to the chair. After they were seated, they got started casting prestidigitation on Astarion’s armor. The blood came off easily enough and when they were done, they looked up at the vampire. Astarion was sitting in the tub, knees curled up to his chest, and wiping blood off his arms. It turned the water a light pink.

“Want me to talk or no?” Rune offered, noting a distant look creeping back into Astarion’s eyes. 

“Talk. Please not about-“ Astarion cut off, shuddering. “Anything else.”

Rune wracked their brain for an appropriate topic. Anything related to the Gortash, Bhaal or the Elder Brain was a bad idea. Magical theory could work, Rune was picking up a bit from Gale, but they would rather not bore Astarion to death. After some consideration between choosing one of Volo’s stories to mock (potentially fun, but then they’d have to go to the effort to remember one of his stories) or Rune’s thoughts on the decor of the Elfsong (alright, but Shar’s temple and the Goblin’s base had set the bar low), they finally stumbled upon something with potential. 

“I’ve been trying to convince Gale to let me be his wingman if he decides he wants to get back out there,” Rune mused. They knew they had the perfect topic when Astarion snorted, bubbles coming up on the tub. The conversation of Gale’s post-Mystra rebound was a topic of the camp, and for good reason; Gale seemed to have finally realized his former relationship with the Goddess wasn’t a healthy one. Recently Wyll saw him trying to flirt with another wizard from Sorcerous Sundries, use of illusions included. Given the amount of dark topics that dominated camp these days, the party had jumped to gossip over such low stakes. 

Gale thankfully didn’t mind and appeared a combination of amused and touched by their collective interest in his happiness. He’d indulged them by offering to consider letting one of them play wingman and Lae’zel, Wyll and Rune had all jumped at the opportunity. Wyll had offered because he was deeply enamored with true love and romance. Rune had offered because they hated Mystra. 

Lae’zel had offered because Astarion bribed her with a nice amount of gold pieces to throw her hat in the ring. That, and she was determined to prove that her direct “I want to taste you” approach did actually work on more than just Shadowheart. 

“So far, he seems to be favoring Wyll’s pitch,” Rune continued, leaning back in the chair. It felt nice to relax somewhat. They hadn’t realized how tense they’d been sitting until then. “He wants to take Gale to a local bar favored by mages around here, which I will admit, isn’t a bad idea.”

Astarion hummed. He was no longer curled into a ball, instead scrubbing away the blood on his torso. 

“But if I can convince Karlach to tell me where she used to go after working out, I think I might manage to change his mind.” Convincing Karlach to do so would be difficult, Rune thought, as she was unofficially on Wyll’s team. But Rune wasn’t above bribery and they’d managed to loot a rather shiny greataxe that they thought might loosen her lips. 

“You think he’s looking for someone muscular?”

“Did you hear what he said about “invigorating stimulation” back when we were fighting those goblins? If he’s looking for that kind of “stimulation” then Karlach’s old haunts are the best bet.”

Astarion chuckled and Rune hid their grin by ducking their head down. It wasn’t his full laugh, Rune didn’t expect to hear that after the day he’d had, but Gods it was nice to see him smile and mean it. 

They continued like that, talking about other silly gossip, until Astarion was done. Rune threw him a towel and watched his eyebrows raise as he pressed his hand into the fabric.

“Did you warm this towel?”

Rune had, using prestidigitation a few seconds earlier. They’d gotten the idea from Wyll, who back at Last Light, had given out freshly warm blankets to those they’d freed from Moonrise Towers after their prison break. Rune took note of how the prisoners seemed to relax as they touched the warm fabric. Interesting how  such small comforts still provided solace after such terrible cruelty. 

“Too much?”

Astarion was already wrapping it around himself.  “No, it’s perfect.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and looked to Rune with a conflicted expression. “I need some time to think.”  

Rune got up and headed towards the door. Astarion had gone through a lot today and Rune knew what it was like to have a lot on the mind. “No problem. I’ll be around if you need me. You can use the tadpole if it’s an emergency.”

Astarion relaxed and nodded once. Satisfied he would call for them if needed, Rune left the room and closed the door behind them. The rest of their companions were still in the main suite living space and they all turned to Rune as they left. They’d clearly been hovering; the book in Gale’s lap was one Rune knew he already read twice over and if Lae’zel kept sharpening that dagger, it might chip. 

Rune adored them all. Despite all their respective burdens, all of them were happy to make a detour to take down Cazador. It was the same with saving Wyll’s father or helping Shadowheart find her parents or potentially breaking into Hell for Lae’zel.  They all cared.

If this was what having a family felt, like no wonder people were so found of theirs.  

“How’s Fangs?” Karlach asked, fiddling her thumbs together. Rune walked forward and shrugged. 

“Processing; he asked for some time alone. Now,” they reached into their pockets and pulled out their journal, opening it up to where they kept a ribbon as a bookmark. “Let’s talk about supplies and inventory.”

The resounding groan from the rest of the party was a welcome sign of normalcy.

__________

After an hour and a half of debating what to sell and what to keep, shortly followed by dinner, Rune headed downstairs to the first floor of the tavern. They would have normally stuck to the rooms, content with the company, but they couldn’t stop looking at the door to their own room and fretting about the vampire inside. So to alleviate their temptation to hover, they instead put their journal back in their pocket, grabbed one of their lighter bags, and decided to try some of the Elfsong’s famous ale. 

They walked to the bar and took a seat, gesturing to the bartender and ordered said ale, which the bartender dutifully delivered moments later. After taking a sip, Rune closed their eyes, and took in the noise of the tavern. It was nice, they thought, to sometimes be surrounded by the hum of life. They could hear two men arguing about a business deal away from the bar. Somewhere to their left, a woman was flirting with someone and if the lack of response was any indication, failing rather miserably at it. The sound of a lute warming up to play rang from the stage where the bard was seated.

( You knew so many ways strings could be used for more interesting means. Garrotting, tying up prey, even cutting flesh if held tight enough. )

Rune kept drinking. The Urge was always there, and the more they focused on it, the worse it would get. It was best to just acknowledge its presence like an unwelcome houseguest and continue on with everything. They took another sip of their ale, trying to pinpoint the flavor. It tasted a little floral. Karlach was right; it was rather good compared to what they’d had on the road.

(I t would be so easy to kill everyone here. You could do it in an instant. Circle of Death is such a fantastic spell for wrecking ruin in such cramped spaces.)

The bard started a new song and Rune tapped their foot along to the beat, trying to work out some restless energy. After another sip of ale, they decided the drink, while not the best they’d ever had, was quite the deal for the price. Rune wondered if the food was as good; maybe Gale could take a day off cooking duty. Then again, the chef had said something about rats in the basement. 

( That would be the best way to do it. You could go to the basement. No one would be able to see you cast down there, no one would even think to cast Counterspell.)

Sure, they could do that, but they weren’t going to, so they weren’t going to focus on it.  They just had to-

( How do you know what you’re going to do? Remember Alfira? )

Rune gripped the glass of ale tighter as they placed it back onto the counter. The tavern seemed louder now, more crowded. The bard’s song, a jaunty little tune meant for dancing, picked up the pace. 

( Did you know Circle of Death has a thirty feet effect radius? If you cast it just at ceiling level, you could get the second story too. You could even spare the rats ).

Was the bard’s lute off pitch when they started? It didn’t seem like that earlier. It was likely in their head, 

( Your companions would be struck too. You wouldn’t likely kill them all but you’d kill the weaker ones for sure. Though wasn’t everyone weak compared to you, a child of a God ?)

It felt hotter in the tavern too. Rune felt someone brush past them, and went stock still, their eyes still closed. They could feel sparks coming off their hand not holding the ale. It would be so easy to reach out and shock anyone who passed by.

( How ironic would it be, for the sad little spawn, finally free of his master, to die as the rats scurried alive and well below. )

Rune’s eyes flew open and they stood up so fast that the chair behind them fell to the ground. A few people turned to look at them. Even the bard ceased playing, noticing the minor commotion. The bartender faced them, brows furrowed in a mix of alarm and concern.

(How concerned would they be, if they knew what you truly were?)

Rune left the ale unfinished, threw a tip for the bartender and made towards the stairs, paying no attention to anyone who tried to stop them. They did not halt at the second floor, instead heading straight for the windows at the end of the hall. It was twilight now, and Rune was thankful for it as they opened the latch. 

Rune climbed out the windows and onto the roof. The roof was safer than the tavern, the most accessible collateral damage local pigeons. The Urge did not stop its issessant blathering as they made their way onto the shingles, but it did become less loud in the cool air. 

They managed to find a spot to sit that was not entirely uncomfortable and pulled out their journal from their pocket. Journaling was grounding, a way to focus on anything but the Urge whispering in their ear. Next, they grabbed a piece of charcoal from their bag that they keep wrapped in cloth to keep it from staining everything. In the section of their journal where they kept unfinished tasks, they crossed off “help A. kill C.S if he wants” with more force than what was needed. Unlike most of their “to do” list, it was surrounded by completed tasks, as Rune wrote it down back even before the Tiefling party at the Grove.

Astarion knew Rune kept a journal, everyone did, but Rune hadn’t told him how early they’d decided to help him eliminate the Vampire Lord. They were worried he’d chalk it up to nothing but affection for his act, and Rune wasn’t sure they’d be able to fully convince him otherwise. To be fair, affection had played a factor, though it was affection for Astarion’s understanding of their own bloodlust and mystery novels rather than his honeyed lines. But a much larger part was that when Rune learned that spawn had to follow every order their sire gave them, helpless to fight back, they felt a murderous rage that had nothing to do with the Urge.

I cannot let that happen to anyone else , Rune had thought back then, even though they could not place where the feeling had come from.  I refuse. And they’d written down their commitment to do as such before Astarion had even considered killing Cazador as something that could be accomplished. 

Even now, while they’d mostly helped kill Cazador because Astarion wanted to, there was a part of them that was delighted to help because Cazador was a puppeteer that could be beaten. If Rune couldn’t free themselves from the God of Murder, at least they could free Astarion from his own bonds. 

They felt guilty for that feeling, even if it was a small thing. A drop in an ocean of guilt really. They were lucky they hadn’t drowned. 

They looked at the other tasks on their list. There were some they could easily handle now; crushing materials for potions, reading a book they’d gotten that they hoped might provide some insight into Karlach’s eternal engine, organizing a backlog of spell scrolls they’d picked up. Their next big task kept drawing their attention, and they ran their thumb past “save Duke Ravenguard” and watched the charcoal smear. It would have to be soon if they wanted any chance of finding him alive. And that would require making an enemy of Gortash. 

Rune didn’t care about making an enemy of Gortash exactly. It was more the complications that came with it that troubled them. Gortash knew more about who Rune used to be than Rune themselves and that made him dangerous. Would Rune’s plans still work as intended if Gortash devoted himself fully to thwarting them? Would he seek to complicate the lives of Rune’s friends by allying with the Sharrans or sending his Steel Watch to torment the refugees? Gortash knew enough about Rune to somewhat predict them even with their changes in personality, but Rune still knew less about him than Karlach did. 

Rune knew Gortash stayed his hand out of fondness for who Rune used to be (as well as hatred of Orin). Should Rune truly disrupt his plans, he would discard that fondness for a person who was, if Rune was lucky, gone. All that would be left from Gortash was rage that Rune remained wearing his friend’s face.

Friend was probably not the right word, Rune thought, shuddering. They didn’t think Gortash and their former self were capable of love, but they absolutely had been fucking. If Rune asked, Gortash could probably tell them what scars they’d obtained since they vanished, maybe even how Rune got them, and when he died, he would know the history of Rune’s body more than themselves.

Well, that was a nauseating thought. Best not to think about that one, especially given that Rune’s current partner was a floor below reeling what might be one of the most traumatic days of his life. Rune could unpack that properly once they were free of the tadpoles. And helped Shadowheart find her parents. And found a solution to Karlach’s engine and-

Well, eventually. Just not now. 

Instead of thinking more about the current Archduke, Rune instead began dividing up tasks for the next day. Wyll would have to come with Rune while they investigated leads for his father, and Karlach would be good to have on hand should they get dire news. Everything Rune knew about comforting people was learned from watching Wyll, and they could use Karlach’s help if news about the man’s father was tragic. They would also be a good pair to help Rune to dig up more about Orin’s murder plot, given their knowledge of the city. If Astarion was up for it, he’d be an excellent addition as well; otherwise, Jaerhia’s would be an good choice. While they were off doing that,  Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale could continue looking for leads on where the Temple of Bhaal might be located. Orin had promised Rune that Halsin would be safe as long as Rune focused their ire on Gortash, but Rune was not going to place their trust in their murderous sibling. 

They’d made that mistake once, back when they were something cruel. They would not make it again. 

A half an hour must have passed before Rune heard someone else scramble onto the window below. They prepared a cast of ray of frost until they saw white curls poke out over the edge of the roof. Rune closed their journal and set it on their lap.

“Up here.”

“I knew you’d be roosting somewhere,” Astarion said, as he leapt onto the shingles with grace Rune rather envied. “Tavern too noisy for your scheming?”

Astarion knew Rune could plan just fine surrounded by outside noise; he’d seen them plan in their camp, after all. They wouldn’t be surprised if he’d learned about their swift exit from the main floor himself. He sat down next to them and looked at their lap where the journal was seated. 

“Are you ever going to let me take a look inside that thing?”

Astarion absolutely had looked inside Rune’s journal before, this they both knew. They’d caught him at it early on in their journey a few times, though he’d quit early on. At the time, Rune thought it might be due to the Alfria incident making him more cautious, but in retrospect, he’d likely stopped peeking when he realized Rune wrote down notes to self and supply lists, not secrets to stealing their heart. 

Rune was curious to why he’d want to look at it now. Astarion had already stolen their heart quite thoroughly. He had to know that surely.  

“It’s just lists and reminders. You know that. I don’t think you’d find it all that interesting.”

Astarion moved closer to Rune, so their thighs were touching. He leaned over their shoulder. “Still no drawings in the margins?”

Rune looked down at the journal and flipped it open to a section where the corner had a red stain. They held it up, showing Astarion the selected page which was covered in blood. There were a dozen of smeared illegible drawings made by shaking fingers on the parchment, like a disturbing finger painting. When Rune looked over the top of the journal to view Astarion, he looked flummoxed.

“Is that supposed to be a small intestine?”

Rune peered over the top of the journal and took in the spot Astarion was looking at. They supposed it looked a little like intestines, though it could also be just a shaky line or a blood trail. It was hard to tell. 

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anything at all.”

Rune would have torn out the page entirely, but at the time it’d been a clue of whatever might be wrong with them. When they’d woken up with stinging fingertips covered with their own blood, they’d scribbled the date at the top of the page like it was a regular entry. It was a bit comical, how different their neat handwriting was to the gore on the page. 

