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preciouslandmermaid · 7 months ago

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quiet fury in your head [xi]

Dream of the Endless x AFAB!Reader!Goddess / Sandman Fanfiction

Note: This one took me so long to write and i don't love it LMAO but next chapter is gonna be like pure smut-no-plot so...that'll be fun. The fic only has TWO MORE CHAPTERS until it's complete that's crazy lmao tagging @sapphireonline cuz they asked so nicely to be tagged :). Also, my fics on ao3 are for registered users only due to AI scraping.

No use of Y/N. See part 1 for all the tags tbh.

Warnings: none

Rating: 18+

(Read on AO3) || (masterpost for other chapters)

While standing on the shining, white salt flats, The Gates of Horn and Ivory open for you and the Dreaming cautiously welcomes you.

It’s emptier than you recalled (or perhaps the Dreaming creatures are hiding from you). You allow yourself the pleasure of viewing the Dreaming for the first time without anxiety and without fear. You glide your fingertips across a cobblestone bridge, and the clear, inviting bubbling brook beneath reflects an uneasy, shifting portrait of heartbreak and exhaustion. It takes a moment to realize the reflection is your own. You push away from the bridge, dusting residue from your palms, and trek deeper into the Dreaming.

A swarm of blue, shimmering butterflies fly past – their wings glow beneath rays of sunlight and faint glimmers of light trail in their wake. You lift your hands in greeting, hopeful that one might land upon your palm, but they merely dance through your fingertips with glittery wings before vanishing into the air. These creations radiated with such gentleness and care.

Morpheus’ absence is a thorn beneath your nail. You wrestle your difficult emotions into subservient silence. Your desire for him will achieve nothing and accomplish nothing. The prideful King has made his choice. He chose a glass orb prison in an amateur’s basement rather than to be with you and fulfill a centuries-old promise to reunite.

The landscape deepens to rich burgundy, dusky tan, and blooms beneath effervescent golden sunlight. The dry, warm air fills your nostrils and lungs. You stand on a plateau of flat, crimson rock. The sun remains in a perpetual state of dusk, painting the sky periwinkle, and pink, and streaking claws of orange. You crouch and lift fine, rusted sand and gravel into your palm. You hold it for a moment, sensing its warmth, feeling the essence of Dream’s magic before releasing it, and watching it swirl and twist on the wind.

A creature approaches you, timidly, and is burdened by a shell on its back—its face is weathered and gray. The skin around its neck is saggy and loose. A lantern swings on the tall, oak-sculpted stick it carries. It stands a few feet shorter than you, squat and bipedal, and watches you with beady and cautious eyes.

It bows its bald, speckled head. “I remember you,” it says in low, resonate timbre. “The Dreaming whispers your name, Lady Morrigan.” It speaks slowly with small ‘hmms’ between each word.

You think of the Corinthian. Do all the creatures assume you abandoned them? Is this creature yours? Did you create him? You hold no memories of creating anything inside the Dreaming. You only manipulated what already existed. Yet, you cannot ignore the fact that you may have forgotten something. Anything is possible in the life of a reborn God.

“Do they know I died?” You ask, “that I was unmade in the minds of Men? That I was forgotten? Erased?” You can’t help but spit that final word with contemptuous venom. The graciousness of forgiveness is a difficult lesson to learn.

The lantern swings when it starts to walk again. “The minds of Men may have forgotten. We did not.”

“Do you expect my gratitude?” you ask dryly.

Are you supposed to give this tortoise-creature a boon? That is what your devotees of old wanted. They had chanted, and sacrificed, and called you into their battlefields or into their beds. They begged for your blessing on all fours and you were fickle; You would kiss the brows of beloved warriors, or bite their hearts with a freezing, cold grip.

But you are no longer Nemain of the Sisters Three. You are simply The Morrigan, Queen of Nightmares, a forgotten monarch in the realm of Dreams. Your purpose slowly manifests before you. You promised Dream that you would return. If only he wasn’t so unreasonably stubborn, then he would’ve been next to you, with Roderick’s bones ground to dust beneath your heel. You desire for vengeance seizes like a vice around your throat. Roderick ought to be dead. The roots of his family tree torn asunder and fed to his funeral pyre.

The creature finally deigned to respond, “I expect nothing, my lady.”

Its black tongue licks its’ wrinkled, dry beak. You sense its’ desire to leave. The Dreaming flutters with this knowledge and cajoles you into trying to get it to stay. You fold your arms across your chest. It moves at a glacial pace, its’ lantern swinging, its’ clawed feet kicking up small plumes of reddish dust.

You say, “It will take you decades to reach where you’re going.”

“It is not about where I will be,” It says, “it is about the going.”

You shrug and allow the creature be.

You cannot effect anything within the Dreaming. Those powers remain locked inside a small ring that Dream used to wear on his pinkie finger. Aimless, you walk through the Dreaming, and you talk to Her inhabitants and in the words of a strange tortoise—you focus on ‘the going’, rather than the destination.

The castle doors groan when they open. From the outside, it seems as if nothing had changed, but the interior plumes with dusty motes and freckles of ancient, unraveling magic. Your fingertips trail against the dusty banister as you move through the arched hallways with new eyes and a wounded heart.

You don’t know this castle well. You never traversed it when you were confined to the Dreaming. Except for one place, of course. A place where an old friend might be found.

The scent of paper and leather fills your nostrils and Lucienne steps from the aisle of books as if she was expecting you.

“Lady,” she bows her head as she says it.

“Lucienne.” Her name is a feathery sigh from your throat. The sudden warmth that spreads through your chest is unexpected, but not unwelcome. Lucienne’s face hasn’t changed. Her inquisitive eyes peer at you from behind her rounded spectacles. Her full cheeks round when she smiles.

“I cannot express how good it is to see you,” she says, a book clutched to her chest. “The shelves knew of your return before I did.” She looks up, her expression icing into fraught sadness streaked with regret. The spine of a book trembles, like a frightened creature, before drops from the shelve and falls open to reveal its blank pages. Are all the stories gone?

“They are not all empty,” Lucienne says, as if reading your mind, and offers the book she’s holding to you. You read the etched, golden title. The Adventures Of...it reads before fading away onto the stiff leather. You flip through and discover an irregular layout of full chapters combined with blank sheets.

You ask, “What else remains?”

“Your room,” she says, returning the book to her hands and wearing it like a shield before her heart. “I did not go within, of course,” she adds quickly, “but I know it’s there.”

You knew it too. You lick your lips and silently leave the room without farewell. Lucienne doesn’t call after you, nor does she ask the questions you can see written across her face. There will be a time for questions later. Right now, you need to explore and confirm this reality – this land of broken Dreaming. A palace without a monarch. A graveyard without a keeper. A home without a hearth. The doorknob turns beneath your palm, welcoming you, as so many small pieces of the Dreaming tend to do.

A room you never slept in—except for when you were poisoned. A closet with clothes you never wore—except for your single black cloak. You step into the closet and quietly admire the craftsmanship of Dream’s meticulous touch. Your fingertips glide through gauzy starlight, twinkling in your palm. You lift your nose to floral fabrics and your stomach swoops at the scent of full spring dancing through your nostrils—lush, bright meadows, humming bumblebees, and the tickle of pollen at the back of your throat. The burning cold of frost, the viscous-ember of magma, the angry swell of a blue-gray sea; all of it is contained within your wardrobe.

Your jaw clenches. How can someone capable of such careful beauty be so stubborn and illogical? Why can’t he see that his realm need him? That his selfishness is causing harm? You clench your hand around fabric that is storm-cloud and heat-lightning.

A name drops into your mind. A name you had accidentally forgotten. You sweep yourself into the dress in swirls of gray-and-white color before you vanish from the Dreaming in a thunderclap.

Your toes sink into the damp, cold sand and the rainwater prickles onto your skin. The air hums with the brewing storm. Something in your veins – something powerful – ricochets down your spine.

“Dima!” you shout into the roiling, dark clouds above the ocean. “Morrigan, Goddess of Nightmares, calls upon you.”

The lightning flashes and strikes, erupting a piece of earth beside you, and sending hardened diamonds into the air as the budding rain commits to a roaring deluge. Dima is crouched in a three-point landing, her head bowed, kneeling and reverent at your feet. Your heart burns with joy.

“Rise,” you say while opening your palm to her. “I would meet your eyes as a friend.”

Her hand slides into yours and you meet her white-eyes with a smile aching your cheeks.

“You changed your name,” she says. You cannot tell if the water down her face is from the rain or her tears. In the end, it does not matter. You are happy to see her. She came when you called. She remembered you. That is all that matters.

“You remember me.”

“I am not as fickle as mortals.” Dima sniffs. “The sky, the stones, the water, and trees…” She gestures with both arms to the world. “We don’t forget.”

You say, “Neither do Endless.” It wasn’t only Dream’s devotion that re-made you and brought you back into the world as a Goddess. Dima, too, played her part in your revival. An Endless and the personification of Storms believe in a Goddess. What an odd following you have claimed. Dima looks away when you mention Morpheus.

“He lifted your banishment,” you whisper, and your words are clear despite the storm. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Dima folds her fist over her heart. “I could not go back without you.”

“Then come back with me now.” You offer her your hand once more.

Her smile is bright. “Is this a choice or an order, my Lady?”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head at the gall – the bravery – of her. You are the Queen of Nightmares and yet Dima does not flinch. Perhaps that’s because she knew you before your death. You don’t frighten her and you don’t want to. She was your first friend, after all.

“A choice, Dima.”

The rainfall starts to lessen. “Then I choose to accept.”

50 years later…

(1972)

This is your third time visiting Fawney Rig. The second had been a rushed visit after you felt Jessamy’s death. It had been like an arrow through your lungs. You brought yourself to the cellar and demanded Morpheus allow revenge—if not for him then for Jessamy.

You were bound to Corinthian’s promise to not harm Roderick. But, you could harm others. You could make them all suffer for their foolishness. You could make Roderick miserable. But, you wouldn’t do it without Morpheus’ blessing. He needed to balance the scales. He needed to owe you his life, or something close to it, so that you could truly be equals.

Yet, Morpheus did not speak to you.

That had been about fifty years ago—give or take. It was time to see if the Dream Lord’s stubbornness had finally eroded. The snowfall is light, though thick piles rest on the pine like bruises. You choose to feel the cold. You let it push through the weaves of your wool coat and prickle against your cheeks and nose.

You reach for the doorknob and your fingers freeze in mid-air, straining against an invisible force, before omniscience wraps itself around you. They’ve warded Fawney Rig from me, you think with a furrowed brow. It was Corinthian, of this you have no doubt.

“Cowardly little nightmare,” you mutter to yourself, though you are a little impressed. It’s been decades since you’ve seen Dream, yet Corinthian is afraid of you, and worried that you’ll find a way around the promise that was made. “Smart,” you concede, blinking snowflakes from your eyelashes, “but cowardly.”

You reach out to Dream through the ambiguous, void-space of one mind talking to another.

“I do not expect a reply, Lord of Dreams, but I’d like you to know that they’ve warded the mansion against me.” You pause walking the perimeter. “So, even if you wished for my help, I could not give it.”

The magic surrounding Fawney Rig is well-crafted, tailored, and not even your various shape-shifted forms can penetrate it. You circle towards the entrance.

“It’s snowing. The moon is full.” You don’t know if Dream can hear you, but it feels nice to try. He rejects all of your ritual daggers, but perhaps he will take this instead – insignificant details of the world that he loves from the Goddess he revived.

“I’ve always had a fondness for nights like these. The world is gray and white. The moon is like a silver coin in the sky.”

You crumple powdery snow between your fingers. “You know, the mountains were my favorite place in the Dreaming. They still are, if we’re being forthcoming about it. I’ve yet to visit them again. They remind me of...solitude and serenity, the clarity that comes from being a distance.”

You pull a novel from the inner lining of your coat. There are hours before the next shift change and you want to see if the guards perform any rituals during the transition. You are curious to discover if you can break these bonds.

The hours whittle away as you speak to Dream, mind-to-mind.

“I heard about Roderick’s death. It could’ve been crueler. Should have been.”

“I would’ve driven him mad, if it had been me. I would have plagued him with visions of his dead son until he freed you with broken, bloody hands.”

“I ran into your sibling, Desire. About…” You count the years in your head. “Thirteen years ago? I asked if they knew I’d die if I returned to the Heart Tree and they said they had their suspicions.” You scoff. “Which I believe means yes. You likely know them better than I, so draw your own conclusions.” You idly wave your hand as if brushing the story aside.

