#it looks SO GOOD in eternal weaving too

[monochromatiica]

hehehehehehehehehehhe

[kirain]

Wall of the faithless isn't canon in bg3. They changed alot of things actually. So no Gale isn't "scared" he's just an obsessed asshole who doesn't learn from his mistakes.

Oof...

There's really nothing I can say except: you're wrong. The City of Judgement and the Wall of the Faithless are canon to BG3. If you don't like Gale, that's fine, but you don't have to make things up or completely disregard the lore to do it. Larian Studios literally hired people from Wizards of the Coast—the company responsible for all the canon lore, characters, and campaigns in D&D—to help them with the story. It took them five years, I believe, to fully study and understand the lore. They constantly conferred with the team to double, triple, and quadruple check every slice of content they added to the game, and parts of the game are now considered canon to D&D 5E.

As for Gale "not learning" from his mistakes ... when you first meet him, he literally admits he made a mistake with Mystra. Though personally I don't see it as the "power-hungry" move people seem to think it is. Gale simply wanted to be considered an equal to his partner (really his groomer), which is a perfectly healthy and normal desire for anyone in a relationship. Your partner should treat you like an equal, but Mystra very clearly saw Gale as a pet. A trophy. A worshipper. Subservient. Beneath her. A silly mortal with delusions of grandeur (which she cultivated), which is really rich when you learn she was once mortal herself. Mystra is a hypocrite.

Gale tried to prove himself worthy of equality by trying to bring Mystra what he thought was a piece of her missing Weave. For anyone who doesn't know, the current Mystra was torn to pieces by Cyric and Shar, then put back together by her Chosen. Though back to full power by the events of BG3, she's still technically missing pieces of herself, and Gale mistook the Karsite Weave for one of those pieces. Instead of simply telling Gale it was corrupted Weave, she let him go on believing it was hers. Personally I think that's because she was tired of him (maybe he got too old for her 😒) and was hoping he would do something that, in her mind, would justify abandoning him—but I admit that's full conjecture on my part. What is true is that she knew the orb wasn't hers, but for some reason she let Gale think it was. Even after she abandoned him and left him to die, she never told him. Not until she realised she could use him.

In Act 3, while the argument can certainty be made that he's thirsty for power, Gale ultimately becomes fed up with the gods because, as he knows better than anyone, they treat people like commodities. While I have no intention of ever ascending him myself, it looks like he actually makes good on his word. He doesn't threaten or toy with his followers, he inspires people to walk their own path, he only asks for prayers as payment (as without some form of devotion, gods in D&D cease to be), and if you romance him ... he ascends you into godhood as his equal. Mystra could have done this for him, she just didn't want to. And if you don't want him to ascend, it's genuinely so easy. I don't understand what people are complaining about. It takes one conversation with zero checks to convince him to completely abandon his ambitions. One. If he was truly "power hungry", it wouldn't be that easy.

Again, I would argue that Gale's true goal isn't really power, it's freedom, and divinity gives him that freedom. He has many conversations where he makes it clear he doesn't want to live under the gods' thumbs anymore; which, in a world like Faerûn, is extremely understandable. As I said in my Wall of the Faithless post, he's scared. Eternal torment for a simple mistake, one of which could've been avoided if Mystra told him the truth or treated him like an equal? When your partner is a goddess, how can you not feel inadequate? And if you convince him to give up the crown, he's perfectly content with Mystra's forgiveness. Even in the Early Access, that's all he really wanted.

Gale's far from perfect. He's arrogant and overconfident and insecure and he can be prone to emotional outbursts (most of which he apologises for, however), but he's nowhere near the heartless, power-hungry monster the haters seem to think he is. He is, in fact, one of the most compassionate companions in the entire camp, to the point that he accepts everyone, including Minthara. He votes for Astarion to stay when you find out he's a vampire. He gets mad at you if you surrender him to the Gur. He's one of the only companions who will openly marry/stay with you if you become a mindflayer. He's willing to sacrifice himself to save the world, and willing to damn himself to be with you. He loves every act of kindness, while hating every act of cruelty. I understand that the bugs from launch ruined a lot of people's perception of him ... and unfortunately some of those glitches are still present even now, but he is a good man.

[dekariosclan]

Attention Galemancers: Gale thinks you are wonderful

In celebration of Galemancer week, this post is dedicated to all my fellow wizard-lovers 💜

We’ve talked plenty about how much we love Gale—but in this post I want to talk about how Gale Dekarios loves us, too. Very, very much.

From Astarion-to-Gale pipeliners, to the gamers who played BG3 not intending to romance anyone, to players who thought they’d just play the game casually and mayyybe smooch the hunky Druid elf guy or hot fiery lady, we all played BG3 thinking we had a pretty clear idea of how it was going to go—only to find ourselves rizzed by the wizard.

But we didn’t just choose Gale—Gale chose us.

Remember, Tav does not initiate the romance; Gale has to choose to start the weave scene. So if you’re reading this and you’re a Galemancer, it’s because Gale wanted you to be one.

That’s right Galemancers: Your Pixel Husband©️ took one look at you/your Tav, liked you immediately, and told the other romanceable companions, ‘I beg your pardon, this one is mine.’ The rest is history.

Gale loves us just as much as we love him—and this goes for ALL GALEMANCERS, no matter how your romance went:

Did you go into the game already liking Gale and actively wanting your Tav to romance him? Then Gale applauds your excellent taste. It’s one of the many reasons he chose you! To like so many things about him, and right from the start…he thinks your generosity is quite wonderful.

Did your Tav choose another companion first, and only romance Gale later on/during a second play through? No matter. He knew that you would come to your senses eventually! (just like he’s sure Minthara will appreciate him at some point…) He just had to be patient. It’s fine; you were worth the wait, after all.

Did you get Sneaky God Gale and have to re-do your run/start a new one to get your human proposal ending? Gale knew from the start that you were special—and that you would love him enough to replay the game and fix any bad outcomes. He knew you would do whatever was necessary to correct his path so he could marry you! Seeing you do all that for him…well…it only makes him want you more.

Did you encourage Gale to become a God & have him ascend your Tav, too? Then GodGale is beyond thrilled he chose you. Like he says in the human epilogue: ‘I could spend an eternity in your company.’ Now he can finally do that! (One small request—please keep his ambition in check, but do allow him to continue to troll Raphael as often as he likes.)

Did you romance Gale, but have your Tav go to Avernus with Karlach to help her? Gale always knew you had a heart of gold, and that’s one of the reasons he chose you. A little distance & time won’t hurt a bond like yours—and he’ll have his hearth & home waiting for your return.

Did you read online guides to do Gale’s & Tav’s romance correctly and get the ending you wanted from the start? What divine calculus plucked you from the heavens and thrust you into Gale’s arms? He knew you were studious and detail-oriented from the moment he met you, which is why he chose you! To know you studied so hard in order to get a good ending for him…none have loved him so purely before.

— — —

In short: Gale Dekarios doesn’t toss the ‘L’ word around lightly. He only picks someone to be a Galemancer if he truly thinks they are wonderful—and that’s not just anyone.

In conclusion: Galemancers, you are wonderful!

Now go enjoy the rest of this week with your well-earned and well-deserved pixel wizard—who chose you 💜

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hey! I saw your writing for Miles earth 42. I was wondering if you could write what it would be like dating miles earth 42. Like some headcannons. Thank you!!

(hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Dating Earth 42 Miles Morales

I not gonna lie, he can be an ass at times

Especially when mad or annoyed or in arguments

Tries not to but is late or sometimes can't make it to daes and feels so bad

Tries to make it up to you the best he can

But other than that, he's probably the best boyfriend to have

Obviously before he was the prowler and before his canon event, he was just our Miles

After the canon, that changed but with you sometimes old peeks of that Miles bubbles up

He's protective

But in no way is possessive

You could do whatever you want and he would let you

Nobody is willing to mess with him or you because as you're doing your thing, he's nearby and watching you

If anyone looks at him and then to you, they can tell you're together

He's willing to fight if someone ever talks shit about you or makes you uncomfortable

Let's you braid his hair as long as you don't mess it up or pull on his hair too hard

He likes the feeling of sitting between your legs, his head like resting on your thigh as he just feels your hands making their way around his hair

It's a very comforting feeling and don't be surprised if he puts little pecks onto your thighs

Will not let you feel insecure, especially in like revealing or tight clothing because you just look so good

A sorta deep and sorta rough kisser at times, especially in the moment but in more soft and intimate times a slow and passionate kisser

Likes having his hands on your waist and sorta leaning you down as he kisses you, your arms around his neck and shit

Favorite place to kiss gotta be your neck and your jaw, he just has too

A hand always in your hip or on your back

Arm around your waist or around your shoulder

If you steal his clothes and he sees you for the first time in them he's gonna stare for a moment

Then just watch the smirk form as he comes up to you, kisses you and oh my Lord

Or he's hugging you from behind

Likes having his hands like roam your sides

Slips his hand onto your neck or weaves his hand into your hair, pulling you closer when you guys kiss

You can kiss him for an eternity and then some

Kissing you is like addicting to him

He always wants to make sure you're safe, and can handle yourself so he likes you to carry like a pocket knife or he taught you some shit

And if you get into fights he's obviously proud of you because you bet your ass you won

Makeouts are actually pretty common as he makes up kisses he missed

he either is hovering above you while you're on your back and kissing you

Or you're straddling him and kissing him, his lips slip down to your neck or your collar bone mind you

Or you're against a wall or he is against a wall

He likes flirting and making you flustered

He's an asshole with that shit

Calls you nicknames in Spanish or says stuff in Spanish, if you don't understand he does it even more

I feel after his dad he was more closed off, a wreck inside but wanted to be strong for his mom and you

You need to help with that and you di, you're practically his rock now who he goes to for anything, even when he doesn't want to talk

Just being around you helps him

He likes laying his head in your lap

It's just so nice and comforting to him, kiss his knuckles or play with his hands

"I love you, you know that, right?" Or "Don't worry, you got me." Is stuff he says on the daily

Hold his hand and run your hands over his knuckles and feel how relaxed he gets

He can hug you from behind, put his head on your shoulder and just stay there for god knows how long

He buys you a lot of shit to make up for what he cannot say as sometimes he can't say how much he loves and appreciates you

So he does stuff to show it

If you like cuddling he likes either having you by his side, arm wrapped around you with your head on his chest or him laying on your chest

Spoon him from behind, he loves it but will deny it entirely

Make him flustered, he'll be frozen for a minute before a real smile comes onto his face

On days where some shit is hard, either by being the Prowler he likes laying on top of you as you whisper shit into his ear

He needs stuff like that

If you got on with his mama he is not letting you go

Especially if his mom liked you because that shit is rare

Let's you steal his clothes on the daily

He sees you eyeing something when out with him, or he sees you about to buy something or have a new interest?