“I suppose we can cross off artist as a potential future career path,” Astarion said, leaning his forearms back against the roof so he could lean back a little. His body was too tense for the position to look relaxing, but he wasn’t trying to fake ease, which Rune took as a promising sign. “Planning out our marching orders for tomorrow?”

“A little. Depends on what you’re up for.”

“You know I’m up for everything darling.”

“Astarion,” Rune said, voice firm. They knew that voice for what it was: an act. If Astarion wanted to brush off everything in front of the others, Rune wouldn’t stop him. But they wouldn’t allow him to do the same when they were alone. 

Rune had their own performances memorized: the devoted Absolute cultist, the brave hero, the playful clueless sorcerer. Astarion knew them all, he’d seen Rune throw on each persona when the moment required it, then drop it as soon as they were back in camp. If Rune put down their mask, they expected Astarion to do the same.

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back, looking up at the setting sun and held out his hand, like he was trying to cup the horizon in his grasp. 

“That first day, after the crash,” Astarion said, keeping his hand where it was. “I thought the sun would be the death of me. 200 years of shit and the moment I was free of Cazador, I was going to meet my end by a sunbeam.” He let out a dark chuckle and lowered his hand, having it lay back by his side. “Seemed like Gods’ usual cruel brand of humor.”

Rune kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

“Imagine my surprise when everything played out otherwise. Here I was, free of Cazador, able to walk in the sun, two things I thought I’d never have again.” He held out his hands wide, then gestured to Rune. “It seemed too good to be true. And of course, it was, once you came along and told me that the very thing that gave me what I wanted was also going to cause me to sprout tentacles in a handful of days. So when I heard about the Rite, it seemed like the perfect solution. Sure, I could have taken over the Cult myself, but that seemed like a lot of responsibility and frankly, more work than it was cut out for. I mean, did you see all the paperwork on Thorm’s desk? I’d never see the sunlight again if I had to read through all that.”

Rune felt a flash of rage pulse through them at the mention of Throm but ignored it. Now was not the time. They instead directed their entire focus on Astarion.

“It was my chance to have it all. The sun, my freedom, and Cazador dead at my hands.” Astarion waved a hand, gesturing like he was throwing something aside. “Sure, it would come at the cost of my so-called siblings, but they would have done the same thing to me. Might as well put them out of their misery. I’d be doing them a favor.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his legs, placing his chin on his knees. The setting sun cast light onto the bottom of his face, just under his eyes. “And yet-”

Rune could guess what stayed Astarion’s hand in the end. They’d watched as Astarion stared at cages of spawn in horror, noticed how he’d wanted to look away from all that pain and suffering. Rune was the one who’d forced him to meet it head on, to look them in the eyes and admit the truth of the matter; that Astarion could very well do this, but he’d have to do so knowing he was throwing away people, not the already dead and buried. People who could have been Rune, if things were different.

(He wouldn't have been able to kill you. He could have tried, but you would have killed him first before you stepped a foot in that manor. Maybe even tore out his fangs as a prize.) 

“I couldn’t do it. I had everything in front of me, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You wouldn’t still be yourself if you did,” Rune said. They remembered listening to the skull tell the story of Cazador before he was a Vampire Lord, how much his story as spawn echoed Astarion’s. Rune doubted the man was ever truly soft of heart, but he at least had some capacity for feeling other than his own ego. For Cazador to have changed so much turning into a true vampire spoke volumes; hells only knew how much Astarion might change were he to become something even more than that. 

“Probably,” Astarion admitted. He scowled, kicking one of the shingles under his foot. “But I wouldn’t be like this either. Afraid he’s going to pop out of the shadows and drag me back there at any moment.”He sat up straight all of the sudden, irritation leaking into his tone. “He’s dead. I killed him myself. So why do I still feel like this?”

“Because it all still happened, maybe? Like my headaches-“ Rune ran their fingers through their hair. They could feel the scar that stretched from behind their ear to the center of their forehead. Back when they crashed it was visible given their buzz of hair. Now it wasn’t too noticeable now that Rune’s hair had grown out from patchwork to a pixie, but Rune could never forget it was there. 

Astarion had Cazador to thank for his own back. Rune noticed the vampire took care to not wear items that gave anyone a glimpse of the scarring there. Cazador’s death would not erase that contract nor the memory of it being carved there. Even if Astarion both wished otherwise.

“Even though the wound might physically have healed, that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Rune said, finishing their thought. 

Astarion turned away, snarling. “So what, I’m stuck with him forever, even while he rots?”

Sometimes Astarion could be purposefully obtuse. “That wasn’t my point.”

“And what was it then?”

Rune was good with words when it came to strangers. Strangers they never had to see again, strangers never got to realize that Rune had spotted what they wanted to hear or inferred the role they wanted Rune to play. Rune didn’t have to think much about the interaction other than how to get what they wanted.

With friends, with people Rune cared for, words were harder. Because with them, words could do far more damage if thrown around loosely. The wrong thing to say, the wrong tone and one could cause damage as deep as a knife wound.

Rune was so tired of hurting people they didn’t want to. 

“That you shouldn’t tear yourself apart because you haven’t healed from 200 years of shit overnight,” they settled on. Astarion was looking at them again, red eyes trained on Rune’s face. “You’re so hard on yourself, sometimes,”Astarion began to open his mouth but Rune pressed on, determined to finish the thought. “And I know I’m one to talk, but Astarion, you managed to kill a vampire lord today. You gave thousands the chance to make a new life. You gave the gur their children back.”

“That I helped take in the first place-“

“Okay, well if that’s true-“ Frustration burned through Rune and they pointed their finger in Astarion’s chest. Astarion almost fell back in surprise, Rune rarely got visibly angry. Rune would have tried to reign in the emotion but they needed Astarion to understand this, they needed him to believe them. They reached into their bag for the dagger everyone insisted they keep on them, and pushed it sheathed into Astarion’s hands. Astarion looked at them like they’d lost their mind.

“You should rightfully take your revenge given my father tried to have me tear you limb from limb.” Rune sat back on the roof, and held their arms out wide. Astarion was still staring at them, the dagger held limply in his hands like he’d never wielded one before. “Well?”

“You weren’t yourself.” His voice was a whisper.

“And you were?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Isn't it?" Rune reached forward and plucked the dagger out of Astarion’s grasp. "Astarion, you cannot entirely hold yourself to what you did under Cazador’s control! You did a lot of good today. And yes, I know, how dare I accuse you of goodness, but this day could have ended very differently and it didn’t.” They placed the dagger back into their bag. “Give yourself some credit for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t deserve that credit instead?”

“No.” Rune was resolute. “I told you what I thought but I was willing to follow your lead. And you led us here,” They shrugged. 

“To an inn where we’re crammed into one suite and must scramble onto the roof for some privacy.”

Rune shrugged. The sun was almost gone now and with it the horizon turned a beautiful violet. The night wasn’t so bad, when it arrived with such a sight. “Who cares? You’re here. That’s all I need.” 

Astarion looked at them for a long moment, eyes wide before he reached forward, grabbed the front of their tunic, and pulled them in for a kiss. It was sweet but not soft and Rune smiled into it, feeling some of the fear from earlier in the day finally slip from their mind. 

They knew Astarion had worried when he’d confessed he’d like to stop having sex and slow things down, but frankly, Rune hadn’t minded. They didn’t remember much of their own history, but they doubted the former leader of the Cultist of Bhaal was one for kissing on rooftops with zero intention of losing clothing in the endeavor. At best, Rune’s previous life had consisted of getting off and offing people, no feeling required. While they would have agreed to Astarion’s request regardless, it didn’t hurt that Rune felt like something like this was something new to them too. Something nice. 

Rune broke the kiss for air, then dove back in for another. This one was more brief, just a quick press of lips, but Gods it was lovely. When they broke apart, they were almost giddy with affection. They placed their head on his shoulder and chuckled into Astarion’s collar bone, feeling him let out of a puff of air that ruffled their hair. He wrapped his arms around their back, pulling them in closer.

“How in the Gods’ name can you be so casually charming?”

“You know which God, we had a talk about it and everything.”

“You are an absurd human being.”

Rune pulled back to look him in the face. Astarion was smiling now, properly smiling and they felt so very warm despite the cool night air. With a teasing smile, they leaned in, just out of reach for another kiss. “But you like me though.”

“A terrible lapse in judgment on my part,” Astarion got up, and held out his hand towards Rune. “Come’on love, let’s get to bed.”

Rune looked up at him. They were rather tired. However, as nice sharing a bed was, Rune wasn’t sure it was a good idea after today given Rune’s nightmares. Their fits had gotten worse as they got closer to the city, and now that they were inside the walls properly, they woke up multiple times a night in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly the best atmosphere for an elf to trance. 

“If you want to be alone I can go bunk with Gale?” When it came to shared sleeping arrangements, Gale tended to be the best choice simply because he was rather used to sharing space with insomniacs after years of studying at Blackstaff. Rune could toss and turn on their bedroll all they wanted, and Gale would sleep it off just fine. 

(There would be a fight over who “got” the bed, this Rune knew. Gale would insist Rune take it for having the basic human decency of not asking him to blow himself up, and Rune would insist Gale take it because Gale complained about his knees already, and Rune had slept in far worse places. Rune expected fully to win, but not without a debate).

“Tell Gale to get his own sorcerer. It can be part of your wingman proposal,” Astarion wiggled his fingers. “I know you don’t sleep well, love. I am aware of what I’m signing up for.”

Rune took his hand and let Astarion help him to their feet. When they were standing, Astarion lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Rune’s palm. Rune could feel the flush that appeared on their cheeks. 

“Thank you,” he said. Rune wasn’t sure if it was for helping him kill Cazador, the bath, the talk on the roof or all three. Rune shook their head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. And I want to thank you anyway.” Astarion tightened his grip on their hands and looked Rune right in the eye. “And I meant what I said yesterday; We will see you free of Bhaal. Freedom won’t be truly sweet until you’re no longer under his thumb.”

Rune’s stomach twisted, their throat tightening. He meant it, Rune could tell. This wasn’t intended as an empty promise or sweet words to assure Rune’s nerves. If it was possible to unshackle Rune from their father’s influence, Astarion would see it done.

For both their sakes, Rune desperately hoped it was possible at all. They had their doubts but maybe Astarion’s hope would be enough for the both of them.

Astarion lowered their joined hands and tugged Rune towards the edge of the roof where the windowsill was. “Now come on, sorcerers need their beauty sleep.” 

Rune followed him. As they climbed into bed later, Rune curling around the trancing vampire, they closed their eyes and hoped that they could find a way to keep this, the Gods be dammned. 

[zenatness]

Been up all night coughing and being miserable and sick, so... obviously I played more Baldur's Gate 3.

I've started a new character because, well, I finished paladin Tav's desperate adventure to be therapist, rehabilitator, meal, and boyfriend to Astarion. Oh, and there was something about some mind flayers.

I think the game forgot about the mind flayers as well during the mirror conversation. Astarion's upset that he can't see his own reflection anymore (yet still drags around at least two mirrors to have in camp? Ok, dude, but I hope you carry your own gear) and you can just... describe his face for him. Instead of letting him see himself through your eyes via tadpole, like you can do later in his story? ??????

Also a little bit annoyed that we didn't get to ask why he kidnapped all of the Gur children tbh. Like, did Cazador specify that it had to be all of them and, if so, why? Why piss off the monster hunters just before ascending? Why the desire to screw over the very people he's using as unwitting tools and could have further use of? Or did Astarion just decide that they made suitable targets on his own? It just felt like one of those things a paladin should ask for clarification on.

But yes. No ascending for Astarion, thank you very much, in this household we don't kill 7000 innocents to appease our boyfriend's fears when we can just stab his tormentor to death. But what if we did...? I had to check and played it for a little while, and uh... yeah. I'm probably going to have to backtrack at some point and play out the rest of the game from that point until the end. It made my Tav an oathbreaker (and frankly the powers on offer are... not good when that happens. I need that healing) and Astarion changed. There was a lot of bickering about making Tav into a proper vampire, treating him as an equal, etc, and Astarion was so not having it. A spawn or nothing (I honestly find it difficult to understand how there are people who think this is a good ending for him?). Increasingly frustrated at having thrown everything away for him and only being promised crumbs (and, frankly, an eternity in slavery) I chose to decline becoming a vampire spawn and broke up with him.

It was beautiful. The shock, the outrage, the disbelief. Getting to tell the most powerful vampire that actually, no, you don't care for him the way he is now - you thought he was perfect when you met *chef's kiss* (nevermind that the first thing he did was lie to your face and pull a knife on you)

But I really like that you get the option in the non-Ascended romance ending to tell him that going forward, your focus will be on finding a way for him to be out in the sun again. Sure, you can insist on heroics or taking responsibility for those 7000 spawn, but... after dragging him around on your heroics all game it felt nice to just be able to say "now we focus on you and what you want."

And I do believe he mentions that it's been almost 200 years since he was turned, so... true resurrection should still be an option.

[devoted-tiefling]

(btw, it me, nyaomi, rebloggin this with my new shiny bg3 blog)

YOOO @zandalorscat THAT IS SUCH A GALAXY BRAIN (PUN UNINTENDED) TAKE AND I LOVE IT

OUGH

warning: mentions of spoilers and astarion abuse and shit

especially cus like i imagine that cazzador wouldn't always be mean to astarion. i don't think it's cruel enough if he's always just mean. cus like astarion describes his temperament like a weather vane and what do weather vanes do but turn 180° suddenly, without warning.

so maybe, if you just told him, if you used your mouth to tell him and nothing else, he wouldn't believe you. in fact, maybe, deep down inside, he'd be reminded of cazzador.

of cazzador's honeyed words when he'd try to lure astarion into a false sense of security. of cazzador's deplorable sense of humor. of cazzador, who seemed to always be able to sense when astarion was at his lowest because he'd always raise him up so the fall was that much more devastating.

so, if you use your words with astarion, he wouldn't believe you outright.

but if you tried your hardest to reach into his mind, to coax him to peer into yours, to see him as you see him, it would be different.

becos he can feel you, can feel the pitter patter of your heart when you look at him, can feel the elation you feel when you hear him laugh, can feel every single rushing emotion you go through just looking at him.

he'll see you look at his white curls with amusement as you watch them bounce in the wind or see your amazement when he sits in moonbeams and it turns into a halo around his head.

he'll see you look at his mouth and feel flustered instead of fear, even after he'd bitten you and drained you night after night, time after time.

he'll see you look at his eyes and feel the same warmth you feel when you peer into (what he thinks) is a monster. you look into a monster's eyes and all you feel is love?

and it's never pity. it's never annoyance. it's never anything dark and bad and so much like cazzador.

it's all love. its affection. it proves to him that, when you look at him, all you can see is someone you deeply, truly, care about and nothing else.

and i think that would break him. truly, it would break him. much more than cazzador ever could.

becos, after 200 years, cruelty and mistreatment was all astarion knew. and this suddenly novel idea that he's worth love? that someone could see him, some mangled and abused thing, and see something far more than anybody has ever seen before? ITS HEARTBREAKING

and he'll try to joke it off. he'll try to say something like 'oh my, darling, i didn't realise i was this gorgeous!' but you can hear it in how wet his words are, how his voice wavers and breaks, that it's taking everything in him not to sob.

it's especially mind-altering becos like i as a player (idk if you learn this) don't really know the extent of what they feel when they peer into each others' minds? ive only ever seen them do small vague descriptions.

but id like to think that, if you allowed him in, astarion could feel everything you feel.

and just being able to feel that beating heart in his chest again? to be able to hear the pulse in his ears? and know that the very same heart felt so much affection for him?

becos we all know (or headcanon) that this vampire is an absolute conman. that he blusters through life and, maybe, he believes a good number of what he says.

after all, there's always a sliver of truth in every good lie.

but the one thing he knew for sure was that he was unlovable. that what cazzador did to him mutilated his personality to the point that he never thought it possible for anyone to end up caring for him, much less falling for him.

yet, there you were

I HAVE SO MANY BRAIN WORMS!! ILLITHID BRAIN WORMS!! ABT THIS MAN!!

and also?? don't get me STARTED on how he'd hate himself for feeling jealous.

becos when he met his first vampire, he was turned into a slave. but here you were, standing in front of him, able to meet your own vampire and even perhaps fall in love with him.

something he didn't have the luxury of.

and God He'd Hate Himself. becos i bet part of him, the part that cazzador nurtured and grew inside of him, would want to do to you what was done to him.

you love him now but that's only becos you don't know what he's capable of. you haven't truly seen what he could do to you, what he's done to countless women and men. but he could show you. he could let you see and feel it for yourself.

you wouldn't love him then, would you? you stupid idiotic trusting--

and it would all be cazzador. it would be the voice cazzador implanted in his head, it would be the attitude cazzador cultivated in him.

and he'd hate himself as soon as the thoughts entered his mind.