You disliked being set up as a pawn in an emotional chess game between ancient, cosmic entities. You had told Desire as much and were seething when you turned your heel and said, “Leave me out of it next time.”

You aren’t a pawn, anymore. You look after the Dreaming. You look after mortals—especially young, scared children, like that little girl with the dog—regardless of whether or not they provide offerings or prayers. You don’t like to get involved in their messy, dramatic, and short mortal lives, but you like to watch them. You like to see how the threads of fate unravel and twist unexpectedly.

In time, you know that ‘The Morrigan’ will eventually reach the collective consciousness, but you just don’t yet know what new stories they will tell.

“I’ll return when I can.” You rise to your feet from where you had been sitting in the snow.

“Why?” His voice scrapes through your mind like gravel. Your knees buckle and you catch yourself on the manor’s brick wall. The cold air bites through your lungs. You want to live inside the roughed caress of his voice. A sweeter sound never made, you think, as you try to calm your heart.

Your heart hums. “Nobody else listens half as well as you do.” You touch your forehead against the wall and the Ward stings your skin.

“Until next we meet, Morpheus.” The promise lingers in the air among the snowflakes.

#fic: quiet fury #morpheus x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfiction #sandman x reader #sandman x you #morpheus x you #dream x you #dream the endless x morrigan #fem reader #dream x y/n

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thesilliestofgals · 10 months ago

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A Legacy of Brambles and Thorns Abridged Analysis: Elizabeth "Lizzie" Hearts

If you haven't read A Legacy of Brambles and Thorns by @c-rose2081, I highly suggest you do, as it is one of my favorite Ever After High rewrites! I would also suggest you do it before diving into my analysis, as it will contain spoilers for what has happened thus far in the story. (also, this very likely won't be proofread, so if you see any spelling or grammatical errors, no you don't.)

Lizzie Hearts is a fascinating character in this version of Ever After High. We don't know much about her other than a few details here and there from other characters when she first makes an appearance- saving Briar from being poisoned by an assassin. By doing this, Briar now owes Lizzie a boon of sorts, but interestingly, Lizzie makes it so Briar has a favor from her:

"...The wonderlandian girl stepped forward, standing on her toes to place a kiss right on Briar’s cheekbone. Startled, she reeled back in confusion, but the future Red Queen took her face in one hand, sharp nails ghosting against her skin. Lizzie continued to stare for a while before something crossed her face and she visibly relaxed. Humming a bit in her throat (the first sound Briar had heard from her) she stepped back, walking off without a word.

“Ooh, Lizzie likes you,” Maddie chirped. “You’re a lucky duck!”

No one gave an explanation as the three Wonderlandians made their exit, heading back down the hall and around the corner towards the Castleteria. Briar stared in their wake, lifting a hand to feel the smudge of red lipstick left on her face. “Darling, I think I’m hallucinating.”

“Not hallucinating,” the knight confirmed with a faint laugh. “You just received a token from the future Red Queen. Consider that a great honor.”" (Act 1, Chapter 11)

The audience soon discovers what exactly the favor Lizzie will call upon for Briar to fulfill: to return with her to Wonderland and be her champion, which is confirmed by a prophecy:

"A champion of white bears the scales and a champion of red bears the sword." (Act 1, Chapter 14)

Here's some interesting... Lizzie made it clear at the end of Act 1 that she does not like Snow trying to control the people with destiny:

"“But I will not go empty handed. The Ever Queen is a traitor, playing favorites to the White Court when she’s already promised to be unbiased. The treaty between Wonderland and Ever After is broken, and I cannot leave here with nothing. My people are in grave danger, threatened by the ivory regime. Destiny is not meant to be used as a guise for power, it is meant to be unique and ever changing, if not sometimes unfair. I will not allow my people to be bound to something falsified...”" (Act 1, Chapter 29)

This, followed by her actions in the rest of the chapter, confirmed something to me about the new Queen of the Red Court.

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Hearts is a hypocrite.

This was even confirmed by the author herself when yours truly sent in an ask expressing this!

"...(So yes, she is totally a hypocrite. If not a different flavor than Snow and with slightly different intentions)"

For further context, as I know I cannot just call Lizzie a hypocrite before moving on: After the death of her mother, Lizzie's soldiers invade Ever After High. At some point, Lizzie kidnaps Briar, manipulates her into agreeing to being her champion, and then drugs her into a forced sleep.

(WARNING: this is where it gets a little incoherent, so be warned lol)

Here was my initial thought: Lizzie says she doesn't like Snow controlling people via destiny, and then, in the same chapter, lies to Briar in order to get her to fulfill the prophecy. Now doesn't that sound familiar?

(Another little tidbit: you could argue that all the things Lizzie has done for Briar since they met was a tactic to get Briar to trust her, so she'd be more willing to agree to be her champion. Just, y'know, something to think about, too.)

But here's where it gets complicated: Lizzie is doing this for the Greater Good, in order to keep her kingdom, and by extension, her people, safe. While this doesn't excuse her actions, it does separate her from Snow White's reasonings for using destiny with the people of Ever After- control.

Something else that also piqued my curiosity is how in the story, Lizzie Hearts/Briar Beauty is tagged, and in Chapter 14, Lizzie mentions this:

"“She has ferocity and courage in her eyes,” Lizzie admitted, counting her cards as they laid before her. “But something else too, which is nay impossible to explain or describe. I wonder if it is the same feeling mother had upon finding my father as her champion.”"

She also calls Briar "my love" a few times at the end of Act 1.... hmmmmm...

It's all just so... fascinating to me. I have a feeling sometime in Act 2, Briar will call out Lizzie (I'd be surprised if she didn't), and maybe that'll be a little plot point, or maybe it won't, who knows!

This was just me word vomiting onto a tumblr post, but I really enjoyed doing it, so maybe I'll do it in the future with another eah fanfic character :)

#nonny's nonsense #ever after high #eah #lizzie hearts #briar beauty #ever after high fanfic #eah fanfic #ever after high rewrite #eah rewrite #fanfiction analysis #fanfic analysis

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cloaksandcapes · 3 months ago

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A magic item for use in Dungeons and Dragons 5th edition tabletop role-playing game. This is a homebrew magic item created by Cloaks and Capes.

Voice of the Ivory Songstress

Blessing, permanent boon, legendary

“They say the voice of the Ivory Songstress chooses one soul a generation to receive her gift, and it isn’t passed on again until the last one draws their final breath. Many try to mimic it, but the silver and white patterns around the neck that mark the true blessing cannot be faked. They’re more than tattoos, and when they sing, you see the difference.”

You gain one use of the Bardic Inspiration feature, and your dice size is a d6. Once you have used your Bardic Inspiration dice, you cannot use it again until you finish a Long Rest. If you already have this feature, you gain one additional use.

Life of Joy. You have Advantage on all saving throws and are Immune to the Charmed condition. You also have Advantage on Charisma (Performance) checks, and if you perform for at least 10 minutes you gain a +5 bonus to Charisma (Persuasion) checks for 1 hour against any creature that saw you perform.

Voice of the Ivory. When you cast a spell with a Verbal component that requires a creature to make a saving throw, you can expend a use of your Bardic Inspiration and increase your spell save DC by the result.

___ If you enjoy our content, please consider supporting our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 800+ Magic Items, 11 Subclasses, and plenty of Monsters, VTT Tokens, and more. We also have a free tier!

#fantasy #dnd #5e #dungeons and dragons #d&d #ttrpg #homebrew #dnd homebrew #dnd stuff #dnd campaign #dndaday #cloaksandcapes #magic item #dnd5e #homebrew magic items #ttrpg homebrew

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shiorihyugawrites · 3 months ago

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The Ballad Of The Magenta Witch

After centuries of solitude and betrayal, the enigmatic and powerful sorceress Mea finds herself drawn to the war-torn lands of Paradis. With her loyal, sword-wielding companion Goldfish Levi at her side, Mea arrives in the midst of a brewing conflict between the Scouts and Marley. Her flippant demeanor and extraordinary magic disrupt the regimented lives of Eren, Levi, and the other Scouts, sparking chaos, curiosity, and alliances that none of them could have foreseen. Amidst the clashing of titans and nations, a forgotten legend breathes life into a new chapter that will shape the fate of Paradis itself. Will the Magenta Witch be a boon to their cause or a force of beautiful destruction? (Eren x OC)

Chapter Eleven

The swirling magenta vortex dissipated as Mea stepped onto the ground of what had once been her homeland—Colchis. But the land before her was not the one she remembered. The sprawling coastal city that lay ahead was unrecognizable, brimming with life and industry. Modern cars clattered over cobblestone streets, emitting plumes of smoke. Streetlights cast an orange glow as the evening set in, their light faintly illuminating the polished facades of art deco buildings that towered above bustling marketplaces. Laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the distant sound of jazz music wafting from a nearby club.

Mea’s boots hovered an inch above the ground as she floated forward, her magenta hair swirling gently around her shoulders. The lively scene faded into silence as she entered the city center. People froze in their tracks, their eyes wide with confusion and fear at the sight of the floating woman with striking magenta hair and glowing eyes.

“Who… who is that?” a young man stammered.

“She’s floating! How is she floating?” someone else whispered in disbelief.

“Is she a ghost?” a child asked, clutching their mother’s hand.

Mea paid their whispers no mind. They weren’t important. None of them were. The bustling streets, the unfamiliar architecture, the vibrant culture—it all faded into white noise as her mind reached back through the centuries, searching for a connection to the land she once knew. She floated through the streets, her eyes darting around in search of landmarks that no longer existed.

“This was where the palace stood,” she whispered, coming to a halt in front of a grand government building. To anyone else, it was an impressive structure—a symbol of progress and governance. But to Mea, it was a jarring intrusion into a sacred space. Her father’s palace had stood here once, a beautiful and imposing fortress of ivory and gold, surrounded by lush gardens and fountains. She could still picture it vividly in her mind, though the vision was overlaid with memories of its destruction—the flames, the screams, and the look of betrayal on her father’s face.

Her lips trembled as she reached out, her hand ghosting over the polished marble columns of the modern building. “Father,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry…”

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks as the memories surged forth with a vengeance. She floated forward, her steps aimless as she moved deeper into the city, her surroundings fading into a blur. Her thoughts spiraled, dragging her back to a time before the tragedy—a time when she was simply Medea, the cherished daughter of a mighty king, blessed by the gods with gifts of magic.

She remembered running through the palace gardens, laughing as her father chased her in a rare moment of playfulness. She remembered the pride in his eyes when she first demonstrated her magic, summoning fireflies to light the banquet hall during a festival. She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the strength of his voice as he told her she would one day rule Colchis with wisdom and power.

And then, she remembered Jason.

Her tears turned into sobs, loud and uncontrollable. She collapsed to her knees in the middle of a bustling square, clutching her chest as if trying to hold herself together. Her sobs echoed through the streets, drawing the attention of more onlookers, who now stared at her with a mixture of fear and pity.

“What’s wrong with her?” someone asked.

“Do you think she’s dangerous?” another whispered.

Mea’s aura flared, magenta sparks crackling in the air around her as her grief and rage intertwined. The onlookers backed away in terror, their murmurs silenced by the raw power emanating from her.

“You took everything from me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anguish. “You destroyed my happiness… my family… my life…”

The memories of Jason’s betrayal flooded her mind, mingling with the screams of her brother, the rage of her father, and the sight of her homeland burning under her own hands. Her sobs grew louder, turning into guttural cries as she clutched her head, unable to escape the torment of her past.

The magenta sparks grew more violent, and the air around her seemed to ripple with energy. A nearby lamppost flickered before exploding, sending shards of glass scattering across the cobblestones. The crowd screamed and fled, leaving Mea alone in the square, her cries echoing into the night.

“Why?!” she screamed into the empty air, her voice breaking. “Why couldn’t you just love me? Why did you have to ruin everything?!”

Her energy surged again, and the ground beneath her cracked as if it couldn’t bear the weight of her pain. She fell to her knees, her magenta cape pooling around her as her sobs subsided into quiet whimpers. For a long moment, she stayed there, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking.

Then, with a shaky breath, she wiped her tear-streaked face and rose to her feet. Her eyes, still glowing magenta, scanned the ruins of her emotions. “This is not my home anymore,” she whispered. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”

With a flick of her staff, the magenta energy dissipated, and the square fell silent once more. Mea glanced around at the empty streets, the shattered glass, and the cracks in the ground. She floated upward, her expression a mixture of sorrow and resolve.

“I’ll carry this pain forever,” she murmured to herself, her voice soft but steady. “But it won’t define me anymore.”

With that, she conjured the magenta vortex once more and disappeared, leaving the remnants of Colchis—and the weight of her memories—behind.

