#or at least what I perceive to be OOC

[mediterraneanmenace]

Frames from a comic page thing I am working on for my Baldur's Gate 3 story. A bit spicy, but still SFW?

(Proper spicy art of them does exist but. It's not posted on here lol)

The pact Azarel signed with Raphael is... Pretty one-sided. He "saved" her after years of captivity (by letting her "tap" into his powers) only to bind her to either repay him by being *his* or give him the soul of the person she'd sincerely start to fall in love with.

Either way, he sees himself coming out victorious - Azarel was a Paladin before signing her contract with him, and he *knows* she would never sacrifice someone to save herself.

Also I am headcanoning that, being half-human, Raphael *does* have human weaknesses like falling hard for people he finds interesting :D Except he's also part devil so said feelings become very negative if things don't go his way.

These two frames in particular are set BEFORE the events of BG3 - in which Azarel was actually infatuated with him for the very specific reason he saw him as a savior. Then she met a certain vampire spawn and realized what real love was...

[agapestricken]

so... if i had a nickel for every time i introduced a gotham rogue into the DC community on here that other muses can spot are probably more than likely than not a native gothammite because they have a strong accent (which would be russian, in ana's case), i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it may or mayyy not be a coincidence that it happened twice LOL

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

hey so how do you think Riddle, Epel and Lilia would deal with them having a crush on reader who they are friends with. They’re in a group project with 3 other people and from one of the ghost girls, discussion of types of boys their into comes up and they go on about how “Epel/Riddle/Lilia are too short for my taste”. And the boys crush is like “you know, It’s your loss if you don’t date a boy just cuz he’s short”.? (Reader has never really made comments about their height and perceived “delicate appearance”. Reader actually thinks the three of them is gonna be handsome one day).

A/n: No comments this time !!! I'm just rushing (I think) !!!

Gender neutral, use of 'you'.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Lilia Vanrouge[💘], Epel Felmier.

💘Appearances over heart? Damn.💘

Summary: He was in love with you, his best friend. I mean, like, infatuated. But, still couldn't confess, why? Either they were too much of a coward or simply needed time to process their feelings. But, what if? One day, you and him get into a group project, with three other girls that decide to talk about types of boys instead of putting in the effort of actually being someone's type, then they go talking about height. Their pride is higher than their almost to [none] admirers.

Warnings ⚠️: idk OOC(?), Cussy, fluff lots of fluff, shaming men's appearance, use of 'you', cussy, insults, idk what else to add in here.

Riddle Rosehearts [his and my momma r the same person 😒]

Scene: You and Riddle were friends, like tight-knit friends. You'd always come by to check up on him, offering him [food of your choice], and doing normal stuff like friends should do [and not touch-]. Riddle will always tie your bow when it's crooked, even tie your shoelaces if you don't know how, and always remind you to get to class before you are late. You've always known Riddle has a temper whenever someone comments on his height *Sneaks a glance at Floyd* but, either you or Trey, he manages to calm down. It kept going on like this until Cater had pointed out how soft he had been lately, how he looked forward to seeing you more and teased him about it. Riddle had never had a crush on anyone. Not until now. So, one morning, a group project came up, and you just so happened to be in the same group project with him [<-teachers knew] and assigned three other girls, but the thing is. They just talking, not doing their work.

•Riddle does not like this one bit, the fact that they are just talking and laughing rather than doing their work frustrates him.

•No, he's not mad at you for doing the same thing, just scolded you. (<-favoritism)

•He just wanted some peace

•"I rlly hate short men, like idk why are they short?? Haha! They are sooo not my type. And like, I would rather have tall, rich guys. And honestly? I really don't like Riddle's height-" "Maybe work on that appearance first, so that maybe, the entire race of every men wouldn't reject you. It is very obvious that you were rejected by one. Now get over it, and do your fucking work. Don't insult Riddle's height, at least his intelligence is higher than both your egos."

•Damn. Now he's red as heck. I mean sure, he was mad about the two girls talking about his height, then going to comment more about how much they dislike his height, until you stepped up.

•He's honestly feeling a bit proud of himself, you haven't even commented about his height once, and he's grateful for it. And he's blushing so much he almost lost focus on the project, but of course, like the model student he is, he clears his throat and continues the project. All the while sending a displeased look at the girls, with pure disappointment.

Lilia vanrouge[Hana, r u going to find this one?? 🫶]

Scene: You and Lilia were just 'friends'. But you guys talk to each other, A LOT. To the point everyone knows you both are literal buddies whenever there's a school gossip, exams, quizzes, tests, and especially projects. But you two managed to finish in time [or through the deadline]. Lilia liked scaring you out of the quiet blue, playing little lovely tricks on you, and pranking you then gifting you, your [favorite snack]. You'd also do the same thing for him, scaring him unexpectedly from a random timing that of course fails everytime, you giving him little tricks he finds cute, and you give him his favorite snacks as well! Oh, and when there's marshmallows on it? Dw, you can eat it! So, he doesn't know when it happened, but he gained feelings for you, at first he thought it was physical attraction, but then he noticed small things about you. Your laugh, your smile, your hair in the breeze, your eyes gleaming with joy, and a grin so blinding he wishes it would be the last thing he sees. So, let's say one day, there was this group project from professor Crewel. You and Lilia get paired up, with two more people. But, these people aren't particularly pleasing to be around with...

•Oh my, instead of doing their work, they are just talking about men and heights.. oh, poor Lilia! They don't seem to like short cuties like him !!! :(

•"To be honest? I don't like Lilia that much. Like, his height is so small how's he going to get a partner? Seriously, I don't get why everyone seems so nice to him, he's a short lil' guy that can't do shit-" "And neither can you. Now sit the fuck down if flapping your mouth away is all you can do." "Excuse me!??" "I'm sorry, you must be deaf as well. You might need hearing aids, Lilia is older than you and can still hear clearly, I'm surprised that you have the senses of a long-dead ancestor. I wonder how good you are with running that mouth of yours instead of shutting the fuck up." "..."

•OHHHHH BURNNNN !!!! My, beastie, he never knew you had that in you! What a surprise!~

•It was quite satisfying seeing them sit back down and doing their work rather than blabbing nonsense. It was quite refreshing to see another side of you as well! Who know you were capable of such thing?~

•Ah, well that just made him fall for you even more... my, what to do with his ancient heart that beats for you? He feels youthful again.

•chuckling he continues to do the project. Although, he wouldn't do it completely without messing around with you first!~

Epel Felmier [My buddy, my bestie, where are your simps?]

Scene: You and Epel were inseparable. He fights, you support. He's going against Vil? You're there. He's going to fight someone for dissing his height/mistaking him as a girl? You're there, along with drinks and popcorn. He wants to be manly? You cheer him on and encourage his dreams, but even so, he can still be manly while looking the way he is. You wish he sees that, and he's trying he really is. But it never looked manly enough. So you've done a different method, you'd hang out with him not to encourage his manliness or to discourage because he's 'girly' but to make him enjoy what's in front of him in life. And he's grateful for that. He wishes this could go on and on forever. That is, had he not been too caught up in this moment he would've realized that he had fallen quite hard for you. So one day, when a project came up and you two got paired with two more others, things started to get into a, unpleasant turn.

•Epel knew these fuckers were up to no good, I mean, look at them! They just scream 'schemers' !!!!

• "Yeah, so like my type in guys, would be AT LEAST taller, and-" everything goes blank for Epel. He, who had been trying to impress you for weeks, had gone into a sudden insecurity. What if they're right? Girls like tall guys because they are much more manly, right?

•"Yeah, I know right ! And like, Epel is the LEAST attractive, but he's way too cute and girly for me-" he wants them so dead-

•"How about you sit your asses down and shut the fuck up? The only thing YOUR good for is sitting down and look pretty.

...

...Pretty fucking useless. Epel is much stronger and better than the two of you, bet you can't carry a crater all on your own. So, before you fucking judge and open that mouth of yours even when you don't know what he's capable of, I'd suggest you stop and reconsider. Please, use your brains. If you have any, that is."

•DAMN. Ouch prefect, never knew you had that in you!

•And you defended him! That's his job! That's... you defended him despite his height...? Man, he just fell for you more!

•Maybe having a fierce and supportive partner would be nice, together with him...

The End.

A/n: WOOO!! I FINISHED YAYAYA!! :>

Enjoy a smiling Lilia Vanrouge (*´ω｀*)

I hope you had fun reading !!! Srry if short, I'm just hurrying !!

[the-s1lly-corner]

I think some blot x reader headcannons would be neat possibly

General Blot x Reader hcs

lowkey reading his wiki is a nightmare i kind of wish they added a thing where you can flip his words so theyre not backwards- reading his dialog gives me headaches notes: gn toon reader, written with pre game in mind but this can be seen as post too technically, short and sweet, written on computer, possible ooc since blots still fresh cws: none

it takes a while for you to understand him.... and even now its not perfect- but its a good thing he has a tendency to emote and express whats going on outside of verbal words- spending more time with him and getting some pointers from looey and yatta definitely help though...

he may be a little biased but if youre also into some sort of performance hes going to be hooked no matter what it is- he can relate to it, youre an artist just like him, the kind that demands an audience... and hes going to make sure youve got at least one person applauding you

you know how people will mime blowing kisses to each other? yeah he does that. and he'll get creative... pretending hes sending you a kiss with a sling shot or bow, dropping back "dead" on the floor if you send something back, pretending he just got hit with something really hard and staggering... he really lays it on thick to get the point across that hes absolutely smitten with you

and he doesnt care how many people turn to look. hes used to being perceived, and hes not at all ashamed to show off that hes yours

incredibly responsible too, hes used to helping keep the rest of the troupe in order and giving them a hand when they need it- and youre no different, even if youre not a part of the group. seriously youll probably never lose anything again, and if you do its sure to turn up soon with him backtracking your own steps

he likes whipping out his decoy... sometimes he sets it up to make you feel less lonely when he needs to run off to go do something- usually its done out of lightheartedness, like if hes only leaving the room for a minute to grab something

[kerorokai]

it's really interesting to see how people perceive kabru cause there seems to be a bit of a disparity between how he really acts and how he's portrayed in fanart and fan memes and such

with the way people talk about him you'd think he's this huge flirt or actively trying to use his good looks or whatever to get a leg up but he really.... doesn't? at least i can't think of a significant time where he does. is it cause he teases rinsha? or kisses her as a fish? i think those are dubious examples, but also even if you do read them as genuine flirting theyre pretty small and not repeated with any other character.