He's buying you it and buying you whatever you need

Go nuts, baby, he loves seeing the smile on your face

Play fights with you, likes pinning you down and just kissing you or tickling your side

He loves hearing your laugh and seeing your smile as they just calm him at the worse times

Likes sneaking away with you from anything possible

Little compliments mean so much from him, makes you feel good about yourself too

Arguments don't happen often but he doesn't yell at you when they do

He raises his voice but never yells at you

Some shit may slip, inconsiderate shit that makes him an asshole but he knows that immediately

Not the best at apologizing so give him time when he does come to apologize

Make him grovel ISTG

Nicknames from him are just so smooth and so- oh my god

Head on your boob and hand on your ass

I say no more

Will not let harm to you come no matter what as long as he breathes

He didn't plan on telling you he was the prowler for a long time

You had to find out yourself and he thought the relationship was over

He was saying over and over it was okay, he does it to protect his family and you, that he wouldn't hurt you and so on

You may need time but he understands

Always is sneaking in through your window also

If you have siblings and they meet him prepare because they now love him more than you

Babysits them with you and is now their partner in crime against you

He's so husband

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Just thought of this idea just now.

Can you do a smut with a yandere greek god of war x water nymph reader, with the nymph being chased by the god until he caught up with her and takes her to his bedroom, and the whole love making thing is more consensual?

Sure!

A/N: Also, sorry I'm answering this late again. Hurricane Helene came over my state so I was literally(and still am) preparing for the worst.

You were a water nymph. A lonely one at that. Also, a confused one, because you grew up alone with only water and the sealife to keep you company. You didn't even know what type of water nymph you were, all you knew was that both of your parents didn't want you. And so, here you are, living your life on the shore of some tourist beach.

"Do you always sit there?" A man with brown skin, red hair, and purplish-blue eyes asks, sitting next to you.

"Yeah, pretty much. I don't exactly have anywhere else to go," You respond, enjoying the feeling of the waves touching your feet. "What about you? Do you have anywhere to go?"

"Of course, I do. I go to lots of places," The man answers, blushing a little. "Say, what's your name, cutie?"

"Aqua...Aquata. Or at least that's the name others have given me But I prefer Y/N." You answer, getting up.

"Y/N, where are you going?" The man asks, seeing you walk into the ocean. "Y/N? Y/N!"

And with that, you're in the sea filled with inspiration. If he could travel everywhere, then you can too. Your first stop was the island that the sailors call Sirenum Scopuli. It was flowery and pretty, and the women were welcoming. For some reason, they said you smelled familiar to them.

Your next stop was the island of Thrinacia, where you found a crying cyclops.

"Excuse me, if I may ask, why are you crying?" You ask, standing in front of the cyclops.

"He took stabbed me in the eye! I'm blinded! I'm blinded! I can never see my beloved sheep again!" The cyclops cried, making you feel pity for the poor creature.

"Oh, I can fix it if you want. I've healed many eye injuries before," You say, getting an idea.

"Really, you'll fix my eye? I'm in your debt for eternity," The cyclops exclaims, a smile on his face.

"Yep!" You say, diving back into the water, and returning with the eye of a giant sea squid. "I've performed this plenty of times on animals. Hold on, I need to get the eye out."

You pull the cyclop's eye out and put the squid's eye in its place. You work your magic on the eye and use the liquid inside it to weave your magic through his nervous system.

"Ok, try blinking. Do you see anything?" You ask, standing back.

"YAY! I CAN SEE AGAIN!" The cyclops yells, jumping around and clapping. "THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!"

"Don't mention it, big guy," You exclaim, kissing his cheek.

"Here, take sheep's wool. It can be used to warm you up during the cold," The cyclops replies, giving you a cloak.

You accept the gift and continue on your way. As you travel through the ocean, an arrow strikes your arm. You scream in pain, your blood dying the water around you red. You hear men screaming above and force yourself to see the same red-haired man from the beach.

"YOU FOOLS! HOW DARE YOU HURT MY GODDESS?!" The man screams, letting his wrath decimate the soldiers above him. "My goddess, are you ok?"

"You? What are you doing here?" You ask, gripping the wool cloak.

"My dove, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Good."

He kisses your lips, and a wave of memories comes flooding back. You haven't been back on that beach in years. You've been living with him, your dear husband, Ares. One day you got into a fight with him, ran away, and had been aimlessly wandering through the human world until you eventually pushed everything concerning Ares and your life with him to the back of your mind.

"Ares?" You gasp, feeling his hands cupping your cheeks.

"The third. Ares the third," Ares says, looking into your eyes. "I had been looking for you for five long years. Do you know how much it hurt me to see you not recognize me on that beach?"

"Ares, listen, I...what were we even fighting about?" You ask, straddling your husband.

"I...we were arguing about your family-our family-both. Your family wanted to reach out to you, I was talking about wanting a baby, it all piled up and we had a really bad fight, and no words could describe how sorry I am. I should've let you reach out to your family, and I shouldn't have tried making a family of our own as if it was an acceptable replacement for your family."

"Oh...Ares. I-Is my family ok?"

"Yes. They've been living at my castle since you disappeared. They'd love to meet you."