OUGH AND IF THOSE THOUGHTS FLITTERED THROUGH HIS HEAD WHILE THE TWO OF YOU WERE CONNECTED?

and instead of the recoil, instead of the disgust, you showed him you understood, that you knew, after 200 years, this sort of trauma was obviously expected?

instead of just outright rejecting him, you showed that, perhaps, you suspected that part of him existed and you loved him anyway? not despite that side of him, but becos of it? becos you love every part of him wholeheartedly?

MAYHAPS THEN HE WOULD SOB

NOT MY ASTARION BRAIN ROT CONTINUING CUS LIKE i just got the scene where he literally says he misses seeing his face and that like he wishes he knew what he looked like and i??? WANTED SO BADLY FOR IT TO BE AN OPTION TO DRAW HIM

LIKE IMAGINE STARING AT HIM ACROSS THE BONFIRE, watching the way the light dances across his pale skin. youve been through hard times and one of the things you've learned to get through it was to draw

at first, you loathed the fact that you had to paint rich people for mere couple pieces of gold when you knew your art was worth more than that. you loathed even more that they'd upturn their posh noses at you and scoff when, truly, they knew what a treasure your art was.

now, seeing astarion, the way his white hair seemed to almost form a halo around his head, reflecting the moonbeams that graced his body, watching as he crossed his legs and meditated; you knew that you didn't regret a single second of the trials and tribulations that led you to this point.

you could finally put this agonizing skill to use. you could draw him.

and so you scrounged up some paper, an ink well, a quill; all things you'd pocketed during your adventures with the rather willful vampire.

you sat there, nib of the quill scratching against the parchment.

your art was nothing compared to the paintings you'd done before; these were mere lines and ink blots. you wished you could truly show him how beautiful he was through water color or pastels. instead, trapped in a land you barely knew, all you could do for him was this.

he had his eyes closed, of course, so you drew them from memory. strikingly red, like rubies, like blood. you didn't forget his crow's feet; you loved the way they wrinkled when he laughed. you shaped his lips, soft but rough from years of bite and chew, and formed it into his infamous mischievous grin.

his hair always seemed unruly but, drawing it now, it felt like drawing gorgeous chaos; there was an order to it, the way the bangs fell across his forehead, the way the sides feathered in front of his ears and curled behind them.

when you stopped, you realised you'd drawn him over and over, across several pieces of parchment.

the way he frowned and his fangs would glance across his lips. the way he'd look confused and his eyebrows would furrow. the way he'd look longingly at the stars, mind distant and eyes almost empty, like he'd made so many wishes that were never granted by the cosmos.

you never liked tooting your own horn but you felt like you truly captured him.

so, you took your pieces of paper, all drawings of him, dozens of them, small and sketchy; you took it all and you sat beside him and spread them out in front of you.

it took him a second to realise you were there. he'd been letting his guard down recently, especially when you were on watch duty, and it took you laying your head across his shoulder for his eyes to flutter open.

he opened his mouth, like there had almost been a retort slipping off his tongue, but the sight of your drawings stopped him.

he let out a ragged breath, eyes flickering across all of them. his clawed hands hovered in the air, trembling, as if taking a hold of the drawings would make them crumble under his touch.

and perhaps, in his head, he really believed they would.

'darling,' he'd call you, his voice wet with unshed tears 'what's all of this?'

of course he'd still joke. it was how he coped with things. he joked to hide how he truly felt and, of course, you were always there to understand.

'it's you,' you answered a matter-of-factly, as if you hadn't just turned this vampires world upside down 'its you the way i see you.'

and that's what makes him crack. because maybe, since you were the one that drew all of it, you hadn't noticed. but he noticed.

he noticed all the love and devotion you spilled across the page. every single detail, every single stroke, it was all from love.

and as someone who had never been on the receiving end of it, astarion cracked and he hid his face into your neck and he cried.

they were soft sobs, almost unnoticeable. but he cried nonetheless.

he cried for his past that he'd lost under his sadistic master, he cried for his difficult present that seemed impossible to escape, and he cried for this hopeful future you seemed to lay out in front of him.

he cried because he didn't realise that he had this much hope left inside of him. because he didn't know what else to do in the face of your devotion.

you just sat there, humming and rubbing his back, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around your waist, claws digging into your skin as if you'd disappear in front of him if he didn't hold on to you as tightly as possible.

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

I want this to be a short request but how would crushing!companions react to sole who holds their hand whenever they get scared and it slowly turns into a habit for them to always hold onto his hand?

omg this is literally so cute, bye. 🥺💗 i hope you enjoy, anon.

to keep it short, i’ll just write their reactions to when sole holds their hand and i will put ‘companions react to sole holding their hand as a habit’ in a separate post! <3

-

Danse:

it’s nothing new in his life— he’s experienced his fair share of people holding onto him during stressful and terrifying situations, so it’s something he’s used to. however, sole is an exception in this case. it’s been quite a while since he’s caught feelings for his companion, so it’s different in certain situations with them.

when they first get startled and hold his hand, he tenses up, his mind going completely blank as they wrap their fingers around his palm. though millions of people have done the same action to him in the past, this one feels different and he swears it makes him feel emotions he’s never truly felt before. before he can question what their intentions were, he noticed how they drew closer to him, eyes frantically scanning their surroundings and he realizes that there may have been an uncomfortable presence around.

so danse slowly takes a breath and squeezes their hand in return, looking down at them with red cheeks and a nervous expression. “you’re safe, don’t worry. if there appears to be any threat within our vacinity, i will neutralize it as best as i can.” when they look at him with a relieved smile, he feels his heart swell with emotions he’s never felt in his lifetime. he doesn’t dare to let go until sole feels safe enough to do so and even when they do, he fights the urge to take their hand in his once more.

instead, he impatiently waits for the next time he has the chance to hold their hand in his again, already excited though he refuses to admit it.

Deacon:

deacons not a very affection man nor has he received any affection from any other individual besides his late other half. To say this situation was terrifying for him was an understatement. he’s probably already dreading the fact that he has an unavoidable crush for his companion, not wanting to deal with that type of stress no longer.

the first time his crush rushes to hold his hand out of fear of their surroundings, he immediately pulls away out of habit and stares at them with a lump in his throat, words scrambled and refusing to leave his mouth for a moment. “i-, uh-“

with a mortified expression, sole waves it off with a flush on their face and an embarrassed tone, “shit i’m sorry. it’s just a habit, please don’t mind me.” they slowly distance themselves away from him and deacon quickly gets his act together, inwardly panicking that he may have hurt their feelings unintentionally. “no, it’s fine. i just- uh.” they tilt their head with a confused expression and instead of explaining himself, he lets out a soft apology and awkwardly goes on his way to save him the embarrassment. when he thinks about it later, he feels a pang of guilt hit him and realizes he may have been too harsh, so he tries to make an exception.

next time around, when sole does accidentally jump to grab his hand, it takes him a moment to calm himself down but does gather the courage to return the gesture. he would notice the surprised expression on soles face, and even though he’s internally losing it, he musters up the same shit eating smile he always has and cracks a joke; “charmer, i know it’s hard to stay away from me, but you could at least try.” when sole doesn’t respond and sends him a confused expression, he gives them a small smile and tugs their hand, “that’s okay though, i don’t mind. good ol’ deeks will scare the monsters away.”

when sole lets out a small chuckle, he feels himself grow agitated and immediately whips around to hide the blush on his face as he drags sole along with him. “we better get going if we wanna get outta this scary place. yknow, before you jump out of your shoes.”

Maccready:

he’s very to himself in most situations and values his personal space just as much as most people do in the commonwealth. he believes in a personal bubble and really enforces that idea, respecting his own personal space as well as others. however in this case, mac is probably just as scared as sole is, though he may be a lot better at hiding it.

when sole does grab his hand, he doesn’t give attention to it at first due to him being scared as well but when he does notice them showing signs of fear, he tries to reassure them, even though he’s flustered at the sudden contact. with a deep breath, he sucks in his negative emotions and decides to step up to bring comfort to them.

“hey, you okay?” when sole doesn’t respond, he just pulls them closer and squeezes their hand gently to grab their attention. when they do look at him, he smiles awkwardly, a inevitable blush dusting his cheeks. “earth to sole?”

when they explain their habit of doing so, he tries to lighten the mood by telling stories about his life in the capital wasteland and how he felt during his time at little lamplight, letting them know that he had similar fears and still continues to have them despite him experiencing the wasteland for years.

soon enough, their hands naturally find home in each other as they both continue exchanging similar experiences they’ve had, laughter filling the silence that sole feared just moments back.

Hancock:

hancocks a very touchy man and people do show him quite a lot of affection, so just like danse, he’s used to the constant attention others show him, only this time, the perspective is a little different. he enjoys it far more than other companions and doesn’t mind when they rush to hold his hand, though it catches him off guard.

for a moment, he processes the events occurring but once he does, he lets out a soft smile and a chuckles under his breath. he wants to let out a flirtatious comment or two, but fights the urge and instead, soothes their fear instead of embarrassing them.

“don’t worry, sunshine. you know i wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.” he’d rub his thumb against their knuckles and smiles when he sees the tenseness in their body melt away. “in fact..”

when he lets go of their hand, he sees the panic grow on their face and lets out a small chuckle. with a swift movement, he gently throws his arm over their shoulder and pulls them closer, rubbing their arm reassuringly.

“.. this might be a little more comforting. no matter what happens, i’ll always be ready to protect you this way. don’t you agree?” when they chuckle and nod at his suggestion, he pulls them closer to his body, whispering loud enough for them to hear.

“ ‘m always here for you, sunshine. you don’t ever have to be scared, especially with me around. don’t ever feel like you have to hide it from me.” sole lets out a small hum before leaning into his touch, trusting every word that left his mouth.

Nick Valentine:

nick is very understanding with a situation like this and doesn’t mind it one bit. though he does get a bit flustered, he tries to play out the scenario in a way where they won’t feel embarrassed about the events occurring. he’s aware that everyone has their fair share of fears, no matter how tough you play out to be.

“things can get pretty scary around here, i know.” when he smiles down at them, they feel a sense of ease and relax into his touch instead of having the urge to pull away. “waking up 200 years later in a completely different life will do that to you.”

sole would sigh and hold his hand tighter, their voice barely a whisper as their cheeks flush with embarrassment. “i wonder how you do it sometimes.”

nick lets out a small laugh at their reaction. “it wasn’t always like this, sweetheart. i was just as scared as you, maybe even worse.” sole looks at him with curiosity as he continues on, “theres always something new everyday but soon you’ll learn how to adapt to it.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.” his words are full of reassurance and comfort, allowing sole to let go of any negative feelings that filled their chest.

“good thing i have the best companion in the wasteland to guide me around this hellhole.” sole puts it out as a joke, but knows a part of it was the truth that she was wholeheartedly grateful for.

he proceeded to rub his thumb on their knuckles, feeling a sense of happiness in their comment, “i’ll do my best to meet your expectations, partner.”

Preston:

poor boy. he’d be a blushing mess if sole were to ever do something as simple as this. if they were to dart to grab his hand, even out of fear, he’d stutter in confusion, obviously flustered at the idea of them latching onto him. “w-what are you d-doing?”

his body would immediately freeze upon contact, stopping in his tracks despite the possibility of getting attacked at any given moment. when he catches the terror in their expression, he’s reminded that the general has their weak points too. so instead of questioning their actions any further, he tries to reassure them despite his pounding heart.

“did you wanna turn around? we can always find another route. we could even send a team of minutemen to do this for us.” when sole shakes their hand and swallows the lump in their throat, preston lets out a soft sigh and smiles at them softly.

“just leaving the suggestion out there, general. say the word and we’ll turn right back around.” sole would shake their head, their stubbornness peeking through the look of fear twisting on their face. “it’s fine. i can’t be selfish and let it get to me.”

preston would feel his heart swell at their sacrifice and the determination that they held, despite the odds going against them. gently, he squeezed their hand and looked down at them, seeing the curious expression on their face. “if that’s the case, just know i’m confident that nothing will tear you down. i have your back every step of the way,” he pauses for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck nervously with a dorky smile, “even if it mean- uh -holding my hand. i’d be more than happy to.”

after a few moments of silence, sole processed his words and smiled at him in response, returning the squeeze. “thank you, preston.”

Sturges:

sturges is aware he isn’t the strongest man in the commonwealth nor does he have the ability to protect sole in most situations. however, if he had a choice, he would do the best he could and he knows that sole is aware of his intentions. yet, when they yelp with fear and lunge to him, taking his hand in theirs, he realizes that maybe he isn’t as weak as he sought out to be.

“you holding up ‘lright, sweetheart?” when they notice their actions, their expression slowly twists into a terrified one and they attempt to retrieve their hand as quickly as they can. sturges doesn’t stop them from doing so and instead just laughs heartily and offers his hand to them despite their reaction.