it reads more like he's just genuinely charming and good with people. he never tries to make a pass with anyone, people just like him cause he's.... likeable. and in universe characters do act aware of how charming he is (see: mickbell, holm, daya), but they never seem to insinuate that he's actually a tease or that he like, gets around. i guess there's a mention of "rumours" here? have most people seen this? is this what they based it off of?

it's also worth noting that in the same comic those exact rumours (whatever they may exactly be) are proven to be unfounded, kabru is just the type of guy people feel like they can open up to. they don't even talk about him like he's doing it on purpose!

if it's cause he MIGHT be half incubus, my friend brings up a good point: it feels like an intentional subversion to not have him be a sexual "siren" in that way. ryoko kui is very intentional with her world and characters, and to have kabru's succubus/incubus-identity up for debate while also having him be not particularly flirtatious seems like the type of irony she would write on purpose.

to me, really, it seems very indicative of how fandom at large views brown men. kabru's in an interesting position cause he seems to get most angles of this type of flanderization. he's seen as both overly sinister and drama-seeking while also being extremely flirtatious and a whore when.... he's kind of neither of those things?

he's not evil or particularly more violent than anyone else, he's just really utilitarian and has this false impression at first where you think he's gonna be some sort of secondary antagonist but he's way too smart for that. he doesn't manipulate people any more than any other character. and he's not really a whore at all he just.... likes reading people? and knowing people? and people like him? idk man.

it's part of this larger issue where brown men in fiction are both demonized and sexualized at the same time. i don't even think it's on purpose, i just think that most people don't even realize this is something they need to unlearn. it's not even cause i don't like shipping kabru! i do! i just don't agree with flanderizing him to do it.

i think kabru is much more than the first impressions of him you might have, or even the first impressions of him the characters in universe may have. and while i don't think someone posting ooc fanart of kabru is directly racist, i think a lot of it upholds the racism people are already accustomed to. it makes me a little sad!

[xeas]

Can you please do a Norton and fool's gold with a reader where the reader has cinnamoroll personality (cinnamoroll is from sanrio)

MIND OVER MATTER IS MAGIC!

🍍 IN WHICH: drabbles (seperately) of Norton Campbell and Fool's Gold with a reader who is like cinnamoroll from sanrio (basically, shy yet sweet who will also help out their friends whenever they can)

🥥 NOTE FROM XEA!: thank you so much for your request! i love writing for norton but im wary my fools gold may ooc...haha...

🫧CONTENT WARNINGS: pre-established relationship, Norton may appear overprotective, mc may appear to be 'pure and innocent' in a fashion that may be perceived as corny to some readers. reader is referred to as "doll" in Norton's section, "babyface" in Fools Gold's. Seer is mentioned and Grave keeper is implied in Fools Gold section. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

NORTON CAMPBELL; The Prospector

NORTON swears up and down he's done nothing worthy of him deserving you.

The way your thumb grazes his knuckles in a comforting manner--whether to soothe your own nerves or his is unsure-- but the expression of innocence coated on your face both makes his heart sink to his stomach and gives him butterflies.

You have the eyes of someone who has gazed at few possible traumatic scenarios and the skin of one who not been lashed by the harsh truths of the world. He squishes down his feeling of envy when he feels he's going too far down the rabbit hole of his thoughts.

But now, as he bandages up your wound from the cold Night Watch, he can't help but realize how that weighs you down. It wasn't supposed to be you with the gash in your thigh it was supposed to be the teammate you wasted no time saving. You took a hit for them, and for what? So they could have a futile 5 seconds to run as fast as they could only for the harsh winter wind to yank them back to the hunter? You we're such a fool, having so much faith in these people.

But that's what led you two to become such a power couple. You gave him a chance.

"Norton-"

"Hush up, doll." And you do just that.

He looks angry and you feel nervous because of it.

"I'm sorry for getting injured." You mumble quietly. You don't expect a 'Its fine' or a 'Its not your fault' because this was a rookie mistake and you by no means are a rookie.

He remains silent, finishing up dressing your wound. His gloved hands go to hold your thighs as you sit in some corner of burned down building in the Arms Factory.

"Don't do that again." He states. Its not up for debate and you silently nod, moving to give his forehead a kiss as you steady yourself to get up and work on getting out of here.

NORTON CAMPBELL; Fools Gold (Hunter Identity)

"Hm, shame. Really."

Fools Gold let out a teasing laugh as he shoved you into a chair. He leaned on the wall behind it as you glared up at him. Fools gold clicked his tongue (does he even have one??) and fake pouted, most likely mocking you.

"D'aw, don't look at me like that, Babyface. You wouldn't be like this if you didn't sacrifice yourself for that silly little seer."

At least he was brutally honest.

Your muscles are screaming at you and you can feel them throbbing after you spent the last 2 minutes running and jumping and rolling to get away from him.

He traces your jawline with his pickaxe, you can feel your face heat up as Fools Gold lets out a wheezing chuckle. "All bark huh?"

You try to stutter out a response not until you see the ground beside you break. This was going to take a while.

୨🐙୧ ‧ 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝘼𝙔! ⋆ ˚｡

🌺 𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊,

XEA!

[olderthannetfic]

i wish fandom was a little easier to navigate as a sex/romance repulsed person tbh. i'm aroace, and i would eat a bowl of nails with no milk if it meant i could find a good community for discussing my niche fandoms, without once bringing up why blorbo and scrungly should make out (and/or without killing the conversation entirely when i don't WANT to talk about why blorbo and scrungly should make out).

it feels like whenever i find a decent space for my fandoms, i end up getting kind of locked out of a lot of the convos that take place, or they find someone else who does want to discuss that thing, and they leave me just sitting there. it seems to me like fandom is more focused on shipping than on the media itself these days, but maybe that's just my confirmation bias talking because i personally can't fucking stand it LOL

like. yeah obviously i can't enjoy fanfics for the most part when thinking about sex and romance makes me want to puke. obviously i'm gonna struggle to find things that appeal to me. obviously i'm gonna struggle to connect with other people when i'm so viscerally disgusted by what's the main draw for everyone else but... where else do i go? is there really a place where i WON'T feel weird and out of place next to everyone else? i sure haven't found one. that's true everywhere i go, online or otherwise.

it sounds sad, but i think i'm starting to accept that the world just. really isn't made to accommodate me. this isn't a bug, it's a feature. i'm not meant to feel accommodated. i feel like an alien in the real world and i don't know if i'll have anyone to stand by me at all in 30+ years when my family is dead and i don't have a romantic partner/kids in a small southern town, but at least i also don't get to experience any escapism on the internet and feel like an alien on there too 🥲

i don't know man i guess i'm just really sad about how lonely it feels. i thought fandom could be that safe haven where people found like minded people and didn't have to feel ashamed of their weird interests or orientation for me too, and it isn't. i don't think i'll ever get to experience that like everyone else gets to. sorry for ranting in your inbox, i just had to get this out somewhere.

--

It depends on what you mean by "fandom".

I've always been surrounded by people who wanted to over-analyze media. I know some people see that as "fandom" and think it's special, but for me, that's just the default way everyone around me moved through the world.

When I say "fandom", I mean fanworks fandom, and I come to that for shipping. That's not a new phenomenon. I don't think it's just "these days", but you may have changed what type of fandom you're into or stayed in a fandom that is changing due to no new canon coming out. (Assuming you perceive there to have been a change over time.)

Where you should go depends on what you're into. Many subreddits focus primarily on canon discussion with little interest in shipping (Of course, that sometimes translates into seeing all het as canon when it isn't and seeing all queer things as OOC, but it depends on the particular sub.)

I assume the media you're into don't have any sex or romance? If so, they probably do have other fans who don't want to discuss those things.

[auchrauch]

A (not so) detailed post about the current project I'm working on

Bringing here a slightly more extended version of my post from bluesky.

Please be nice because I might have one more thing to share with TGCF fandom.

I want to make a short visual novel featuring hualian in post-canon. Emphasis on "want to" because with a project of this scale I can't guarantee that it'll end up as a fully finished thing.

The original idea behind me starting this was simply "hualian having a wholesome day", though the mood slightly shifted towards something a bit more melancholic after I picked up a poem after which I named the game. (The poem's "Spring morning" by Meng Haoran). There is no continious heavy plot, just various SFW and NSFW routes which aren't connected between themselves (or are they?)

I tried to include different dynamics, so you can expect to see the classics (Top HC/Bottom XL) as well as versatile hualian (these routes can be hidden if someone doesn't fancy it). I also should mention that my understanding of characters and their dynamic can differ from what's considered the "norm" in the fandom, but I refuse to slap OOC label on my work because that's how I perceived these characters while reading the book and I'll be sticking to it. Oh, and I'm also following the revised version so there could be offhand mentions of events from the new extra or other small details like that.

I'm planning to release the final SFW version of the game for free (if it'll be finished at all), though I'm still not sure if I should hide NSFW version behind a paywall. Maybe I'll make one-time purchase posts for intermediate beta-builds too, so people can have a glimpse of what is in the works. Ideally I'd like to have at least some monetary support while working on this project, but providing consistent updates and materials in the patreon format wouldn't work for me, since, aside from commissions to pay my rent, the other project I'm involved with as an artist already takes a lot of my time.

So I can't give any dates and promises and will be simply working on this at my own pace.

So far, I have a complete (not proofread and not fully edited) script for all the routes as well as a working base for the game in renpy. I'm also almost done with UI and I made a couple of backgrounds, but that's nothing compared to how many more of them I still need. (You'll be subjected to looking at the picture attached to the post over and over again at the every start of the game).

For the next step, I'll probably focus on one route at a time and start filling them with visual assets.

I also can't decide whether I should stick to British or American English because:

1) This stupid gaijin can't differentiate between the two anyway.

2) I already started using "arse" yet I lost all the "u"s from my "ou"s and now I don't know which to change.

I'd like to hear which one people prefer more.

If you want to help in some way—I'm having trouble with sound design part as I'm locked out of purchasing anything from international sites/commissioning someone from overseas, and I don't want to risk commissioning assets for a NSFW lgbt game from anyone local since it' simply not a safe move. If you know any good resources that distribute sfx/sounds/music under a free flexible license please share! I'm using GDC royalty free archives but this obviously doesn't cover all my needs.

Idk what else to say here. Send help? Prayers for my sanity? Donations so I can pay my rent??? God, what am I even doing.