"I'd love to meet them too."

~~~~~~~~~

"Welcome home, my goddess," Ares says, removing his hands from your eyes.

"Mom? Dad?" You say, seeing a siren and Triton.

"Hi, sweetie. We've got a lot to explain, but I think your husband really wants to talk to you. We'll be waiting at the dinner table," Your mom says, nudging your dad to say hi.

"Don't worry, I will return your daughter to you in a walkable manner," Ares says, guiding you to his bedroom.

The door shuts, and Ares is already kissing your body.

"Do you know how long I've missed you, missed your body?" Ares murmurs, kissing your neck as he slips his dress off your shoulders. "Please tell me you remember my touch?"

"I'm sorry..." You say, guiltily looking at Ares.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make you remember again," Ares whispers, feeling you up.

"A-Ares!" You moan as your husband kisses your breasts.

Ares sucks on your breasts as he pushes your dress off your ass. The two of you fall on the bed, and Ares grasps your hands. You see his toned chest peak through his white v-neck blouse and stare at it.

"Oh, you want my clothes off too?" Ares asks, holding back a smirk as he looks at your cute face.

"Yes, please. Take it off. Take it all off," You plead, rubbing your leg against his crotch.

Ares does as you say and you gawk at his glorious body and skin.

"What? Never seen a god before?" Ares mocks, stroking his 7 1/2-inch cock.

"Wow..." You gasp, closing your legs as Ares crawls towards you in all his glory.

"Don't worry, babe. I won't make a mess out of you," Ares responds, kissing your pussy and lining himself up at your entrance. "I'm going in."

"Mm!" You moan, your husband not moving to let you adjust.

"You're ok, you're doing good. I know it's been a while since you've had me inside you," Ares moans, resisting the urge to thrust. "Are you ready, my goddess?"

You nod your head and he begins to thrust. You gasp as a wave of pleasure washes over you, your hands gripping the sheets. Ares grabs your hands, guiding them so they're gently around his waist.

"You look so amazing!" Ares moans, speeding up. "I love you. I love you so much! I love you so much, I'll be with you even after the mortals move on to the next set of gods. I love you so much I'd kill the entire world and the pantheon for you."

"I love you too, Ares!" You moan, making your husband tear up.

He orgasms inside of you and kisses your sweet lips. His tears fall on your cheeks, and you look at your husband with pity. The genuine love for you flowing through his tears, send you over the edge, and you cum on his cock.

"Aw, honey, don't cry. I'm sorry I forgot about you," You apologize, kissing your husband's head.

"I've seen the bloodiest of slaughter and entire people wiped out from genocide, but you're the one thing I could never forget," Ares cries, laying his head onto your boobs. "Please don't leave me like that again."

You start to cry and wipe your husband's tears away. You kiss him, feeling his heartbeat calm down.

"It's ok, I won't leave you again," You say, touching your forehead with his.

[shizuturnspages]

Yandere Zhongli x gn!reader

Summary: Headcannons and one shot

Warnings: Curse words

The image has been taken from Pinterest. Credits to the owner.

❥ Zhongli's a man of contracts, and you'd better believe that as a yandere, he'll make sure you're fucking bound to him in every way possible. He'll find ways to tie you to him, whether it's through promises, obligations, or literal contracts that you can't break. You'll feel like you owe him everything, and he'll remind you constantly that you're under his care, his protection—his control. 

❥ Zhongli's lived for centuries, so when it comes to obsession, he's patient as fuck. He won't rush things—oh no, he'll take his time, slowly weaving his influence into every aspect of your life. Before you even realise it, he's completely fucking consumed you, like the slow erosion of rock. And once you're fully under his control? You won't even remember a time when you weren't his. Time is on his side, and he'll use every second to his advantage. 

❥ Zhongli's authoritative as hell, and he won't hesitate to use that power over you. His voice alone will make you feel like you've got no choice but to obey. If you ever try to defy him? Oh, he won't shout, won't rage. No, he'll simply remind you, in the calmest tone, of his strength and the consequences of breaking his trust. And you'll know deep down that trying to escape him is like trying to outrun a fucking mountain— impossible. 

❥ Zhongli's protective to the point of suffocation. He'll shield you from every danger, but that protection comes at the cost of your freedom. He'll say it's for your own good, that the world is too dangerous for you to face alone. And with his power, his knowledge, how the fuck are you gonna argue with him? You'll feel like you need him to survive, even though it's his obsession that's the real danger. 

❥ Once Zhongli's decided you're his, there's no fucking going back. His obsession is as solid as the stone he commands. You're not just someone he cares about—you're a part of his fucking legacy. He'll carve his presence into your life like an eternal monument, and even in his rare moments of affection, you'll feel the weight of his possessiveness. To him, you're his greatest treasure, and he'll guard you like a dragon with its hoard. 

You never thought this was how things would end up. When you first met Zhongli, he was calm, collected, wise—everything about him spoke of stability. A man of few words but with a presence that filled every room, like a mountain casting a shadow over the land. You were drawn to him almost immediately, but you didn't realise that the pull you felt was a trap. A gentle hand guiding you into his carefully laid snare.

It started slowly. He never demanded anything, never outright stated his intentions, but there was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at you, that made it clear. You were his. Not in words, not in action—at least, not at first—but in the way he was always there. Like a pillar of stone, unyielding, watching over you.

You thought you were just growing closer to a friend. After all, Zhongli had always been so composed, so polite. How could someone like him have ulterior motives? But that's exactly what made him dangerous.

He didn't have to rush.

He had time.

You remember the first time you felt it—the weight of his control. You had wanted to go somewhere—just a short trip, a brief escape from the quiet routine that had begun to creep into your life. But when you told him, his calm facade didn't waver, but there was a subtle shift in his eyes. Amber, golden, burning with something cold and ancient.

"I see," he said, his voice steady. "And you intend to go alone?"

There was no threat, no anger, but the way he phrased it made your heart race with unease. You hesitated, sensing the underlying tension in his question. When you explained that it was just a harmless trip, something to clear your head, he nodded. Always calm. Always understanding.

"I understand your need for space," he said, that deep voice of his soothing. "But the world is dangerous, especially for someone like you."

You frowned. "Someone like me?"

His eyes held yours, unblinking, calculating. "You are important to me. I cannot allow anything to happen to you."

It should have been sweet, right? A man caring about your safety, wanting to protect you. But there was something in the way he said it, something in the depth of his gaze that made you feel like you weren't being protected—you were being kept.

Still, you went on the trip. It wasn't far, just to the outskirts of Liyue, but that's when you realized the truth. No matter how far you tried to go, the wind would always blow in Zhongli's favor. You were barely out of the harbor when a storm hit—something that wasn't in the forecast, something that didn't belong in the season. You had to turn back. And there he was, waiting for you with a soft smile and an outstretched hand.

"You see," he said, his tone dripping with something that felt too much like triumph, "the world is unpredictable. It's much safer to stay close."

From then on, the leash tightened.

Zhongli didn't need to control you through harsh words or violence. His control was much more subtle, much more terrifying. He'd always make suggestions that sounded so reasonable, so logical.

"You shouldn't go there," he'd say, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's dangerous."

"You don't need to worry about those things anymore," he'd murmur, his voice gentle as he took care of every little detail in your life. Bills, errands, even your fucking social life—Zhongli had woven himself into every part of it, all under the guise of making things easier for you.

At first, you were grateful. Who wouldn't want someone as reliable as Zhongli helping them out? But then, as time passed, you started to realise that it wasn't just help. He was taking control of your life, piece by piece, until there was nothing left that wasn't touched by his influence.

You tried to pull away, to assert your independence. You told him you needed space, that you wanted to do things on your own. But Zhongli? He didn't get angry. He didn't raise his voice. Instead, he nodded, looking at you with those calm, calculating eyes.

"If that is what you desire," he said, his voice steady. "But understand that I only wish to keep you safe."

Those words. Keep you safe. It was always about safety with him. But the way he said it, the way he watched you—it didn't feel like safety. It felt like a fucking cage.

And it wasn't just his words. It was the way things would always seem to go wrong when you tried to break free. The weather would turn. Friends would cancel plans. Shops would close just as you arrived. At first, you thought it was just bad luck, but the more it happened, the more you started to suspect the truth.

Zhongli was controlling everything.

He had eyes and ears everywhere—his power, his connections, his age. He wasn't just some ordinary man; he was the fucking Geo Archon. He had influence over the city, over the land, and over you. And the worst part? He never acted like he was doing anything wrong.

One night, you confronted him.

"Zhongli," you said, your voice trembling with frustration and fear. "Why are you doing this? Why won't you let me live my life?"

He looked at you, calm as ever, as if your words were nothing more than the wind blowing through the trees.

"I'm only protecting you," he said softly, his voice like a lullaby meant to soothe. "The world is filled with dangers you cannot comprehend. It's my duty to keep you safe."

You shook your head, trying to make him understand. "But I'm not free! You're suffocating me, Zhongli!"

His eyes darkened, just for a moment, and you saw the flash of something deeper, something ancient and terrifying beneath the calm surface. "Freedom is a fragile thing, one that is easily lost to chaos. I offer you stability, safety—a life without fear."

He stepped closer, towering over you, his presence as unyielding as the mountains themselves. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a way that would have been comforting if it weren't for the suffocating weight of his obsession.

"You don't understand now," he whispered, his voice low and deep, like the rumble of distant thunder. "But you will. In time, you'll see that I am the only one who can truly protect you. No one else can offer what I can."

You felt your knees weaken under the intensity of his gaze. His touch, though gentle, felt like a shackle—an invisible chain binding you to him. And deep down, you knew there was no escape. Not from Zhongli. Not from the Geo Archon.

He had time, and he would wait as long as it took for you to accept it.

The days that followed were worse. Every attempt you made to break free, to reclaim some semblance of your old life, was met with quiet resistance. Friends you reached out to stopped replying. Places you went for solace became inaccessible. Even your thoughts seemed clouded, as if Zhongli's presence had seeped into every corner of your mind.

He never raised his voice. He never lost control. But every time you defied him, you felt the subtle shift in his demeanor—the quiet authority, the unspoken reminder that he was in control. That no matter how hard you fought, you were already his.

One evening, after another failed attempt to escape his grasp, you returned home to find him waiting for you. His eyes were as calm as ever, but there was an edge to his voice, a weight that made your heart race with fear.

"You're exhausted," he said, stepping forward with that unnerving grace. "You've been fighting against something that cannot be fought."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, and you felt the warmth of his touch—the heat of the earth beneath your feet, the crushing pressure of a mountain's weight.

"You belong to me," he said softly, his voice laced with finality. "I've waited long enough for you to understand. It's time for you to stop resisting."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The air felt heavy, suffocating, as if the very ground beneath you was conspiring with him. His hand slid up to your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze, and you saw it—an unbreakable resolve, a fucking ancient force that would not be denied.

"I have made a contract," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "A contract to protect you, to keep you safe. And I will not allow you to break it."

His lips brushed against your forehead, a gesture so tender it sent chills down your spine. But it wasn't love. It wasn't affection. It was possession. Pure, unyielding possession.

"You are mine," he said, his voice steady and unshakable. "And nothing will ever change that."

As Zhongli's fingers trailed down your face, his voice dropped even lower, his breath hot against your ear.

"But don't worry," he whispered, his tone dark, seductive, and irresistible. "I will take care of you, forever. I will cherish you, protect you, worship you like the treasure you are... because you are mine."

His lips hovered just above your skin, and you felt the weight of his words sink deep into your bones, binding you to him.

"And I never let go of what's mine."

[gffa]