“i’m fine with it, yknow. i wasn’t complainin’ or anything, just wanted to check if you’re okay.” sole hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering from his hand to his face before replying. “are you sure it’s okay? it just gave me a little scare, you don’t have to-“

before they could continue, he moves closer, taking their hand in his with a light blush on his cheeks and a reassuring smile plastered on his face. “it’s the least i can do for you.” his actions are more than enough to reassure sole and they nod, accepting his offer. “thank you, sturges.”

Gage:

he doesn’t like crushes— gage is so used to the habit of a one night stand and constant hook ups that he absolutely forgets how loving someone feels like. as sole grips his hand in fear, he chokes up for a good second and immediately gets himself together, retreating his hand and glaring at them.

“the fuck you think you’re doing?” despite his tough demeanor, his voice becomes slightly shaky and a small tinge of pink dusts his cheek. this doesn’t go unnoticed at first, but sole knows they’re too distracted to point it out.

they would apologize with an embarrassed expression and he’d avert his eyes elsewhere before continuing on; “yer the damn overboss, some stupid shit like this shouldn’t scare you. you gotta be tougher than that if yer gonna survive in this world.”

he doesn’t realize the words that leave his mouth until his eyes fall on sole, who’s clearly embarrassed and overwhelmed with the situation and immediately feels a tinge of guilt. with a quiet groan, he slows down and averts his eyes elsewhere, waiting for them to pick up the pace. when sole lets out a confused hum, he forces the words to leave his mouth.

“hurry up and get in front of me, why don’t ya’? yer acting like i’d let the overboss get hurt on my watch.”

they would pause for a moment at his words but feel a sense of reassurance knowing that gage had their back, despite his attitude towards them. “okay.” sole would smile at him softly and he’d scoff, fighting the blush threatening to creep up on his face. this stupid love bullshit was doing nothing but holding him back.

“yeah, yeah. lets get a move on before i leave ya out here to get eaten.”

[opossumanonymous]

How did things get so messed up?

Warnings: Talk of murder, a single swear, Inko just sometimes thinks about murder, uh vigilante Izuku

Black Widow Inko! Part 2 featuring Dad Might vs Dad for One! This is honestly just Crack with a plot...

******************************************************

It seemed like yesterday he was in that hospital room meeting his son for the first time. Inko holding their sons tiny body, tears welling in her eyes as she beckoned him closer.

He walked over with no hesitation fully ready to meet Izuku (The name chosen by Inko who got to pick after winning a bet).

Sitting down next to his tired wife he stared down at the infant in wonder. The tiny human they'd waited 9 months for was finally here. Hizashi almost didn't know how to act for a second, so caught up in looking at the tufts of green hair and freckles covering small cheeks.

Reaching out Hizashi gently caressed Izuku's little face with a single finger causing the baby to let out a coo. He grabbed his father's finger in his little fist nearly bringing the 200 year old man to tears.

If asked that's how that day went to Hizashi of course Inko remembers him nearly flooding the hospital room but Hizashi would never admit that.

Tears or not that day Hizashi knew he would protect them with his life so how....how did things get so messed up?!

How did he end up sitting across from his arch nemesis?!

How did Izuku out of everyone in Japan end up with one for all?!

And most importantly how did All Might end up seducing his goddess Inko?!?!

Seriously Hizashi just couldn't understand how she could be with such a lowlife, she must not know who he is.

Never before had Hizashi felt such a deep burning hatred for anyone.

Currently he was sitting on the couch in his and Inko's apartment while she and All Might sat on the adjacent couch. No one spoke until Inko finally cleared her throat.

"Toshi this is my ex hus-"

"Current Husband."

She looked at him with eyes full of fire and a voice full of venom as she spoke. "You forfeited that title the second you thought not calling for 12 years was a good idea."

"...."

She always knew what to say to shut him up especially when she was angry. One of the things that interested him in Inko at first was how unlike most she got incredibly smart when angry.

She also got more sadistic, he could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she calculated all the ways she could kill him.

In this house he was not the devil no, the cute green haired woman sitting across from him was. In fact the murderous aura around her was very concerning, not that he feared for his life with witnesses around. He knew she'd be angry but he'd hoped him getting on his knees and begging for forgiveness would work like last time.

Meanwhile Toshinori was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. At first when he walked into the apartment after a date night he was shocked to find none other than All for One standing in his living room. He quickly pushed Inko behind him ready to defend her against Japan's greatest villain.

While he no longer held one for all that wouldn't stop him from protecting his wife with all he had. How did All for One break out of tartarus anyway?

And just how did he look like this?

All for one looked the way he did before their battle where he smashed his upper face in. All for one, who last they spoke had no eyes, hair and barely a nose now had all of that back and even looked a few years younger.

Each and every person in this room was plotting how to kill someone. Thankfully this day they'd all walk away unscathed.

Mainly because they all had a secret to hide from eachother.

Inko didn't want Toshinori to know about her past, Toshinori didn't want Inko to know who her ex was, and Hizashi didn't want to anger his wife further by revealing any of her secrets. (He may have been criminally insane but he wasn't stupid)

After all one does not rat out their ex-assassin wife's past to her new husband who is also the ex-symbol of peace. Lest they both team up, beat your ass and throw you back in prison or just straight up murder you.

"Anyway Toshi this is my ex husband Hizashi, Izukus father, he left about 12 years ago with no contact or information."

"Oh come now darling those divorce papers weren't serious. I understand you're mad but I'm back and I promise nothing will keep me away this time."

The utter nerve of this guy he really wants to die today! He's lucky he stopped wearing ties years ago or else Inko would've been choked him to death!

"Tea. I'm going to go make some tea I'll be back soon." She said with a strained smile resisting the urge to rip out Hizashi's teeth.

After she left to the kitchen the atmosphere got even darker the two mortal enemies now left alone.

"So it wasn't enough that you destroyed my face and took my son as your successor, you just had to go and seduce my wife too!"

"Your wife! Did you not just hear her she divorced you?!"

"Yeah all because of you and your meddling if you hadn't destroyed my face putting me in comatose I would've been there for her and Izuku!"

All Might paused for a second realization hitting him like cold bucket of water. Before he got his composer back not wanting the enemy to get the upper hand.

"If you hadn't have been quirk smuggling and stealing classified documents I wouldn't have had to!"

"Oh so it's all entirely my fault?!" Hizashi scoffed "I bet she doesn't even know what you did to me does she?"

Toshinori stayed silent it was true she may have known who he was but she didn't know about his hand in her ex husband's absence.

He had no idea how lucky he was she didn't know or there would be two dead men walking instead of one.

"I take your silence as a yes then?" Hizashi was a little smug now.

"Not like you've told her who you really are." Hizashi frowned at this causing Toshinori to smile "I see I'm right as well."

Well he was only half right he never out right told Inko she figured it out on her own. But All Might didn't need to know that, after all no use making Inko even more upset then she already was.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Inko was trying to figure out how to shoot her ex from the kitchen without Toshinori noticing.

While she knew it was impossible without blowing her secret a woman could dream.

As the tea finally came to a boil she noted the distinct sound of her sons bedroom window opening and closing. Knowing her son was back from his nightly vigilantism only done on weekend nights per their agreement. She briefly considered pouring rat poison in Hizashi's serving but decided against it.

Not that the good for nothing scumbag didn't deserve it. But just scaring him would do for now unless Izuku didn't want him in his life. After all he was Izuku's father and Izuku deserved to choose whether he wanted him in his life or not.

Bringing back a tray with the tea she sat the cups down with an eerie look on her face. "Here you go Hizashi I made yours just how you like it!~" She said sweetly.

Yeah Hizashi isn't drinking that, no way she definitely must have done something to it. He hasn't survived the past 200 years to die like that, thankfully his lovely queen isn't good at holding her emotions in.

"Thankyou darling you're too kind." He said taking a cup but not drinking from it.

Toshinori on the other hand called her buff he knew she wouldn't do anything. As he drunk his own cup he remarked on how good it was, well atleast he didn't have to worry about no real or imaginary poison.

Toshinori really didn't know what to do he was having a mental crisis. Should he tell Inko and young Midoriya the truth about All for one or not say anything? The boy would be devastated and would he really want to fight his own father when the time came? He would never forgive himself if it caused Izuku mental pain.

But if he turned Hizashi in to the hero commission they wouldn't know it was him. But he'd still have to deal with them being distraught and possibly hating him for not telling them sooner. Plus everything might become public and there's no telling how many enemies All for one has made that would be out for blood.

This was bad, both his morals and heart clashed at the thought of hurting Izuku and Inko they both quickly became the family he never got to have.

Izuku even started calling him dad for crying out loud! What would he call him if he found out his idol and mentor was the one who separated him from his biological father?!

"We need to settle this once and for all." Inko finally said still annoyed and just wanting Hizashi out.

"Yes you're right we should Inko darling. I won't make this hard, I promise I only want to see my son. Perhaps he can sleepover at my place on the weekends?"

Toshinori paled at that, if he got young Midoriya alone there's no telling what that monster would do to the boy. He could kidnap him, take one for all, and lock him away forever. Toshinori couldn't let that happen deciding he'd rather tell both Inko and Izuku who 'Hizashi' really was.

"Yeah no I don't think so you can have supervised visits and you can take him somewhere if I'm available to go with."

Yeah Inko wasn't buying what her ex was selling she knew he'd have Izuku quirkless and vaulted if she left them alone.

Not to mention that would force her to try rescuing him leading to her being vaulted as well.

But together they could defeat him after all he couldn't fight them both at once.

Hizashi was about to open his mouth when all of a sudden a voice called from the hall.

"Dad?"

"Yes son?" Both men said in unison before looking at eachother with a glare.

Izuku just stood there frozen in shock as his step dad and biological father glared at eachother. He couldn't believe his eyes, even though he heard his father's voice he just thought his mom finally got him on the phone. But this is unreal he never thought in his wildest dreams his father would be in front of him again.

He gripped his plan shirt that had "shirt" written on it in big white letters. His heart felt like it would beat out of his chest at any moment, a million questions going through his mind.

He was so deep in thought he didn't hear his mom get up from the couch and approach him till he felt her hand on his shoulder.

"Sweetie are you okay?" His mom asked him worried.

The two men stopped glaring at eachother now focused on Izuku concerned for him.

Tears came to the greenettes eyes as his voice shook with joy. "Dad!"

Hizashi was then tackled by the boy, slight bits of green lighting appearing on him showing his small use of one for all. Despite Izukus small stature compared to his father's hulking one, Hizashi nearly doubled over feeling like he was punched.

His son was a strong boy, he lamented the years lost since his little green bean was no longer little.

Wrapping his arms around his son Japan's evilest villain patted Izukus head. Causing the ex-symbol of peace to go into a coughing fit, a waterfall of blood pouring from his mouth.

"Dad are you okay?!"

Pushing away from Hizashi Izuku went to check on Toshinori as Inko offered up a handkerchief. Taking it in gratitude Toshinori thanked his wife before reassuring Izuku he was okay. "Thankyou son I'm alright no need to worry." Giving his signature grin he ignored his enemies death glare.

All for One the demon emperor would never admit he's jealous of anyone especially his arch-nemesis. But seeing his son coddle that blonde theif made his blood boil.

"Well this will be a new experience I never thought you'd call someone else dad..." Hizashi said with a strained smile his mouth lighting up with fire for a second.

He could always burn the blonde homewreaker with his fire breath good thing that was the quirk he with.

"Oh I guess it will get really confusing calling you both dad. But what other alternative names for you both? Or I could just call one dad and the other something else...maybe papa could work?" Izuku muttered suddenly, scratching the back of his head.

Both men looked at eachother realizing this could be the deciding factor. They knew that whoever got papa would win, after all it was the cuter of the two choices.

"Alright it's decided then!" Izuku claped his hands together a wide grin growing on his face. Both men sitting in anticipation at the boys verdict. The two looking like they were on a high stakes game show as sweat trickled down their foreheads.

"I'll call you dad" Izuku pointed at Hizashi "and I'll call you papa!" He then pointed to Toshinori.

Toshinori felt like he could do a cheer, his crops were watered, his stomach was back, his scares gone, everything in the universe was right.

That was until he looked over at All for One who he was sure would definitely kill him now if he wasn't going to before. His aura now darker than before as Toshinori's own aura glowed bright with happiness knowing he was the superior father figure in Izukus life.

Meanwhile Izuku ever oblivious to his father's fued just gave his mom his best smile feeling happier to have them in his life. After all they were his family and he wouldn't change that for nothing in the world.

******************************************************

Sometime later

Yoichi: Leave brother we will not leave this host!

AFO: Oh I don't want your quirk little brother, no not anymore.

Yoichi: Then why are you here what else could you possibly want?!

AFO: WHAT I WANT IS FOR YOU TO MAKE YOUR GOLDEN BOY LEAVE MY WIFE AND SON ALONE! HE'S RUINING EVERYTHING!

Yoichi: I see so that's what this is about...yeah no this is what you get. Consider this karma goodbye brother.

AFO: OH NO DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME TELL ALL MI-

Yoichi: *disconnects AFO from Izukus conscious*

AFO: *Sitting in Izukus room while his son sleeps* I can't believe it he hung up on me.

******************************************************

AFO: I'll have you know I did alot of good things I'm not a good for nothing scumbag!

Inko: Oh really name one good deed you've done since we got married.

AFO:............Well umm..... Oh! I had Izuku our son!

Inko: Hehe yeah no I had Izuku you just stood there and cried in the corner for 11 hours.

AFO: WELL YOU TRY BEING SUPPORTIVE WHEN YOUR WIFE CALLS YOU A- Wait no actually I adopted a stray child off the streets! That definitely counts as one good deed!

Inko: WHAT!?

AFO: *realizing how bad he messed up* You what happened was....

[x-hollywoodghoul-x]

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to know what I’m up against.”

The vaultie had been so determinedly on a heroic rescue mission for her father mere days ago - and now instead of breaking down over having her perfect image of daddy dearest shattered, here she was applying that same focused drive to bring him down. Trying to study up on her target's capabilities and everything.

What a ruthlessly pragmatic little ray of finger-chomping sunshine she was evolving into.

The Ghoul blew air through his teeth as he exhaled; a low, caustic sound, with a faint edge of dark amusement.

"Way I seen it, you're up against a coward in power-armour," he informed her, bluntly matter-of-fact in his scorn for Barb's former assistant.

"Ain't anything special 'bout that type of monster, 'cept his toys, and I'm good at breakin' those. It's whoever your daddy's runnin' to for backup right now that you oughta be worryin' about."

The fact that Henry had chosen to turn tail when faced with his own ghost of apocalypse past was very telling. Bastard could order a nuclear strike to murder thousands of strangers across the country without batting an eyelid, but he didn't have the stomach to look at the grisly consequences of his actions. Moldaver must've twigged that about him too, given her particularly chargrilled and feral choice of dinner party guest.

“...I risked everything getting out here to help him... And he would kill me for that.”

There was that strange twinge in his gut again. That corrosive swell of bitter emotion in his throat, so thick he could choke on it.

Don't think about her.