…

Meanwhile the scouts were gathered in the main hall of HQ, the tension thick in the air as they waited for any sign of Mea. She had vanished in her magenta vortex nearly an hour ago, leaving them with nothing but cryptic words about "ending the war." Goldfish Levi hovered over a stack of paperwork, though his usual efficiency was hindered by the nervous flapping of his fins. Eren paced the room, his brows furrowed as he replayed their last conversation in his mind. Something about Mea's sudden departure had unsettled him deeply.

"She’s been gone too long," Mikasa muttered, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Mea doesn’t exactly play by anyone’s rules," Hange replied, though her tone betrayed her unease. "But I have to admit, this is… different."

Before anyone could respond, a swirling vortex of magenta energy opened in the center of the room, illuminating the walls with an eerie glow. Mea emerged, her magenta hair cascading around her like a curtain, her combat outfit gone and replaced with her usual white halter sundress. She clutched a magenta cocktail glass in one hand and a second drink in the other, which she casually tossed toward Eren.

"Miss me?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she floated to her chaise. She reclined dramatically, taking a long sip from her drink as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at her. Something was off. Mea's usual playful demeanor seemed exaggerated, her laughter a touch too loud, her gestures too wild. Goldfish Levi narrowed his eyes, instantly noticing the subtle difference in her energy.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, low enough that only Levi and Hange could hear.

Eren, standing closest to Mea, could feel it too. Her aura, usually whimsical but grounded, felt chaotic—like a storm barely contained. "Where did you go?" he asked, his voice cautious.

"Marley," Mea said nonchalantly, swirling her drink as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And?” Levi demanded, stepping forward. His sharp eyes scanned her face, searching for any cracks in her mask. "What did you do?"

Mea waved him off with her free hand, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Relax, Captain Shorty. I handled everything. You’re safe now. No need to thank me."

"That’s not an answer," Levi shot back, his tone dangerously low.

Mea rolled her eyes, her playful demeanor cracking just slightly before she forced it back into place. "Fine," she said, sitting up and crossing her legs elegantly. "If you must know, I paid Marley a little visit. Had a chat with their generals."

“And?” Hange pressed, leaning forward eagerly.

"And…" Mea took another sip from her drink, her eyes twinkling with something between amusement and madness. "Let’s just say there won’t be any more war efforts from Marley anytime soon."

"What does that mean?" Jean asked, his voice filled with suspicion.

Mea leaned back on her chaise, gazing at the ceiling as if reminiscing about a fond memory. "Well, I may have… rearranged their leadership a bit."

"Rearranged?" Armin repeated, his voice wavering.

Mea's grin widened as she tilted her head, her magenta eyes glowing faintly. "I killed them. All of them. Every last one of those warmongering bastards."

The room descended into stunned silence. Even chicken Zeke, who had been pecking nervously at the ground, froze in place. His wide eyes darted to Mea, then to Levi, as if hoping someone would call her out.

"You… killed them?" Mikasa finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Brutally," Mea confirmed, her tone almost cheerful. She gestured dramatically with her drink, spilling a few drops onto the floor. "You should’ve seen their faces. One minute, they thought they could threaten me. The next, poof! They were begging for mercy."

"Mea," Levi growled, his fists tightening. "Do you realize what you’ve done?"

"Saved your asses," Mea shot back, her playful mask cracking for a moment as irritation flared in her voice. "Or did you think Marley would just leave you alone out of the kindness of their hearts?"

"That’s not the point," Levi snapped. "You—"

"Do you know what those people have done to us?" Eren interrupted, his voice cold but steady. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and admiration as he stepped closer to Mea. "They deserved it. Every single one of them."

"Eren—" Mikasa started, but he cut her off.

"No. They sent titans to kill us, destroyed our homes, slaughtered our families. And now, because of Mea, they’re finally afraid of something. For once, they know what it’s like to feel powerless."

"Exactly," Mea purred, reaching out to cup Eren’s chin. Her voice softened, taking on a seductive edge. "You understand, don’t you? Sometimes, power is the only language people like that understand."

Levi’s jaw clenched as he watched the interaction, his unease growing. "This isn’t about power, Mea. This is about you losing control."

"Control?" Mea laughed, the sound high-pitched and almost manic. "Oh, I was in complete control, Captain. Trust me. If I’d lost control, there wouldn’t even be a Marley left to discuss."

Goldfish Levi, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "Mea," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension. "Enough."

Her playful grin faltered as she turned to him, her eyes narrowing. For a moment, the room felt even colder, the magenta glow around her intensifying. But then, just as quickly, she deflated, sinking back into her chaise with a dramatic sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, waving her hand dismissively. "You’re all so uptight. I did what needed to be done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need another drink."

As she conjured a fresh cocktail, the scouts exchanged uneasy glances. Mea’s actions had saved them, but at what cost? The whimsical, carefree persona she had adopted felt like a thin veneer, barely concealing the turmoil underneath.

Levi turned to Hange, his voice low. "Keep an eye on her. Whatever’s going on, it’s only getting worse."

Goldfish Levi perched atop a stack of documents, glaring at Mea as she lazily lounged on her chaise. She was sipping yet another cocktail, magenta sparks flickering lazily from her fingertips as she conjured small bursts of fire under Zeke’s feet. The unfortunate chicken clucked in panic, his feathers singed as he scrambled to avoid the heat. Mea’s laughter echoed through the room, light and whimsical, but Goldfish Levi wasn’t amused.

“Enough!” Goldfish Levi snapped, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the chaos. His tail slapped against the desk for emphasis. “What are you even doing, Mea?”

“Having fun, Goldie,” Mea replied, stretching languidly as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “You should try it sometime.”

“You call this fun?” Goldfish Levi retorted, gesturing with a fin toward Zeke, who was now hiding behind a chair, peeking out nervously. “You’re tormenting him like a child with a magnifying glass and an ant. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Mea echoed mockingly, sitting up and placing her drink aside. “Goldie, darling, I just saved this entire island. I deserve to let off a little steam, don’t you think?”

Goldfish Levi wasn’t swayed. His beady eyes narrowed as he floated closer to her. “Saved the island by slaughtering Marley’s leaders. Sound familiar?”

Mea’s playful demeanor faltered, her magenta eyes narrowing as she met his gaze. “And what exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying this,” Goldfish Levi began, his tone colder now, “is the old you. The Mea who leveled cities and left nothing but devastation in her wake. The one who claimed she wanted to change. You said you wanted to be better, to help people out of kindness, not despair.”

Mea’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Goldfish Levi pressed on, his voice rising. “You came here to make up for centuries of destruction. To prove to yourself that you could be something more. But look at you now—slaughtering without hesitation and laughing about it.”

Mea waved a hand dismissively, though her fingers twitched ever so slightly. “Marley’s generals weren’t innocents, Goldie. They were warmongers who got what they deserved.”

“Was every one of them a monster? Or did they just follow orders like so many others you’ve destroyed before?” Goldfish Levi challenged.

Mea flinched, the sparks at her fingertips dimming. For a moment, the room was silent, save for Zeke’s nervous clucking. Then Mea scoffed and leaned back against her chaise, her mask of indifference sliding firmly back into place. “I don’t have time for your lectures, Goldie.”

Goldfish Levi wasn’t deterred. He swam closer, his voice quieter but sharper now. “When was the last time you checked on the Arcanum?”

At those words, Mea froze. The playful smirk disappeared from her face, replaced by a flicker of irritation. Her magenta eyes darkened as she turned her head slowly to glare at him. “What does the Arcanum have to do with anything?”

Goldfish Levi’s gaze didn’t waver, though his voice softened. “Everything. You’re acting like you’re blind, Mea. Blind to things that are right in front of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped, her tone defensive now.

“It means,” Goldfish Levi said cautiously, “that there’s no way you haven’t noticed how much Eren resembles Jason.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Mea’s jaw clenched, her nails digging into the armrest of her chaise. “Don’t,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare bring him up.”

“I’m not trying to upset you,” Goldfish Levi said quickly, his fins fluttering nervously. “But you have to admit, there’s a resemblance. A strong one. And if you’ve truly noticed it, why haven’t you said anything? Why haven’t you reacted?”

Mea stood abruptly, her magenta aura flaring around her. Zeke squawked in terror and darted behind another chair as the other scouts cautiously backed away. Even Eren, who had been watching the exchange in silence, tensed as Mea’s energy filled the room.

“Because it’s a coincidence!” Mea snarled, her voice shaking. “That’s all it is. A coincidence. Eren is nothing like Jason.”

“Is it?” Goldfish Levi pressed, though his voice trembled slightly. “Or is something keeping you from seeing the truth? Something like—”

“Enough!” Mea shouted, her staff appearing in her hand with a flash of light. The magenta orb at its center pulsed ominously, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to calm herself. “I said enough.”

Goldfish Levi fell silent, his fins drooping slightly as he backed away. The tension in the room was suffocating, and no one dared to speak.

After a long, heavy pause, Mea took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. “You’re overthinking things, Goldie,” she said lightly, though her voice lacked its usual warmth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do than entertain baseless theories.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode toward the door, her aura flickering like a dying flame. The scouts watched her go, their unease growing with every step she took. Goldfish Levi sighed heavily, his small form sagging as he muttered, “This is worse than I thought.”

Eren watched her retreating figure, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what was happening, but one thing was clear: Mea was unraveling.

As the door slammed shut behind Mea, the room remained in a suffocating silence. Everyone stood frozen, processing the intense exchange they had just witnessed. Levi crossed his arms, his jaw tight, and his expression dark. Hange blinked rapidly, and she exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Levi.

"Did he actually bring up Jason to her face?" Hange muttered in disbelief, her voice barely above a whisper.

Levi nodded curtly, his sharp eyes cutting over to Goldfish Levi, who now floated tiredly over the table. "Yeah. And he's lucky we're not all fried corpses on the floor right now."

Goldfish Levi, looking thoroughly exhausted, rubbed his fins over his head. "You're welcome. She needs to hear it—sooner or later. But that’s as far as I’ll go tonight. She’s unstable enough already."

Eren, however, was beyond confused. He took a step forward, his fists clenching at his sides. “What the hell did you mean by me resembling Jason?”

Goldfish Levi paused mid-swim, his beady eyes narrowing at Eren. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“That’s not good enough!” Eren snapped, his voice rising. “What’s going on? What is this about Jason? Why did Mea freak out like that? And why—why did you look at me like that when you mentioned him?”

The rest of the scouts, including Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, and Sasha, stood nearby, their confusion evident. Mikasa’s concern was written all over her face as she instinctively stepped closer to Eren, her protective nature flaring.

“Yeah,” Mikasa said, her voice calm but firm. “What does Eren have to do with Jason? We all deserve to know.”

Goldfish Levi sighed heavily, floating down to the table where the book Hange had been studying was still open. He tapped it with a fin. “Show them the book.”

Hange hesitated, looking to Levi for guidance. Levi nodded once, his expression unreadable. With a resigned sigh, Hange pushed the heavy tome forward. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. This is going to make everything even more complicated.”

Eren stepped forward, followed by Mikasa, Armin, and the others. They all leaned over the book as Hange flipped the pages to the one featuring the illustration of Jason. The moment their eyes landed on the image, the room was filled with a collective gasp.

It was uncanny.

Jason’s romanticized portrait depicted him with golden blonde hair and striking green eyes, but it was those eyes—sharp and intense—that were an almost exact match to Eren’s. The bone structure was similar, and while Jason's overall appearance was a little softer, the resemblance was undeniable.

Jean broke the silence first. “What the hell? That… that looks just like you, Eren.”

Sasha nodded slowly, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced with confusion. “Yeah, it’s almost creepy.”

Mikasa’s brows furrowed, her eyes darting between Eren and the image in the book. “How is this possible?”

Eren’s mind raced as he stared at the image, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath quickened as he shook his head. “It’s just a coincidence. It has to be. This—this doesn’t mean anything.”

Goldfish Levi sighed, his voice tinged with irritation. “That’s exactly what Mea just said. But I know that Mea doesn’t believe in coincidences.”

Levi turned sharply to the goldfish. “What do you mean?”

.“Nothing in this world is a coincidence, Mea was the one who taught me that. So the fact that she would even call it a ‘coincidence’, tells me that something is very wrong here. She had to have noticed the resemblance, it’s impossible not to.” Goldfish Levi said.

Armin frowned, piecing things together. “If she noticed the resemblance, why would she dismiss it so quickly? Mea doesn’t strike me as someone who ignores things like that.”