Hiiii :D I was just wondering, do you have any good Marvel fic reccomendations? Your massive list of star wars fics is like the no.1 thing I go to when im in a star wars mood, and all of them have been amazing, so thanks so much for that!! I'm just curious if you have any good Marvel fic recs?? If not that's fine lol, thank you for your service 🙏

Hi! Lol, I had to sit with this post for a few days because "Marvel fic" is such a wide range of possibilities, like are we talking the comics or the live action shows? The Avengers movies? The X-Men movies? Which section of those fandoms? Avengers as a team? Captain America? Thor? Iron Man? Daredevil? X-Men: First Class? Just... anything? I don't actually have a lot of comics fic recommendations (mostly because it's too hard to wade through all the movie stuff because so many people cross-tag into the comics tags despite it not being comic fic that those tags are now useless), but my go-to for Marvel comics are always: ✦ Betrayal + Paradox Law + The Game of Empires by Valerie J It's hard to describe this series, other than that about ~15 years ago, it was an ambitious attempt at taking various elements of the X-Men comics and weaving them into a coherent whole, focusing on giving Remy an epic backstory to explain his origins and his powers. It probably wouldn't really fit with more recent comics, but if you're a fan of late '90s/early '00s X-Men comics, this was a hell of a ride with cool powers, surprising family twists, time travel, fun relationships, and incredible ramp ups to tense situations that explode in the best way. ✦ The Gestalt Arc by Lori McDonald Another old school fic centered around the Remy/Rogue relationship and taking them on an epic journey, in an alternate version of what happened after their kiss in X-Men #41. The ups and downs of how they work out their issues, the lives they try to lead with each other, finding their path forward together, it's still one of my favorites for the era. ✦ Anything by Traincat for the Young Avengers My favorite is grab a blanket, brother, but they're an author that I'd write a blanket rec for, if any of the summaries sound relevant to your interests! They also write Peter Parker/Johnny Storm, which isn't my area of comics, but I'd trust them with it! But primarily I'd route you to them for their super fun Young Avengers stories, the Teddy/Billy and Eli/Kate ones especially. ✦ Anything by silverspidertm2, X-parrot, takadainmate, or Mythtaken Identity for Journey into Mystery and Loki: Agent of Asgard-era fic. This is when I was in my prime era of reading Thor comic-centric fic, around Journey into Mystery and Loki: Agent of Asgard, when he was Kid Loki and then Teen Loki. There was a lot really fun worldbuilding or road trips or just feelings explosions fic from this era. Beyond that, my bookmarks are a bit of a mess, but you can scroll through them to see what you're looking for. My primary fandoms were: ✦ Daredevil TV, where I went in hard on Matt/Foggy (and some Matt/Foggy/Karen and Frank/Karen and a little Matt/Elektra), where I read voraciously for about a year before MCU burnout hit. Some faves are Double Blind by smilebackwards and Something Dumb to Do by poisonivory and jump, check parachute augustbird.

✦ Thor (MCU), which is actually the heart of who I was as an MCU fan, I spent a long time there reading a lot of fic and this will take you to my bookmarks with the pairings filtered out. I was a big fan of Thor & Loki's relationship so that's most of what's in there, and I always suggest starting with these three fics: ✦ Bargaining by proantagonist, thor & loki & odin & frigga & cast, time travel, 108.9k Faced with an eternity without his brother, Loki strikes a bargain to change the past. Post TDW. ✦ No Such Liberty by Xparrot, thor & loki & cast, 147.3k The first thing Loki said, after he had swiped his tongue over his lips to wet them, was, "You shouldn't trust me." ~ Following the attack on New York, Thor takes Loki back to Asgard in chains; but this does not mean that the god of mischief's schemes are ended, or that Thor has or ever will give up on his brother. But when Thanos threatens the realm to claim his lost prizes, on which side will Loki fall? [post-Avengers fix it] ✦ The Lullaby Singer by TheOtherOdinson, thor & loki & odin & frigga, 85k wip Odin hasn't left Asgard in over a thousand years. When he finds out Loki is still alive and preparing to launch an attack on Midgard, he could send Thor to stop him. Or Odin could go himself. As a bonus, I have a few more Thor genfic recs here.

✦ Captain America (MCU), where sure I liked some gen fic but lbr I was there for the Stucky. I mostly read during the height of the post-TWS fervor and then tapered off a lot after that (given how hard they swerved away from their relationship) and I haven't read almost anything in the fandom since Endgame, but if you want some fun TWS-era fic, I put together this list recently. (To be fair, I also liked a lot of Steve &/ Natasha, Bucky &/ Natasha and Sam/Natasha, so you can find that in there, too.)

✦ Iron Man (MCU), where I liked a mix of some fun gen pieces and some Tony/Pepper which put me in the minority, but I don't care because there were some banger authors for both. If you're interested in them, I always liked pretty much anything I read by roboticonography. icarus_chained wrote a wider variety of stuff, but I've always liked anything I've read from them as well.

✦ Avengers (MCU), where I read a lot of fic, but it's kind of all mixed in together, even some sprinkled in Black Panther fic, some Spideypool that was super fun for a hot minute, some Guardians of the Galaxy characters showing up, etc. Step carefully if you're not interested in pairings (I read a fair amount of Tony/Loki and Steve/Loki in amongst the other stuff), but honestly by the end I was probably reading more gen than anything.

✦ X-Men: First Class-verse, which is my exception to not reading much for the live action versions of the X-Men, because I am a long time Pietro Maximoff fan and while Peter wasn't my Pietro, I did love him and there was some absolute banger fic for the Dadneto trope, which was where my heart was at. Come Together by blarfkey is absolutely the first place to start!

Hopefully this is what you were looking for, but if you have further refinements on what you're interested in, let me know and I'll try to give some pointers! I've been out of reading Marvel for awhile, but I have a huge backlog from when I was in it, at least. 😂

[wanderingsoul6261]

Heavenly Skies- Part 2

credit for gif goes to fabiolajyx

James Beaufort x Reader

NOTICE FOR NEXT FIC. IT WILL BE 18+ FOR SEXUAL ACTIVITIES AND DESCRIPTIONS.

Synopsis: Part two of heavenly skies - Ruby and James get into one of their arguments during class, in which she tells him that no one would ever love him truly.

warnings: None? I think?

This one is shorter than other fics. I just didn't know what else to add, and everything else I thought about didn't feel right.

James had finally returned back to Maxton Hall, and upon his arrival, many could tell that he had changed. No one knew exactly what had happened, but after a bench and a plaque was erected in Y/N’s name, many started to talk, and eventually it had become an unspoken rule within the walls of Maxton Hall. 

Don’t speak about Y/N. Specifically, don’t talk about her to or around James Beaufort. Additionally, it also became known that the bench that was dedicated to her, also belonged to him. No one else sat in it, and if they did, they received a heavy barrage from a certain Beaufort. 

However, there was one person who didn’t care what she said, in order to hit all of the right buttons. 

“How can you be so empty minded?” Ruby called out James in class, specifically the one that would help prepare them for Oxford and the expectations of the university. “Or is it the money talking?Did it go too far into your head that you lost all sense?” She had turned around in her seat. She glared at him, and Lin was doing everything in her power to try and calm her down. 

“Money has nothing to do with my intelligence.” 

“No, but you let it speak for you.” James puffed out his cheeks. 

“It’s never about the money. From a business standpoint, money isn’t the only thing taken into account. There is more to it. Stats, logistics, the commercial avenue of the marketing industries and their customers-” 

“Never about the money?” Ruby asked. She scoffed. The professor had tried to calm the two down, but when the two started to raise their voices, her own voice was drowned out. Her attempts were pointless. “It’s always about the money for you, regardless if it’s from a business standpoint or not. That’s how every single silver spoon child is. Money is their source of greed and they feed into it at every moment of every day. Your businesses only supply the rich and anyone else who tries gets ridiculed!” 

His voice grew quiet. 

“It’s not that way for all of them.” His mind wandered to Y/N. Images of her in his mind filled the empty spots. A thriving flower in the middle of a bunch of suffocating dandelions. She was the only positive thing about Maxton Hall. The only positive thing about his life. She was a vine, weaving herself amongst his body, taking root with the intentions to stay there for eternity. 

“What?” 

“It’s not that way for all of them.” He raised his voice slightly more. 

“So now we are defending the money hungry people of society? The people that allow those of a lower class like me to suffer and be overwhelmed by the knowledge that they will never be as good as people like you? That’s such a relief.” 

“You don’t know what you’re going on about.” 

“I do.” 

“No. You don't know anything.” He argued. Images of Y/N filled his mind again and he swallowed thickly, his eyes burning into Ruby Bell. 

“I know you, and I think that’s enough, considering that you are the worst of those who go to Maxton.” Ruby bit back. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I know that you look at every single lower class person the same way, including me. We will never amount to you and what you can achieve in the same way. You had everything handed to you on a silver platter and had eaten with silver utensils. You barely have to work for what you have now while me and everyone else like me have to work our asses off to get to where you are now. And even then, that will never be enough.” Ruby seethed as the two of them glared at each other. “And that is why no one will ever love you. Noone of their right mind will ever want to devote their time to you because they actually love you. They only want your money and that’s all they will ever want.” 

James grew quiet and every single student had their eyes on him. He shook with anger, glaring at Ruby Bell, but couldn’t think of anything to say. The only person who looked at him with sympathy was Lydia, in which his eyes had glanced at her quickly, staking in her saddened look. 

“James.” 

“Yea, sweetheart?” 

His eyes filled with tears as he looked around the room. What was he doing? Y/N’s face showed up in his mind again, imagining her laughter and voice. 

“I love you.” 

James turned his gaze back to Ruby Bell, who was opening her mouth as she continued to talk, but as he watched her lips move, no words could be heard. Even if he willed himself to listen to what she was saying, his mind was preoccupied. He was drowning in everything about Y/N. 

“Promise?” 

He clenched his fists together on the desk. His jaw clenched and he blinked away the tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. 

“Promise.” 

James abruptly stood up, grabbing his bag and coat, then stomped out of the room. 

—

Her parents weren't surprised when they got home and seen James in Y/N's study. He was curled up on the couch in there, the fireplace crackling in the background. James was wrapped in Y/N's favorite blanket, sherpa lined and extra soft, a maroon hoodie in his hands. Y/N's Maxton Hall hoodie.

James snored softly, twitching every now and then in his sleep. They noticed the tear tracks, knowing that too long ago, he had been crying. That he had even likely cried himself to sleep.

A bottle of Y/N's favorite wine had evidence of being open, with a half empty glass on the coffee table next to it.

They smiled softly, happy to know that James felt safe and comfortable enough to allow himself to be this vulnerable. They gave him a safe place to grieve and had welcomed him to come over whenever he wanted to.

When they finally turned to their left, where Y/N's paints had been pulled out, and a partially covered canvas filled the easel, they paused.

On the canvas was a loosely planned painting, the main colors being blocked out for just the moment. However, they knew already who it was going to be. Maybe it was the hair that gave it away, her clothing type, or even the position in which she was being painted, but they knew that the person depicted in the painting was Y/N.

And if that didn't work to show who he was painting, then his open sketchbook, littered with memory drawings of Y/N surely would have given it away. Even in death, she was still everything to him.

When her parents finally left the room, allowing James to have his peace and quiet, he opened his eyes. Tears pricked his eyes as he turned his head to look at the painting.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

-----

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

[soulthrifted]

About - The reader finds themself overwhelmed by their godly parent’s absence and Luke comforts them.

Pairing - Luke Castellan/Reader

Warnings - Hurt/Comfort

A/N - I’m not too happy with this one for I feel like it could be longer, but I hope you enjoy it!! I also didn��t proofread much so I apologize for any mistakes with in the writing.

-[ Made for you ]-

Sometimes being a kid of a godly being isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It can be lonely and tiring. Never knowing what your parents truly want from you. Never knowing what you were truly made made for. That’s what I’m feeling right now as I take my anger, my sadness, out on a practice dummy at the training arena. I slice it over and over as tears stream down my face. Each time I slice at the dummy another sob leaves my throat. It’s late at night, the arenas lights are off and the only thing illuminating me is the soft glow of the moon. Why doesn’t he talk to me? Slice. Why doesn’t he care? Slice. What does he want from me. Slice. Why won’t he talk to me? Slice. Does he even care? I collapse to the ground, my body finally gives out and my arm goes slack. My sword clangs to the ground and I can no longer control my cries, I’m just tired. Tired of not knowing. Tired of begging for attention from my own father. I’m so tired.