"Well, as folks used to say - no good deed goes unpunished," The Ghoul replied with sardonic flippancy, and took a swig from his flask. Fuck it. He needed to be less sober for this kind of conversation.

Dogmeat was, unsurprisingly, throwing a party over the vaultie's acknowledgement of her existence and return to a upright position. Feeling his patience wearing thin from the display, The Ghoul gave a short, sharp whistle and pointedly snapped his fingers at the ground next to him.

That's enough messing around. Come back and fucking settle.

Utterly unfazed by the warning, Dogmeat gave the vaultie's arms one more disgustingly wet-sounding parting lick, turned on the spot to look at him, and pointedly lay down right next to the novelty person.

Fucking. Traitor.

This really shouldn't have been something he gave a shit about. This wasn't even his fucking dog, anyway. The Ghoul didn't have pets. The Ghoul travelled alone.

Except he seemed to have completely tossed both those rules out the window now.

“What kind of competition are you?”

The Ghoul bared his yellowed teeth at the vaultie in a vicious smile that didn't reach his eyes.

How do you defeat your enemies? Time and management.

Well, after 200 years of effective cursed immortality, it was pretty safe to say he was the one who had the advantage of time. And now, he had Henry's management progeny on his side.

"Me? Oh, I'm just the loose end that's gonna unravel his whole fuckin' fake-perfect world. Same kind as you, sweetheart. Welcome to the club."

@okey-fucking-dokey

"I don't even know your name." ((@okey-fucking-dokey))

They'd travelled in silence through the newly illuminated ruins of Los Angeles, until the lights of the dead city were at their backs. It was uncanny, seeing such widespread power restored; from a distance, in the dark, it almost looked like it had 200 years ago.

No doubt it would serve as a beacon for every curious and hungry critter within a 10 mile radius. Out here, in the cover of the dark scrubland, was a safer place to make camp for the night. Not that he was expecting to get much in the way of sleep tonight, with everything that he'd discovered today.

Apparently the vaultie was having similar struggles, because mere minutes after he'd brusquely announced that he'd take first watch, she spoke up.

"I don't even know your name."

Well, the quiet had been nice while it lasted.

The Ghoul didn't so much as turn his head in her direction. He was still looking out at the distant glow of the city's skyline. Dogmeat was curled up beside him, as she'd taken to doing whenever he stopped to make camp; the weight of her head resting on his leg was warm and companionable, and he absolutely would not have been idly petting her if it had been light enough for the vaultie to see.

...There really wasn't much point in hiding the information now. Not because they were travelling together and he already knew her name - the Wasteland didn't give a flying shit about matters of fairness. But the bastard they were going after knew he was now, since he'd let that particularly ugly cat out of the bag, and it was inevitably gonna come up again when they cornered him or any of his other piece of shit Pre-War cronies.

It still felt weird to utter it aloud, after all this time, though.

"...Cooper."

The thick Texan drawl that had become such second nature to him was more muted now, as he grudgingly, quietly disclosed this long-buried piece of himself into the night air.

"There, now we're acquainted all proper. Go the fuck to sleep."

@okey-fucking-dokey

[ish-scribbles]

"They’re prolly going to end up marrying each other"

You and Ushiwaka have been friends ever since you were kids and you both are volleyball players as well. This year, you are a new admission in Shiratorizawa so,,,Ushijima shows you around. Much to the team’s suprise you both seem much more than friends but it's a pity that the only people oblivious to that fact is you two.

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Soft Ushiwaka, lolol

"A Girl? You can't be serious!" The whole volleyball team of Shiratorizawa couldn't believe what they just heard.

"Guys, I'm not kidding. A REAL GIRL, REAL CUTE, WAS WALKING AROUND THE CAMPUS WITH USHIJIMA-SAN AND THAT'S NOT ALL. When I was in the cafeteria I SAW HER LEANING ON USHIJIMA' S SHOULDER, AND SHE SEEMED ASLEEP(?) WHILE HE CONTINUED EATING HIS FOOD LIKE IT WAS NOTHING" continues the still shocked Goshiki ''Decent in studies, one of the top volleyball aces in the nation and now a girlfriend, is there anything he can't do?!!'' He mumbles to himself.

When Goshiki told the whole team that Ushijima was roaming around the campus with a girl, it was only natural for the team to be in utter shock, considering the type of reserved guy Ushijima usually is. Even Tendou was unaware about your existence, but the way Goshiki was describing you both made it seem that you both relatively affectionate.

The sound of the gym door opening silenced the current discussion and that's when the whole team Ushijima entering with a girl on his side through the gym doors together.

"Wakatoshi, When you told me it'll only be a small walk around campus, YOU SHOULD'VE MENTIONED THAT YOU WERE GOING TO GIVE ME THE WHOLE TOUR OF YOUR GINORMOUS SCHOOL WHICH I CAN ONLY PRESUME WOULD COVER AN ENTIRE DISTRICT" You complained while facing him and walking backwards on your toes trying to put on the most intimidating face you could to show how seriously frusfrated you were.

"I once again apologize, Y/N, I should've asked you to skip your before-school training for the day. I will surely make up for it later, perhaps...a little detour to the ice-cream shop after school might help?" He offered

"It might" you pouted.

The whole team was stunned watching this scene play in front of their own very eyes. The stoic captain of Shiratorizawa, One of the top 3 aces of the country, was being told off by a girl half a foot smaller than him AND HE WAS ACTUALLY APOLOGIZING? Also not to forget...both of you were also on first name basis? Nothing made sense anymore. After a small pause Tendou was the first to break the silence.

"Oya oya, now lookie at what do we have here? Wakatoshi-kun~ You know it would be real rude of you to not introduce your friend to us, right?"

"Oh but of course, I would like all of you to meet L/N Y/N, she is actually going to join our school through sports scholarship for volleyball itself. She is also my neighbour from back home and the closest thing to a best friend I had, ever since when I was a child" Ushijima replies to which Tendou reacts with an "ouch" and an over exaggerated act of heartbreak with his hand on his chest at the fact that Ushiwaka never openly admited Tendou to be his best friend like this.

To which you laugh "You must be Tendou, right? ‘The Miracle Boy!’ if i remeber correctly" YOU smile "Wakatoshi actually talks a lot about his team and especially you! So don't worry, if we’re talking about how close we are to the spiker boy over here, we're probably at the same level, he just won’t admit it" to which Tendou replies "You know what, I think I kinda ike you, new girl. You’re gonna fit in just fine" to which you flash a cheeky smile and a thumb up what a dork.

Your conversation was cut short when Coach Washijo enters the gym and everyone in the team as well as you gave a respectable bow and an energetic ‘Good Afternoon’ and after acknowledging the greetings the old coach finally notices you.

‘‘Ah yes, you must be Y/N-chan. I've heard great things about you from Wakatoshi-kun, I'm glad that you joined the academy. I look forward to see your performance in the Girl's Team.‘‘

"I am very grateful for the opportunity, Coach" You say while giving a sincere bow.

"Although...the girls team are out for a practice match against Aoba Johsai's Girls Team, so you can practice with the boys today." Then he looks away to face the team "I have to attend a staff meeting today so the team managers will conduct today's practice and write a thorough report. So whomever is found slack off during the practice will recieve extra laps and 200 jump serves as penalty tomorrow morning. As for the match Y/N-chan and Wakatoshi-kun you both can divide the teams as per convenience, that is all for today".

They team was surprised to say the least. Coach never let anyone play against Ushiwaka unless he knew the other person could atleast withstand the power of Ushiwaka's Spike so it wouldn't cause any unintentional injury and from the looks of it you didn't seem to be very immune to that fact since you weren't exactly very muscular or buff. You were even somewhat tiny when compared to the rest of the team and yet Coach Washijo was confident enough to put you against Ushiwaka himself.

You got paired up with Tendou, Semi, Taichi, Goshiki and a few others when you divided teams amongst the players present.

"So Y/N-chan~ What position do you play exactly?" Tendou asked.

"Oh I didn’t tell you guys yet? I’m a Wing Spiker" You reply.

"Oh Really?! Little miss Y/N here spikes?" Tendou teases while making all sorts of gestures indicating how small compared to him you were.

"Cut it out, you idiot" Semi interjected with a slight smack to his head.

"If Ushijima-san has a good opinion about Y/N-san's ability, I wouldn’t doubt her considering how rarely he acknowledges another player’s skills" says Goshiki while internally thinking why can’t he ever get Ushiwaka's approval too.

"Wanna bet who scores the most points, Guess Monster?" You challenge Tendou with an smirk on your face.

"Oh my! Little miss Y/N is so daring~You got yourself a deal!" Tendou said excitedly.

The refree’s whistle blew and the match began. Ushiwaka’s team started with a serve which was recieved by your team and the ball was in the air. Semi recieved the ball and tossed it in the air as a set, but that set turned out to be sloppy because when he and the team were supposed to do warm ups and stretching, they were instead busy talking about you and Ushiwaka. The ball was set a little too high and far away for Tendou to hit and Goshiki was positioned in the back, so everyone expected it to be a lost cause and didn’t run after it, the other team relaxed as well. But then an unexpected tiny figure rushed between Semi and Tendou and jumped almost more than half their height and spiked the ball hard into Ushiwaka’s court, while everyone was still processing what just happened in what just felt like a split second. The refree’s whistle rang, evident of the point you just scored.

" Getting sloppy are we now, Miracle Boy?" You teased to which Tendou replied with his sticking his tongue out ‘’I’m just getting started, don’t get cocky’’ and when no one was noticing a small smile crept up on Ushiwaka’s face while the rest of them were plain frozen in their places still processing how were you able to perfect a shot with a set like that. The set was obviously bad and the chances of hitting it was very low but somehow you managed to fix your placement, jump about 3 feet high and spike the ball with crazy accuracy and with power what can only be assumed second to Ushiwaka himself!! All in just a split second.

During the match, you hit a lot of spikes and so did Tendou but the gap between the number of his spikes and yours just kept getting wider while the score of your team and Ushiwaka’s team was almost tied most of the time, no one had the clear lead the whole match, and no one was ready to back down from the other.

At set point, when you were positioned in the back it was your time to serve and you managed to serve a decent ball which almost scored another point if it wasn’t for their libero’s last minute recieve. The libero passed the ball to their setter, Shirabu who set the ball for Ushiwaka who then spiked the ball aimed at the corner of your court but before the ball hit the ground you whooshed in the last minute and managed to recieve the ball perfectly and then Semi and Tendou were able to score the last point which made your team win the practice match. When the refree whistle indicating your win, all your team mates started walking towards the benches, the managers started passing towels and water bottles but you on the other hand, started to walk towards Ushijima furiously.

‘‘That last shot. You intentionally hit the last spike slow and nearer to me so I can recieve it easily, didn’t you?!‘‘ You spat while slightly panting

‘‘You caught up on that?‘‘ Ushijima said while looking slightly sideways in order to avoid eye contact.

‘‘Why would you do that anyways, you don’t think I’m capable enough to take you head-on big guy?‘‘ You were furious. You might not be as tall and as poised as Ushijima but you weren’t bad either, you practiced a lot to perfect your techniques and when Ushijima deliberately was lazying his game, ofcourse that would make you mad.

Watching this a million thoughts came to the team’s head

Goshiki: This was a SLOWED shot?And that was an EASY recieve? Can they just adopt me already-

Semi: How did she recieve that ball that easily and wait- how would she know, if this was slowed and not a regular shot, how close are they exactly?

Shirabu: Even a spike like that has like a 95% success rate and she’s still not happy?She’s crazy,,,but in a good way I suppose?

Tendou: It’s like watching a little puppy trying to intimidate a Wolf and I bet she doesn’t even realizes it, how cute~

‘‘There’s no point of playing if you keep giving me half-assed shots like that, If you don’t want to practice with me anymore, just say it and I’ll go‘‘

‘‘No no Y/N, you’re getting me all wrong, please give me a chance to explain” Ushijima had genuine worry in his eyes when he said this he had a slight change of pitch in his voice ‘‘It’s true I intentionally slowed down the last spike but that wasn’t because I doubt you, It was because I know you like to give it your all, even in a practice games but the game wasn’t fair in the first place. You had gone through your morning training, then you had to attend school and then a whole tour of the campus, So it was obvious that you were already tired even if you weren’t showing it, I’m sorry but I couldn’t help but notice it when you runs were slower, spikes were less accurate than usual and I just couldn’t bear to see it anymore so I thought that it would help to finish the game early‘‘

It was true, you were already exhausted after all you went through during the day but it never showed on your face and the team didn’t realised it either, Still a phrase resounded in their heads ‘runs were slower and the spikes were less accurate than usual’ What kind of a monster was hidden inside your tiny frame?!

‘‘Listen Wakatoshi, I appreciate your concern but I don’t liked to be babied around like that, You can be upfront about it and I would’ve been mature about it‘‘ you said.

‘‘Then it’s my mistake I assumed you would just chase after me trying to beat me up‘‘ Ushiwaka replied genuinly thinking he was wrong.

‘‘DAMN RIGHT I WOULD HAVE, NEVER DOUBT ME EVER AGAIN OR IT WOULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU DO USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI‘‘ You screamed out to which Ushijima replied with an instant ‘’Yes ma’am‘’

‘‘Now that we have sorted that out, after a change of clothes let’s go out and eat some Hayashi Rice‘‘ You spoke to which Ushiwaka replied ‘’Certainly’’.

After the practice you changed into a normal t-shirt and shorts and after reaching the bench just outside the gym you realised that you changed faster than Ushijima, so you decided to sit and wait for him. While you were waiting you felt your calf muscles aching after the whole day of running and jumping,,,and since you already had the disadvantage of being smaller than the rest of the guys you were playing with, you had to run and jump extra.

Ushijima and the rest of the team came out after changing and were walking in your direction at a distance, and while the rest of the team were talking amongst themselves he from afar saw you slightly massaging your sore calfs, he already knew that you today would’ve been a toll on you body.

‘‘Ready to go?‘‘ You ask when Ushijima finally reached you, to which he gave a nod and then he picked up your bag and hung it over his chest to which you said

‘‘Wait what are you doin-’’

‘‘I noticed you still seem to be tired and I still feel guilty about the tour, so it’s the least I can do’’

"Is that so?" You said with a childish look and a cheeky smile on your face ‘"Then you can’t expect me to walk all the way over till we reach the restaurant' you gave him your puppy eyes look and without another word he got on one knee while you walked and stood over him with a stupid "yay" and then wrapped your arms around his neck while nuzzling your face into his broad shoulders with a stupid smile while he got a hold of your legs and finally stood up.

The whole team were frozen at their spots internally cursing both of you on either how single you both made them feel or how oblivious can you be. He then looked towards Tendou and spoke "Tendou, I’ll be a little late than usual, so you can lock the dorm room door if you decide to sleep early, I have my spare key along with me" to which Tendou just said "Oh okay" strangely being less talkative than usual.