Here's the assortment of some early wips I already shared elsewhere:

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; choso kamo

requested by ; anonymous (13/09/24)

fandom(s) ; jujutsu kaisen

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; choso kamo

outline ; “Sweet! In that case, can we see your interpretation of yandere Nanami and Choso? I just love those two✨”

warning(s) ; yandere!choso kamo, potentially ooc!choso kamo guilt tripping, emotional manipulation, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, mentions of physical violence (not towards reader)

for as long as he’s been a human being, choso has lived for other people — first his younger brothers and then, after they were killed, you as his lover — and, as one might expect from such a dynamic, that has led to him becoming toxically codependent and unhealthily overprotective of you. and while this could have hypothetically been curbed and sorted out if caught early on, by now this paranoia and dependence has spiralled to such an extent that he’s become something of a yandere

a yandere that, while certainly carrying a degree of naïveté towards human behaviours and modern relationship dynamics, isn’t anywhere near as childish or oblivious or innocent as you may be tempted to believe — and who is more than willing to weaponise his perceived incompetence if it means keeping you right by his side as much as possible

he’s extremely emotionally manipulative, sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally. he’ll play up his injuries and exhaustion after a mission to make you abandon any plans you may have in favour of staying home and taking care of him. he’ll guilt trip you for spending too much time with other people, playing up his more pathetic side and insisting that you clearly don’t love him anymore and that you’ve found other people you care about more than him and he knew nobody could love something like him, etc., only stopping when you’ve cancelled your plans and have started doting on him like he wants. he’ll even mess with your alarms and work schedule if he’s desperate enough — manipulating you into calling out sick or at the very least going in late by insisting that you’ve been so absent and tired lately and that clearly you need a break and should let him take care of you…

he’s a remarkably good actor all things considered, really, such a shame that he only ever uses it to your detriment

he follows you around even when he’s agreed to give you space. and that can mean anything from employing his younger brother and his friends to go to the same location as you to do something for him, outright following you around himself and either staying completely out of sight or staging a coincidental run-in because of some mission he was supposedly sent on, or (if he’s unable to do either of those things) just religiously checking your social media, your friends’ accounts that he knows you’re with, and your location sharing app to keep track of your every move — but that’s all completely innocent… he just wants to keep you safe, he knows what it’s like to lose a loved one and not know where they’ve gone so can you really blame him for being so militant about these things?

he keeps every little thing you give him and even goes so far as to take things from your home whenever he stays over just so he has more of you in his space. the things he keeps out on display are pretty mundane — love letters, a plush toy you won him from one of those rigged arcade machines, some rocks he took from the beach you visited on your anniversary, a bunch of pictures of the two of you scattered around various tables and countertops, one of the sweatshirts you left at his place, a pressed flower from the first bouquet he got you, etc. — but if you go searching through the various corners and cabinets of his house you’ll find the more invasive parts of his collection: one of your toothbrushes, a hair comb that you swear vanished into thin air months ago, some of your undergarments, a crap load of pictures of you that you don’t remember him taking, etc.

it’s objectively creepy for him to steal and keep these things, choso is well aware of that, but he just can’t help himself when it comes to you — he’s just obsessed

he’s extremely possessive and quick to jealousy, seeing everyone you’re close to as a threat to your blossoming relationship — and he’s very open about his strong dislike towards those individuals. he’ll insult them to your face, beg you to spend less time with them or even to cut them off entirely, glare at them and keep close to your side whenever the two of you encounter them until they get the message and leave you alone, etc.

so, yeah, really unsubtle but it’s easy to brush it off as harmless or something he’ll overcome as he gets more confident in your relationship — after all, it’s not like he’s hurting anyone… right?

well, he’s certainly not doing it in front of you

nor particularly often, in all honesty. he’s pretty good at keeping his temper in check and it takes a lot to get him to physically lash out at someone, and when he does he’s very intentional about killing them in ways that won’t get him caught and punished by the higher ups (after all, he is a sorcerer now so he can’t get away with as much as he did when he was working under kenjaku)

… so he just claims they were curse users or accidental casualties from fights with special grade curses — and they usually believe him because, well, there have been a lot of those recently so it’s not like anyone can outright refute his claims

and even if you have your doubts he’s excellent at dismissing and downplaying them just enough to make you feel awful and crazy for even daring to think of your sweet ‘innocent’ boyfriend in such a way — because how could someone so kind and affectionate and devoted to you do something so abhorrent? it just doesn’t make sense…

so until you or one of your fellow sorcerers picks up on just how dangerous and obsessive choso’s love for you really is, this cycle of possessiveness and violence and manipulation is just going to keep on happening over and over again — only ending when he gets caught and punished, or when one of you is killed in action

… let’s just hope it ends up being the former, for your sake and for your colleagues’ sakes

[deadn30n-arch]

psa about blog stuff

so, i've been considering some stuff about how i want to treat my blog going forward, and i want to put it all down so that people know what to expect out of me! i'm not bored of rp or anything like that, i just want to be a bit more organized and straightforward with how i handle everything. so!

this blog will permanently run on a queue. i know some people perceive that as lazy idk but for me it helps preserve my sanity. if that isn't your thing that's fine i'm not gonna force you stick around, but just know that even if replies are queue'd, it doesn't mean i'm less interested in our plots. sometimes i'll post / answer stuff in real time still, but at least for threads, it's easier on me if it's in a queue. also, since i'm putting more focus into streaming starting next week, it helps keep activity rolling on my blog even when i'm not able to be around due to said streaming or my irl job

asks are the best way to interact with me. i'm always open to asks and usually answer those the fastest. you can spam me with as many as you like i don't care, i love asks. also: if i ever answer an ask you want to turn into a thread, do it. i love it. seriously. if we write a lot together or talk a lot, you can expect i'll probably send frequent asks your way too ( with your permission ofc )

i probably won't post starter calls anymore. so yeah, again, asks are gonna be the best way to start things w/ me. i'll like starter calls from mutuals tho if i see them

i will be prioritizing pre-established / plotted stuff over all else. it's easier for me to respond to. ofc i'll still happily do spontaneous things, it just might not be as quick. if we talk a lot ooc or chat / plot frequently, it's likely i'll reply to our stuff quicker. i give pretty much the same kind of energy i receive :> but i'm also clinically insane so FDLAKJGHD

i will also be prioritizing shorter threads as well. i'm talking 4-5 small paragraphs or less. long stuff drains me a lot. i'm not saying i won't do longer things, but just know you will be waiting longer for responses to those. i'm sure that won't be a problem but yanno, just in case, it's important to be transparent about that stuff. i LOVE my 3k word threads but also it might take me 3 weeks to respond to it LMAO

if i write a specific character you're interested in, just tell me. likewise, if there's a ship of any kind you want, ( romantic, platonic, family, enemies, etc. ) you can say it. i'm not gonna bite you i promise. ♥ actually, doing that helps me gauge your interest and helps give me ideas for how we can interact

i might trim down my follower count. nothing personal, but if there's been little to no engagement on my posts then i'll take it as a lack of interest and probably sb. you're always free to refollow if i made a mistake! i've never really? had to hardblock anyone? except for a couple of weirdos, but those were far and few in between. if i decide to trim my following, i'll make a post to gauge interest for who wants to stay

i'm pretty much gonna keep writing when i feel like writing and not pressure myself so i don't get burnt out.

i think??????? that covers just about everything i wanted to say. i'm gonna make a few posts throughout the night that will help with building up this blog but ye that's about where i'm at rn. i'm mostly doing this since i'm planning to push myself back to semi-fulltime streaming ( 3-4 nights a week ) and i wanna keep my blog activity rolling as well as remain engaged with my writing partners :>

[soulessjourney]

One Last Time

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: Just what truly happened during the battle with Ketheric Thorm?

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of violence, OOC Astarion, injuries, talk of mental health, some fluff, Tav is on her journey of having a redeption arc, Confessions, some fluff, Heavy Act 2 Spoilers

A/N: Buckle up kiddies this is gonna be a long one. I did add a bit of my own spin on things in some parts just to help fill in the aspects of the fighting to make it more dramatic.

Ketheric Thorm, a man who defied death and wasn't meant to survive. He bore the responsibility for unleashing the Shadow Curse and cowardly sought refuge in Moonrise Towers, at least that's how you perceived it. Meeting him as a true soul set the stage for your downfall. Upon your arrival, your Guardian, with a hint of disgust in her voice, made you acutely aware of his identity. Being in proximity to the absolute felt like a dream, yet an unsettling feeling lingered. You sensed manipulation, as if you were a mere pawn in his game. Moonrise, though familiar, seemed to beckon you, and the guards appeared well-informed about your identity. Anger and fury welled up within you, resentful of the power he wielded. A part of you contended that this power was rightfully yours, and an irresistible urge to claim it consumed you.

As your eyes follow Thorm out of the room, Astarion clears his throat beside you. "Well, that was eventful. Say, how are we supposed to kill someone who can't be killed? Seems like a setup if you ask me." He shrugs, prompting a scoff from Shadowheart.

"You know, Astarion, I would like to go one day without your comments," she grumbles, eliciting a pout from Astarion and a breathless laugh from you. After about a month or two of being together, your group had grown close, opening up in various ways. Despite only being together for a short time, they appointed you the leader, leading to disagreements, especially with more qualified individuals like Gale.

The banter between Astarion and Shadowheart continues as you walk out of the tower. "I'm just saying, Darling, there's no way in the nine hells we can kill someone who simply cannot be killed. That's like asking a rock to walk," he shrugs, shooting a smug smile toward Shadowheart.

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, you cut them off. "That's enough, you two. The entire Shadow Land can hear your bickering," you grumble as Lae’zel nods in agreement. "Besides, we're almost to the Mausoleum, and it's rude to disturb the dead," you say, suppressing a smile at the pure annoyance on Shadowheart's face. It's rare for Astarion to get the last word, and when he does, he becomes the cockiest man alive.

Falling behind your group, Gale nudges you and raises a questioning brow. It's unusual for you to lag behind, considering your usual determination to lead and be the first to jump into action to protect your party. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.

Shrugging, you fiddle with your armor before letting out a sigh. "I just don't have the best feeling. It's like something is about to happen, and we won't be able to avoid it. I'm worried that whatever we're about to face, there's no coming back from it." Odd feelings weren't unfamiliar to you; after all, you constantly battled the urge to commit daily murders. However, today's unease had you more concerned than usual.