Goldfish Levi hesitated before speaking. “Because she doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Look, I’ve been with Mea for centuries. Jason is a wound that’s never fully healed. Even hearing his name can set her off. And now, Eren looks like him?” He paused, his tone dropping. “I think it’s more than just denial. I think the Arcanum is influencing her.”

The mention of the Arcanum made everyone tense. Mikasa’s grip on Eren’s arm tightened as she demanded, “That evil book again? What do you mean exactly?”

Goldfish Levi floated closer, his voice serious. “The Arcanum grants what it perceives as your greatest desire. For Mea, that desire is to forget Jason and everything he represents. I think it’s blinding her to the resemblance. She’s subconsciously ignoring it because the Arcanum won’t let her process it.”

Jean crossed his arms. “So, what? This magic book is messing with her head?”

Goldfish Levi nodded. “Exactly. The Arcanum is powerful and dangerous, even for Mea. It twists things in ways you can’t predict.”

Hange adjusted her glasses, her mind racing. “If the Arcanum is truly influencing her, does she even realize it?”

“No,” Goldfish Levi replied firmly. “She’s completely unaware. She’s always been careful around the Arcanum, but it’s like trying to tame a wild animal. She thinks she’s in control, but it’s been subtly influencing her for centuries.”

Eren clenched his fists, his voice filled with frustration. “So, what does this mean for me? Why do I look like him?”

Goldfish Levi gave him a long, hard look. “I don’t know. But if Mea ever figures it out... it won’t end well.”

Mikasa stepped forward, her protective instincts flaring. “What happens if she figures it out?”

Goldfish Levi looked away, avoiding her gaze. “You don’t want to know.”

Levi, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. “We tread carefully. Whatever’s going on, we don’t push Mea, and we don’t push Eren either. This isn’t something we can solve by being reckless.”

Hange closed the book with a heavy sigh, her voice filled with tension. “This just raises more questions than it answers.”

As the scouts began to disperse, Eren lingered behind, staring at the portrait. The resemblance was undeniable, and the weight of it pressed heavily on him. What did it mean? And what would happen if Mea ever decided to face the truth?

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buffster · 18 days ago

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Blood Money (ATS 2.13)

This is part of my ongoing Buffyverse Project, where I write notes/meta for every episode in an attempt to better understand the characters and themes of the shows. You can find the BTVS list here and the ATS list here. Gifs are not mine.

Anne running the East Hills Teen Center gives me anxiety. I feel like she needs a security guard or at least someone with muscle to hang around and help her run things. She seems to run things mostly on goodwill but what happens when someone doesn't respect her? As we see in a future episode...

Our regular gang is mostly lost. They're playing games at Cordy's, just waiting on a vision. I really like the character development that occurred during Angel's breakdown. We used to see Angel and Gunn as the muscle and they'd go fight the evil while Wesley researched. Now Wesley is getting his hands dirty and he comes out a much more confident leader, which will have consequences down the road. Also, bonding.

Angel uses his attractiveness to his advantage and sets up a meet-cute with Anne. He wants the dirt on why she's involved with Wolfram & Hart. She says they've been like saints helping out the shelter and now they're organizing a charity ball. Angel discovers it's a money-laundering scheme.

Enter Boone. Angel's apparent nemesis who wants to bring him down. They met in Juarez in the 20s and got into a fight over a girl. After fighting for three hours without a winner Boone let Angel go when the sun came up. Haven't we learned this lesson already? Come on, W&H. Angel's way more likely to bring someone on side than end up dead. When you gonna get that?

I did enjoy Angel surprising Lilah in her car. He's furious at them sitting in their ivory tower pulling the strings and he wants to shake up their control. After what he did to Holland and company it shakes her up pretty bad. Lindsey is sick of following company rules and wants Boone to kill Angel.

Lindsey comes in when Angel is talking to Anne and plays the concerned puppy perfectly. Anne's been around awhile, though. I'm not sure she fell for it. I think she's pretty fiercely protective of her "kids" and willing to look the other way at the bad vibes she's getting.

Angel's plan works decently well. Lilah and Lindsey are at each other's throats, each thinking the other screwed up and gave Angel proof of their scheme. They act frantic when they think he has dirt on them, humiliating them in front of their bosses. Angel allows Boone to steal the charity money and then fights him for it. He gives the money to Anne when he wins.

Wolfram & Hart are pissed. It's against company policy to kill Angel as all prophecies say he has a key role in the apocalypse. At this point, the firm is just hoping Lilah and Lindsey will provoke Angel to murder them and he'll finally be on their side. Great employee protection here.

Honestly, this period of the season lagged for me. It picks up again towards the end but I really don't enjoy the group separated. They play off each other so well.

Character Notes:

Angel: His "Bean bag chairs?" -disappointed head shake- "Merl." line cracked me UP.

#bloodmoney #ats 2.13 #shawn ryan #mere smith #angel #anne steele #cordelia chase #wesley wyndam pryce #charles gunn #lilah morgan #lindsey mcdonald

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parasitic-dreams-au · 10 months ago

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"a boon is an extremely powerful sort of superpower that changes from each individual. If they were used to their fullest potential, it's possible that entire universes could be wiped out... they're triggered by intense emotions, and act like a sort of adrenaline to the boon holder. Each one has a sort of gimmick, for example let's say there's a boon called THE PYRE, it will most likely be themed after fire or heat and have some sort of gimmick relating to that."

*he flips his gear around before leaning on it*

"Unfortunately for you, the only boon holders in this universe are opposing you. And, did I forget to mention, that boons can spread? They'll only really spread to those that the boon holder is allies with though... what a shame..."

*a strange red light flickers on in the shadows, gently illuminating a strange-looking phighter... at least, what you think is a phighter... he has X eyes that are glowing the same color as his golden crown's jewel, and is playing around with what seems to be a... Crimson Periastron Mu? It looks modified and a little beaten up, the light in it dampened to fit the vibe... His clothes are surprisingly nice looking despite his gear, the 🚫 on his turtleneck glowing the same color as the eyes. His tail seems to be the thing illuminating the corner the most, it's end having a flame the same glow color as the other parts, and he looks bored.*

….. (S I G H) great. What is it now?

(she is getting tired of the shenanigans!)

#but i don't want to die // rp #dear gods help me... // lore #something creeps within the mind // boons #come little children i'll take thee away into a land of enchantment // crimson periastron mu? ic #hope prevails despite your cruelty // order ivory periastron (ask ivory periastron)

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hooked-on-elvis · 7 months ago

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"I Need You So" (1957)

Recorded on February 23, 1957 at Radio Recorders, Hollywood · First released in July 1957 · Album: Loving You

RECORDING SESSION Studio Sessions for RCA February 23–24, 1957: Radio Recorders, Hollywood If Elvis had only remembered it, at home he was sitting on a demo for “Don’t Forbid Me,” which was destined to be Boone’s next smash—he might have beaten Boone to the punch at this session. Instead he went on to an Ivory Joe Hunter 1950 number one R&B hit, “I Need You So,” but for all Elvis’s admiration for Hunter, the song didn’t really work any better than “Paralyzed.”

Excerpt: "Elvis Presley, A Life in Music: The Complete Recording Sessions" by Ernst Jorgensen. Foreword by Peter Guralnick (1998)

RELEASES "I Need You So" was first released on the soundtrack album Loving You, out in July 1957. It's on the side-two as part of the list of five songs not featured in the movie. On September 1957 the song was again released, now on the third of the EPs with material previously released on the soundtrack album Loving You. In disguise, the title for this EP is Just For You but such as the EPs Loving You Vol. 1 and Loving You Vol. 2 it also contains material previously released on Elvis' first soundtrack album; the only exclusivity of the EP Just For You is the song "Is It So Strange" that would only be out on an album, for the first time, a couple of years later (compilation album A Date With Elvis, 1959).

Covers and respective back covers from the LP Loving You, and the EP Just For You.

FURTHER INFO

Chronologically, it was released the LP Loving You (July 1957), then the first EP Loving You Vol. 1 (August 1957), followed by the second EP Loving You Vol.2 (also August 1957), and then the last EP with material originally from the Loving You soundtrack album, the EP Just For You (September 1957).

Covers of the EPs Loving You Vol. 1 and Vol. 2, both released in Aug. 1957.

TRACKLISTS LP "Loving You" (July, 1957) SIDE ONE (songs performed by Elvis in the movie): Mean Woman Blues/Teddy Bear/Loving You/Got A Lot O’ Livin’ To Do/Lonesome Cowboy/Hot Dog/Party SIDE TWO: Blueberry Hill/True Love/Don’t Leave Me Now/Have I Told You Lately That I Love You/I Need You So EP "Loving You" Vol.1 (August, 1957) Loving You/Party/Teddy Bear/True Love EP "Loving You" Vol. 2 (August, 1957) Lonesome Cowboy/Hot Dog/Mean Woman Blues/Got A Lot O’ Livin’ To Do EP "Just For You" (September, 1957) I Need You So/Have I Told You Lately That I Love You/Blueberry Hill/Is It So Strange

ORIGINAL RECORDING Ivory Joe Hunter Release by MGM Records as Side-A single in April 1950, with its flip side being the song "Leave Her Alone". Hunter's original recording of "I Need You So" reached #1 on the Billboard R&B chart in 1950, staying there for two weeks.

youtube

LYRICS — “I Need You So” Songwriter: Ivory Joe Hunter I need you so to keep me happy If I can't have you I cannot go on I need your arms around me tightly Yes, I miss them nightly when you're not at home When the day is done I miss you so I lie and wait to hear you knock on the door When you leave me I try not to worry Come back in a hurry 'cause I need you so

youtube

Credits (pictures/info): elvis100percent.com; Discogs; Wikipedia, elvisthemusic.com; Book "Elvis Presley: A Life In Music" by Ernst Jorgensen (info).

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waterloggedsoliloquy · 1 year ago

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Theres a genre of otome webtoon where a girl protagonist is raised by an evil king/tyrant. The fantasy here is straightforward-- what if my dad was mean to everyone but me? Its not a bad self indulgent thing to explore. But there's also a proximity to the power and violence that comes into play in these webtoons. The girl protag can remain pure and "good" because she is not the one doing the violent acts, and she might even be able to direct her father's violence or curb it at her discretion. the patriarchy is used as a weapon by her and also a shield against criticism of her actions. she can be as selfish as she wants bc shes also under threat by her tyrant king emperor dad!

I have a gravitation towards Bad Patriarch content in general which is how i know about the tropes employed in these webtoons… but the Bad Dad content i explore in my own works is explicitly about how the lack of agency is horrifying, and proximity to (violent) power means more often than not being disproportionately affected by it, even if the instigator of that violence doesn't necessarily want to hurt you, and any boon or protection coming from that proximity is outweighed by the actual material harm caused.

the things i write is abt reclamation. interacting intimately w the power structure for a lack of options, but ultimately growing too big for it, to the point where the characters no longer can fit inside it, and can see the power for what it is. its abt disruption and exploration. pushing boundaries. status quo is actively questioned or rejected

when i write my bad dad content, the daughter in question is usually roped into the violence. they dont get to stay in their ivory tower. their patriarch leads them into violence, but they get blood on their boots all the same. theyre on the ground with the rest of the bodies. (and they have more in common with these bodies than the seemingly untouchable patriarch.) their situation causes them to lash out at others, at their patriarch. theres no cut and dry delineation between bad agent and good observer. by nature of existing under him they're made complicit.

there r plenty of tyrant romantic leads too, so this isnt just a trope of found family stories. one manga that does this rly well is Even Monsters Love Fairy Tales, which is actually really fucking on the ball with how the protagonist Sylph Biebel is, while being a wellmannered girl, corrupt by her association to the tyrant king (who actually does violent and immoral acts, unlike a lot of other stories where its implied but never happens bc we cant make the tyrant in question actually evil or dangerous and lose reader interest. sigh.) her proximity to him and the protection her offers her causes material harm for people. people die because she accepts his terms. at this point im rambling. i wish more stories were willing to show the inherent cognitive dissonance and moral-- well, dilemmas-- about the premise

#cecil drawls

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rosurie · 2 months ago

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⚡️and 💛!

⚡ - Your favorite Person of Interest or Non-Love Interest.

It is a very..VERY close race between Ivory Wraith and Niki. With IW, I just love the reincarnation/soultie trope that pc has going on with the Wraith. plus ANYTHING that adds a horror element immediately makes me start kicking my feet and giggling. with Niki..I just love a character who will act so nonchalant while doing shit that's definitely sexual in some manner [like when you do the café photoshoots]. AND NIKI'S JUST LIKE SO CALMING TO ME AND I JUST AAAA I LOVE A STOIC CHARACTER 🥰. also Harper gets an honorable mention for being a loser ♡

💛 - Weaknesses and strength your pc has.