I can hear footsteps approaching me, but I don’t stop crying. As much as I want to I can’t. I can’t stop. I don’t stop when I hear my name called out. I don’t stop when the soft footsteps turn heavy, they must be running. I don’t stop when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don’t stop when I feel the person pull me flush against them. Instead I cry into their shirt. I cry as they hold me tightly. I cry as Luke Castellan’s familiar voice whispers sweet things to me. “It’s okay, (name). I’m here now. It’s okay.” I feel him rub comforting circles on my back. The attempt to calm me down only causes me to cry harder. I try to speak, but all that leaves my throat is another sob.

Luke and I sit like this for what feels like an eternity. He holds me closely until my sobbing stops and silent tears stream down my face. I pull away from the crook of his neck and look at him sadly. I know my face is red and puffy from crying, Luke doesn’t care. He reaches up and wipes the remaining tears from my face. His touch is gentle. He’s always so gentle. “It’s okay.” He whispers again “I’m here.” He flashes me a soft smile. There’s not an ounce of pity in his eyes. He doesn’t pity me, he understands me. He knows why I’m crying. He knows why I’m so hurt. He always knows. I don’t know how he always knows. Maybe it’s the years of friendship we have between us. Maybe it’s his excellent analyzation skills. Whatever it is, I’m greatful for.

In the tapestry of my life, Like stands as the unchanging thread that weaves through every moment. He’s always here giving me unwavering support through both my good moments and my bad. Luke’s consistency is not just a fleeting assurance; it’s a timeless commitment that assures me he will always be there for me.

I rest my forehead against his and place both my hands on either side of his face. I whisper a small ‘thank you’ to him. My voice is raspy and corse from crying, but he doesn’t care.

He squeezes my side in acknowledgment of what I said. “There’s no need to thank me, I’ll always be here for you.” I close my eyes and take in the comfort that Luke provides. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks and I shake my head.

“No. Not at all.” I pull my head away from his and my hands fall onto his shoulders. He nods his head in understanding and his hand reaches up to wipe away the last tears that fell from my face.

“You’re perfect, (name). I want you to know that. Your father is an idiot for not answering you, for not seeing the woman you’ve become.” He pushes a price of my hair behind my ear and I feel as if my skin has been lit aflame. “He doesn’t deserve your tears. He doesn’t deserve you.” his hand falls from my face and captures my hand instead. He pulls it up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to my knuckle. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

I shake my head again. “I don’t want to go back to my cabin.” I say as Luke helps me up from the ground.

“They you can stay with me.” He says as we begin walking towards the Hermès’ Cabin. When we walk inside I take in the familiar walls, the comforting smell and the warmth of the cabin. I spent my first two years at camp in this cabin with Luke. It took me a long time to prove myself to my father. It took a long time for him to claim me. When I was claimed and I moved into my new cabin, it didn’t feel like home. It still doesn’t. For me, home is not a place, but it is a person. Home is wherever Luke Castellan is.

I watch as he pulls back the covers of his bed and lays down in it, patting the spot next to him. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a bed together for a night, and it likely won’t be the last. When we lived in the same cabin I used to snuggle up next to him when he had a nightmare or was just simply feeling alone. I lay in the bed beside him and his arms immediately wrap themselves around me. I snuggle close to him, enjoying the warmth his body provides.

I fall asleep finally knowing what I was made for. I was made for Luke Castellan as he was made for me.

[jrow]

May Prompts (26)

Day 25 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 27 here.

Manipulation.

He is master of manipulation.

It comes easily to him. Perhaps too easily. In recent years, he’s made a conscious effort to avoid manipulating those he loves (most of the time), but jerk clients and suspects? That’s still fair game. And a touch fun.

Getting constable moron to run was easy enough. It’s not that a chase is entirely necessary—they could have simply waited for Mycroft’s minions to arrive. That’s what John was likely planning, engaging the moron in meaningless small talk. But, they are doing this his way.

Besides, John loves a chase.

“And now you are spying on John. Worried he’ll remember?” was enough to get the moron running. And it was oh so easy to manipulate him to take off west, down the pavement. No roofs today.

The moron is fast, but not all nimble, knocking into people has he tries to weave between them. John is slower but far more deft on his feet, easily avoiding any barriers, be they human or otherwise.

As for himself, well, he’s both fast and nimble, but right now his focus is divided between ensuring John is okay and trying to manipulate the chase to their advantage.

Run. Run. Weave. Run. Weave. Jump. Force the moron towards the road, no chance to turn down an alley.

John is keeping up but his smile is evolving into a wince. This has gone on far too long.

But there it is. The library, always his saviour. He digs deep and finds a burst of speed, running up between idiot and the road, forcing him into left, through the front door.

“You guard the entrance,” he yells to John. They both know it’s a ruse to allow John to sit down and rest, but they can pretend.

“Right,” John says, hands on thighs panting for breath. “You go!”

And he’s off, manipulating the chase so they move up the stairs and into the stacks. He puts on bursts of speed when needed to push the idiot towards the small meeting rooms. The other patrons and staff keep their distance as they run. The police have surely been called but Mycroft’s team will arrive first.

Finally, they reach the back. He detours quickly to pull the fire alarm and the siren sounds loudly. The three meeting rooms empty, the people rushing to the exits.

The moron has nowhere to go, but continues past the fleeing patrons and into a meeting room. Tries to close the door.

But, he is there, pushing his way in.

“Nice try,” he says. “The police are on their way. It’s over.” He realises he still doesn’t know the constable’s name. He realises he doesn’t really care.”

“Look, I have money,” the moron starts, “if you help me get out of here. Then I’ll be gone—won’t set foot in the city again. Think about it, I have loads of cash and jewelry… would really help out that little girl.”

The mention of Rosie makes him see red. “Don’t you dare,” he spits out. “Don’t you move an inch. You are a lucky man, you know. If John had died or been badly hurt, you would not have got out of this room alive.” He forces himself to stay guarding the door, fighting the urge to rip the moron from limb to limb.

“Please,” the moron pleads, sounding genuinely terrified and looking on the verge of tears. Good.

He stands guard and says nothing, working to keep his rage in check. Mycroft’s team will be here soon and will be appropriately aggressive in their arrest. After a couple of minutes that feel like an eternity, he hears heavy steps running towards them.

“Hands in the air!” someone yells, pushing past him and entering the room.

The moron continues pleading. He turns around and makes his way back downstairs. Back to John.

Five years ago, he’d be desperate to be part of the interrogation. To understand every element of the moron’s crimes. Now, he just wants to get his family and go home.

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[ruershrimo]

f. megumi x reader | one moment longer

under the light of the moon, he looks more beautiful than anything.

spiky black hair shining like stunning silver, eyelashes weaved of the silkiest threads one’s genes could offer, green eyes shimmering, scrutinised by the moon’s glow. if there was a painting to describe the epitome of beauty he would be its subject.

the collar of that tidy black uniform you can nuzzle your face into, the hyaline scent of detergent and a freshly cleaned room, the rhythm of his breaths, faint and light, as lithe, warm hands rest on your back the same way puzzle pieces stay connected.

“i love you,” you hear. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

you aren’t a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, so maybe you wouldn’t know enough. still, you know some people say that the world of sorcery is one devoid of hope and humanity; you know the general sentiment among them is that this has always been a sisyphean task, that it was born from the resistance of impermanent lives against an evil which would last for all eternity.

yet how can they let their worlds be entrenched in such darkness and lovelessness?

love and good are everywhere, you think, no matter how much loss there is to endure. you’ve felt so yourself.

you see it when you sip from teacups in cafes where the saucers come with biscuits on the side and your ears notice the shutter of his camera and you gaze at the mellow grin resting on his face. you hear it when he sends you whatever tune he’s been listening to for the past few days, sent with a text saying, “thought you might like this”. you taste it when he presses his lips to yours and kisses him back out of joy in a bold defiance of this world’s sorrows. love and good is everywhere in the mundanity of life and it’s minuscule, quiet moments.

“i love you,” he whispers again, voice as soft as a gentle breeze in an autumn-touched street, but with enough conviction to make the mightiest of rulers fall, you’re sure. you shut your eyes slowly as his feet move languidly in tandem with yours.

“you do?” you ask, “i love you too, megumi.”

one day the world he resides in will take him away from you. one day you’ll be left alone with no one to hold you under the moonlight while it spills into their wooden-tiled dorm room, one day you won’t have anyone to dance with you despite the chills outside.

but today is not that day. tonight is not the night you’ll be screeching and crying as you hear news of his death from a cellphone call. it’s not the night when you’ll be shaking and collapsing over his mangled corpse, if there even is one left.

you want a future together. you want for him to stay even after he leaves graduates, for years and years and years of his life. but even you know that with the life he’s living, with the kind of life where any night is one when he may die, you just wish that it can last for a while longer. if not two years, then maybe two months. if not two months, then maybe two weeks. or perhaps…

…just one moment longer. one moment longer with fushiguro megumi.

I don’t even write for jjk haha, I was just simping at 3 am (I want to sleep. I’ve to wake up before 9 tomorrow. someone pry my phone away from me.) I’m also doing this to cope because gege is cruel. someone help this is probably so bad I didn’t even do any formatting or anything bro that picture isn’t even one of the moon

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Lux Solaris

Prompt: deodate (free write) || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: Spoilers for Dawntrail.

---

It was in the heart of the Meso Terminal, before the throne of the Queen Eternal, that Synnove discovered just what the fuck had been going on with her Dreadwyrm Protocol.

The Protocol was the most strictly-maintained of all her spells, the one most rigidly bound off from every array in her grimoire with pages of page-blocks to ensure its core programming didn’t leak into any of the carbuncles. It was also the spell that had seen the fewest modifications—in fact, beyond locking out Galette and then ensuring the smooth linking between it and her Phoenix Protocol, it was otherwise unaltered from what Prin had given her years ago. It was a perfectly functional spell, did exactly what it needed to rain down untold destruction, and if Synnove never had to manipulate the Dreadwyrm’s aether again in her life, it would be too soon.

(Too, there was the fact Synnove was still mad as hell that Prin hadn’t exactly divulged just what the spell it had gifted her had been. The coding had been so alien to her eyes that she hadn’t recognized it not being a mere variation on Allagan egis, and, well, she always did her initial testing with Galette—

IDENTIFY THE ENEMY YOU WISH TO ANNIHILATE.

—suffice to say it was a good thing she’d gone out to test the damned thing on Seal Rock when the island wasn’t being used for wargames. Bad enough both she and Galette had spent the next sennight coming down from the resulting panic attack.)

But that meant she was keenly aware of when the Protocol began to behave oddly. It was how she had first noticed Phoenix’s aether beginning to strengthen, back on the First, which in turn had led to her and Urianger and Alphinaud and Alisaie losing their collective minds as they build out a demi-primal array from scratch.

The past few moons hadn’t seen quite as a drastic change in the Protocol as had been on the First. No, it had been far more subtle; strange bits of…not stagnation, but frequent shifts toward umbral polarity, even a faint hint of Light at some points. Less rage had filtered through the Protocol, that millennia of hatred barely tempered by its filtering through a mere demi-primal that always accompanied an activation of the Dreadwyrm Protocol, instead more of a cool, calculating regard.

And now, here in this space made of levin and electrope, Synnove had activated the Protocol, and what had answered was not the lesser form of the Dreadwyrm.