Gale nods, letting out a thoughtful hum as he considers his response. "It's not because I plan on blowing myself up, is it?" he asks, a laugh escaping his lips. His expression turns serious when he notices your lack of laughter. "Tav, everything will be okay. We have each other, and we're all equally dedicated to ensuring our survival. Nothing will happen, and I especially know that Astarion won't let anything happen to you," he says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Astarion shared something, although you weren't sure what it was beyond the occasional intimacy. Both of you were highly protective of each other, yet he dismissed it as shameless flirting. You desired something more with Astarion, but you knew he was apprehensive. He was new to the affection you showed him and unfamiliar with being cared for in a way he had never experienced before.

Just as you were about to respond, a figure emerges from the shadows just before you reach the Mausoleum. Astarion groans at the sight of Raphael gliding towards your group, his usual mischievous smile spread widely across his lips. "Well, well, isn't it my favorite group of adventurers?" he says, stopping just before your group. You step forward, noting how Astarion positions himself behind you, rolling his shoulders forward almost as if to appear larger—a simple act of protection that's hard to resist smiling at. "I know it's odd for a Devil to ask for a favor, but there's something I'll grant you in return," Raphael says, locking his eyes on yours.

Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms. "Just spit it out already; we don't have time for your riddles," he deadpans, shifting closer to you, ready to throw you behind him if Raphael makes a move to harm you.

"Now, now, this isn't the time to lack patience," Raphael says, standing taller. "I need you to take care of a problem, a competition, we can call it. In return, I'll give your little vampire friend answers about the scars on his back—a translation that I know you both are just dying to know." He grins, watching your eyes widen before turning to look back at Astarion. "His name is Yurgir, and dealing with him will do a lot of good. He's breaking his contract and needs to be sent right back to where he came from as a...lesson." He says, looking over your group. "Once you find him, take care of him. I will know, and it will determine if you get the answers you so desperately seek." Just as he finishes his sentence, he disappears right in front of you.

Exhaustion seeps through you as your group stays quiet. "I guess we have some work to do," you mumble, walking forward into the Mausoleum. The others hesitate as they watch you, concerned about your sudden lack of energy. Usually, you would be up for anything, even if it meant dealing with a devil. As you walk into the building, the group exchanges worried glances before following you inside.

---

The confrontation with Yurgir turned out to be surprisingly easy, given his already paranoid state. With his contract entwined in a song, convincing him to turn against his allies, including Nessa, a displacer beast you empathized with, proved to be a straightforward task. In your mind, she didn't deserve to meet her end in the manner she did. Subsequently, you seamlessly entered his paranoid thoughts, persuading him to take his own life. Lae’zel and Astarion, usually at odds, expressed their shared disappointment at the lack of an actual fight to entertain them.

Amidst the discontent, your primary concern shifted to the current state of your group. Shadowheart, driven by determination, sought to complete Shar’s Gauntlet, a symbolic act to ascend and prove her loyalty to her goddess. While you couldn't help but worry about your friend, you understood her desire to seize this opportunity. As she faced the three challenges, ultimately finding the Spear of Night, you sensed a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Standing before the Nightsong, a woman bound to this realm with no apparent escape, you noticed a spark of questioning in Shadowheart's eyes, despite her determination. Confronting Thorm, you learned that releasing the Nightsong was the only way to weaken him and break his hold on immortality. The moment of decision arrived when Shadowheart, succumbing to her doubts, threw the spear over the edge, the mentioning of the forest and the wolves.

A surge of indescribable emotion coursed through you—perhaps pride or worry. It wasn't until Dame Aylin stepped forward, kneeling before Shadowheart, that the situation took a new turn. "Lay a hand of friendship upon me, and break my chains," she gently requested, her eyes meeting Shadowheart's before focusing on you. "Only when I am free can I aid you in taking down Ketheric Thorm." Shadowheart hesitated, glancing back at you for guidance.

Slowly nodding, she reached forward, resting a hand on Dame Aylin, breaking her chains once and for all. A portal opened behind you, and just before you could turn away, your eyes locked on Dame Aylin. Her armor began to form on her skin, and wings emitting a heavenly glow spread out behind her. Despite the look of recognition, all you received was a nod before she took off, leaving your group alone.

---

Now that Dame Aylin was free, things seemed to have accelerated much faster than anticipated. Drained and utterly tired, all you desired was to rest. Your head buzzed, and your ears rang, yet there you stood before Moonrise Towers, gearing up to face Ketheric Thorm. The urgency escalated with Dame Aylin's freedom, and a dark part of you wished she hadn't been released just so you could have some time to recuperate.

As you looked up at the towers, your body tensed when someone moved to stand beside you. A sense of relief washed over you as you saw Astarion. Smiling down, he shifted on his feet. "We're going to win, Darling. You have all of us ready to fight at your side. Don't overthink it," he said, shaking his head to silence any protests. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours," he added with a teasing grin. "But before we go in, can we talk? It's rather important, just in case we do meet our doom in there," he said softly.

Giving a half-hearted smile, you felt the exhaustion seeping out of you. Astarion took your hand, leading you aside as the rest of the group looked at you in question before starting their own conversations, providing you and Astarion with some privacy. "Are you alright?" you asked, scanning him for any injuries he might have sustained.

His expression changed, as if he were at war with himself. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just... feel awful about something," he admitted. Confusion crept over you as you tried to recall any recent events that might explain his unease. It wasn't until you saw him shift nervously that you gave him a reassuring smile.

He continued, revealing a plan to seduce you, manipulate your feelings, and use you to defeat Cazador. The revelation left a bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth. You shifted, your posture rigid, waiting for an explanation. The truth unfolded—his plan fell apart because he couldn't resist falling for you.

His confession left you grappling with feelings of betrayal and hurt. "Were you even attracted to me? Or was that all a lie as well?" you asked, unable to contain the pain in your voice. His flinch confirmed the discomfort he felt.

Astarion, now uncomfortable and terrified, admitted, "Of course I was attracted to you. Look at you, for goodness’ sake! You’re a vision and so much more than that." He hesitated, expressing uncertainty about his feelings. "I just… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want."

You shared your care for him, admitting your deep feelings. His face lit up at your words, and a soft 'really?' hung in the air. Without thinking, you moved forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle but secure hug. It felt like a silent promise of your genuine care. As he reciprocated the embrace, you sensed a change in him.

Astarion, being himself, smiled and cleared his throat. "You... You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" he remarked, his eyes locking with yours, revealing hidden emotions. He let out a nervous laugh, pulling your attention back to him. "Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing or what comes next," he confessed, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand before placing your palm on top of his. His cool skin covered yours as he drew you closer. "But I know that this? This is nice," he whispered.

There you stood, face flushed, realizing that, in a twisted way, Astarion truly loved you, and you loved him more than anything. Happiness mingled with worry, as he chose this moment to confess, fearing the possibility of not making it out alive. Yet, living in the now, you vowed to fight alongside him, grateful for the truth he finally shared.

Wyll cleared his throat, redirecting your attention to the group standing there, beaming at the two of you. It was evident they had overheard everything, and judging by the look on Shadowheart’s face, a secretly hopeless romantic, they had heard it all.

"Okay, you lovebirds, we have a Thorm on our side that we need to kill," Wyll declared, letting out a loud laugh at his own joke. However, the laughter died down when no one else joined in. An awkward silence hung in the air until you snorted, breaking the tension and sending the rest of your group into fits of laughter.

Even in the face of potential doom, moments like these made you grateful to have them by your side. Wyll looked around, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. It’s only funny when you put me down," he grumbled, prompting a genuine laugh from Lae’zel. The sound, rare and cherished, resonated among your group, appreciating the unexpected moment of joy.

---

The echoes of your laughter felt like a distant memory as you stood before Ketheric Thorm, anger seeping through you at the sight of him. The yells of your party echoed behind you as they fought against his soldiers, while he remained solely focused on you. Despite being mortal, he carried himself with immense confidence, as if convinced you could never truly defeat him. His smug demeanor fueled your desire to rip his head from his shoulders, yet something kept you rooted in the spot where you stood. Your attention shifted when something hot grazed your arm, prompting a pained yell as you gripped the wounded area. Thorm looked down at you with a smug smile, his eyes darkening.

"Who knew that you would come crawling to my doorstep? Why have you returned? Do you miss the throne in which you once sat?" he taunted, his words striking you like poison.

Although you had been here before, the realization that you used to occupy the throne he now warmed was a revelation. "I’m here to kill you," you declared, your hand warming with the blood seeping from your wounded arm. "I’m here to witness your downfall, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it," you spat, dropping your hand from your arm as you reached for the staff positioned on your back.

Thorm responded with an amused laugh, scanning the surroundings. "You? Kill me? I suppose you didn’t learn your lesson from the last time we had a falling out. Your father would be laughing at you now, seeing his perfect child turning her back on him," he seethed. Your eyes widened slightly before you shook your head. He was trying to toy with you, attempting to make you drop your guard, but you refused to let that happen.

You felt the fire spread through your palms before it traveled across the room toward Thorm. The lack of any reaction from him made you second-guess whether he was truly mortal now. Ascending the stairs, you stood face-to-face with Thorm, narrowing your eyes into a challenging glare. Swinging your weapon, the sound of steel clashing filled the air.

"You have the opportunity to surrender, Thorm. You don’t have to live like this," you declared, your voice stern as you pushed your weight into your weapon.

Thorm laughed and glared down at you. "You’ve become so weak. Your father has done nothing but brag about you, and yet here you are, offering me mercy. You are no daughter of his; no wonder you were cast out," he seethed, lifting his foot to kick you back. Tumbling, your weapon clashed against the ground beside you, and your eyes filled with fire. The urge to rip him apart from the inside out consumed you, and the taste of blood filled your mouth as your body became rigid.

The staff next to you vanished as a long sword with intricate designs slowly appeared in your hand. Standing slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his once more, and a smile settled onto his face. "There she is—the killer your father raised you to be," he said, rolling his shoulders back. A snarl escaped you as you raced forward, only to be thrown back as Dame Aylin slammed down into the area next to you and Thorm.

"Ketheric Thorm, your time is over. Here, you will fall by my hand," she declared as you stood up, your body shaking in rage. "My friend here has kept you busy enough; now it is my turn to aid her in this fight. You should’ve stayed dead," she snarled, leaping forward and landing a hit on Thorm, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, you ran from beside her, slicing at him and making him groan in protest as your blade sank into his arm. The two of you fought in sync, one striking after another, knocking Thorm back with each blow.

Just when you thought things would finally be over, Thorm's soldiers stopped fighting, and the room grew quiet. Clutching your side to put pressure on the wound Thorm had given you moments prior, you spat the blood that filled your mouth onto the ground.