After that Ushiwaka just started walking towards the restaurant with you Piggybacking on him like it was nothing while the discussion amongst the team about you two continued.

"They DO realise that THAT is not how people who are 'just friends' act, right?" Goshiki says still shocked.

‘‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that‘‘ Shirabu replied.

‘‘It’s so scary how oblivios Ushijima usually is but in matters like this he couldn’t get any dumber‘‘ Semi continues.

‘‘Who wants to bet against me that they won’t end up together?‘‘ Tendou speaks up with one of his arm in the air and one eye closed while the other looked around to see the people around him.

"Are you kidding, who’s stupid enough to take you up on that bet" Semi replies "Weren’t you here the whole practice? They’re prolly going to end up marrying each other’’.

[mpanighetti]

Halloween Zero-to-Thirty Challenge Rating Challenge

October 2nd Prompt: Capitalism

Art by RedDrawn Art!

Avatar of Debt (Challenge 1*)

Lore

On worlds where coinage and wealth dictate one's societal worth and position of power, taxes can be the great equalizer. Monarchs and paupers alike have fallen to the mighty tax collector, and so too do the mightiest adventurers eventually have to account for the mountains of wealth accrued during their escapades. For a very unlucky few, this rebalancing comes in the form of an audit from an avatar of debt.

Though the scythe of this grim spectre looks intimidating, it draws neither blood nor vitality. It instead cuts directly into the purse of whoever sits on the recieving end, reducing one's wealth with every blow. This taxman will not relent until one's entire balance is withdrawn, insisting that "the debt must be paid".

Any taxes the avatar collects are stowed away in a pocket dimension only it can access. If the avatar is reduced to 0 hit points, its pocket dimension collapses and its collected taxes appear on the ground where it previously stood.

Summoning an Avatar of Debt

The Dungeon Master may opt to replace the Ruin card from a Deck of Many Things with the Audit card, which behaves as follows when drawn:

Audit. You summon an avatar of debt – a ghostly skeleton creature clad in a snappy business suit and burgundy tie, and carrying a spectral scythe. It appears in a space of the Dungeon Master's choice within 10 feet of you and attacks you, warning all others that you must win the battle alone. The avatar fights you until you have no more wealth or it drops to 0 hit points, whereupon it disappears. If anyone besides you tries to attack the avatar, they summon their own avatar of debt. A creature whose wealth is reduced to 0 by an avatar of debt can't possess coinage for 3d10 days, during which time any coins it attempts to obtain disappear into the avatar's pocket dimension.

Attributes

Medium undead, lawful evil

Armor Class: 13

Hit Points: half the hit point maximum of its summoner

Speed: 60 ft., fly 60 ft. (hover)

STR: 14 (+2)

DEX: 17 (+3)

CON: 16 (+3)

INT: 20 (+5)

WIS:: 18 (+4)

CHA: 4 (-3)

Damage Immunities: necrotic, poison

Condition Immunities: charmed, frightened, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned, unconscious

Senses: darkvision 60 ft., truesight 60 ft., passive Perception 14

Languages: all languages known of its summoner

Challenge: equal to the summoner's level or challenge rating, minimum 1 (200 XP)*

Special Traits

Ledger Domain. If the creature that summoned the avatar has no wealth in physical coinage, the avatar immediately teleports to its pocket dimension and cannot be summoned again by that creature for one year.

Desk Work. The avatar is incapable of dealing damage to a creature.

Incorporeal Movement. The avatar can move through other creatures and objects as if they were difficult terrain. It takes 5 (1d10) force damage if it ends its turn inside an object.

Turning Immunity. The avatar is immune to features that turn undead.

Actions

Taxes. The avatar sweeps its spectral scythe through a creature within 5 feet of it. Roll a number of d12s equal to half the summoner's level or challenge rating (round down, minimum 1). A number of random coins equal to the dice roll immediately disappears from the target's wealth and reappears in the avatar's pocket dimension, and the avatar regains a number of hit points equal to the number of coins it takes.

The tax is collected even if the creature's wealth is not under its current physical possession; the coins will be removed from any chest, bank, loan to another creature, extradimensional space, or any other location or plane, as long as the wealth exists as physical coinage.

* Challenge Rating Note

Technically, the avatar of debt breaks D&D's challenge rating system; in addition to its scaling hit point maximum (similar to the avatar of death), the avatar cannot deal damage, and thus on its face presents no challenge beyond time spent. But the impact on wealth could be devastating to some players or campaigns, regardless of level. For the purpose of this project, we'll call the avatar a CR1, as a 1st level character should be able to defeat it, and in any case won't die even if the avatar wins the encounter.

[id: monster stat block for avatar of debt, depicting a Grim Reaper-type skeleton wearing an all-black business suit and tie, carrying a giant dark scythe with glowing blue lines, and juggling some gold coins]

[Original prompt]

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: I

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: (future as well as present) violence, angst, smut, fluff, language

A/N: Hello and thank you for choosing to read Nothing Alike. If you read my last series with Geralt you know that things can get pretty dark, but for the most part (at least right now) this story is going to be a bit more light hearted.

Masterlist

He prayed the rumors weren’t true.

He prayed that the dreaded letter he had received was nothing more than hyperbolic ramblings of the townsfolk.

He prayed that he wouldn’t have to raise his sword at all.

He just wanted to sleep, to be free of monsters for just a few days, to lay beneath the stars beside his horse while a fire cooked a rabbit he had caught and he dozed to the sound of crickets in the trees. That’s all he really wanted, and yet he was marching through the woods towards another town that had requested his presence. The sun was warm, filling the air with the rich scents of heated forest. It caressed his neck and shoulders, as if lulling him into the sleep he so desperately craved.

It had been a long time since he had been to the town that summoned him. When he had first been released back into the wild as a Witcher. 200 years ago, and it was still the dirtiest town he had ever seen. The moment he stepped inside he felt as if an extra layer of grime had been added to everything he owned. The air was thick and clogged and the windows were all shuttered closed, but strangest of all was the lack of people. The sun was still in high noon, yet there was no one. No one bustled to finish their shopping and no children played in the streets, it was like a ghost town. The only sound was the crows sitting on the rooftops and a very distance rumbling. He moved towards the center of the town, hoping the find an explanation for the silence.

And an explanation he received. Surrounding a bar was a mob of people, screaming and stopping their feet. That at least explained the rumbling, but it failed to explain why they were here, and what they were screaming about. He shoved his way through the crowd, knocking over the angry townspeople as he went.

“Hey, we don’t need another Witcher in this town to take our money,” an angry woman sneered at him, spitting on his shoes. He ignored her and continued forward, but her angry cry seemed to have alerted the crowd to his presence and pushing through the crowd was growing more difficult with each step. Finally, he made it to the center and found a crude fighting ring. Inside the ring was a cloud of dust and two people rolling around in the dirt.

One seemed much smaller than the other and he was unsure why such an unmatched fight had drawn such a crowd, until the bigger opponent let out a howl of pain. The smaller leapt away and then with a well-placed kick, knocked out a few teeth. Geralt dodged the molars and moved closer, trying to get a better look at the two opponents. Another few hits and the smaller was on top of the larger, a strong arm around his throat. The larger staggered backwards, slamming his opponent into the wall but they didn’t budge, only squeezing tighter until he tumbled to the ground, face blue.

“Tap out,” came the cry and without hesitation he did so. The smaller opponent climbed off and the crowd booed, clearly not in favor of the winner. The winner did not seem to care as they bowed, their hair tumbling out to reveal a woman behind all that grime. She was grinning as she collected her gold from the unhappy townsfolk. Her eyes flashed across his and he stepped back, startled by the gold irises that mimicked his own.

She was a witcher like him, and here she was wasting her life by robbing people of their gold. She walked towards the bar, her bag of coins jingling like bells on a sleigh. He pushed through the crowd and followed her into the bar, stalking her towards the booth in the back corner that he would have chosen anyway if she had not been there first.

He sat down across from her, but she didn’t acknowledge him, instead counting the gold that she had collected while outside.

“The bastards cheated me,” she sighed before glancing up and smiling. “Do you need something?”

“You’re a witcher.”

“Ah yes, an observant fellow, so are you.”

“You’re taking advantage of these people. You know you’ll win, it’s not a fair fight.”

“Our whole lives are unfair.”

“We were not made for this, we were made to save-,”

“Save ourselves, survive. Darling, you owe them nothing. How old are you anyway, a couple hundred years?”

“A few,” he growled, and she laughed, sliding the gold back into her pouch.

“Makes sense, you older witchers are all about tradition.” He wanted to throw her against the wall, anger boiling in a deep pit of his stomach. Here she was insulting him, and she didn’t even have the decency to offer him her full attention. She was braiding her hair!

“And by that you mean?”

“You think you’re the first Witcher with a vendetta to come around here and try to end all my fun?” He did his best to not let a look of surprise pass over his face, but she caught it anyway. “Oh you did, well if it makes you feel any better you’re the politest. The others had no sense of conversation, just show up and try to drag me out of town or kill me. You’ve all ranted about the same thing though, tradition.”

“You are a disgrace to your school-,”

“The school I didn’t choose to attend you mean, or maybe I’m a disgrace to the Witcher who brought me in, who convinced my mother that him taking me away was for the best because she couldn’t afford to feed us. Maybe I’m a disgrace to my dear old mother, but she’s dead now and honestly I wouldn’t give a fuck even if she was alive.” She stood up and turned towards the door but Geralt caught her wrist, yanking her back into the booth.

“Leave this town or I will be forced to make you.”

“You won’t be the first to try, and you won’t be the last to fail. This town has been trying to get me out for months. No one can make me do anything I don’t want to do, that’s the only gift they gave me, power to get ride of invasive pricks like you. So why don’t you move on, Witcher,” she spat. She yanked away but he didn’t let go of her arm, tightening his grip with every moment. She rolled her eyes and pulled out a needle point dagger, driving it through his arm and into the table.

He growled like a tortured animal, grinding his teeth trying not to let her escape his grasp, but she slipped out and disappeared into the unhappy crowd. He yanked the blade from his arm and charged after her. He watched her long braid whip around the corner, towards the inn portion of pub.

The stairs creaked under his feet, crying for reprieve but nothing slowed him down. He was going to drag her out of this town if it killed him. A door slammed behind him and the young witcher was grinning at him from a shutterless window. She blew him a kiss and fell backwards, dropping out of view. He rushed to the ledge and with a sneer she pulled herself out of the hay in which she had landed and took off down the street. He jumped, not bothering to brush off the hay and taking off after her.

The streets were crowded again with merchants and buyers, now that there was no desperate fight to rid themselves of a witcher everyone could continue with their day and make Geralt’s life a little more difficult than it had to be. While the complained about her under their breath it almost seemed that they were protecting her, rolling carts into his way and sending chickens after him.

Throughout the chase, he never let her out of her sight, trying to study her on the run. He was big and strong, a clear advantage if it came to hand to hand combat but he could tell she was quick and clever. Darting in and out of the crowd, using magic to gently shift things out of her way. It was skilled magic, one that he had never seen such a young witcher use so well. She must have been one of the best at school, an idol to all those who desired to become the best. But she had also been rebellious, the scars that creeped above her neckline proved that.  There was no anger in her eyes when she looked at him, only annoyance and small plea that he would just leave her alone. It was clear she had an idea about life that she could never achieve, but from the way she ran he was sure she would rather die than not try.

She darted into an alley and he followed/ When he finally came close, she was scaling the wall, punching handholds into the walls with very bloody fingers and moving faster than he would have expected. With the blunt edge of his sword he smacked the back of her knees, sending her tumbling to the ground.

From the ground she eyed his sword and backed away like a wild animal that had been cornered. He didn’t move while she stood, her back pressed against the stone wall. There was still no anger in her eyes, now, instead of annoyance, it was a wild look he had only found in rabid dogs.

“Not so tough now,” he taunted, drawing nearer, is sword prepared to defend whatever she threw at him. She barked a hoarse laugh and he watched as her fingers crept to her belt. There was no sword, only a small knife that would do nothing against his sword.

“They always said to go down fighting,” she replied and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to go down at all, just leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Until I set up in another town and their lord calls for you to exterminate me, you don’t get your gold if I’m not dead. That’s why I had to kill them, every one he sent my way, because no will ever tell me what to do again.”

“What’s your name?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Just humor me.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m Geralt.”

“I don’t care who you are, only one of us is going to walk away from this, and if it’s me I couldn’t care less what the fuck your name is.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, we’re both going to walk away from this and you’re going to need to know my name,” he told her very calmly before swinging his sword and catching the side of her head with the blunt edge once more. Completely unconscious, she dropped to the ground, her knife tumbling from her hands.

[s8ncake]

Satan x Reader, NSFW

My Secret Santa gift for a friend on my Obey Me Discord server! (please enjoy my first nsfw piece) 

word count: 4.4k

Summary: Satan is in heat, and you are determined to help him every step of the way.

Other relevant tags: Jealousy, biting

Note: Pronouns aren’t used, but the reader is afab

It starts with eyes following your every move. Satan staring at you isn’t exactly uncommon, but it’s never this intense. This… dark.

Is he okay?

It’s hard to tell. Because as much as you try to bridge the distance between you, he always ends up pulling away before you can get to close. Almost like he’s afraid.

But it’s never been this bad. Not enough for him to leave the room without even saying hello. You turn around to follow him before Lucifer grabs your shoulder.

His gaze is as stern as ever. “Leave him be. You’ll be in danger otherwise.”

Lucifer being cryptic and overbearing isn’t exactly new, but this warning still throws you for a loop. “What makes you say that?”

A pause. He seems to mull something over. “Satan is… different from the rest of us. Once every 200 years his other sins take root, and they threaten to overwhelm him.”

A pang of sympathy runs through you. Satan has spoken with you about his anger before, about how much he struggles to keep it all in check. From the moment he was born, he had to keep himself contained. Hidden away.

The word monster is never used, but it’s heavily implied. In the self loathing that drips off of his tongue, in the way he never does anything more than hold your hand. Satan is a man who has struggled to accept himself throughout his entire life.

It’s something you can relate to. Your problems are entirely different from his own of course, but existing is rough. And on the days that it’s at its worse, Satan is there. Whether it’s reading you a book or showing off some of the neighborhood cats, you are grateful to have him in your life.

So it’s only natural for you to want to make his life better in return. Just like the dozens of times that Satan has supported you… you are determined to do the same. Lucifer’s warning be damned.

Whatever Satan is going through, he shouldn’t have to go through it alone. Even if it’s just talking over the phone, even if the distance between the two of you can’t be breached, you make a promise to yourself, then and there.

No matter what, you are going to be there for him, every step of the way.

Lucifer continues, completely unaware of your plan. “Wrath is an interesting emotion, one that can cause everything else to burn brighter. He will get over this soon. But until then, it is best that you stay away. His self control is not infallible.”

His concern is noted, but also unneeded. Even though Satan is the Avatar of Wrath, you trust him. More than you’ve ever trusted anyone in your entire life. And the very self control that Lucifer claims to be imperfect is the reason why. Satan won’t hurt you. He can’t.