This demi-primal was white as Light, and its draconic shape was more closely aligned with what a son of the First Brood would have looked like, and not the warped abomination he become under Ascian influence. Its head lacked eyes, however, and strange crenellations crested its head and neck. A crown of Light wheeled above that crest, and its wings—

—its wings were gods-be-damned fucking SWORDS.

It was only a heartbeat between the activation of the Protocol and Ivar becoming the control core of the demi-primal. Synnove could feel her youngest son’s bafflement in the back of her mind, and knowing he was all right was about the only way she didn’t panic in the middle of a battle.

And then, in a cool, crisp voice, echoing with multiple tones through her mind like clarion bells:

LIGHTWYRM SUBROUTINE NOW ONLINE. SUMMONER PRIME LOCATED. DESIGNATION: SYNNOVE GREYWOLFE. REFULGENT LUX GRANTED TO SUMMONER PRIME. SUNFLARE GRANTED TO SUMMONER PRIME.

“What,” Synnove said intelligently, “the fuck.”

The demi-primal stretched its right wing, and one the Queen Eternal’s attendant drones slammed into and broke into pieces. Synnove, jolted back to awareness, dodged through the chaos to return to the safety of Heron’s back and rejoin the battle properly.

“Synnove, what the fuck?!” Rere somehow made the question a part of the ballad she was weaving to bolster their attacks.

“I don’t know!”

ANNHILATION TARGET DETECTED. QUERY: SUMMONER PRIME, DOES THIS UNIT HAVE PERMISSION TO ENGAGE?

“Yes,” Synnove said, already casting a Ruin III spell. “With extreme prejudice!”

The strange not-quite-a-dragon seemed to regard the Queen Eternal. And then it opened its mouth, and R O A R E D.

PROTOCOL: EXODUS ACTIVATED.

Light filled the Interphos, the same brilliant radiance that had answered Hydaelyn’s call during Her test, deep in the aetherial sea. And then it exploded, and the Queen Eternal howled her rage.

“SYNNOVE WHAT THE FUCK.”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

--

“So, I think I know what the fuck.”

Nearly a moon after successfully saving the world—again—the mages of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn (sans Urianger, who was still off somewhere with Thancred, and he was going to be outraged he’d missed this) clustered around the table in one of the conference rooms of the Baldesion Annex. Synnove sat cross-legged on the table itself, fist propping up her cheek, Galette around her neck, and Ipomoea primly loafed in her lap. The Highlander knew she looked as she always did after a research binge: hair a disaster, clothes wrinkled from being slept in, circles beneath her eyes.

The only thing missing was chalk dust, and that was only because she’d been up to her eyeballs in unspooled carbuncles for the past damned moon.

Krile reached forward and tapped at an Allagan projection device built into the table. It lit up immediately, copies of a subset of arcanima array now floating in the air for easy view.

“Let the record show we’ve got a segment of the Dreadwyrm Protocol on display,” Synnove said tonelessly.

G’raha, acting as the meeting scribe, chuckled quietly, but did as requested.

“This bit is the manifestation coding, it’s basically the mathematical image of the Dreadwyrm that the Allagans put together. What’s on display now is what Prin gave me. And this—”

Ipomoea blinked her eyes with an audible shuttering sound. The array changed.

“—is what it looks like as the Lightwyrm Protocol.”

“Well, that’s a significant change,” Alphinaud said slowly, his eyes wide. “I can see the similarities that we can assume are for ‘dragon,’ but what commands for unaspected aether are now for Light.”

“I want the bits that make the sword wings,” Alisaie said. “That is inspired work.”

Alphinaud barely restrained a sigh, glancing heavenward instead for strength as everyone else chuckled.

“I can see where the commands are branching off to affect spells like Astral Flow,” Y’shtola murmured thoughtfully. “Still following the framework you created for demi-primals. But you can still access the Dreadwyrm Protocol?”

“Mmm,” Synnove said. “But have to do this one first. Then in sequence, it’s Dreadwyrm, back to Lightwyrm, then Phoenix, then the cycle repeats. I can’t say I’m not too mad about that, s’nice not to have my trauma shoved in my face whenever we need some extra firepower.”

“Probably has to do with balancing the Light aether, though I can’t figure out how just yet,” Krile said.

Synnove inclined her head. “That’s my theory at the moment, but I’ll need to do more testing. Regardless, that brings me to this.”

Ipomoea blinked again. A different array now floated above the table, causing everyone to frown.

“Is that a message array?” Alisaie said. “Like the Arcanists’ Guild uses for courier work on their carbuncles.”

“It is very similar,” Synnove said, and gently tapped Ipomoea’s head. The sapphire carbuncle twitched her left ear a perfect fifteen degrees, and the array display zoomed in. “You all see this bit of sigilwork and equation here?”

Murmurs of ascent.

“The one time I saw this,” Synnove said, enunciating clearly, “was in Elpis. When Venat sat down with me and the girls, and showed us the full spell frame for her traveler’s ward.”

Five pairs of eyes just stared at her. Synnove raised her eyebrows, waiting. She’d had her moment of garbled cursing three days ago when she’d found that damn signature.

“Are you telling us,” Y’shtola said slowly, “that this new Protocol was made by Hydaelyn Herself?”

“My dearest, darling friend and partner in magical crime,” Synnove drawled, “that is exactly what I’m telling you.”

Krile was covering her face with her hands. “Oh, great good gods, we’re going need to put this under the strictest lock they have in Noumenon,” she groaned.

G’raha was still frantically writing. “I’m not wholly sure I’d trust it to stay safe even there,” he said. “My vote would be to store it up at Bestway Burrows, or perhaps with the Watcher.” He glanced up at Synnove. “This is more for my own amusement than any record keeping, but what did Rereha say about this particular revelation?”

“She said, quote: ‘Oh, cool, Mom decided as a last hurrah that she could get in a last round of one upmanship on the Ascians and design a better dragon.’”

Alisaie and Krile were both giggling before Synnove had even finished talking. Alphinaud didn’t try to stifle his sight this time, while Y’shtola and G’raha exchanged rueful looks.

Synnove merely shrugged, ignoring Galette’s resulting grumble. “She’s probably not wrong.”

“Oh, the loporrits are going to adore that,” Krile said around her giggles. “Sword wings.”

“Sword wings,” Synnove said. And grinned.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hello I miss typed of my last request could you do a one shot of Tristan with a super affectionate female s/o who give him affection all the time no matter who’s around

Assuming your the anon I got one of them for then I get it. no worries! I gotchu!

Admist the bustle of the grand castle of Liones, your hands were intertwined and weaving effortlessly amongst the flurry of of courtiers and officials bustling about their royal duties. The polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of the chandeliers, and the opulent tapestries hanging on the walls seemed to whisper secrets of a time long past. Despite the formality of your surroundings, you were certainly anything but unrestrained.

"Today looks like a good day." You commented, turning your eyes to Tristan whom hummed in quiet, content response.

He agreed, that in itself was no lie. It had seemed that life had decided to take it easy on all it's children alike, from what Tristan could tell, his parents were in high spirits, the lively bustling of the officials and courtiers were swift and easy. People were helping each other on a whim.

But his mind was on you, it was as if your presence alone was a stark contrast to the otherwise rigid atmosphere of the palace. A whirlwind of warmth and affection that he held a deep appreciation for, his work was admittedly no easy task to take on, but this was just you and him, a much needed break.

There was a small, tentative smile on his face, freely out there for anyone to see. You could understand, that this was truly the very same Tristan you've come to know and love, not to say that you love all other side to him.

Tristan, ever the embodiment of calm and poise, would steal occasional glances at you, his emerald-green and blue eyes softening with a fondness that spoke volumes.

Although the both of you were ever the talkers, taking one turn after the other, there was nothing that needed to be said. This was a bond that was transcend too that of eternity, a deeply found understanding of one other in a way that could never be done for anyone else.

It was not uncommon for you to steal a quick, loving kiss from him, even with a room full of watchful eyes. Tristan, though usually reserved and glaring, responded with a tender squeeze of your hand, his demeanor betraying his contentment with these public displays of affection.

It was something about you, that alone had brought out a sense of peace and tranquility. Tristan couldn't fathom it, not one ounce, but in a way he could understand the shallow meaning of it from what his father had told him, when he once had asked about the love between his parents.

"It's like... a wide land, right? the battles you face together may be harsh, but after, you stand tall." Meliodas said, uncrossing his arms and patting the young boy's head, whom seemingly looked at his father with stout confusion.

Elizabeth, his mother, let out a soft giggle and crouched down. "You'll be able to understand what your dad means one day, don't worry!"

Tristan shook his head with a soft sigh at the memory, strolling forward along with you, keeping a gentle yet firm hold with your hand clasped in his own.

It is the way that this grandiose feeling of his grows so strongly, that he can't help but feel that his heart may as well burst out of his chest. Tristan was unsure, but oh so sure, in the grand dance of life, it's that one moment with your dancing partner, that even everything else slows down to a stop. Life could be telling you right then and there, that it they, the one and only one meant for you.

This intimate yet public dance between you both was a testament to your deep bond; while Tristan was known for his gentle and quiet nature, your boundless affection brought out a side of him that was softer, more vulnerable. As you passed through the palace, your joined hands seemed to spark a subtle, yet palpable sense of joy and unity, reminding everyone present that even within the grandiosity of royalty, true affection could flourish freely and beautifully.

[ninetqs]

who's gonna write the AU where Charles is in fact a mouse who turns into a human. I think it should be chalex... he could collect him for Albon Pets — @gayferrari

i have something in my google docs kinda like this. but it's charlando (not shippy) where charles crashes at monza 25 and turns into a mouse in the wreckage. everyone thinks charles died even though his body is missing. charles the newly turned mouse gets picked up by a marshal who then gives him to lando. 7k words later charles has a newfound appreciation for lando's mental illnesses <3

Charles gets put in a box.

At least it’s a clear box, so he can see outside of it. There are medical personnel coming in and out of the tent, carrying strange machines and charts everywhere, each of them running back and forth as their radios bark orders, their voices harried, anxious. Their anxiety trickles to him, too—each beep makes him start, each muttered curse like the cutting edge of a dagger. None of them carry Charles’ remains.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” one of the marshals says, her hair a frazzled mess. “There should be something.”

Is it Charles that they’re referring to? Please. Think it over, he wants to tell them. Of course it doesn’t make sense. Because he’s still alive.

Her partner shrugs. “Just focus on the cleanup. Investigations are above our pay grade.”

All Charles can do is squeak. Being a mouse doesn’t give you many options for vocalisation, as it turns out.

An eternity—possibly several lifetimes—passes before the marshal who first nabbed him reappears. Charles claws at the box, squeaking furiously. The marshal peers down, raising an eyebrow.

“Calm down. I found someone who knows how to handle little guys like you.” He raps a knuckle on the glass, right above Charles’ twitching nose. “Can’t take you home myself. My daughter’s got this thing about rodents.”

A pet. That’s what he’s going to be reduced to. What do mice even do for fun? Cower in corners? Gnaw on floorboards? Die horribly in traps?

He’s carried into the paddock, where the mood is appropriately somber. At least people seem to care that he got hurt. Went missing. Died. Whatever. There are murmurs, lowered voices, snippets of mournful speculation, and Charles strains to listen. But his hearing is so good now that every word melts into an indistinct din.

It hurts, somehow, more than dying. Too much going on at once.

The marshal weaves through the crowds to the garages, and Charles peers out, hoping to catch sight of his crew. But no—of course not.

Instead, the marshal starts walking straight towards McLaren.

No, no, absolutely not. Charles bounces frantically against the walls of his box. His cries once again fall on deaf ears.

A McLaren mechanic approaches, offering the marshal a small smile, watery-eyed as though feeling genuinely touched. Charles isn’t exactly in the mood to appreciate the sentiment.

“Hey,” says the mechanic, “need anything?”

“I’m looking for…” the marshal begins in heavily accented English before he cuts himself off. “Oh!”

The box jerks, sending Charles somersaulting into the plastic wall as the marshal unceremoniously thrusts him forward. The indignity of it all.

A familiar voice chuckles, “Cheers for bringing him.”

He’s handed over, and suddenly Charles is getting the world’s least wanted view up Lando Norris’ nostrils. They’re distressingly clean.

“What a cutie,” Lando coos. “At least one good thing will come out of today. Thanks, mate.”

Charles squeaks in terror.

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 1: Training