"You should’ve just let things rest. We wouldn’t have to go through all this fighting if you just let things remain the way they did," Thorm remarked, glancing toward the side of the roof. As if on cue, a large tentacle sprouted from the side of the building, knocking you off the platform. Landing on the ground a few feet away from Shadowheart, you struggled to suck in the air that was knocked out of your lungs. Helpless, you watched Dame Aylin try her best to fight the tentacle before being wrapped up and taken under the tower.

Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, holding a vial up to your lips. "Drink this; you’re in no shape to move," she said, her eyes scanning your body, taking in every wound. "Gods, Tav, you’re going to overwork yourself like this. We can take Thorm while you rest," she suggested gently, attempting to tend to your wounds. Pushing her hand away, you shook your head before sitting up, finally able to catch your breath.

"No, I need to take him down. I won’t leave you guys to fight alone," you grunted, wincing at just how sore your entire body was. Muffling the whimper that left your mouth, you stood before hobbling over towards the hole left in one of the pillars. The others walked up behind you, peering down from beside you. Looking at the others, you nodded before jumping down into the hole, listening as they followed behind you.

---

The path to find Thorm once again was long and grueling as you made your way through the mind-flayer colony. Along the way, you enlisted the help of a small brain that you had saved on the ship when you were first kidnapped. Now, you stood before the door separating you from Thorm. Upon your entrance, you noticed two other individuals with him—the same ones from your visions, but something about them seemed familiar. A chill ran through your bones when you heard her name: Orin. Hearing that name sent waves of anger through you, and you could even taste a small hint of betrayal as you looked at her. Something snapped you from your trance when you noticed Gale step forward. You had completely forgotten that he promised to carry out Mystra’s request, and the anger towards the goddess filled you once more.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing, Gale, it’s not worth it,” you said, meeting his gaze. He looked determined, and the sight broke your heart. “I won’t let you blow yourself up. We can find another way to please her or even save you, but ending your life like this isn’t worth it.” Part of you couldn't figure out why you were determined to save Gale, but the other knew that you needed him there. He was a friend and someone you knew how to talk to, seeking comfort when you weren’t sure how to open up to Astarion.

Astarion stepped up next to you and brushed your fingers with his before looking at Gale. “For once, I agree with our Darling leader here. We can’t afford to lose you just yet. You can blow yourself up another time, but that time isn’t now,” he said, meeting Gale’s eyes with determination.

Gale sighed and nodded as he looked at his two friends—one who was nothing but worried about him and the other begging him, in the most twisted way, to stay alive. “Alright, you’re right. Maybe this isn’t my time to go just yet. We have other opportunities for me to blow myself up. I’ll stay and fight beside you, and I promise to give it my all,” he said, smiling as your body relaxed, and relief filled your worn-down body.

As you stepped forward, Thorm met your gaze, his eyes hardening. "I see you all made it here alive—a shame, truly. I never wanted to hurt you, and I certainly never wanted to kill you. You all had so much to live for," he said, pity filling his voice. Your mind raced as you thought back to the letters you found in the tower. The letters from his wife and daughter gave you a chance at an attempt to convince him.

"Thorm, you don’t need to do this. You could be with Melodia again; you can be with the one you love without consequences," you said softly, stepping forward and wincing as you raised your arms to hold up your hands. "She’s waiting for you to come back to her, and you can finally use this as a chance to see her again." The battle in his eyes was evident. Looking towards Gale, you signaled him to go free Dame Aylin from the hold Thorm had on her. Gale nodded in silent agreement before disappearing from the spot next to you.

If Thorm did see Gale, he paid him no mind. "The goddess wouldn’t allow that to happen, not with what I have done," he said quietly, almost as if he was thinking it over. "Selûne would never allow me to be with her, not after the things that I have done." You couldn’t help but hear the pain in his voice as he spoke. He truly wanted to be with her, and you could see that internal war happening in his head.

"But you can. You can show Selûne that you’re willing to give this all up and give yourself to her. You can show her that you’re willing to sacrifice power just to be with the one person that you truly love." You didn’t know why your voice wobbled or why it felt like you would cry, but then it hit you. You would give everything to be with Astarion; you would sacrifice yourself to see him if he had been taken from you. You would destroy the world or give yourself to a goddess just to see him one last time.

Thorm looked at you for a moment before nodding, and nothing but relief filled you. You weren’t sure if your body could take another fight right at this moment. “You’re right,” he said, “I can be with her, but I apologize for what happens next. I can’t stop it.” You froze at his words. What did he mean by those words? Before you could continue to think, Thorm threw himself over the edge into the green abyss.

Astarion scoffed as he looked at the others. “So you’re telling me all we had to do was convince him that he could see his wife, and he would just end any and all fighting for us? Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Just as he spoke his words, a rumble vibrated around them. Astarion opened his mouth to say something when a large skeletal hand reached up and slammed itself down in front of you, causing you to stumble back to avoid being smashed.

Another rumble sounded, but this time it sounded more like a groan. “I am the haunt of mausoleums, the god of graves and age,” a loud booming voice grumbled as a large figure started to emerge where Thorm had thrown himself. “Of dust and dusk. I am Myrkul, and you have slain my Chosen.” Your eyes widened in recognition. The god of death. You were about to go head-to-head with a god, and part of you just wanted to drop then and there. With your injuries, you had no idea if you would survive this. “But it is no matter, for I am Death. And I am not the end–I am a beginning,” it finished.

Beside you, you heard a gasp from Astarion and the others. “What in the nine hells is that thing?” he asked as you began to back away. The large skeletal figure reached out his hand, and a large scythe flew into his grasp. Sweat began to collect at your brow as the stinging in your side grew. You could taste the bile starting to rise in your throat, and the loss of blood started to catch up with you.

You didn’t miss how Shadowheart looked at you; she knew you were in pain, but you were relieved that the others were oblivious. Biting back a groan, you stood taller, letting your eyes focus on the being before you. “That is a god,” you grumbled, listening to Astarion let out a string of colorful words. Before you had any time to react, Myrkul swung his weapon down towards you, the tip of it catching your leg, causing you to let out a pained yell.

You weren’t sure if it was your yell that set them off or the sudden attack, but as you caught your balance, spells and arrows began to fly through the air toward Myrkul. The moment Dame Aylin was free of her confines, she let out a roar as she aimed to take down the god in front of you. Your head was spinning, and you felt as if the world would go black, but you kept pushing, determined to help your friends. Missiles shot from you, landing their mark as Myrkul let out a screech, swinging his weapons towards everyone. The fight felt as if it went on for hours, years even, before the sight of Astarion and Karlach were thrown off the raised area in which you were standing.

The sight of the lack of movement from Astarion sent a blinding rage through you. A loud and violent scream tore through you as panic filled your very being. You swung your weapon, landing hit after hit on the God of Death. It wasn’t until there was a loud screech from the god that you realized that he had fallen. The sight of Thorm now lying a few feet away from you put you in another blind rage. Stomping towards him, he looked up at you helplessly, fear filling his eyes at the sight of you. He was terrified of dying by your hand, but you paid no mind to the thought. Letting out another scream, you sunk your dagger into him, only to pull it from him and repeat the motions over and over. “This is your fault,” you seethe over and over, the blood coating your face in the process. The feeling of hands on your shoulders and a large body dragging you away had you kicking and screaming as you thrashed in their grip. “No, I need to send him back to where he came from, he doesn’t deserve to see her.” You scream, your eyes focused on the body before you.

A hand cups the back of your head as you’re spun around in the individual’s arms where they press your face to their broad chest. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, but you need to breathe, calm down.” Halsin. His low voice works to calm you as he massages his fingers into the back of your head just above where the now loose knot of your hair sits. You begin to feel your body relax as every ounce of rage leaves you and sobs begin to rack your body. “It’ll be alright, go to him, see if he’s okay,” Halsin whispers, slowly letting you go. You back away and welcome his touch as he wipes his thumbs under your eyes, swiping away any tears you had. He looked at you like you were his daughter, and he worried just like any father would.

Nodding, your gaze falls on Astarion before you scramble over to him, falling to your knees. Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cold cheeks before shaking him. “Astarion, wake up,” you grumble, shaking him again. “Wake up, or I swear to the Nine Hells I’ll sell my soul to make Raphael bring you back just so I can kill you myself.” You whimpered, when there was no response you let your head fall to rest on his chest as you squeezed your eyes shut.

A hand moves and places itself on the back of your head before you feel his chest rattle with a cough. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Darling, threatening to take my life all over again.” Your body snaps up as he keeps his head on the back of your head before moving it to rest on your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

Smacking his chest, you let out a sniffle as your muscles and wounds scream in pain. “I thought you died,” you sob, looking away from him. His laugh sent a wave of relief through you as his hand took yours.

“I couldn’t leave you, not after threatening to have Raphael bring me back just so you can do the job yourself; that threat was more terrifying than the god we just faced.” He jokes, causing you to let out a breathless laugh as you lean into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere, my sweet, you’re stuck with me.” Nodding, you help him to his feet as you turn to the others.

“Let's get out of here; we deserve to celebrate, especially since we finally broke the shadow curse. A night of drinking and sleep sounds perfect right about now.” You say, watching as your group, no your family, smile and let out a loud yell of celebration with Dame Aylin as she leads the cheers. This was your family, and one you would fight thousands of gods for, even if it means losing yourself in the process.

A/N: She was a long one, but I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I will be turning this into a small series as we get to explore the events that have taken place throughout thier adventure.

[pupmkincake2000]

As I said earlier, I'm currently playing Astarion origin, and to be honest, he seems a little ok (too ooc, however, because I am always a good guy) but there are some things that give me pause. However, this is a slightly different story, so… the main topic is that scene with magic now.

I still consider Astarion of the first act to be selfish, manipulative and generally not a good person, pursuing only personal gain and only caring about his own safety (but who is capable of changing under the influence of friends or his love interest in other acts) tho I can agree that he would have tried to seduce Gale anyway. Since I prefer a world without Tav, Gale would be the best option, although Astarion would have to work hard to seduce him. Because Gale seems to be not the one into one night stands (and…I see him bottoming). And imagine them getting to know each other better right during all these seduction attempts. I love this moment when you catch Gale in a vulnerable position and he literally opens up to you and talks so enthusiastically about the weave and magic…

Imagine when Gale invites Astarion to feel the weave, and Astarion says “yes” just so he can have more chances in seducing the wizard. And he doesn’t expect he will like it so much. All these warm pleasant sensations

"you feel something strange like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time. It's warm and comfortable."