...Well, not in the ways that matter. There won’t be any broken bones or copious amounts of blood; of that you’re certain. Even if this plan goes downhill, you’ll live. Satan may be a demon, but he’s also your demon.

So you have nothing to lose.

You nod along to the rest of Lucifer’s lecture. And once the demon leaves, you head towards Satan’s room.

~~~~

He isn’t there. His bedroom. The common room. RAD’s library. For some reason the demon seems particularly elusive now that you want to find him. Figures.

Your stomach lets out a rumble, and with a heavy heart you realize you’ll have to end your search. For now at least. There’s no use looking for him on an empty stomach.

Thankfully the kitchen isn’t far. And your day is absolutely made once you spot the demon rummaging around in it. Satan is opening every cabinet imaginable and emptying it’s contents down his throat. You’ve never seen him this sloppy before. In a way, it’s kinda cute.

A giggle escapes your lips, and Satan immediately whips his body around. His face flushes once he spots you. The demon lets out an awkward cough as he hides an empty bag of chips behind his back. “Good morning.”

It’s late afternoon, not morning at all. But you still decide to humor him. “Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?”

His face flushes brighter, and he begins to fidget. “Yes! Fine I mean, I slept fine. Sleeping was definitely something that I did.”

“I can tell.”

A pause. Satan’s face has only grown more red. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck. His expression looks pained, and you would give anything to wipe it away. “Are you okay.”

“No.”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I’m…”

He struggles for words, but you gently shush him with one of your fingers. The touch is light, barely even there, yet his entire body shudders all the same. “It’s okay. Lucifer’s already explained everything.”

Satan takes a deep breath, and the empty bag that he was holding falls to the floor. A part of him seems to give in, if only for a moment, as he rests his head on your shoulder. His nose brushes up against your neck.

He breathes in your scent, although you aren’t wearing any perfume. Perhaps it’s a demon thing. The action seems to soothe him, and eventually he collects himself.

Satan pulls away, his face now an impenetrable mask. “The closest equivalent is a heat.”

“You mean like what animals go through?”

Satan nods. “It's a lot like that, although for me things are a little more… complex.”

That’s right. Lucifer mentioned that his other sins take over. Clearly he was struggling with gluttony a moment ago, but pride, greed, envy, lust... It really must be overwhelming, to experience all of that at once. And while you can’t help with most of them; There is one sin on there that you can help him work his way through. One that, if you’re being completely honest, you feel around him quite often.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

The innuendo isn’t lost on him. His breath hitches, and he takes a tiny step back. “You can stay away from me.”

He says that, but he doesn’t try to move away from you when you step closer. His blushing cheeks, the dilated pupils of his eyes; it all gives him away.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Satan scowls. “What I want isn’t important.”

“Of course it is. I know you’re worried but—“

You reach towards him, and he lightly bats your hand away. “Do you think you’re safe?”

A growl. His fist clenches. “You’re not. It’s barely set in, and even now I—“

The door is thrown open. A very familiar demon walks in the kitchen, one whose stomach lets out a rumbling growl. Beel greets the two of you, and immediately opens the refrigerator. It’s completely barren.

The demon frowns. Judging by the guilty look that’s formed on Satan’s face, it isn’t hard to figure out who the culprit is. His heat must have truly been getting to him, if he went and devoured all of Beel’s food as well. Although that’s still somewhat his fault, it’s not something he deserves to be punished over.

So you take a box out of your bag, one with a ribbon wrapped around it, and offer it to Beel with a grin. “I got these tarts from Madam Devian’s. You can have them if you want.”

Beel’s eyes light up. He opens the box, his gaze traveling over each and every tart before landing on your face. “We’ll share them.”

~~~~

When Beel first said that, you would never have pictured him feeding it to you. Yet here the two of you are, brushing your fingers against each other's mouth as you giggle and wipe away crumbs.

Satan didn’t join you, but he has yet to leave the room. Instead he simply stands there. Watching.

You turn towards him and wave a tart in the air. “Do you want any?”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not hungry.”

He says that, but you can feel the hunger in his gaze. It follows your frame, and grows when Beel hand-feeds you another tart. A glow, green and full of envy, is locked onto the two of you. The intensity, the beauty of it all, threatens to set you aflame.

You aren’t trying to make him mad of course. But you get the feeling that it would happen no matter what. Satan is more irritable now, and that becomes incredibly obvious as time goes on. It won’t be long before something sets him off.

Your thoughts are interrupted by one of Beel’s fingers brushing up against your lips. A gasp, soft and light, leaves your mouth. In the distance you can hear some sort of snarl. It sounds like an animal, one who’s just had their territory encroached upon.

Beel’s touch doesn’t linger. He quickly pulls away, and there’s a dollop of cream on his finger. The demon lets out a satisfied hum as he plops it into his mouth. “Thanks.”

As if he asked you for permission. Still, you can’t help but chuckle. “You’re welcome.”

More tarts flow between the two of you. There are more in this box then you thought, definitely too many to finish on your own. Beel presses another one to your lips, and laughs. “You’ve got some on your nose this time.”

And that, apparently, was the final straw.

Beel’s hand reaches out to touch you, but Satan is quicker. He growls and grabs Beel’s arm, his claws clinching into the fabric. For a split second, you could have sworn that his eyes started to glow even brighter. “I’ll get it.”

Beel frowns. “Satan—“

You place your hand over Satan’s, and the demon drops Beel’s arm in favor of holding onto you instead. Your fingers intertwine, but Satan’s glare doesn’t waver.

Still, you do your best to reassure Beel with a smile. “It’s fine.”

He doesn’t seem to believe you, not completely at least. Yet none of that matters. Satan is already determined to have every bit of your attention. “Look at me.”

It’s a command, and once your eyes meet everything stills. Satan’s breath hitches. A layer of tension blankets the room. He leans in, and for a brief moment you think he’s going to kiss you. But his lips never make contact.

A pause, and then you feel one of his fingers brush up against your nose. He steps back and plops the digit into his mouth. Something about the act seems… lewd. You automatically turn to Beel instead. “Are you okay?”

Beel nods. “I’m fine.”

His gaze travels over to Satan, who already seems to be staring at him with the intent to kill. It then lands on you. “I think you should stay with me tonight. It’d be safer.”

“Belphie already takes up enough room in your bed as is. Besides, I have a lock.” It’s not a lock you plan on using, but it does exist.

“That won’t deter him. It barely deters me.”

“What do you mean?”

Beel’s eyes widen, and then he lets out a flustered cough. “I still get nightmares sometimes, and having you near helps me feel better. ...I think it’s because you’re so sweet. You chase all of the bad dreams away.”

Your heart melts in response. It’s only natural to abandon Satan’s hand in favor of wrapping your arms around Beel, to assure him that everything’s going to be okay. He always goes out of his way to protect the people around him, but who is there to look out for him in return? “I can stay with you tonight if you want.”

Beel glances at his older brother before letting out a sigh. “No. I think I’ll be fine for now. Just call me if Satan starts bothering you.”

“I will. But I expect you to do the same if you have another nightmare.”

He grins. “I can do that. And thanks for the tarts.”

“Anytime!”

The moment Beel leaves the kitchen, Satan’s grip around your hand tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but the message is clear. You aren’t going anywhere.

His expression looks neutral. Measured. The mask is back on once more. “Before you leave, can you come with me? I believe you left one of your books in my room.”

It’s all a formality, but you nod your head. There is a small chance that Satan is telling the truth, although you highly doubt it. All of your textbooks and novels are safe in your room. It’s clearly a ploy to get the two of you alone. But that idea doesn’t bother you as much as it should. You trust him after all.