Damsel

weaknesses: she's very physically weak. she has pretty strong legs but weak baby arms so if you apprehend her legs she's basically SOL until Noé comes to save her ass. she's a try-hard, which has results that can be good, but can also spiral into her needing to be the best at whatever she does even if it's detrimental to her. also she's extremely sensitive to drugs of any kind.

strengths: she's a very smart and sneaky girl, so she knows a lot about most everyone. she's also a great smooth talker! she's able to talk her way out of lots of situations. she's very reliable, when she says she'll do something [for someone she likes anyways], she gets it done [this is the afformentioned good result of her being a try-hard].

Noé

weaknesses: he'll tell you he has none because he is a god amongst men who cannot be swayed by anything and he's a brick wall of a guy. however, Damsel is his biggest weakness. he's so overly protective of her that she could be used as a boon. also @/koiifiishy's Sai is another weakness. he let's Sai get away with more than most because of how easily Sai bends to his will so he doesn't play when it comes to people messing with him.

strengths: he's quite literally huge. so fighting is no problem for him. he's also surrounded by an eerie and off putting coldness which he counts as a strength because it keeps weirdos away. plus he's very good at fooling the senses. he's charismatic despite his cold aura so it's usually quite easy for him to lure people in when he wants to.

Tamayo

weaknesses: she has a hard time telling people no and has a VERY low sense of self worth. like practically non-existent self esteem, she views herself as an object to be used sexually or violently. she's also almost always on the verge of a psychological break that she has to be consistently pulled back from.

strengths: she's genuinely a very sweet and polite girl beneath all the mania. she's also a very quick learner if you teach her something once, you never have to do it again because her memory is photographic.

Tomoe

weakness: Tomoe is so singularly focused on their own pleasure that they disregard everything else so they can be reckless to a dangerous degree [hence the overdose mentioned in the last ask]. he also doesn't think before he speaks and so he often gets into trouble. despite not being interested in dating, they do want the object of their interest to be primarily focused on them: they're a hypocrite.

strengths: girl idk. he's very street smart. if you ever need advice on where to get anything, he knows where to find it. you ever strapped for cash? he can help you find a way to get some. they're also very bubbly and outgoing! if you want to make friends easily, weasel your way into Tomoe's life.

#dol pc #damsel the starlet #noemie the singularity #tamayo the misery #tomoe the vixen #the void whispers back #this took so long cause i dtarted answering then went to the nathroom and forgot about it LMAO my bad #damsel drops lore

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dross-the-fish · 2 years ago

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Adam vs Erik

Some time ago an Anon asked if I could write out the scene where Erik attacked Adam. I finally took the time to get the first draft out. Sorry it took so long but here it is!

....

From a secluded alcove Erik watched the Frankenstein creature move around the armory with astonishing speed and agility. This “Adam” as they called him, was a hulking brute. The make of him was crude and whoever had put him together had been no artist. Of that Erik was quite certain. He watched as Adam’s shirt snagged and tore on the corner of the shield he was securing to a wall mount.

Adam hissed a low curse as he examined the fresh rip on his sleeve. He had very little good clothing, given that everything he owned had to be custom tailored to fit him and he tried his best to be careful taking care of his shirts and trousers. Difficult to do when he was frequently tasked with hard labor. With a grumble and a sigh, he removed the shirt and placed it carefully on a table to prevent further damage while he worked.

At the sight of Adam’s bared back Erik grimaced. It was a mess of scorched, toughened, tissue. Long fingers of Lichtenberg figure scars wrapped themselves down the length of Adam’s spine and wove between the jut of exposed vertebrae, bony white points contrasting against the mottled brown red tissue of his flesh. Muscles twitched and ribs expanded as Adam sucked in a lung full of air and exhaled with a wince. Reaching behind him, he gave his back a careful rub, as though it pained him. Erik made a mental note. It seemed this handmade Goliath had a vulnerable point. That was reassuring, perhaps he was mortal after all…

Erik didn’t entirely know how to feel about Adam. Though Adam had shown no overt animosity thus far Erik had recognized a potential for rage. He’d seen how quickly the creature could turn from civil to savage when provoked and in an ordinary man that was dangerous enough, but a creature from beyond the grave? It was a threat unlike any he’d ever encountered and it raised questions that he wanted answered.

Why had something like Adam even been created? What purpose was there in the reanimation of the dead? Erik was not a man who enjoyed being left out of the loop. He’d had the run of the Palais De Garnier for decades and there were no secrets there he hadn’t uncovered. Secrets belonged to Erik, he collected and kept them hidden away until they could serve him. Secrets were his shield and his sword and as he stood in the grand armory of Talbot manor it did not sit well with him that his supply was completely empty. Especially in regard to Adam.

He had asked Dr. Watson for more details of Adam’s story but the doctor had declined and insisted that it was up to Adam what he wanted to reveal about his past. Erik had yet to work up the nerve to ask Adam anything, much less request that he divulged potentially painful secrets, so he had contented himself with quietly shadowing the large man, trying to glean what he could through detached observation. The Phantom of the Opera had quite the talent for lurking unseen and he was confident that Adam had remained unaware of his presence.

Emboldened when Adam became distracted with sorting weapons on a rack, Erik ventured closer, keeping himself pressed against the wall and using suits of armor or furniture for cover. It was when he was no more than a few feet away, crouched behind a trophy case, he saw Adam tense.

“Who’s there? Is it you Hyde? Have you come skulking like some low creature intent to amuse yourself at my expense?” Adam swiveled and scanned the room, yellow eyes darting back and forth. Split black lips revealed ivory teeth clenched in a snarl.

“No, I think not, for Hyde is not so subtle as to remain unseen," he growled, "For certain it must be Erik. Will you reveal yourself and grant me the boon of being peaceable that we may afford an end to this unwarranted enmity between us?" he tilted his head, ears straining to listen for a reply. There was none. A flare of temper blossomed in Adam's chest.

"No? That is a shame, though it is no matter. I will but search and presently, I believe, I shall find you, thus I shall put an end to this intolerable creeping with my own hands.”

The hairs on the back of Erik’s neck raised at the violence in Adam’s voice. He pressed himself closer to the wall as Adam began to search the room, holding his breath and willing his heart to stop thrumming in his narrow chest.

Quiet. quiet. Silent.

The creature moved closer. The air thickened. Skeletal hands groped inside a fine jacket for a length of rope. Not to use, no, not yet, simply a mere precaution. Erik bent, poised with the tension of a coiled spring.

Heavy footfalls closing in. Erik knew he was cornered. Any second now Adam would peer around the trophy case and spot him. His impulses screamed: strike first! Strike now! While you have the upper hand!

As Adam’s thick shadow blotted out the lamplight and stretched over the edge of the case the lasso shot out and tightened around his neck. Adam cried out in surprise, lurching back as the noose tightened. Erik leaned back, throwing all of his weight into pulling the cord. Adam roared and seized the rope in his hand, yanking Erik off of his feet and dangling him in the air. The noose slackened enough that Adam managed to rip it from around his neck and throw it violently to the side.

Erik had already let go of his end and was hurrying towards the door, intent on escape. Adam lunged after him with terrifying speed. Just as his outstretched hand was about to clutch for Erik’s jacket the Phantom turned and threw a handful of flashing powder. There was a loud crack, the hiss of smoke and a flash so bright that Adam reeled back, momentarily blinded and deafened. That moment of borrowed time was all Erik needed to disappear, darting into the hallway and making an acrobatic leaping down the staircase.

Coughing and shaking Adam blinked as his vision returned to him. He could feel the sensitive skin around his eyes stinging from the lingering burn. If Erik thought he was going to escape he was sorely mistaken. Adam vowed to find him by the end of the night if he had to tear the whole manor apart looking….

#crossover Au #The Frankenstein creature #The Phantom of the opera

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jojomills · 4 months ago

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‘co-pay the ferryman’

tiny toes aligned in rows along the shore

awaiting the ferryman and his livery

eyes lidded by coppers from mothers’ purse

button noses blushed with the life they left

sacrificed, one supposes

for freedom of arms one has used to depose

the gold-lidded tyrant sharing also that shore

executed, one supposes

for the tides of unwashed feet he had sent

denied of life-saving treatment

a grisly boon for Charon’s humble service

if the marble columns of the talking heads

are ivory white as they preach the right

for the firepower to fight oppression

and the dusts of Uvalde and Newtown

(and more than the heart can bare to mention)

are red wet mud for the the bricks of salvation

then Manhattan’s gold pavement rusts, too

if we ask to defend the sacred trust

that death comes for us all on equal footing

satisfied, one supposes

that hypocrisy won’t sway the ferryman’s task

___

#twcpoetry #poetryriot #spilled ink #poeticstories #poets on tumblr #original poetry #poetry #fuck uhc #eat the rich

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wishesofeternity · 2 years ago

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“Ecclesiastics were so common and employed in so many activities that their presence in espionage was inevitable. Edward IV used monks from Cerne and Abingdon to help locate Henry VI in 1465, and in 1492 a monk was one of two spies employed by Henry VII. Henry used priests to take his messages to Brittany in 1492 to contact Breton rebels and stir them against Charles VIII of France. And since he used them as spies and messengers he knew that they would be used against him. Thus he ordered his Deputy at Calais, Gilbert Talbot, to prevent the passage into England of one Robert Stewart, friar, from France. Real clerics engaged as spies form one half of the equation. The other is the adoption of clerical disguise. After Warbeck's defeat in 1497 one of his followers, an ex-household official of Edward IV disguised himself as a hermit and avoided capture for several weeks.·'" Bernard de Vignolles recounted how a Spanish astrologer, hired to help murder Henry VII, was to come to England disguised as a pilgrim on his way to the shrine of Compostella. 'He would come to England in the habit of a friar, and because (he) had lost two of his teeth he would procure two others of ivory, of the colour of his own.' The pretended pilgrimage was a boon to secret diplomacy. It was a ruse advised by Vegetius, repeated by Christine de Pisan and personally employed by Philippe de Commynes. The Scots sent negotiators to England under colour of a pilgrimage to Durham; and the Douglases negotiated with the English government while ostensibly on pilgrimage to Canterbury or Rome.”

- “Espionage and Intelligence from the Wars of the Roses to the Reformation”

#LMAO #history #medieval history #espionage #wars of the roses #edward iv #henry vii #tudor era #the Douglases reported to Edward IV I think (based on what this piece said)#mine

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cloaksandcapes · 8 months ago

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The Twitch Chat had this idea of a massive totem from a Giant's God that could bestow boons and curses on you. We went a little smaller, and with something more temporary.

But we still love the idea of coming across a large version in a campaign that could give you something more long-term, but its only a one time use.

Giant’s Ivory Statuette Wondrous Item, very rare

“This ivory statuette is the size of a halfling, but was once a part of a much bigger piece of art. The carvings on it depict several different types of giants: those among the hills, the clouds, and the mountains. Some of them are in battle, while others are enjoying peace and prosperity.”

You can invoke the power of this magic item and receive a boon or curse from the giant magics within. Roll 1d6 to determine the effects of the statuette’s magic, which lasts for 2 hours. Once this magic item has been used, it cannot be used again for 4 days.

On a 1 or 2, the statuette curses you, decreasing your size category by one, reducing melee damage you deal by 1d4, and giving you disadvantage on Strength and Dexterity saving throws and checks.

On a 3 - 5, the statuette gives you a boon, increasing your size category by one, increasing your melee attacks by an extra 2d6 damage, and giving you advantage on Strength and Dexterity saving throws and checks.

On a 6, the statuette gives you a mighty boon, you receive all the effects of rolling a 3 - 5, but increase by two size categories, and gain an additional 20 feet of movement. You can also choose to change the damage type of your melee attacks to fire, cold, thunder, or lightning.

Join us in Discord or on Twitch every Mon\Wed\Fri to create new D&D Homebrews like magic items, monsters, or subclasses. If you want to support Cloaks & Capes check out our Patreon for 650+ magic items, 12 monsters, 200+ tokens, maps, and more for just $3\month.

We add over 30 new items a month and 1+ monster a week.

#DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD5e #Homebrew #Magic Item #DnD Homebrew #Homebrew Magic Items #dnd 5e homebrew #dnd item #dnd stuff #DnDaDay #Giant's Ivory Statuette

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spacesquidlings · 1 year ago

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Remedy

Description: Aspen had spent much of her life fearing the days when her body betrayed her, when another migraine took hold of her, rendering her frail and weak. But now she knew that she could turn to Astarion for comfort, trusting him to be there for her until she was better.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (Aspen)

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but nothing happens

Notes: Forgive me this indulgence, I have been getting quadruple whammied over the last few weeks with every bodily issue I have, in particular a week long headache that turned into a fullblown migraine. I don't know how in character it actually is but I like to imagine that perhaps Astarion would comfort and try his best to care for his lover when they're ill.

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

Staring up at the ceiling of leaves that blocked out the fire of the fading sun, Aspen sighed with as many theatrics as she could. Leaning her body to the side, slumping her shoulders forward, tilting her head back so the thin beam of burnished sunlight slicing between the leaves could wash over her face.

Aspen had spent years fighting against an assortment of ailments that forever kept her on her toes and forever exhausted her beyond measure. But she had recently learned that if she took a different approach, admitting to how she felt, no one ever held it against her. No one saw her as weak, or told her to suck it up. At least, no one who mattered did.

She was allowed rest, a chance to get better, rather than running herself ragged until she got lucky enough that the pain disappeared and she could carry on for a while yet.

“And what could be the reason for such a sigh?” Astarion crept up behind her, one ivory brow arched as she slowly lowered her head to face him.

Here was perhaps the greatest boon for admitting to her temporary weakness, to whatever pain that had been chasing her finally catching up.

There was often no solace to be found even in sleep, and yet she had found she felt more at ease when she was with him, when she was curled in his arms.

“My head hurts,” she said, by way of explanation. It was quite an understatement, if she were being honest. She felt like demons were taking rusted knives and chipped axes and dulled maces to her skull, fractures snaking along the bone, threatening to crumble as the assault on her head continued.

“Oh my poor darling,” he cooed. His lips were pulled into the perfect pout, but his eyes still glowed, practically sparkling with mischief. He cupped her cheek, head tilting to the side as he stroked the corner of her lips. “And what would you like me to do about it?”

She sighed again, softer this time. She had no energy left in her, the pain in her head hollowing her until she felt like cracked bone, marrow scraped clean. “You could help make it go away.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” His tone was wry, a smile curling at his lips. “I am skilled at many things, but healing magic is not one of them.”

“Surely you could think of something.” She leaned into his touch, pressing a kiss to the heel of his hand. “You’re so clever, surely you have some idea of what could help.”

He snorted, his smile growing. “You know I always cherish your sweet words of praise, but I’m not quite sure what you could possibly be thinking about.” He cocked his head to the side, a curl of hair fluttering over his brow. “And I don’t think kissing it better would be of much help.”

There was a spark in his eyes, a sharp curve to the edges of his smile. He knew what she wanted, what would comfort her best, but he was going to make her ask for it.

“You’re a villain,” she muttered, prying herself from his touch.

What she wanted was to be held, to be coddled for a little while. The comfort of his cool touch against her brow, his fingers threading through her hair, the faint beat of his heart against her cheek. It was far better than even a healer’s touch, far better than the magic commanded by a cleric at the behest of their god. He was all she needed, all she wanted.

Even if he was being an asshole about it.

Astarion laughed, his hand falling away. “Such honeyed words today, my dear. While I do appreciate the compliment, shouldn’t you be more focused on a cure for your headache?”

Rolling her eyes, she made to turn away. There was a river nearby, she could hear the burble of the water over time-smoothed stones, the flicker of moonlit fins and iridescent scales. Perhaps she would toss herself into the water and let it rush over her, dulling the pain that banded across her head with its chill.

Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned to look, right as Astarion snagged her around the waist. Aspen gave a sharp cry as he tugged her close, one moment facing the haze of the half-lit forest, the dusk light casting the trees in a reddish glow, the next staring at his mischievous grin.

Her head throbbed from the suddenness of it, the ground falling out from underneath her feet so she stumbled. Astarion, in what she considered to be pure, devilish delight, laughed, the sound arcing high, the leaves shivering as though a breeze had blown past. She could feel it in her veins, echoing in the spaces between her bones.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The sharp points of his incisors peeked out from his lips, and she had the strangest urge to press her fingers to them, to see if the pain of her skin being punctured would distract her from the pain in her head. “You’re so pale, you look like you might collapse.”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, settling her hands on his chest. She didn’t know where else to put them, trapped as she now was in his arms. “I was thinking about throwing myself into the nearest river.”

He tsked quietly, shaking his head. “The river would sweep you away in an instant. I’m sure you can come up with a better solution.”

She shrugged. The blood in her veins felt like it was congealing, her heart pumping little more than sludge through her body. Her head felt light, dizzy, the coppery dusk piercing like arrows in her eyes. She was not adept at offering clever responses to his quips, but now she was not sure if she could come up with a response at all. The exhaustion that had hollowed her so thoroughly felt like it was creeping across her mind now, a mist that would obscure everything in its path.

For the first time since his latest bout of teasing had begun, Astarion’s expression flickered. Lurking beneath the wicked curl of his smile was a shadow of nerves, anxiety bubbling up beneath his previous good-humour.

“My darling…” He trailed off, looking unsure about cajoling her further. “Surely there is a better way to manage what ails you. Perhaps something that your most beloved could help with?”

She couldn’t help but smile at that. Even as a heavy veil of pain descended over her mind, she smiled, some of that hollowness ebbing away like ocean tides. “I think perhaps there could be something my beloved could do.”

His eyes searched her face, his fingers dancing along her brow, pushing back her bangs. “Yes?”

“Yes, I think there is.”

He sighed, his smile softening. “Then I think you should tell him, so he can take care of his most beloved.”

“I’m your most beloved?” She leaned closer, like flowers reaching for the sun. He might have been moon-cursed, but he was her sun and her stars, he was the light she had been starved of her entire life.

Astarion snorted, quirking a brow as he covered one of her hands pressed to his chest with his. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt? There is no one else I would stop from foolishly jumping into a river.”

“I just like to hear you say it.” Heat crept into her cheeks, warm as firelight brushing against her skin.

“You are my beloved,” he said, squeezing her hand tighter. “My most beloved. And I hope that I am yours.”

“Of course you are.” Her voice cracked, her mouth dry. The world was blurring around her, only Astarion’s eyes and his nose and the freckles that were flecked across his cheeks and his throat clear any longer. “I love you.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. “Then tell me how I can take care of you. How can I indulge my sweet lover?”

Aspen sank against him, her willpower withering away. Astarion was far better at this game than she was, and in truth she didn’t mind when he teased her that much. So long as she was thoroughly kissed afterwards.

“I just want to be held,” she confessed, resigned. It was nothing he didn’t already know, and yet it was clear he took great pleasure in her giving her wants form, shaping them with her words.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he drawled. One arm was still curved around her waist, his free hand petting her hair as her head fell onto his shoulder. “Do you know by who? I’m sure we could wrangle owlbear, the creature has grown quite fond of you.”

She closed her eyes, groaning. “Obviously I want to be held by you.”

Villain that he was, he had the gall to chuckle, running his finger over the curve of her ear. “‘Obviously,’ is it? There’s no one else you think would be more adept at handling your ailment?”

“Astarion.” She didn’t bother to hide the whine from her voice. Now that her eyes were closed, it felt like the world was spinning. Her stomach roiled, and she was certain that if she did not lie down soon she would collapse.

“Alright, I’m sorry.” He sounded the exact opposite of sorry, his voice lilting like he were on the verge of telling a joke.

She cracked her eyes open, focusing on the side of his face as he slowly turned, guiding her back to camp. “You’re getting better at that.”

“You’re feeling cheeky today, love.” He smirked, catching her gaze from the corner of his eye. “You’re lucky I’m so enchanted with you.”

She fluttered her lashes, feigning innocence. “Really? You’re enchanted with me?”

Astarion chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you sure you’re feeling ill? You sound perfectly fine to me. In fact, you sound like you want something else.”

His voice dropped an octave, a warm rumble against her ears. She pressed her face against his shoulder, smiling.

“I wish I was faking it,” she muttered, her words threading between the fabric of his shirt.

“That’s alright,” he breathed, keeping his voice soft. He kept an arm around her, keeping her close. “I’ll take care of you until you’re better.”

Aspen had once feared these days, feared how frail they made her, how vulnerable. She always wanted to be held, to be coddled, to be taken care of and treated as something delicate, something precious. She had been worried that it was selfish, perhaps even vain. To demand constant care for something that happened so regularly she could track it more easily than her cycles.

Worse than that, she had worried that it would be insensitive of her to ask to be cared for. She craved nothing but to be nestled in his arms, and yet perhaps that would be insensitive, demanding to be held, demanding his closeness, his touch. She did not want him to think she was using him, that he was only loved for the things he did for her, and not for the simple fact that he was him.

Yet Astarion had volunteered his aid the first time she’d fallen ill after knowing him. He had not cared, he had only wanted to take care of her. Her.

Aspen had thought herself unworthy of care, of tenderness, of real love. Who was she, anyways? A nobody from some backwater, with nothing but a head full of dreams and a talent for fire magic and some skill with a flute.

And yet he had chosen her, he had chosen to love her. And despite all her faults, and all the amazing people there were in the world who were more worthy of his love, he had chosen her. He had chosen Aspen, and everything that came along with her.

Which, unfortunately, included pain that never really went away.

She had feared asking for affection of any kind, even when she was not ill. He had divulged so much of her history, and she couldn’t bear the thought of ever once making him think she wanted him for his touch, for his body.

He had been angry, at first, thinking she was pushing him away. But she hadn’t been, had only wanted to make sure he was loved, that he was comfortable.

Aspen hadn’t known what to expect at the time, whether it was him understanding what she was feeling and giving her space, or turning away from her in anger.

He had done neither; he had done something entirely different. He had been firm, had assuaged her fears and anxieties as he had told her how he wanted to comfort her, wanted to care for her.

Even now, Aspen’s eyes burned as the memory, murky as muddied water from time, rose in her mind.

He loved her, he wanted to hold her, wanted to dote on her adoringly. It comforted her, knowing there was safe harbour in his arms. No matter what storms tore at her, no matter what ocean waves threatened to mangle and drown her, he would be there for her. A guiding light, a safe haven from the storms. He was where she could settle when she needed rest, when she simply needed him. He was her home.

“Aspen?”

She’d been dozing and hadn’t even realized it, still clinging to Astarion’s side. He roused her from her mind, like she was being drawn from the shadowed depths of the sea. His hands were cool and soft against her skin as he brushed them along her cheek, down the column of her throat.

“Hmm?” She lifted her head, wincing as the pain multiplied, a small army tearing at the remains of her skull.

He huffed a laugh, although his brow was drawn, undercutting his blithe laughter. “Are you still with me? I thought I’d lost you for a moment.”

Lips pursed, she nodded, the dry feeling in her mouth returning. Her stomach was churning again, and she feared she might retch if the world didn’t stop spinning.

“You need to lie down,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.

She didn’t argue, letting him guide her down onto the bedroll in the corner. They had taken to sharing a tent, piling their blankets on top of their bedroll until it resembled a nest. She sank into the blankets, sighing in relief. The world continued to spin, but she felt tethered now, like she would not fly away if she stumbled, tossed into the abyss of the night sky.

“You need to make room for me, too,” Astarion murmured, tapping her side until she scooted over.

“Good,” he drawled, settling in beside her. She crawled into his lap, pressing her face to his chest as his arms curled around her. She could feel a smile on his lips as he pressed them to the top of her head, as he murmured softly. “That’s my good girl.”

She was thankful for the privacy the worn fabric of the tent offered. It made it easier to imagine that they were alone, that they existed in their own little world.

“Is that better?” He breathed, stroking her hair. “Is my embrace healing you of your ills, my darling?”

There was laughter in his voice, only veiled because of how soft he spoke, his words little more than a hushed whisper.

Aspen groaned in response, trying to nestle closer. She wondered if he would take offense to her shoving her head under his shirt, her cheek pressed to his skin, his heartbeat thrumming softly in her ear.

“So needy,” he continued, dragging his hand down the back of her neck. “Are we not close enough?”

They were not, at least not in her opinion. She would have happily stripped so she could curl up with him, skin-to-skin, had she not been certain he would tease her mercilessly for it. There was comfort in having nothing between them, in being so close. And his body was cooler than hers, soothing the low fever that always warmed her body when she was caught by a headache.

Aspen opted to say nothing, which ended up being the wrong answer. Although she doubted if there had ever been a right answer in the first place.

Astarion tugged at one of her hands until he pried it from his shirt, applying pressure with his thumb as he pressed small circles against her wrist. “I’m right, aren’t I? You wish we were closer.”