I think for Astarion, who hardly experienced anything like this in the last two hundred years of his slavery, this would be a small miracle. A long-forgotten feeling of love and comfort, and Gale is the one who brought this feeling back, at least for a moment.

a "feeling of well-being"

a "feeling of being safe"

No, I mean it, just imagine how his feelings for Gale could change in just one moment! And Astarion, who was only thinking about how to quickly seduce him and use him, suddenly imagines this “concept of complete harmony”

a strange feeling of anticipation of a kiss, followed by peace.

A peace he hadn't felt for years.

It seems to me that it was the very moment when Astarion would have realized he no longer wanted to seduce Gale, because just sex would no longer be enough, not when Gale looked at him with such eyes.

Most likely this is not love yet, but the beginning of it. Moreover,

“the weave connects you. A momant feels intimate”

And Astarion, completely unexpectadly, imagines kissing Gale (a guy he wnted to use) tenderly and passionately, and there is no lust in this kiss, there is passion in it, that bright, long-forgotten feeling of love. But an even greater surprise for him would be that Gale, the one who did not take his seduction seriously, was not at all opposed to kissing back, moreover, this thought arouses no less delight in him. I think Astrion will have a lot to think about after this.

And Gale’s phrase “it’s amazing how easily what we managed to get with such difficulty eludes us” will stay in his head for a long time. And let’s not forget about “a furtive glance, a sudden flutter of the heart… Sometimes little things are worth more than entire kingdoms.” This is not only a good idea for their story, but also describes a possible relationship. After such words, Astarion will no longer be able to perceive him as someone whom he simply wanted to use or seduce. From now on he wants this man for himself. And this will most likely scare him, but only for a short moment.

[lenichque]

What's your vision of how Charles suffers out of feeling of being not good enough for Erik?👀

this is probably going to be too ooc but this is just the impression that i got from their portrayal in the movies, so i might as well be completely wrong

to be honest, i think that charles is generally much more self-conscious compared to erik due to past abuse and bullying and his mutation. he just learnt to hide it well, he’s a total fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of guy. he can listen to other people’s thoughts, so he knows how often people don’t say what they really think, so there’s a part of him that always doubts everything he’s told. he used to hear people’s opinions about him before he learnt to put up a barrier against the voices but the harm was already done. he’s a people pleaser too and he often feels like he’s just not enough. not enough to be loved.

in the meantime erik didn’t have a lot of opportunity to ruminate about his imperfections and stuff because he was concentrated on surviving at first and getting revenge later. he’s always perceived his body and himself as a whole as more of a tool that has a certain purpose. he’s hard and strong-willed, i don’t think he could see any of his qualities as something to feel conscious or ashamed about. at least, not until he met charles and started discovering the parts of his that he’d previously ignored.

am i making sense??? 😭 i just have so many thoughts about this but i feel like i’m getting to incoherent because i’m sleepy. maybe i should make a separate post for this… anyway thank you for dropping by again, it’s always a pleasure to have you in my ask box <3

[orgaslink]

I mean; 1) mirror sex screams Raviolink

Thank you so much for the ask! I appreciate it!

Probably not what you had in mind for this - but all I could think about was the mirror in TenderTendril’s Rupees and Rods AU and how that could be used. I realised as I finished writing that this whole thing has a huge plothole but we’re going to pretend not to notice and forget that the mirror in R&R AU can be used as a portal. So it’s more a “what if the mirror allows us to look but not touch while we are apart.”

Based in and inspired by @tendertendrils1’s R&R Ravio and Link. Probably OOC and kinda rushed the sexy bit, but it was getting lengthy and I wanted to ease back into writing so hopefully you won’t mind. Please forgive the mistakes and how long it's taken me to answer this.

Under the cut for nsfw and length (2.5k)

Strange. That was the best word Link could conjure to describe the situation at hand. Odd, not right, strange.

Not so long ago, he was fine with being alone, enjoyed it and preferred it, even. He was known for being alone after all, especially after his uncle…

You still have Ravio, dipshit. He’s not gone like Alfon, he’s just not here at the moment. He’ll be back. He will! If he repeated it often enough, maybe it would be true.

Link shook his head, an attempt to stop the spiralling thoughts swirling in his agitated mind. Yes, it’s true that he once preferred his own company even if he did mourn his uncle but things were different now. He had Ravio.

Or at least, he did have Ravio. Until a week ago.

Fuck, his head was a mess right now. When would Ravio be back again? Another week? Fuck.

It still came as a shock to him that Ravio’s absence caused him so much distress. When had the merchant burrowed himself so deeply into Link’s life, home and heart that the absence of him for mere days caused such a spiral in Link’s emotional well-being?

And why was it worse that Ravio had clearly suspected this to be the case and fussed over Link days before he actually went anywhere?

But worst of all was that Zelda had the audacity to perceive him so accurately that she had not only preempted his mental downfall but had also devised a plan to attempt to mitigate it. Link… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that. Betrayed? Useless? Relieved?

Certainly, Link felt in a mess right now, struggling more than he ever could have known without his husbands presence by his side, but he knew it would have been far worse without Zelda’s presumptuous actions. There was no helping that Ravio needed to go back to Lorule temporarily for some shit Hilda apparently needed him for, and Link couldn’t exactly drop his commitments to travel with Ravio (and fuck if that wasn’t typical that the one time his empty schedule was no longer empty was the one time that Ravio was needed in his own world).

‘Look but don’t touch’ had been Zelda’s advice to him, a knowing glint in her eye as she closed her office door, the shimmer of a ward causing goosebumps to dance over Link’s skin. Ravio soon contradicted the queens suggestions (“They are guidelines anyways, not actual rules” Ravio had sniffed) with the simple notion that they could still touch. Just not each other. (At least not yet - only another week to go. Fuck!).

“Bun. Eyes on me.”

It was both the silky smoothness of his voice and the words that brought Link blinking back to the present and out of his own head, the contrast almost jarring. The void in Link’s heart ached to hold his husband, to feel Ravio’s breath on his neck and his filthy whispered words but, at the very least, Link could and should be grateful that he had the ability to see his husband and be reassured of his safety and wellness - even if it was through a mirror image. It was certainly much better than no contact at all.

Needless to say, after a week in, the awkward nature of conversing and being with Ravio like this had faded to give way to the excitement brought by novelty and a 7 day history of nothing breaking through Zelda’s wards and disturbing them in their stolen moments.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m here.” Link’s hair dishevelled from where he’d repeatedly ran his hand through it.

“So, husbun mine. As much as we could talk about your day, boring though it may be without me there with you-“ Ravio’s grin was full of smug delight as he deliberately made a show of eyeing Link up and down, shuffling his chair closer to the mirror. He spread his legs wide, his purple robe gathering at his thighs but still concealing everything to Link’s gaze - “I’d rather get down to the important stuff.” The wicked grin caused Link’s heart rate to kick up a notch, excitement warming his veins and stirring his interest.

“Good boy. Remember I’m keeping score on what punishments and rewards I owe you when I get back. Any longer stuck in your thoughts would have earned another punishment, bunny butt.”

Link swallowed, the thought of the type of punishment Ravio liked to give caused his cock to stir with mild interest, hesitant to rise to full mast as punishments usually involved his dick and some form of painful stimulation. He was not thinking of Din’s Teeth right now, damnit!

Link chose to ignore the side of him that wanted to beg for Ravio’s touch even without the merciless teasing, the part of him that would want to cling to Ravio the moment he got home and never let him out of sight again.

“I can see your piercings through your shirt, bun. Bet your missing my touch, they way I tug and pull at your nipples, especially when you have that little chain connecting them.” The gap in Ravio’s teeth was visible as he pulled his bottom lip between them, taking a breath and watching Link intently.

Link’s hand subconsciously raised towards his chest, fingers trembling to reach and pull at one of his aching nipples just like Ravio would. He stopped short, unsure if he was being given permission or not.

“I won’t deny you tonight, fuckbunny. There are still days until my return that I can tease you mercilessly and have you begging for my touch the moment I’m back in Hyrule, without being cruel. For now.”

Knowing Link always needed some gentle persuasion to get started, one of Ravio’s hands started to wander, the glint of his wedding band catching Link’s eye as he watched freckled fingers flex while Ravio trailed his own hand up his thigh to cup the bulge forming beneath his robe.

“You have no idea how pent up I am for you. Having some of your belongings in my home, reminders of you everywhere I look.” To demonstrate his point, Ravio’s hand gripped himself in a way that caused Link’s breath the hitch, his arousal clear to see even through the reflective surface of the mirror and the miles that separated them.

Swallowing the last of his nerves, Link allowed his determination to give his husband a show of his own to take control of his actions, guiding his hand to trail over his sternum to brush his fingertips lightly over the protrusions straining his tunic. The brief touch was maddening, causing him to shiver as he watched, eyes glued to where Ravio’s hand stroked himself over the fabric of his clothing.

“Good boy, Link. But remember we don’t have all night and I can see your as pent up as I am. Show me.” Ravio’s demand was met with a pointed nod to Link’s groin, his eyes ablaze.

Shivering at the praise, Link stood on shaky legs, the tent beneath his tunic hiding nothing from his husband hungry eyes.

Glancing at Ravio, Link pulled his tunic up revealing his shorts underneath and the small wet patch forming there.

“Mm, Link. Looks like you’re as hard for me as I am for you. Touch your self, bun, show me how much you miss me.”

Link’s attention was pulled away from Ravio for one moment while he pulled his shorts down, his bells jangling as he removed them from his pocket. His ears burned and strained at the appreciative humming sounds he could hear from the mirror. Looking up, Link got an eye full of his own, Ravio taking full opportunity to pull his cock out and stroke leisurely.

Link called out in surprise before he could stop himself, his cock straining towards the mirror as if pointing to the object of his desire. “Fuck!”

Link took his seat again before his wobbly legs could give from under him. His nerves jangled, alerting him to the fact that he wasn’t at home, anxiety threatening to take over. A quick magical probe reassured him that the wards were still in tact and they were indeed safe.

“Now, Link,” Ravio barked, impatience straining his voice. “Use your bells or get on with it. I’ve been waiting all day for this and I need to see you.”

Ravio’s eyes watched Link’s throat as his swallowed, his gaze then dropping to observe as Link’s hand slowly ran down his body, detouring to tease his sensitive nipples. His breath hitched as he pinched. Though it felt good, it wasn’t Ravio touching him and he felt the distance acutely.