So you allow Satan to escort you to his bedroom, where the two of you will finally be alone.

~~~~

To your complete surprise, one of your books is actually there, although it’s one you had forgotten about. You lent him one of your favorite ages ago, when he had mentioned that he wanted to read more literature from the human world.

It’s a story you had read dozens of times, but it’s not one you read anymore. You no longer have the time, and even then you’ve grown so much since then. So perhaps it’s only natural to place the book back into Satan’s arms. “You can keep it.”

There’s something comforting about giving it to him. Although Satan has dozens of books, each and every one of them is looked after and held in perfect condition. He treats them with kindness, as if they were made from glass. In comparison to his strength, they probably are. Your book, one of your greatest treasures, will be loved under his care.

Satan’s eyes widen, and he gasps when your hands meet. His Adam’s apple bobs. A thank you leaves his lips, the gratitude rolling off of him in waves. He clutches it to his chest, and seems to breathe in its scent. Or maybe he’s smelling you again. Who knows?

After a second or two he perks up. “Allow me to give you one of mine in return. Anything from the second shelf to your right is free for you to take.”

You feel his eyes watch you as you wander off to look at the bookshelf in question. There’s one, a title that catches your eye. You reach up to grab it, and falter for a moment when you feel his gaze practically caress your ass.

This is fine. You take a deep breath in order to calm your racing heart, and grab a book from one of the top shelves. Once you flip through the pages, it becomes incredibly clear that you’ve grabbed a children’s book. Given the title, that’s not a surprise. The Cupcake Knight and the Fallen Kingdom.

The Knight is indeed a gigantic cupcake, one with big googly eyes and multiple limbs. The artwork is vivid and fun. You laugh as you turn another page, and notice that the fallen kingdom is nothing more than a gigantic wedding cake. “Beel would love this.”

Satan is by your side in an instant. He snarls, and smacks the book out of your hands. It falls to the floor unharmed and closed shut. The demon, needless to say, looks upset. “I didn’t realize you and Beel were so close.”

His flushing cheeks, the anger that has tensed his shoulders and made him look at you with nothing more than a glare; it all points to one thing.  He’s jealous.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Satan has nothing to be jealous over. There is only one demon in the Devildom that’s stolen your heart, and that’s him. You love his brothers, that’s true. But you love Satan in an entirely different way.

One that has you comfortably chilling in his bedroom while he’s in heat, on the off chance that you might get railed. “I enjoy hanging out with him, but we’re just friends. You know that.”

Satan doesn’t seem to believe you. “Do I?”

He draws closer. You take several steps back, and are surprised to find yourself bumping into his bed. There’s nowhere to run. Satan has you trapped. The arousal begins to make your brain fog, especially once the distance between the two of you finally closes.

His nose sniffs at your neck.  “His stench is all over you. You were eating out of the palm of his hand. And from the way he was looking at you…”

He whispers the words against your throat. “You would have been eaten, then and there.”

He presses a kiss along your pulse. A shiver runs through your spine as his mouth travels down lower. “But the only one who will be eating you is me.”

A growl. “You’re mine.”

And then his teeth sink into the junction between your shoulder and neck. It’s painful, but not overwhelmingly so. The wound is incredibly shallow. A gasp falls from your lips, one that quickly morphs into a moan once he begins licking the tiny droplets of blood that’ve sprung forth. 

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. The words are whispers against your skin, alongside the dozens of hickeys that he’s starting to pepper it with.

He’s desperate. You can tell from how he clings to you, and from the way his breath hitches when your hands glide over the tent in his pants. Satan growls, and then pushes you down on his bed.

He’s hovering over you now, face flushed and a ravenous gleam in his eye. Yet there’s something else there, a tiny pinprick of doubt that is all too familiar to you. He’s afraid. Whether it’s of his own feelings or it’s the possibility that he might hurt you, you can’t be sure. But even like this, Satan summons up one last desperate attempt to push you away “I need you to stop me. Tell me that I’m a monster, and that you want me to leave.”

That’s the last thing you want him to do

“Satan, I want you to fuck me.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. Satan’s grip on you tightens.

You reach out, and caress his cheek. “I don’t want anyone else other than you.”

And with that last sentence, Satan finally breaks. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, one that takes you by surprise. The demon already seems determined to explore every inch of you with his tongue. But you have absolutely no problem with that.

Your hands tangle themselves in his hair, and his tail wraps around your waist, tugging you closer together. One of his fangs nicks your lip, and the moment your blood hits his tongue, he moans.

“Fuck.” His voice sounds completely wrecked. Buttons fly everywhere. Your entire uniform is absolutely ruined. Yet you don’t care, especially when Satan’s mouth travels down lower, and he gently pushes your legs apart. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted you.”

You’re unable to smother a curse of your own once he starts mouthing the wet fabric of your underwear. Your hands make their way to his hair, and you tug at the strands once another wave of pleasure runs through you.

He eventually tugs at the barrier separating him from his goal, but it doesn’t budge. Before you can lift up your hips in order to help him, you hear a piece of elastic snap. Satan had bitten into one of the straps of your underwear, tearing it in half. The garment falls to the floor. With your cunt and your entire body now exposed before him, he gets to work.

Satan leaves a mark on your thigh before his lips brush up against your core. He lets out a pleased him once he tastes you, and dives right in.

He immediately focuses on your clit. His tongue moves around in random patterns, which has you moaning his name. The pleasure is almost too much to handle. You knew that you’d be experiencing it of course, but you didn’t expect Satan to be so focused on it. Especially given his current condition.

But the demon eats you out as if he can’t get enough. As you are the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Satan groans into you, and the vibrations from that act alone are enough to send you over the edge.

You tighten your hands in his hair, and cum. Satan laps up each and every drop. And when he pulls away, you see him lick his lips. “You taste even better then I imagined.”

He’s beautiful like this. With his inhibitions cast aside, and pupils dilated. But he would look even more breathtaking without any clothes.

His boa fell off a long time ago, and you pathetically paw at the ribbon on his chest. The knot is too complex, and only seems to tighten as you tug on it. You’ve never hated the damned thing more than you do now.

A frustrated whine spills from your lips, one that Satan quickly smothers with a kiss. There’s a rip, followed by the sound of something tearing, and Satan’s entire outfit lays in tatters across the floor.

It seems he did all of the work for you.

His fingers start to skim over his handiwork, before they poke and prod at your entrance. Several of them slide in, and you immediately moan. It didn’t take long for him to find the spot that he was looking for. He looks like the cat that got the cream (which he technically did, about a minute ago). His smug grin only grows wider when you begin to grind into his fingers. And then, he fucks you with them.

You gasp and claw at the sheets. The demon’s pace is ruthless, yet it isn’t enough. You want him. And while his fingers are nice… you’d rather be cumming around something else.

“Please, I need—“ It comes out as a whine, needy and high pitched. But Satan seems to listen to you. For a brief and horrible moment, you're empty. Your thighs and your pussy clench around nothing.

Thankfully you don’t have to finish your sentence from before. The two of you are on the same page. He lines up his cock, and then eases himself inside of you.

It’s slow, but he fills you up perfectly. As if he were made to do so. Another inch, and Satan groans into your shoulder. “Fuck. You’re perfect.”

Words fail you right now. The most you can do is dig your nails into his back. There’s no pain, only a sense of ease. As if you are two puzzle pieces finally sliding into place.

He bottoms out, and everything stills. Satan is big, but not overwhelmingly so. It’s enough to make you feel full, more full then you’ve ever felt in your entire life. 

His cock is everything you could have dreamed of, and more.

No toy, nothing you own, will ever be able to satisfy you like this. The ridges… the shape… You move, and feel every bit of him gently scrape against your walls. It’s too much. Your legs already feel weak.

You whine out his name, and he immediately takes the lead. His hands intertwine themselves with your own as he pins you to the bed. He thrusts his hips forward, and his cock brushes up against that spot from earlier. Pure pleasure. Pure euphoria. The bed frame shakes.

Everything about this is amazing. Perfect. And the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I love you.”

Satan stills, and for a split second you worry that you’ve scared him off. But that doubt vanishes immediately with another thrust, this one harder than the last. 

You gasp. Your hands twitch in a desperate attempt to move them, to drag Satan’s body closer towards you, but he still has you restrained. He growls into your ear, “Again.”

The only thing that leaves your mouth is a garbled moan. Satan pulls back, and pushes himself into you once more. “Tell me that again.”

And you do. The words spill out of your mouth, over and over in a never ending loop. I love you.

Satan doesn’t respond, not with words at least. He can’t. The only thing he can produce is growls and moans, both of which send shivers down your spine. And there’s another noise, a low and rumbling sound that spills out of his throat. You’re able to put a name to it a second later. It’s a purr. Satan is purring. And it gets louder with each and every thrust. With each and every declaration of love that escapes your lips.

He cums, and his teeth sink into your shoulder. The wound isn’t deep, but the brief flicker of pain combined with the feeling of him filling you up is enough to make you climax as well.

And once you’ve come down from your high, you can feel Satan’s tongue lightly trace over the mark in question. 

A contented sigh escapes your lips. “I love you.”

The words are softer now, but it still has Satan blushing all the same. He buries his head into your chest. It’s muffled, quiet, but you can feel his response as he mumbles it against your skin. “I love you too.”

He’s still purring, and that sound grows louder when your hands tangle themselves in his hair. After a moment for two, you feel something hard poke your thigh. It isn’t difficult to figure out what it is. Apparently Satan isn’t quite done with you yet.

You laugh. “Still in heat, are you?”

He frowns, and then towers over you once more, his eyes blown with lust. The demon’s gaze travels across your body, along each and every mark that he’s made. There’s a smugness in the way his fingers begin to skim over them.

“Didn’t you know? My heat can last for weeks at a time. I’ll take care of you of course, but I hope you don’t have any plans coming up soon.”

His voice lowers. It’s more than just a sultry purr. It’s a promise, one that has you wet with anticipation. “You won’t be leaving this bed for a while.”

[shijiujun]

I’m here with a zombie apocalypse (think Resident Evil level) + ABO danmei! I’m not usually a fan of ABOs tbh and I picked up this book for the zombie part and was surprised by the ABO part, but this one was a good nice balance between both. Surviving the zombie apocalypse still takes centre stage while the ABO part is more of a subplot/backdrop, but it’s cool all the same haha

Written by the author who wrote Swallowing the Sea (Tun Hai) & Breaking the Clouds (Po Yun)!

- Part of Min’s ‘Why You Should Read’ Series -

Summary:

In a world that has been overrun by a virus that turns people into zombies, Si Nan wakes up with no memory of who he is and what he’s doing in this rescue camp, only that he’s an omega that is scheduled to be air-lifted out of an affected zone to a safe sanctuary, where omegas are prized individuals meant to be protected so they can give birth and contribute to a new population, which has been decimated with attacking zombies globally. 

He’s not sure who he is and what he was supposed to be doing, but his instincts tell him to not go along with these people, and he flees into the crowd of attacking zombies. Much to everyone’s surprise, he has strong combat abilities (despite being an omega) and manages to escape from the team and also the zombies.

He chances upon Zhou Rong, Captain of the 118 Retrieval Special Unit and his team during another zombie attack in a nearby city, and joins them out after his escape route is blocked. Si Nan hides his omega scent with suppressants he finds in a supermarket, and unbeknownst to him, he has actually met Zhou Rong before when they were both much younger in a different setting, before zombies were even a thing. Zhou Rong leads a team of beta soldiers, which die one after the other as they flee, leaving the team down to its last bullet and six members.

Si Nan decides to follow them for a while, and due to his skilled fighting prowess, he gains the trust of this team and the civilians they’re protecting. Zhou Rong also takes a liking to him, and so does another team member Yan Hao, while Si Nan mistakenly thinks that Zhou Rong and Yan Hao are a couple together instead. As they flee from one city to another trying to get back to the 118 base, they realize the situation and virus is worser than they thought. They have to fight to survive while also figure out who Si Nan is, and why he’s a wanted individual by authorities from another country.

*A pretty accurate representation of a zombie apocalypse I have to say, I had Resident Evil flashbacks when I was reading this, people start dying right off the bat, but nothing hurts more than 2ha so I only teared up at minor character deaths

Read:

Novel (Online) | Novel (Print) - December 2020 Print | Novel Translations 

Characters:

1. 司南 Si Nan - Amazing pouty and fierce mix-blood blond-haired omega who has amnesia and doesn’t even know his own name. He sees some product in a convenience store where he meets Zhou Rong for the first time that has the words 司南 on it and decides that his name for now. Combat specialist and can take out a lot of zombies just on his own - he’s also immune to the zombie virus but they don’t know this until much later. He doesn’t go with the shady troop that rescued him initially, but with Zhou Rong because he’s intrigued by how brash and kind and a bit dumb this Captain is. Masquerades as a beta with the help of suppressants

He has a stepbrother (an alpha) who tortured him for many years due to Si Nan’s special condition and the mystery surrounding his childhood with his scientist mother and dead-but-terribly-revived father. Said stepbrother also wants to mate with him because he ‘loves’ him but is just insane af. 

Si Nan actually met Zhou Rong when they were much younger before this whole zombie thing came along, and Si Nan actually pretended to be a helpless participant of the competition they were in and lets Zhou Rong help him, only to steal away the prize at the very last moment. He liked Zhou Rong a lot then, but due to him being taken hostage technically by his stepbrother and also his allegiance to a Western state (he’s mixed blood, stepbrother is American-ish) they were unable to be together. 

He’s compassionate, but doesn’t show mercy to anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Like Zhou Rong, he wants to save everyone they possibly can, but they’re not dumb enough to think they can save everyone. As he travels with Zhou Rong and his team and other civilians, he starts to remember little things about himself and is caught by his stepbrother again midway through the novel, and just as he despairs that no one will ever save a monster like him, Zhou Rong turns up to do just that.

2. 周戎 Zhou Rong - Extremely confident, brash but handsome and strategic alpha Captain of the 118 unit, a special unit which was sent out a few months prior to the start of the book to clear out regions of civilians, but they lose touch with a major city and headquarters, and are forced to find ways to return to big HQ amidst unusual bursts of zombie attacks and a new strain of zombies who were infected without being bitten. Masquerades as a beta, like the rest of his team.

He loses a lot of his team along the way, and has to carry the burden of killing them before they turn at their requests, and also promising to find their families and take care of them for his dead team members. He wants to save everyone, but also knows that with dwindling supply to food, medicine etc. they can only choose their battles along the way. 

Takes a huge liking to strong Si Nan, unknowing that he’s the boy he met and fell in love with when they were younger. Because of the competition then, despite Si Nan winning over him, he decides to openly court Si Nan after the competition, and brings flowers to go see him, only to see Si Nan being given a temporary claiming bite on the back of his neck by another man (the stepbrother). Dejected and devastated, his first budding love kind of ended there, and from then on he openly disses omegas as he thinks that Si Nan basically seduced him to deceive him, and that all the affection they shared during the days of the competition in the wild were fake.

After the truth about Si Nan is out, he does a 180 hahahaha, and Si Nan forgives him XD 

3. 颜豪 Yan Hao - Another alpha-hiding-as-a-beta team member of Zhou Rong’s unit. After Si Nan saves him twice, he falls in love with Si Nan, not knowing that Si Nan thinks that Zhou Rong and himself are together. His feelings after are known to Si Nan, but Zhou Rong and he openly (and hilariously) fight for Si Nan’s affections. Zhou Rong is way more direct than Yan Hao is though, and Si Nan obviously likes Zhou Rong much more than he does Yan Hao, so naturally he was kicked out of the competition hahaha. He’s very sporting about it though!

Other Things I Like in the Novel:

Zhou Rong calls himself Rong-ge, asks everyone to call him that, he takes on the brotherly protector role in the team and amongst the civilians he rescued - Tells Si Nan to call for Rong-ge whenever he’s in danger and he’ll turn up - So there’s a part where Si Nan is bombarded with his memories while he’s about to be kidnapped by his stepbrother and also chased down by incoming hordes of zombies, and he yells out for Rong-ge, and Rong-ge really turns up ;-;

Si Nan is pouty and glowering all the time, a bit cold and aloof at other times, but he’s always drawn to Zhou Rong’s warmth

After they confirm their feelings for each other and spend his heat together, they are literally inseparable, like forever holding hands and looking out for each other like they go from flirty at 20% to 200% as a couple midway through the novel

Si Nan kicks ass, all the time! He’s super good at fighting

Zhou Rong promises to get Si Nan a huge rock as an engagement ring but he spends all his check on the families of his dead team members at the end of the novel, and Si Nan teases him, “So what are you going to use to afford my ring now huh?” Also, they’re just recovering from the zombie apocalypse so the commercialisation of marriages will once again have to wait, but Zhou Rong literally does turn up with a bigass ridiculous diamond ring (from where they raided a diamond ring story during a mission) and presents it to him

Yan Hao always teases Si Nan for how he thought him and Zhou Rong were together, because both men are always rough-housing and fighting like actual brothers than lovers XD

Yan Hao tells Zhou Rong that they should compete fairly for SI Nan’s affections, and Zhou Rong rolls his eyes and grabs Si Nan over and kisses him full on on the lips while Yan Hao splutters in defeat

The novel depicts deaths and helplessness really, really well. LIke seriously, I almost couldn’t finish it but it’s actually a pretty nice novel that doesn’t focus entirely on the doom and gloom of the apocalypse

[allhailthecoffeegods]

Chapter 2

And now we’re back to the present, Nettie sitting on her office floor surrounded by empty energy drinks and coffee cups plotting Gabe’s downfall. Unfortunately for her the guy own a massive fashion house and if she just takes him out quickly it’s going to have a negative affect on not only his son who is an naive, spineless dumbass (who doesn’t deserve this shit no matter his unfortunate lack of brain cells) it will have backlash on all of the companies investors, workers and their families.

So what is extremely sleep deprived Nettie’s best idea on how to handle such a situation? Why of course it’s to hack into Bruce Fucking Wayne’s security and video call him, duh, because he’s super rich and is actually a good guy if you overlook the fake Fuck boy persona that is ‘bRuCiE wAyNe’. He’d definitely be able to buy fucking gabe out meaning before the hawk bitch knows what’s happening she’ll swoop in and grab the miraculous during his temporary weakness. Simple.

What she didn’t expect was for Red robin to be on her screen in what looks like a cave instead of Bruce....

“What the FUCK!” A guy dressed in red amour and a domino mask yells in English as the call connects.

“....... um hi, my names kitty noir hero of Paris” she waves awkwardly to a speechless Red Robin.

“Urg hi, how did you just hack into the bat computer. And since when has Paris had hero’s?” Red Robin finally responds.

“Since three years ago when Hawkmoth first attacked... where’s Bruce wayne???” She asked hesitatingly and very much confused.

“Why do you want Bruce Wayne? And who is Hawkmoth?” He asks in a slightly panicked voice. She’s not sure why he’s panicked but she just ignored it and responded with

“I wanted to speak with him because I was finally able to track down the supervillain Hawkbitch *cough* moth and his partner Mayura and get there identities. But unfortunately he owns a huge fashion company and if i take back the miraculous that give him the powers to take Paris emotionally hostage by turning them into deadly monsters if they have a bad day, his son and employees and there families with all go down with him. So like I was sitting here with file in hand with no idea what to do. You see I’m 16 and have nobody... like no one at all and I don’t know how many days it’s been since I last slept, and I thought well who has a big company and is a good person who might be able to help either take the company from under gabe or even just have advice on the best way to do business stuff like this without fucking people over and well I thought Bruce Wayne....”

“........................”

“So yeah but some how I must have mixed something up and called you instead. But like that’s cool cause your a vigilante correct? Non and well I’ll take anybody at this point. But I definitely still dislike the justice league for ignoring my calls for help and would prefer for any meta human or someone who doesn’t use strong emotions to power them to stay out of Paris till he and his partner are defeated because I’d surly die if they because Akumatised! Like no way I’d have a chance at beating them so like me go spat and it’s quite literally the end of the world ya know? Oh hey is Batman there I’m sure he could help, oh and I do have proof btw like seriously and entire apartment full of evidence if you want I can send it over cause like maybe you won’t call me a joke this time?”

“........ Holy shit............ um hang on a moment let me just gather the team up.....”

The only sound herd for a few minutes is Red Robin typically at lightning speed, until he touched his earpiece and started speaking.

“Hey um B, we have a situation that requires urgent attention”

“...”

“Yes, that would be great. Could you make sure everyone is in the cave suited up in 10 minutes”

“...”

“Urg no I believe that this situation needs to take priority right now, like world ending scenario”

“...”

“Okay see you in 10”

Red robin looked back over towards her and gave a small sad smile before saying “ I just managed to get past a pretty big media block for Parisian news and from everything you’ve said and everything I can see right now, it all appears to be true. No footage is doctored, so can you please explain as to why there is no extensive property damage after these battles you have?” Red robin questions looking more and more confused.

“The miraculous cure of the ladybug reverses all damage caused by a miraculous once the Akuma, a butterfly corrupted by magic, has been purified” she smiles happy that finally someone seems to be on her side.

“Wait. Reverses EVERYTHING like even...” he drags out in shock

Her smile drops “Yeah even death, it’s really bad that at least everyone here has died once even me but past me came to future me with one of my possibly future teammates bunnix (cool guy) who has the power to time travel so I could fight and revive dead future me but is now present time me” I explain slowly.

Red robin just blinked. Mouth open staring at her. Feeling a little uncomfortable she kept going.

“Syren was the first extreme Akuma to be created, she was a young girl on a swimming team and her crush ditched her to go to the movies with another girl. Becoming possessed by the Akuma she cried so much it flooded the entire city with only 200 or so out of 2 billion citizens making it to the roof tops in time. Those who die don’t remember so everyone else refuses to bring it up unless to a therapist but there’s currently not enough of them for the entire city. I did manage to create an app which showcases a whole range of things to help with mental health like meditation and emergency suicide hotlines that are open to calls 27/7” she states trying to reassure the very horrified vigilante that looks like he’s about to be sick, ah wait.... yeah he just threw up. Oh no.