Heat erupted in her face, crawling down her throat like storm-clouds blocking out the sky. He could surely see the flush on the back of her neck, feel the heat of her skin if he brushed his hand down her back.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to undress, if that’s what you want.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and she pressed her face harder against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut.

“My sweet, you’ve gone quiet on me. Have you fallen asleep?”

She gave a soft groan, shaking her head. “Yeah.”

He snorted, settling her hand back on his belly. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m asleep,” she whined. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Oh really?” He sounded amused, running his knuckles down the back of her neck. “So you haven’t heard me offer to undress? Just for you?”

“Oh I’m so very asleep,” she said. “I can’t hear a thing. Only your heartbeat.”

Another snort. “Are you completely asleep?”

“I’m totally asleep,” she continued, grinning against his chest. “I can��t hear a thing! I’m lost in my dreams.”

“And what are you dreaming of?”

She hummed. “Lots of desserts. Cake and cookies and chocolates.”

A sharp pinch against her side summoned a squeal to her lips, and Aspen rolled to the side, gaping up at Astarion as he laughed.

“I knew you weren’t awake,” he teased, chuckling. His lips spoke of mischief, but his eyes were soft as spun-sugar clouds, so tender she felt like she could cradle the feeling in her hands.

“Maybe I was!” She knew she sounded petulant, bratty even, but it made Astarion’s smile widen, his eyes glowing with starlight. “And you just woke me up from my dreams about desserts!”

He cocked his head to the side, giving her an indulgent smile. “You’re telling me that you wouldn’t dream of me?”

Already her face was burning, and now it was like a fire had been lit beneath her skin, sweeping across her like a wildfire consuming a forest whole. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I see you every day, why would I dream of you?”

“You love me, don’t you?”

She sensed a trap, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from stumbling into it. The soft light that slipped into the tent washed across his face, making him look like a storybook prince. “I do love you.”

He took her chin in his hand, gentle as though he were holding something fragile, something that would break if he squeezed too tight. “You adore me?”

“Yes.”

Leaning down, so close the tips of his hair tickled her brow, his breath ghosted across her lips, his nose nearly bumping against hers, Astarion smiled. He tipped her head back, still holding her chin so delicately, his thumb caressing her bottom lip. “So why would you not dream of me? You even said you were having dreams of dessert.”

“Dessert, like delicious treats-”

He cut her off with a kiss, stealing her words and breath. Sharp pain sliced through her like ice stabbing into her skin as his teeth sank into her bottom lip, drawing blood.

“And what,” he began, licking his lips as he drew back, ruby-bright blood staining his lips. “Could be more delicious than me, my darling? Do I not give you everything you could want?”

Breath caught in her throat, choking her words. The wildfire raging beneath her skin billowed, spread wide. Her blood bubbled, her nerves singed, her mind shrouded in ash and smoke. She could not think one coherent thought, not as he grinned down at her, victorious in his teasing.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He swiped his thumb across her bottom lip once more, bringing it up to his mouth to lick away the blood he had gathered. “I know you give me everything I want. You are the sweetest of treats.”

She shivered, heat coiling deep in her belly. Words continued to fail her, her tongue heavy in her mouth as she gazed up at him, her sweet villain, her beloved menace. He was terrible and dear in equal measure, teasing her so mercilessly, caught as she was in his arms, ensnared in the net of his voice.

His voice was warm, husky, as he continued. It reminded her of mulled wine, of spices and alcohol and the heady feeling that spilled into her veins. “I think of you always. When you are gone, when you are beside me, you are always on my mind.”

Fire was too gentle a descriptor for the heat in her body, for the tension in her belly. An enchantment had settled over her, urging her to tip her head back more, to give herself to him as an offering. If she was everything he wanted, then why shouldn’t he have it? Even just the touch of his lips to hers was enough to wash away some of the pain, to soften the edges until it was nearly bearable.

She did not, however, give in to his teasing, or to the voice that emerged from the veil of smoke in her mind. The one that said how easy it would be to give in, to lie back, to let him do whatever he wished.

Instead, in a fit of desperation, Aspen threw herself against his chest once more, burying her face in his shirt.

“I’m asleep!” She cried, curling up in his lap, trying her best to ignore how his body trembled, how his laughter danced in the air like the melody of a song. “I can’t hear anything you’re saying! My headache made me so exhausted I fell right asleep!”

Astarion continued to laugh, although for a while he said no more words, did not tease her any further. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his free hand at her waist, holding her secure in his lap.

“Alright,” he said at last, his laughter spent. “Well, since my sweet lover has fallen asleep, I can say whatever I wish.”

She resisted the urge to mutter a quiet “oh no.” Instead, she shut her eyes tight, clutching his shirt between her hands, trying to focus on the beat of his heart and not on the tenor of his voice as he spoke.

“Perhaps I’ll start with how beautiful she is,” he began, voice lilting. He could have been a poet, with a voice like that, with how easily sweet things fell from his lips, like leaves tumbling to the ground in autumn. “How her eyes hold more colours than I ever thought I would see again. I look at her and I see every forest, every lake. I see storms and sunrises, I see the rise and fall of every season.”

She breathed deeply, her heart racing. These lines were new, and she caught the few times he stumbled, pausing as he gathered the thoughts before giving them shape. They made her heart falter, kept the fire that danced across her skin alive, so bright she was certain the tent would catch flame and their belongings would be set ablaze.

“I see the sun in her smile,” he continued, more sure now. “Even if I am cursed to live in the shadows for the rest of my immortal life, her lips will cast away the darkness, and I will never have a need for the sun.”

As it happened, it wasn’t that easy to focus on the sound of his heart beating. It was even harder to focus when his words rose and fell like winds tangling in her hair, like the steady rush of the ocean as she reached foaming hands towards the shore.

“Did you know…” He trailed off, leaning down so his words caught in her hair, sending tingles crawling down her spine. “That she is my ruin and my salvation. She tore my life apart and gave me something new, something I have not felt in centuries.”

Aspen wanted to ask what he was talking about, but she remained quiet, shifting so she could hear him better.

“She gave my life colour, warmth. I’d never thought myself capable of being loved. And she loved me unconditionally.” He brushed her hair back from her cheek, his fingers lingering on her skin. “I’ve done some monstrous things in my life, and she loved me anyways.”

She nestled closer, smiling a little. He was being so sweet, albeit under the guise of her feigning unconsciousness. But they both knew that she wasn’t, and warmth bloomed in her heart from his words.

“I love her too,” he continued, and she could feel his smile pressed into her hair. “At first I thought she was a self-sacrificing idiot. Naive and foolish, silly even.”

Cracking her eyes open, Aspen stared at his chest, wondering where exactly he was going with this.

“But the more I learned about her, the more time I spent with her, the more I fell in love with her.” He snorted. “I didn’t even know what it felt like to love, and I loved her anyways. Her and all of her faults.”

“Hey!” Aspen wouldn’t take any slander. “I don’t have that many faults!”

Astarion was smirking as he gently guided her head back down against his chest. “I thought you were sleeping, darling.”

“I am sleeping,” she huffed. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

“Exactly,” he murmured against her ear. “So I can say whatever I want.”

She was beginning to regret pretending to be asleep. Perhaps handling his teasing head-on would have been a better approach. Or perhaps chucking herself into the river would have been better.

“And I will say whatever I want,” he added, nipping at her ear.

Aspen gasped, tensing even as he drew away, his touch chaste once more.

“Anyways,” he drawled. “As I was saying. I loved my darling with all of her faults.”

She scoffed, but remained quiet. Perhaps this would somehow put her to sleep. And, at the very least, it was amusing him.

“Like how she’s far too altruistic for her own good, trying to help anyone that asks for it. How she has no sense of self-preservation, throwing herself into conflicts that could get her killed, ignoring when she’s feeling ill even though we would be far more inconvenienced if she were to die.”

“I’m careful,” she grumbled, scowling. “I’m not going to die.”

“You’re not,” he concurred. “Because you’re going to always tell me when you’re unwell, and we’re going to make decisions together before you do anything else stupid.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but a pinch to her side stilled her tongue.

“But you’re fast asleep right now,” he said, humour in his voice once more. “And so we’ll discuss that later.”

She sighed, closing her eyes again. “You can be such a spoiled brat.”

He hummed, stroking her hair. “Says the one who wanted to be held like a princess.”

“Because my head hurts!”

“I think you’re the one who’s spoiled, darling.” She didn’t have to look to hear the smile in his voice, to know his eyes were bright with mischief. “I mean, how many people have I been nice to because you asked me to?”

“I’m asleep! I have no idea what you’re saying!” She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. “But I’m not spoiled! At. All.”

“And there’s another one of your faults, my dear,” he teased, tugging at her ear. “I let you do whatever you want, and I let you have whatever you want.” A sigh, his arms tightening around her as he held her closer. “Although perhaps the fault lies with me on that. I can never say no to you.”

Unbidden, her lips curved into a smile at that. She could never say no to him, either.

“Now where was I?”

“You were listing off all the things you love about me.”

“Oh yes,” he hummed. “I remember, now. I was talking about how my dear lover is an idiot.”

She scoffed.

“But,” he traced his hand down her spine. “Now she’s my idiot, my sweet fool.”

Aspen smiled again, his words rolling over her like waves.

“My sweetest fool,” he repeated, kissing the top of her head. “Who always wants to cuddle, who absolutely can’t get enough of me.”

Well he wasn’t wrong. She loved to hold him in her arms and play with his hair and feel him close to her. She loved even just sitting beside him, listening to the cadence of his voice.

“Who makes the prettiest sounds for me,” he continued, trailing his hand up to the nape of her neck. “Who loves when I kiss her thighs so much that she screams.”

She frowned. “Wait.”

“Whose face turns bright red when I try to compliment her.”

“Hey.”

“Who can’t string a sentence together when she’s flustered.”

“Hold on.”

“Who always has to sleep holding me and her stuffed bear.”

“It’s not a crime to be comfy!”

He chuckled, losing momentum for a moment, his cheeks smushing against the top of her head. “Oh, my love. How I adore you.”

She clicked her tongue, face scrunched up. Perhaps she would sleep only with her bear tonight.

“My dear partner,” he breathed, bringing his lips to her ear, his voice heady as wine. “Who shivers when I tell her she’s being such a good girl.”

Aspen bit her lip, willing herself to stay still.

“Who’s probably already thinking of all the ways I can fill her right now.”

His words were sandpaper scraping against her senses, uncontrollable tremors racing down her spine, across her nerves. Even her hands shook, try as she might to keep herself steady.

His fingers danced along the nape of her neck, sparks arcing beneath her skin from his featherlight touch. “I haven’t even touched you and I bet you’re wet, so needy already for anything I can give you.” She felt his smile, shivered as he nibbled her ear again. “Thinking of what you can do to be praised, my g-”

“This is slander!” She cried, prying herself free and rolling away from him. “I’ve had enough! I’m going to go find that river and throw myself into it. She would never say such things about me.”

Astarion was laughing, a full-bodied sound that filled the tent, seeped from the fabric like sun-stained shadows. The seductive tone he’d been using gone, melting away beneath his laughter. “You mean she would never say that she loves you?”

Aspen did not get very far, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against him. She tumbled back, the vibrations of his laughter ringing into the hollows of her bones.

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I believe-” He was cut off by another bout of laughter, clearing his throat before continuing. “I believe, my pet, that I was listing off all the things I love about you.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You were not!”

“I was,” he insisted, lips gentle against her temple as he kissed her. “Because I love everything about you. I love all of you. All the parts of yourself that you’re proud of, all the parts of yourself you think are embarrassing and shameful. Everything.”

She pouted, refusing to look at him. “I don’t see how teasing me about…” She trailed off, hesitating as she struggled to find the right words. Oh how her head hurt; he was such a villain, rousing her like this. “About other things.”

“Things that arouse you is what you mean, yes?” He nuzzled his face against the side of her neck, over where he was most fond of biting when he needed his fill. “What turns you on, my darling. Things only I can do to you.”

She squirmed in his arms, fighting like a rabid animal to escape. Not that it worked, instead only reigniting his laughter.

“Alright!” He cried, trying and failing to stop laughing. “My darling, I’m sorry! Don’t throw yourself into the river on my behalf.”

“I’m not doing it for you!” She felt petulant as a child, but she didn’t much care. “I’m doing it for me! For my headache!”

He managed to hold her to his chest, to tuck her head beneath his chin. Aspen could have fought more, but she gave up resisting quickly. It was far too comfy, the way he was holding her. She figured she at least deserved this, being cradled in his arms after all his teasing.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, although he did not sound particularly sorry. “I was teasing you, but I couldn’t help it.”