Keenly wanting the distraction, Link’s own eyes focused on the show Ravio was putting on for him, his signature hood in place while still stoking his shaft. Link swallowed as he watched, rapt, as a bead of precum dribbled from Ravio’s dick.

Although he couldn’t see Ravio’s eyes because of the hood, the rapid expansion of his chest gave away that Ravio was keen to reach his climax also.

“Soon bun. Soon I’ll be there to give you this cock.” Gripping his base, Ravio waggled his dick causing Link’s mouth to fill with saliva. He wanted it very much, to swallow down every glorious inch, to gag and to choke on his length and taste his husband on his tongue.

Link whimpered, the sound catching his off guard while he began stroking his own dick to the pace Ravio had set.

This wouldn’t take long - the combination of his unease of their location and the fact Link had almost forgotten how to pleasure himself since Ravio ruined him for even himself - Link was pent up. Restless energy thrummed through his veins causing his movements to hasten, his heart beating like a bunny in the gaze of a hunter.

“Going to fuck you so hard, bunnybutt. Going to tease you and fill you until you can’t take anymore. You’ll be a delicious mess for me and I can’t wait to ruin you.”

Faster their hands worked in unison, each feeling the build of their orgasm about to reach a crescendo. From the bit of Ravio’s face that was visible, Link could see the way he bit his lip to keep his groans contained, the way his freckled skin was pinkening up from the exertion much like Link’s own was.

Fuck he was so close, so close, nearly there…. Please!

Mimicking Ravio, a twist of his hand to the head of his cock made Link’s vision darken for a moment, the tang of blood on his tongue where he bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud.

His heart pounding, Link’s vision cleared enough to see that Ravio has also crested, their ability to still be in sync apparent even when not with each other. Although they rarely did come in sync, they could. Each just much preferred their usual style of play.

Breathing returning to a somewhat normal rhythm, Link glanced at the mirror to find Ravio cleaning his hand with a handkerchief he had obviously stowed up one of his billowing sleeves. Conniving bastard that he is probably had this planned since before he even left for Lorule.

Ravio’s face, now visible with his hood pulled down, was glowing, his eyes burning with mischief despite his orgasm only seconds ago.

The question was rhetorical and Link sighed as he resigned himself to his task. It wouldn’t be the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. And it wasn’t as if it was bad, it just wasn’t Ravio. Maybe he could convince himself otherwise, though—?

“Now,” He started, tone almost prim and proper while his eyes gave him away with the way they danced. “We can’t have Zelda seeing you in such a state, can we bunnybutt? Make sure to lick that hand clean for me, every drop.”

Link’s jaw almost dropped open at the request. Though, unlike Ravio, Link didn’t have a handkerchief to hand. He supposed he could use his shorts but then he’d have to walk back either trying to hide said shorts or wearing them and feeling the gross uncomfortable mess with each step…

Looking to Ravio, Link squinted. “Should have known you’d still pull this shit even though you’re miles away. Damnit, Ravio, I don’t really have a lot of choice here, do I?”

“That’s it, good boy. Make sure you get every drop and don’t think I don’t know that you’re pretending it’s my cum you’re tasting. Soon my little fuck bunny, soon you can have as much as my cum as I can fill you with”

Moaning, Link’s eyes rolled, his dick valiantly trying to rise to the bait Ravio was laying for him. Alas, exhaustion was taking over and Link needed to get home.

Mess cleaned and clothes back in rightful places, Link’s glance returned to Ravio’s through the glass.

“Ah, good job, Link. Thank you for indulging me. By the way-“ Ravio’s grin turned menacing, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ve taken the liberty of stocking up on all of our potion supplies while I’m here.”

Link didn’t know why he was surprised.

***

“Hurry back” was simply all Link could manage, the closest thing to the “I miss you” his heart was crying out for him to voice.

Despite the absence of words, Ravio heard him, understood exactly what Link was trying to express.

“I will, Link. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Love you, husbun mine. Now and always.”

A chirp broke the moment, a flash of white trailing across the mirror as Sheerow appeared to land on Ravio’s shoulder.

“Opp, that’s my cue Link. Hilda needs the mirror. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Link nodded, the lump in his throat making it difficult to form words.

The mirror connection broke before Link could voice anything further, his morose reflection staring back at him as his heart lurched to jump through the mirror to his love.

“And I you… More than you know.” Link said on a sigh, getting up to his feet with protesting knees and a heavy heart as he turned to leave Zelda’s office, not even noticing Zelda slipping into the room with the mirror.

[aldeanotes]

the art of cooking

aemond / modern!reader, 16+, fluff / comedy / mild angst in later plot points. inspiration taken from kdrama mr. queen. reader is very bi and loves girls so much.  

summary: in which you are a famous young chef whose soul was transported into the body of some way too pretty and privileged noble woman. oh, and you’re supposed to marry a prince or whatever. anyway, can you test this to see if it's ready ? 

warnings: reader is batshit wild and doesn't have time for westerosi norms : ). characters will be ooc at times and this story is not entirely canon compliant.

author's notes: sorry for the very long delay !!! i've had so much going on !!!

tag list: @azaleapotterblack, @aurorathi

chapter two: / 5.2k words

Sitting before Otto and Alicent Hightower, you realize, quite bluntly, you don’t want to be here. They’re going to think you’re out of your mind if you speak the truth of the situation – you fell in some water and then woke up here in this place – but it’s the truth nonetheless. Given their hardened expressions (that Otto gives you and Alicent has the mercy to give it to the floor instead of you), you have a feeling they already don’t like the situation as they perceive it.

Which is that the younger prince’s betrothed (you make a face whenever they refer to this relation) has suffered a memory loss and the greatest doctors of this age can’t seem to fix it through traditional means.

Alicent takes in a deep breath, finally breaking her intense eye contact with the floor and running her hands briefly across her face in slight distress. Though, you have a feeling she’s a little bit of a mess inside. You shift uncomfortably in the seat at the Small Council. Jaquetta’s comforting presence is behind you. Unfortunately, the other presence in the room causes you to pretend to be deeply interested in the space between Alicent’s eyebrows.

Prince Aemond sits across from you, next to Otto. If he’s looking at you, you don’t know. You don’t care. He’s not YOUR betrothed, after all, and you have no joy in getting married to anybody. In your real life in your real body, you never had a good example to follow for a healthy relationship, and this girl’s body and that guy sitting across from you do not contain brains that are smart enough to realize that marriage in your teens is a usually bad idea.

Apparently none of the brains of the others in the room are smart either.

“Your uncle and sister are on their way. I have already written to them informing them of the situation,” Alicent breaks the tense silence, looking right at you.

Your eyes meet hers, and you can see a certain kind of tiredness in them. You feel inclined to just nod, so you do. You hope these people will be normal, at least.

“Regarding the marriage–” Otto’s voice pierces straight to the point. He has this way of speaking that makes you feel like he teeters around certain topics like a fighter circling his opponent. “It would be best if we–”

You raise your hand suddenly. Your eyes stare right at the table’s surface. You don’t want to know what everyone else looks like at your actions. You open your mouth and let out a dumb sound – “Um.” There’s a small pause. “Question.” You smack your lips as you gather up all your courage to make your inquiry. “Can we just, you know, not have it?”

Jaquetta grips your shoulder tightly and you know you’ve messed up.

“That is not an option,” Alicent says.

Her tone is sharp enough to cause you to flinch and hesitantly look up at her. Your eyes meet her brown ones. You feel a weight on you. You’ve come to realize in the brief moments you’ve looked at her that Alicent comes through in the eyes. Even as they capture you in their vision, you can’t look away.

It all feels much like how things used to be with your mother.

Alicent must sense the way you retreat into yourself because she swallows before continuing on in a gentler voice.

“It is for the good of the realm.”

But you don’t care about that. Jacquetta has tried telling you of things here and there, but, for the love of the creator, you have no investment in the happenings of this world the same way these people do. You’re a foreign entity trapped here, treated with a different level of scrutiny and pushed down by traditions that have been relatively abandoned in your own world. It feels unfair. You want to scream at these people.

“But I’m not well,” you say. It’s the only real protest you have.

Alicent purses her lips and glances down at her intertwined hands on the table. Her father beats her to it.

“To speak plainly of it,” he starts, and you already can tell from his tone that you’d been doomed to this fate before you even knew it. “This marriage contract has already been approved by the royal household and your house. The wedding is to be held in three months’ time –”

You put your face in your hands.

(“Oh, my fucking god,” you whisper into your flesh. Otto ignores you.)

“Given the time frame, we will not be able to cancel the wedding nor is it in the interest of the realm to do so.”

A wave of nausea hits you, and you distinctly feel like throwing up.

“Your uncle and sister have been informed of the situation and will be arriving within the month,” Otto says. He speaks like everything is final, and as you feel the walls close in around you, you realize it is. “We will have to make use of these three months to be sure you are presentable in time for the wedding.”

Something like dread settles in your stomach. Forget the uncle and sister. Your more immediate worry is about how they plan on making you ‘presentable’ at a wedding you don’t want to a person you don’t know.

Your voice is small when you speak again. “And you’re going to do that – how ?”

“We will arrange some tutors and a septa to be at your side at all times,” Alicent chimes in.

‘At all times’ – you get the impression it’s more to keep an eye on you rather than for your benefit. After not giving yourself nearly enough time to process everything, you lift your head up and glance between Otto and Alicent. You ignore the way Aemond has taken to tapping his finger on the table top.

“So that’s it?” You ask. They say nothing. “Just like that?”

Still nothing.

You look at your last lifeline. Aemond has stopped tapping on the table and is looking back at you when you finally forget the uncomfortable tension between the two of you. You must look pathetic because his lone eye flickers over your face as if he’s taking you in. Even in this situation, he makes your spine go a little cold. It takes some strength not to flinch back from him.

“You–” You take a breath to collect yourself. “You don't really want this either. Right?” You might as well be pleading to him right now with the way your eyes look at him and the way you wave your arm around. “There’s no way you actually agree. I mean – I’m not me anymore.”

He just regards you in brief silence.

“You don’t want to do this!” Your voice raises a bit and Jaquetta stiffens next to you.

“I will perform my duty to the realm,” Aemond answers, keeping your gaze.

You’re floored, a breathy chuckle leaving you at his words. The corners of your mouth twitch up as if he’d told a joke. It was a sick one, if you’d ever heard one. Your arm that you’d been waving around flops helplessly onto your lap as you watch him turn to his mother and grandfather.

“I will wed my betrothed as agreed upon.”