Ruby considered herself an honest girl. Maybe a light fib every once and awhile but she really tried speaking her mind often! She meant it when she said she wishes to be a normal girl with normal knees. However, as Jaune flipped her onto a sparring mat, the next words out of her mouth made her wish seem like a lie.

Ruby:I am better than this outcome! I’m a natural born fighter, so why is this so hard!

Jaune:You really weren’t kidding about your hand to hand skills. I’m not even good.

Ruby:Lies! We all can’t be roommates with a ninja and learn cool skills!

Jaune:Yeah but…YOU have a ninja roommate.

Ruby:….

Jaune:…And a martial arts sis-

Ruby:Shut up! *springs up* Again! I’m focused! I will get you.

Jaune:Ren said most things come down to balance and timing. Try not rush this.

Ruby:I’d like to point out my weapon gives me reach and an immaculate pace. Without it you’re like two of me.

Jaune:Yeah but you’re amazing. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Ruby:Your kindness has no effect on me.

Jaune:Pin me and I will buy lunch. If you lose then you do it.

Ruby:You’re on!

Without hesitation, a flying kick went past Jaune’s head. He barely had time to put his hands up to block a flurry of tiny but rapid fists.

The pressure was short lived when Jaune threw a punch that forced Ruby to weave. Darn his long arms! She put all her concentration into bobbing left and right, successfully avoiding slower but powerful blows as she worked the ring. Lunch was on the line and it wasn’t looking too good for her. She had to really think about her attacks. She was faster but Jaune was no slouch. It all comes down to timing.

Ruby noticed his right shoulder move back and began ducking as Jaune sent a right hook. As she ducked, Ruby made her move; a right uppercut was headed his way then immediately pulled back as he went to block. The faint worked! Ruby twisted her body into a left jab aimed right for his face! Unfortunately, the blow failed spectacularly. Jaune raised his right palm and caught it! No way he predicted that! Ruby immediately went for right but was once again caught and both arms were raised above her head. She refused to give up her free lunch!

Both of them made their move. Ruby went to knee him with her right but wasn’t expecting him to lean her body backwards. She quickly lost balance and her leg was caught with his left hand as her wrists became pinned by his right against a wall. She hadn’t even noticed how far back they moved during the fight. Did he purposely lead her over here!? The proud but surprised smile on his face told her yes. Ruby couldn’t help but pout as he chuckled.

Ruby:Ren has taught you too much.

Jaune:Lunch is on you today.

Ruby:This is clearly a draw.

Jaune:Rubes, you’re pinned.

Ruby:Last time i checked, your arms are full. Looks like we both can’t properly attack. I call that a draw~

She confidently huffed. That was until their little stare down slowly grew closer.

Jaune:You really think I’m out of moves?

Ruby:Pr-Prove me wrong.

Why was she stuttering? Now was not the time to show weakness to the enemy! Cobalt eyes grew ever larger as they got closer to pools of silver. The grip on her wrists became a bit more firm, as well as his fingers behind her knee. Escaping the pin suddenly felt more like a suggestion than a need, and Ruby was so thrown off right now all she could think to do was close her eyes and wait for his “attack”

After what felt like an eternity, a soft press against her forehead connected with his own before leaving. Suddenly her limbs were free and she felt his presence back off. Ruby opened her eyes to see her friend looking completely the other way with his ears as red as her cape l; and her face at this point.

Jaune:See? I could’ve headbutted you.

Ruby:Y-Yeah…right. I can’t argue with that. *rubs head* Lunch is on me.

Jaune:Let’s call it here. Also… I will but dessert.

He briskly runs off, leaving Ruby to stew in the moment. She didn’t know what was worse; that he might’ve been going for a headbutt from the start but she clearly puckered up, or the fact she could still feel his grip on her. Either way, she was dying inside.

Ruby:(Why does hand to hand have to be so close?!)

[tragedybunny]

Fangs and Fairytales - Chapter 4

༺Summary༻

The Netherbrain has fallen and Baldur's Gate has been saved. Excited about their new life together, Astarion and Serafina, a warlock who’s past remains hidden, journey to find a way for him to walk in the sun again. But there is no easy path to happiness and even Sera's own patron blocks their way. Together, they can face it all and find their own happily ever after.

Chapter 3: Astarion has an amorous plan to fix Sera's melancholy, it gets a little delayed by an encounter with a peculiar bard.

༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Serafina (Female Tav/OC)

༺Rating༻ Mature

༺Warnings༻ Light bondage, anal play, vaginal sex

༺Word Count༻ 4114

༺A/N༻

Hello Lovelies!

This is the smutty chapter. Takes a bit to get there, but I promise the second half is steamy.

Many and eternal thanks to @icybluepenguin for betaing and always encouraging me!

Also, if you recognize a certain bard and his ballad in this chapter - he's on loan from my dear friend @snowfolly If you don't recognize him, please check out Endlessly, one of my fave fics.

Read on AO3

All chapters here on Tumblr

The camp was in high spirits tonight and buzzing with activity. They'd turned the courtyard and upper floor into some sort of communal festival, all because some ostensibly famous bard had come to play there in an act of “charity” that Astarion found gratingly self-aggrandizing. 

The cheery mood and sense of community had even led the denizens to give the camp a proper name, erasing its last ties to Shar.

“Selûne’s Embrace.” He couldn't think of it without disdain. He wanted to be done with gods, and couldn't fathom why everyone else still would cling to them, Dame Aylin excepted.

The bard’s distraction served his purpose though, so he couldn't complain too much. The event kept Sera distracted while he made preparations for a very special night. He'd left a note before trancing telling her to go enjoy herself and he'd be along later, there were some things he wanted to do.

He shut the door to their private cave hideaway with a satisfied smile. Everything was perfectly set, including the items he’d snuck off to the night market in the Wide to procure. Now to fetch his beloved. 

Sera had seemed back in high spirits the last couple of days. They'd started making preparations to travel and Astarion had to admit, he felt more hopeful as well. He still wasn't happy about losing the sun, but seeing Sera smile after that terrible night made even the light of day seem less important. They'd leave in a couple more days after dinner with Duke Ravengard.

The night crowds were thicker tonight, swarming to the surface, bringing along a tide of food and drink for the revelry. Astarion weaved through them with dexterity, avoiding any brushes against his skin that would reveal it as too cold, and any lingering looks that would expose anyone to his too red eyes. 

He glanced down at his fingertips– his nails had become much more claw-like without the tadpole and, though not as animalistic as they once had been, they still required much more attention. Thankfully, the glowing eyes and maw full of jagged teeth had not also returned, those would be much harder to hide. He had a theory that being well-fed had something to do with it. An idea he could possibly discuss with Dal at some point, but for now he’d simply be thankful.

Thus far, they’d managed to keep his nature to whispered rumor, and no one really wanted to force the issue and confirm they were sharing quarters with a vampire. Especially since this particular vampire was the partner of the hero of Baldur’s Gate. It would seem Sera was still his great protector.

And that thought didn't have the sting it used to. They were rather good at protecting each other. 

Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he exited the stairs onto the ground floor and the notes of a song reached his ears. His jaw tightened and his teeth ground together. “That fucking song…” The Golden Lyre. 

“Dark haired maiden, play it true,” a rather pleasant voice crooned from outside.

Despite the pleasantness of the voice, the lyrics were still like listening to Lae’zel sharpen her weapon for hours on end. Astarion charged outside, determined to find Sera as quickly as possible. 

“The golden lyre, I beg of you, hold my heartstrings, in your hands.” 

It wasn’t a bad song, it simply was the song; every bard knew it and would play it in every godforsaken shithole in the city. The sort of place he used to haunt. He’d heard it so often, he would find himself singing it involuntarily and recoil, cursing himself. 

“Dark haired maiden, my love, my muse.”

Down the stairs, into the courtyard, Astarion spotted the ridiculous creature, furiously plucking away at a violin, dancing about like an ungainly bird, a mane of gray hair flowing wildly around him. And of course, at the end of a table nearest this display, sat Sera, sipping from a wine glass, with a smile on her face. A smile that was a little too fond for his liking, 

“Oh my love, my muse…”

Astarion shouldered his way over to Serafina, coming up behind her to rest his hands on her shoulders in what was definitely not a possessive manner, fingers on the light blue fabric of her dress. “Hello darling.” 

If her smile for the bard seemed fond, for him it was radiant adoration. “There you are. Done with your business for the evening?”

Astarion suppressed a smile, thinking of what awaited her in their cave sanctuary. “Indeed. In fact, part of it was a surprise for you. Shall we away?” he purred at her. 

“You’re such a tease. I’m dying of curiosity now.” 

He gave Sera his hand and helped her from her seat, ready to whisk her away from the scene and the hells-damned song when the music abruptly ended. The crowd started to applause raucously and Astarion attempted to make their exit before another song that would remind him of his lowest days started. Who knew what else was in the bard’s repertoire; The Wilting Rose, Summer’s Sweetest Wine? They all made him shudder. 

He’d gotten maybe two steps when the bard’s melodious voice called out behind him. “Corellon fucking wept… Serafina?”

At his side, Sera froze, eyes going wide with a look of terror he hadn’t seen since Cazador had bound him into the ritual. Astarion felt himself tense as well; from what he understood of the warlock pact, no one in Baldur’s Gate should recognize Sera. They gave one another a look and Astarion released her hand to wrap his fingers around the dagger always at his side. 

“It is you! Don’t you recognize me, it’s Tali?” The tiny elf – moon, if Astarion was any judge – flailed his arms about, jeweled rings catching the fire light and a fine scarlet coat swaying with the effort. 

“H-how? You shouldn’t be able to…” Sera stared at him in wonder. 

“Exactly.” Astarion gripped his dagger tighter. Had her family somehow found her? Was this their agent? 

Through the vaguest of conversations and some deduction on his part, he'd been able to put together that Sera had accepted a warlock pact with Titania, Fey Queen of the Summer Court to escape an awful family. Said family were almost certainly Patriars here in Baldur’s Gate. Sera had tried to disguise that noble bearing she’d been taught since birth, but he'd seen his share of nobles and rabble. There was no way she was anything but the former. And that was all he was allowed to know, lest the magic that hid her shatter. 

Tali’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Astarion’s hand at his weapon. “Hells, call off your attack vampire!” 

The last word was so loud that the crowd started to look their way. Though there had been talk, they had worked hard to keep Astarion’s nature as secret as possible. That effort looked to be going up in flames. All because of… whoever the hell this Tali was. 

“Why you–” Astarion began to draw the dagger from its sheath, causing Tali to  back away. 

The sound of Sera’s laughter caused them both to freeze. 

“The two of you are ridiculous, you know that.” Sera turned and gave Astarion a quick hug and peck on the cheek. “He’s an old friend.” 

“One that is now extremely worried about you, I might add!” The bard fell into a sulk. 

“Could you give us a minute?” Sera asked, barely waiting for Astarion’s nod before dragging Tali off by his hand. 

Astarion sighed and tried to bury the frustration of the delay to his romantic plans. Slinking off, he disappeared into the shadows, the attention of the crowd having diminished without their entertainment present. 

Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall, definitely not annoyed with the delay. Agonizing minutes passed as he waited, his fingers tapping against his arm and a fang worrying his bottom lip. Finally, Sera returned without the unwanted company in tow. 

He was already preening for the crowd, readying for another performance. Astarion doubted he could know what had passed between them but at least she didn’t look troubled by it. He held out his arm until she hooked hers through it, giving him a reassuring look, and they started back inside.

“He’s a friend, a friend that seems to have some immunity to Titania’s glamour. It’s fine though,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked.

“Oh so this random bard–”

“Taliesin. Honestly I’m surprised you don’t recognize him, he’s quite famous. He wrote the Golden Lyre.” 

Astarion pretended that did not make his blood boil further. Of course the foppish creature wrote that damned song. “Whatever. He’s allowed around Her Majesty’s spell, but I, the love of your life, am not.” 

Sere halted their progress, turning to shoot him a look. “Astarion, you know that’s not how it works. She can’t just make exceptions.” 

“I know she despises me. And she clearly can make exceptions.” 

Sera sighed and started walking again. “You’re being impossible.” 

Astarion followed, now being pulled along by Sera, despite being a head shorter than him, and slightly built. “Don’t act like it’s not true,” he groused. 

“So you're telling me that all a Fey Queen wanted from you for all this power was a child. How very… cliché.” Astarion was setting up a simple trip wire around their camp. They’d just dealt with a pack of gnolls and didn’t need any more surprises for the night. 