She scowled, but said nothing.

“I love seeing you flustered,” he murmured. “It’s adorable.”

“You could at least wait until I felt better,” she grumbled, making a halfhearted attempt to escape, if only for show. He wrangled her easily, clutching her hands in his so she could not pry his arms from her.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But you’re already so cute when you’re needy.”

She huffed, but any ire she felt was quickly fading, falling away like the sun giving way to the night. “Awfully greedy, aren’t you?”

“I confess that I am not nearly as selfless as you.” He spoke the words against her hair, his thumb stroking the back of her wrist. “I am greedy for everything that has to do with you.”

“Cuddles weren’t enough?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied, even if I held you for a thousand years.”

Aspen relaxed into his arms then, settling against him once more as his sweet words flowed through her like honey. She would be lying if she said she didn’t feel warm, if she said his words were like sunshine on her skin. “That’s awfully romantic of you.”

“I’m glad it pleased you.”

“It almost makes me forgive you for how mean you were being to me about…” She trailed off, cursing herself. “About my preferences.”

“Ah yes. That.” He sounded almost sheepish, as if Astarion could ever be sheepish.

“Yes. That.”

“If I’m being honest,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “I’d heard that sex can help with headaches. And I’d thought… Well…”

There was something that bloomed in Aspen’s heart when Astarion was trying to be earnest, when he was trying to be soft. It was new to him, removing the mask he had worn for centuries, no longer pretending to be a rake. And while he trusted her, while each night he admitted to loving her, it was still easier to fall into old ways.

But he was trying; he was still learning after all, and every day was a new challenge in trying to figure out who he was, the things he liked, the things he wanted to do. And she cherished all his little attempts, no matter how awkward, no matter if he stumbled.

His heart had been in the right place, at the very least, and she was grateful that he had thought about her, that he had thought about the things that could help her.

Even if it was a touch unconventional.

When Aspen turned around, facing him finally, Astarion’s face was filled with uncertainty. He looked nervous, apprehensive. His brows were drawn, his eyes downcast.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, the mischief in his eyes fading away.

“You haven’t upset me.” His grip on her hands was no longer ironclad, and she pried them free with ease, reaching up to cup his face. “Thank you for thinking of me, for thinking of a way to help.”

He wasn’t looking at her, staring at some speck on her shoulder. “I only wanted to help. And I thought it might make you happy, too.”

“You know you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to think you have to use yourself to make me happy.”

Now he definitely looked sheepish, even as his eyes slowly lifted to meet hers. “And what if I wanted to? What if I wanted a little passion, too?”

She felt herself wilting a little. Perhaps if she did not feel so ill she could have given him what he wanted. “I’m sorry I’m unwell.”

“No, I don’t want you to apologize, I only-” He gritted his teeth, brow furrowing. “I’m saying everything wrong.”

“No you’re not.” She shook her head, even as the world spun. “I promise you’re not saying anything wrong. You’re being sweet, you’re being so good to me.”

He rolled his eyes, but it was clear the praise had found its mark. The corners of his lips twitched, a smile slowly blooming across his lips. “Of course I am. I’m incredibly sweet, and very good.”

She smiled too, drawing his head down so she could kiss his cheek. “I am quite fond of sweet things. So how could I ever resist you?”

“Perhaps I was made for you,” he murmured, the consternation in his expression gone.

“And I was made for you.”

He smiled then, soft as moonlight limning the night. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

They lapsed into silence, Aspen cradling his face in her palms. She would have gladly held him like that for the rest of the night had her vision not blurred, the throb of her head an incessant beat that refused to leave her be.

“You still look pale as a ghost, darling,” he murmured, a crease forming between his brows. “You really do need to lie down.”

She narrowed her eyes, wanting to tease even as pain and exhaustion ate at her. Any energy that had funneled itself into her veins when Astarion had been toying with her so mercilessly before was promptly vanishing, burning from her veins like fog beneath the heat of the afternoon.

She hummed, pouting a little. “So no sex?”

Astarion’s eyes widened, his lashes fluttering for a moment, as if unsure whether he’d heard her correctly or not.

“No,” he said, slow, watching her carefully. Already his eyes were brightening with a roguish light, his lips twitching. “I think it would be best if we waited until you felt better, darling.”

“Alright, you’re probably right.”

“I’m always right,” he added, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you want me to do so you’ll feel better.”

“Could you hold me?” Her voice didn’t need to sound so small, yet it did, as though she were asking for some great treasure that few were honoured to even behold.

He chuckled. “Am I not holding you now?”

“Well, then, keep holding me.” She huffed, pouting more.

He hummed, his eyes aglow. “I feel like you’re forgetting something, darling.”

She pouted more, pleased when he smiled. “Forgetting what?”

“I think you’re supposed to say please when making demands.”

She gaped. “I didn’t even know you knew how to say that.”

“Oh come on,” he rolled his eyes, snorting. “I know how to use it when it’s needed. Like right now, when my very spoiled love is making demands of me.”

“How is it a demand when you’re already holding me?”

He shook his head, tapping his ear. “I need to hear you say the words, darling.”

She ground her teeth, wondering if she could make a break for it. Perhaps being comfy and safe was not all it was cracked up to be.

Astarion’s brows rose, as if he could sense that she was contemplating bolting. His arms tightened, holding her secure against him. “Well?”

With a long, drawn out sigh that surely made him proud, she forced out a melodramatic “please, can you hold me?”

“Yes of course, my darling.” He was beaming as he spoke, dropping a kiss to her nose. “And is there anything else, my love?”

She looked away, focusing on the shadows stretching across the ground. “Can you play with my hair, too?”

He tapped his ear again, smirking, and she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

“Please?”

“I think I can do that,” he said, far too proud of himself. “Anything for you, my love.”

Aspen didn’t argue, although she wanted to. She really wanted to. But the siren song of his arms and his fingers in her hair and the softness of his chest cushioning her head was far too strong for her to resist.

Instead, she settled against him, resting her head on his chest as he stroked her hair.

“You know, I’m sure I could braid this for you,” he mused, lifting a strand of hair. She preferred it short, the downy edges brushing against her jawline. And while it was very cute, at least to her, and to Astarion whenever he murmured it as he smoothed it out each morning, it was not particularly conducive to much styling.

“It’s a bit short for that, isn’t it?” She said, breathing deeply as she turned her face towards his chest.

“No, I think I could make something work,” he said, his voice heavy with confidence. “They would be small, but I could make something nice. Something for my beautiful love.”

She tried hiding her smile, warmth like the first light of dawn brushing against her cheeks as she felt his fingertips at the nape of her neck. “Whatever you think would be best, my love.”

He hummed. “Perhaps I could make it so it looked like a tiara woven in your hair. It would look best with jewels in it, but I suppose I can make do with what we have in camp.”

“When this is all over I’ll find a way to buy you as many jewels as you’d like,” she murmured, her mind beginning to calm, ripples in a lake growing still. “Every kind you can dream of.”

He chuckled. “That’s awfully sweet, my dear. Perhaps I will find you some as well.”

“Then we could match.”

Cool fingers brushed against her temple, gathering the hair there. “We could. Now why don’t you rest, and dream up all sorts of gifts you can give me when we’ve survived this.”

“It’ll be so many you’ll feel like a prince.”

Another rumble of laughter echoed through her, and she smiled wider, happy she could bring a smile to his face, happy that she could make him laugh.

“Now that is something I think we should focus on once we’ve gotten rid of the tadpoles,” he said, laughter still dancing on the edges of his words. “I would like to be as rich as a prince. Why not just become one?”

She sat up, meeting his eyes, nearly taken aback by how wide they were, how warm and bright. “You want to become a prince?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t. I’m sure there’s some decrepit kingdom out there in need of a new leader.” He grinned, so wide the points of his incisors stuck out. “And then you, darling, could be my beloved consort.”

“I mean I could just be a princess,” she countered. “Equal in all things.”

“Hmm.” His eyes searched her face, his lips in a crescent moon smile. “Yes, I think I like that a good deal more. We would be equal in all things. I could be your prince, and you could be my princess.”

She leaned forward to brush a kiss to his lips, savouring the soft sigh that fell from his mouth, the way he melted a little against her.

“That sounds like such a nice idea,” she said as she pulled away. ��Although first we would have to find such a kingdom.”

“And before that we will need to cure you of this headache. Which means you will need to rest.” His tone was almost chiding, and it nearly sent Aspen into a fit of giggles.

She had to cover her mouth, shoulders shaking as he watched her with a bemused grin.

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Well it must be something, considering how hard you’re trying not to laugh.”

She snorted, dropping her hands. “It’s only that for a moment there you sounded like you were scolding me, like you were exasperated I wasn’t listening.”

“Ah.” He smirked, tipping his head back. “Maybe I was, just a little. You really should listen to me, you know.”

“Since when are you the responsible one?”

It looked like he was trying to fashion his expression into one of disapproval, but he just looked like he was on the verge of laughing again, his lips pressed together in a line looking more like he was fighting off a grin, his narrowed eyes reminding her more of someone trying very hard to hold it together.

“I never said I was being responsible, darling,” he said, lips twitching. “Only that I think you need your rest, and I am trying to take care of you.”

“That’s like, the exact definition of responsible.”

“Is not,” he countered, sounding petulant as a child. “You’re the only one I’d do this for, and it’s hurtful that you’re not even listening to me.”

“I’m sorry!” She whined, hands falling to the collar of his shirt. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Another twitch of his lips, his smile no longer able to be contained as it spread across his face. “I suppose I could find it in my heart to forgive you, my love. On one condition.”

She settled her head on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his throat. “Anything for you, my love.”

“I suspect we’ll be keeping camp here for the next few days. And I wouldn’t mind bowing out of any adventuring for a day.”

“What do you mean?” She tugged at a ruffle on his shirt. “You want to stay in camp tomorrow?”

“I would. And I’d like you to stay with me.”

Suspicion rose like tides. “Why? What are you planning?”

A chuckle, a roll of his eyes before they narrowed. He tilted his head to the side, looking at her imperiously. “Nothing to be so worried about, love. Maybe I just feel like your time has been too occupied with everyone else.”

“I didn’t ask everyone else to hold me while my head felt like it was being torn apart,” she shot back.

“True,” he said, lifting his other shoulder in half a shrug. “But I don’t feel particularly generous in sharing your attentions right now, and I’d much rather spend some time just the two of us.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who’s a little needy.”

He scoffed, pinching her side in retaliation. “Oh please. I’m only thinking of you. You’ll surely need time to recuperate, I know how your ailments tire you out.”

He cooed the last words softly, tucking her hair behind her ear, watching her with faux concern.

“I suppose that’s a reasonable request,” she said, finally acquiescing. She’d only really feigned consideration to put on a bit of a show, to tease him a bit. Her mind had already been made up when he’d asked, not that she was ever able to say no, at least not to him.

“Oh marvellous.” His delight was infectious, and she couldn’t help smiling when he did.

“I’m glad you’re so happy.”

“I am,” he insisted, pressing his lips to her brow. “But for right now you must rest, my darling. I want to indulge in lying in your arms as long as I can, and once you’re feeling better I intend to.”

“You’re awfully needy,” she sang, even as she let him coax her into lying back down again. “It’s not like you don’t see me every day. It’s not like you don’t put up with me cuddling every night.”

“Oh hush.” He flicked her forehead, one brow arched. “I’m not ‘putting up with you.’ I think you’re wonderful, and I wanted to spend more time with you.”

She rubbed her forehead, pouting. “But-”

He cut her off, prying her hand from her forehead to glare at her. “Go to sleep.”

Aspen didn’t reply, instead closing her eyes, nestling close as he sighed, grumbling something incoherent. She could have teased him longer, she was sure, but her head was still killing her, and she really did need to rest. There was no real cure for the pain, the headaches nipping at her heels like feral dogs until she stumbled, until they overwhelmed her and tore her to shreds.

But this was nice, lying in his arms, resting her head against his chest as his heart thrummed. It was faint, soft as gossamer on leaves, and as she listened to it her body began to relax, her mind quieting until there was hardly a thought left.

“Sleep well, my love,” Astarion murmured, his fingers combing through her hair, tugging gently as he pulled it into little braids just as he’d promised.

The dredges of her energy extinguished, Aspen did not have the strength to reply, to tell him how much she loved him, to thank him for holding her. So instead she sank into his embrace, and as she fell into oblivion, she smiled. She was with her beloved, and with him she knew she was safe, and he would be there smiling when she awoke.

#astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #honey the sweeter the sun

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