“It's not that simple,” Sera answered from where she stood watch behind him, scanning the horizon for any more danger. “She wants a lineage to serve her, my family line.” 

“And you agreed to that? Was life at home really that bad?” Nothing to compare to his, he was sure. 

The night sky over the Risen Road was turning the brilliant colors of twilight as the first stars appeared.  Astarion had agreed to help with security measures and immediately asked Sera to be his look-out. A chance to spend a little more time with her and “strengthen” their bond. They were on their way to the Githyanki crèche, and perhaps a way to be rid of these worms. He needed to ensure his hold on their warlock leader was as tight as possible. Without the tadpole he might well be entirely dependent on her. 

Oddly, the last couple of nights they hadn’t done much more than chat pleasantly by the fire and share a few kisses. Not for lack of trying on his part. Leading to his desperately attempting to ignore the creeping dread that his protector was losing interest in him, and his mouth was running without much thought. 

Audibly, she inhaled. “If only I could tell you.” 

Astarion felt an awful weight in his stomach, the feeling of knowing he'd screwed up. Only it was disturbingly not like when he'd misstepped in front of Cazador. That was fear of reprisal, of one of his master's many punishments. 

This was… he didn't know exactly. He just didn't like being the cause of any distress to her. “I– no, I should trust you on it. Although I have to say, she'll probably be disappointed if you keep carrying on with a vampire,” he finished with an awkward laugh and was glad she couldn’t see him cringing at himself. 

At least the trip wire was done. No explosions, only noise if something tried to cross into their camp. He stood up, shaking off the clumsy exchange. “There, no gnolls in camp this night.” 

“My hero,” Sera gave him a playful smile and headed back toward the cluster of tents. 

The smile soothed his nerves and he made to follow her when a voice whispered in his ear. 

“Watch how you go, Spawn, I won’t tolerate disappointment in my bargains.” 

That had been the only time he’d heard the voice of Titania, but the threat had remained with him, her distaste for him extremely clear. 

“It doesn't matter. And stop being jealous,” she scolded, and Astarion almost groaned in frustration. 

This night was rapidly spiraling out of his control. 

Letting go of her arm, he pulled her closer to him by her waist. Leaning down to purr into her ear,  “Of course my love, let's not spoil the evening. Not when I have such delicious plans for it.”

He was rewarded with a little shiver and smirked to himself. Oh, how he’d come to know her and what made her body respond. And the love they shared made using his considerable experience something he no longer reviled. For the most part– sometimes the skeletons of the past decided to venture outside the shadowy corner of his mind where he kept them. 

The crowd and the noise faded as he led Sera back toward their quarters. The steady increase of her pulse echoed in his ears, and the scent of her arousal filled the air, more alluring than any perfume. Tonight was safely on its way back to being a success. 

When they reached their room, Astarion swiftly shut the door behind him and locked it. No well-meaning visitors to interrupt them tonight. 

Sera turned to face him, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils wide with desire. “What did you want to show me?” 

“It’s in the cave. But first, take off your clothes.” The words were firm, an order, and he watched her swallow hard. 

For his part, Astarion could give or take control with equal pleasure, but Sera, with the rare exception, desired to relinquish it to another. Which made taking it all the more pleasurable for him. 

“I–” Sera started. 

“Shh, just be a good girl and do as you're told.” 

Her skin flushed a deep pink but she wordlessly moved to obey, already sliding into that space in her mind where thought gave way to feeling and reason to desire; the world ceasing to exist outside the two of them. 

When she was freed from her dress, Astarion– still clothed himself– took her hand, careful to not touch any other part of her, and lead her toward the door to their private refuge. “Go on,” he prompted, letting her enter first. 

He didn’t need to see her expression, the ragged, gasping breath she took told him everything he needed to know. The old Sharran rug had been discarded, and a newer plush one was laid down in its place. Currently, a bedroll had been laid over the top of it for extra comfort. And at each corner of the bedroll, attached to a stake driven into the ground, a leather restraint. Nearby was a small box, open to display an assortment of other toys should the night call for them. 

Astarion wrapped his hands possessively around Sera’s waist and leaned to down to speak in a low, throaty voice. “You see, my love, I think I finally understand your problem from the other night. You simply have too many thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours. So I’m going to fuck every last one of them out of it.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the blindfold that had been waiting there and slipped it over her eyes. As he did, each breath came more rapidly despite her stillness, like a rabbit frozen in the path of a predator. “And you are going to lay there, and not say a word while I do it. Just make all those lovely little sounds of yours for me.” 

Guiding her toward the bedroll, he laid her down on it, the soft light of the moon from the opening above them bathing her in an ethereal glow. Even without her sight, she obeyed him with perfect trust, following his commands without falter. She gave over each of her limbs to be secured into the restraints until her body was spread gloriously open for him. 

Leaving her to ponder what was next, Astarion wordlessly moved away to strip himself; spending longer than necessary as he watched her chest heave with nervous breath and the minute movements she made out of anxious anticipation. He could feel himself already hardening without even touching her yet. 

Kneeling next to her, he began to skim his nails over her skin, the faintest of marks appearing in their wake. “Now, what am I to do with you, my poor overthinking, anxious love.” His touch idly circled her breasts, avoiding her stiffened, rosy nipples 

“Ast–” she gasped as his fingers closed around one of those nipples and pinched.

“Ah, I said no words, only noises. Behave or we'll have to find a way to keep you from talking.” 

Sera didn't say anything more, only panted and whined as he rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

It was actually the perfect place to start. Shifting so that he kneeled between her thighs, he rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds and felt her try to buck into him. He gave a soft chuckle at her efforts. 

“You're not getting it quite so easily, pet.”

Not that he didn't want her desperately by now, but that would ruin the fun. And more importantly the effort he was making to give her this: a night about her pleasure only. 

He leaned forward, the scent of her - wildflowers and forests - filling his nostrils, intoxicating him. Hands resting on her shoulders, her flesh like satin under his fingers, he stilled her. 

His mouth began to water as he leaned down towards one firm nipple. Instead of latching on to suckle at it, bared fangs pieced the skin above it, withdrawing quickly to create two small streams of blood. 

Sera let out a sharp cry and he was thankful he'd thought ahead to set up here, away from their door.

With her delectable blood flowing enticingly, he wrapped his lips around her nipple and sucked. Intoxicating. 

Eyes fluttering closed, he let the taste and scent possess him.  Lazily his hips rolled, cock sliding over her clit, no relief for either of them as he drank the blood flowing from her breast like mother's milk. All the while she gasped and sighed beneath him. 

He could stay like this for hours, teasing the drips from her, not enough to drain her but enough to make his mind and stomach sing. But there was more to be tasted.

With a final lick over the wounds, he withdrew to a noise of disappointment.

“Oh don't you worry, I'm not done with you yet.” 

He’d let himself relive every wicked idea and lustful fantasy he’d had about her while planning tonight. Only some were fit for tonight's purpose, the rest he would get to in time. They had so much of it now. The fantasy enticing him would definitely serve his goal though. 

Getting up, he retrieved a toy and vial of oil from the box, placing them between her legs on the rug, making as much noise as possible. Sera adorably tried to hide her curiosity in silence but the sound of her blood did not lie. 

Coming to stand next to her head, he dropped to his knees, smirking at the intake of breath as he caught her off-guard. “Mouth open, darling, and trust me.” 

Obediently she opened wide for him, a welcoming, waiting hole. 

Very carefully, he placed his knees at her shoulders, and lowered himself over her, sliding his cock into her warm mouth. Wantonly, she moaned around him and he couldn’t stop his own answering groan. Elbows on either side of her hips he gave an experimental thrust, felt her tongue lapping at him. She was good - so, so good, sucking  from underneath him, pliant and submissive.

His hips moved again and he felt his cock twitch inside her. Not yet, he scolded himself. 

Arms wrapping around her thighs, nails digging into her soft skin just enough, he buried his face in her cunt, sodden in expectation of him. Nothing was as intoxicating as her blood, but the taste of her juices, flowing for him, was as close as one could get. Not even bothering to tease, he lavished his tongue over clit, relishing in the much-muted noises. 

It wasn’t enough though. Two of his fingers slipped into her sex, working her as his tongue continued its ministrations. His own hips picked up a rhythm, carefully fucking her mouth. 

Sera’s breath was coming in desperate gasps, the poor thing was nearing her limit. 

“You can wait a little longer, my pet, can’t you? For me?” 

The sound that answered he took for a yes. 

Sucking on two fingers from his unoccupied hand, he coated them with his saliva, and began to tease the last of her holes gently. She was tight and untried, sowith a delicate touch, he worked his way inside. 

Frantically, she lapped at the cock in her mouth, as though to plead with him for release as he fucked all her holes at once. A noise like a scream erupted from her as she shook against him. He could be merciful, he supposed. 

“Go on then, love, come for me.” To punctuate his words, he took her clit between his teeth and sucked. 

It was only moments later he felt her clench around his fingers, and a soft whimper followed. How he wanted to let go too, to spill his seed down her throat and let her taste him. Instead, he pulled his mouth from her and eyed the toy he’d left waiting. 

“Shall I ravage you properly, pet,” he teased, knowing she still couldn’t answer with words, but the thunderous melody of her heart spoke for her. His favorite sound in the whole world, that organ, beating out the song of her vitality, a real and living love. 

“But I’ve got one more treat for you. Now be patie– hgn!” Sera sucked deeply, tongue flicking over his sensitive head. “Naughty little thing,” he scolded. “I should stop right now.” 

They both knew he wouldn’t make good on that threat but still she ceased the attempt to goad him. 

Taking the vial of oil, he carefully coated the small, metal bulb in it. It was delicate work, he knew from horrible experience, but she’d been curious for some time, and was so eager for his fingers just now. The tip of the toy pressed against her and she tried to roll her hips into it. Once, he never would have bet sweet little Sera could be so wanton and needy. And it was all for him. 

Gently, he pushed it inside her, until she had taken it all. A couple of teasing pumps to keep her desperate, and he rose back to his knees, cock slipping from her mouth. 

He took a moment to admire his handiwork; drool running from her mouth, tears escaping her blindfold, her cunt swollen and dripping. 

Gods, she was beautiful.

Kneeling between her thighs, at long last, he gripped her hips, and drove into her, letting out a sigh of relief. Her warm slick squeezed him tight, eager to take all he could give. The feel of the toy inside her pressing against him added another dimension of pleasure, almost too much. 

He thrust with a desperate cadence, his mind fading into only feeling and wanting, almost the same as when he drank from her. The sounds of her pleasure were muted as though miles away. Hips slapped against skin, fingers dug bruises into her skin. 

Again he felt her, climaxing, thrashing, moaning uninhibited now. His cock twitched, gods, it was too much, and he felt himself let go. 

There was stillness and gradually the sounds of the cave penetrated the haze. Sera lay still, her breathing evening out after the exertion. Leaning down, he kissed her with all softness, his undead heart almost quickening with the raw, unbridled, affection he felt for her. 

“You did so well,” he whispered into her ear, “now let’s get you out of all this and into our bed.”

Under a mound of covers, Astarion held Sera close, as she lay with her head resting upon his chest. Idly, her fingers traced lines across his chest. Finally she made a thoughtful hum that drew him from his thoughts. “Yes, love?”

“I was thinking– if this is your treatment for melancholy– do you believe in preventive medicine?” Sera tittered giddily. 

“Oh my darling,” Astarion purred exaggeratedly, “I can most assuredly give you whatever dosage you require.” 

He tightened his arms around her and pulled her up to kiss her properly. They were so lost in the laughter that followed, Astarion barely noted the ease with which he lifted her, strength he hadn’t had before. 

Edited to add my tag list. Oops.

Tag list: @writingmysanity @snowfolly @sunfire-ancunin @vixstarria

@just-a-refrigerator @ladyofcrowsandcoffee @tallymonster @azu21

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate @spacebarbarianweird @cilil @bg3obsessedsideblog

@talentedbitch @claryvoyantfray