You don’t know if it’s commendable or downright idiotic of him to marry someone who clearly he knows is not normal. Your lips part to make another protest but all that comes out is air. Everyone in this room with any semblance of power greater than your own has shut you down. Your worries are cast aside. They’re like whispers in the wind to these people.

Otto says something before getting up and walking away. You retreat back into your mind as you always do when you’re frightened, when things are beyond your control like this. The screech of chairs don’t awaken you from your state. Your eyes bore into the polished table, and you think you might almost cry but your eyes flutter shut to stop them. How can you even stop this?

Jaquetta kneels down beside you and takes your hand. You feel a little less alone.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The septa, which you realize is something like a nun, assigned to you is boring and overbearing. Septa Lettice is stern, rule-abiding and watches your every move. Even Jaquetta has difficulty adjusting to this new presence in your life, her bright smile appearing a little tight against the septa’s neutral expression. You can’t even so much as go for a stroll without her lingering right on top of you. Her teachings are even worse.

While you’ve been spared from being inflicted any physical punishments, when you raise protests against whatever bullshit she tries shoving down your throat, she’s quick to dole out more readings or lessons to occupy any free time you were waiting for. Though you at least admit that not all these long sermons on the Faith of the Seven are for naught. You find that this world is just as brutal and unfair as the damn Dark Ages in your own world. A discovery which makes you look forward to your time here. Of course.

You whisper your practiced prayers monotonously so she’ll get off your back.

When it’s not with Septa Lettice, Alicent and Otto have been kind enough to assign you other trusted governesses to teach you etiquette, speech and some admittedly more useful knowledge like history and basic finances. The governess presiding over your history and financial lessons finds you more agreeable than Septa Lettice and the other governesses that try to wrangle in your resistant behavior. The first week you attempted to just not show up for the first couple of lessons, and the following week you found that several palace servants had come early in the morning to escort you to your daily lessons. You try for another escape through the window and it takes both Septa Lettice and Jaquetta their entire strength to pull you back inside. Alicent gives you a thorough verbal reprimand that evening, and it’s enough to get you to curb your behavior somewhat.

Jaquetta proves herself to be your greatest asset, though.

“This is your house, my lady,” she says, unfurling a piece of soft, muted purple fabric with your house’s sigil on it.

You flinch a little at the sight of a shrike perched upon a branch with one of its meals skewered on a thorn against the backdrop of a castle.

“Kind of gruesome,” you reply, looking down at your botched attempt at sewing a flower for your embroidery lesson. It looks like a distorted mess, like a plate of spaghetti that’s been dropped on the ground.

Jaquetta smiles widely. “The shrike with its prey has been your house’s sigil since its founding. Your ancestors used the bird’s way of killing its victims to build Shrikesdrop to defend against enemies.”

Shrikesdrop – the ancestral seat of House Durant. It’s perched miles high above the water’s surface, impossible to invade by a beach landing and nearly impenetrable by any army thanks to the steep incline of the roads that lead up to it. According to Jaquetta and a couple notes you found in a book here and there, Shrikesdrop has spikes that resemble thorn covered branches that can impale thousands of men who are unfortunate enough to fall off the inclines. Your house has perfected many tricks to get people to fall off of it, and death by impalement is apparently the go-to execution method of your house. You suddenly didn’t want to meet your uncle and sister after hearing that.

“‘As Sharp as Thorns’,” you mumble your house words. It’s dumb, but you guess it’s the best your ancestors could do.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t mean to stumble across Aemond again. It just happens. Like so much in your two lives.

While you don’t exactly allow yourself to get extinguished fully, you at least understand that your ability to get some manner of freedom rests on some compromise on your part. And, well, you’re pretty smart. Smart enough to remember your lessons, to execute the right angle when you greet your governesses, to hold your head high like you’ve always had blue blood in your veins. That was all you had to pay in exchange for some free time.

It’s the sound of steel clashing that causes you to hurry to the platform overlooking the training grounds, eager for some action to rid you of your boredom.

Your opinion of your betrothed is tainted, of course, because of your judgments. It’s also a little difficult to find yourself liking someone you’re forcefully bound to at this point. However, you can’t deny it. The silver locks that fly about like feathers belonging to a bird of prey are what catch your eye first. You can spot them as he dances about the ground, the dirt crunching underneath his boots.

You can’t see his lone eye, but you feel that if you were close enough they’d have that unsettling intensity you’d seen before – honed in on something. His body is both strong yet nimble as he readies himself. His hand grasps the sword as if it were part of his body.

He’s a fighter.

Fire and Blood – Jaquetta taught you the Targaryen words before those of your own house. The blood of the dragon.

You’d heard the screeching of the dragons sometimes, but you’d never been allowed to rush to see them. Somewhere between your acceptance of your fate and your need to cling on to what you know, you think you’d prefer not to see one. Aemond’s dragon, Vhagar, is the largest in the world, or so you’ve been told.

“Shit,” you hiss underneath your breath when you see Aemond’s opponent take such a fierce swing at him.

Your fingers grip the edge of the platform. The hard surface superficially scratches the skin of your palm. It’s a reflexive reaction, but unnecessary. Aemond blocks it gracefully and disengages cleanly. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Fear not, my lady,” Septa Lettice says. “Ser Criston Cole will not harm the prince.”

Criston Cole, the most trusted sworn sword of Queen Alicent and member of the king’s guard. The best knight in all of the land. Apparently. The royal family sure does have access to some of the best things and people in this land.

Criston circles Aemond after engaging once again, facing towards you as you watch from the platform. Watching training interests you in ways that lessons do not. Perhaps it is the deadliness of it or perhaps it is because even you understand that observing two skilled warriors in a small battle is a luxury few can see. Dark eyes flicker up to you and you stiffen, realizing that Criston is looking right at you.

He says something you can’t make out to Aemond. As soon as you see the back of Aemond’s head begin to move, you run off, Jaquetta and Lettice chasing after you behind you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your beloved Septa scolds you all the way back inside and only lowers her voice when you begin to pass through the busy halls of the Red Keep. Her expression of concern for your dress skirt getting dirty mirrors a stressed chicken, noisily frantic. You just sigh as she keeps on talking.

Even when you are given free will to wander about as you please, everything feels rather … boring once the splendor of the place begins to wear off. The architecture and luxury is impressive, of course, but how much gold thread and pointed stars can you bask in before you start to long for home again? The faces that greet you and pass by you don’t interest you. You’re selfish with your time. There’s no use entertaining yourself with people that won’t alleviate your anxiety or boredom.

“My lady, you should have stayed and spoken with Prince Aemond,” Jaquetta says, walking a little ways behind you.

You give a dry chuckle. “I’ve got better things to do than that. I’d rather be bored to death. Or go pray at the Sept all day.”

As if you’d want to spend more time with him than you have. Maybe if you prayed to these Gods enough they’d send you back home, but you find that gods tend not to listen to your pleas.

“Prince Aemond is a good prince,” Jaquetta continues. “He is studious, talented in fighting and dedicated to his studies. You have always enjoyed his company so well–”

Her words stop because she’s run into the back of you. You felt the hit but your eyes were trained on someone. A young lady walks across the hall and she is stunning.

“Whoa,” you breathe out as your eyes remain fixed on her. “Who’s that?”

Her silver hair falls past her shoulders, a lone braid framing the top of her head like a crown. You recognize the shade violet that stains her irises, but they look way better on her. Fuck your betrothed. Who gives a fuck about him when there’s pretty girls instaed?

Jaquetta quirks an eyebrow at you before following your eyes and responding, “That is the Princess Helaena Targaryen. You may not remember her since you lost your memories, but you two have been companions since little and– My lady, where are you going?”

Of course, you pick up your dress skirt from off the floor and make your way over to Helaena. Too high for this society’s standards but perfectly comfortable to you (which is all that matters). Jaquetta and Lettice follow after you with their cheeks flushed.

You execute the encounter as perfectly as you do in your head. Every step has a certain charismatic swagger to it as you approach the princess with a wide smile. Your shoes make soft sounds on the floor. Helaena is momentarily pulled away from her embroidery. You spy a pretty design of an insect crawling out of its pupa.

The both of you seem to just stare at each other for a couple of seconds. You beam down at her while she blinks up at you. Then, without another word, you sit down next to her. This seems to make her jump a little, and you make note of that, sliding away from her to give her some space. It doesn’t dampen your enthusiasm.

“Helaena?” You say her name.

A soft smile tugs on her lips. She says ‘your’ name back to you.

“Uh–” You aren’t quite sure. “I’ve been sick for a little bit after … everything, you know, but I’m all better now. Soooo-”

Some kind of glassy look overtakes her eyes. You feel like your heart slows for a moment. It’s suddenly as if she can see through you, into you – almost like Aemond.

“Coin in the waves; heads to tails; tails to heads.” Her voice is a whisper. “The true reflection is on the water.”

Something magical and hidden is woven in her words. Something makes you feel compelled. By what – you know not.

“…Oh.” I mean – what are you even supposed to say to that? “Okay.”

You two stand there in an awkward silence as you both flicker your eyes to the side. You hear Septa Lettice clear her throat behind you. It’s just like you to be so clumsy in front of a pretty girl like this.

“You want to –” Helaena looks up expectantly at you. “Do some … needlework together?”

She smiles, and you feel your heart leap up into your throat.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Helaena’s needlework is beautiful. A lovely image of two flowers sprouting together in full bloom rests gracefully on her cloth. The sound of children babbling a bit and toys clanking against the floor draws your attention away from your messy second attempt at sewing again.

Truthfully, you don’t envy Helaena being a mother already. This body’s original owner and she are the same age. Her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, are old enough to at least understand when you say certain words to them. Maelor is still a little young. She must have had them young, and while you know it’s a symptom of Westerosi culture, it makes you feel ill regardless. You wonder if the original Lady Durant would have found this equally as repulsive or if she would have bowed her head in acceptance? You won’t accept it, at least.

The children say ‘your’ name as soon as they see you. It’s not who you really are, but you can’t bear to do anything other than pat their heads and play along with them. You see Helaena in them when they look up at you. They’ll definitely be pretty like their mother when they grow up.

You nearly threw up when Jaquetta had informed you that Helaena’s husband was her own elder brother, Aegon. And then you nearly did it again when she told you that it was traditional for House Targaryen to marry close family relations. Sibling marriages are common, and, quite frankly, whatever magical or bloodline related reasoning they can give is not enough to justify literally any of that.

“Sooo–” Your voice disrupts the peace that’s settled in between you and Helaena. “What’s the … gossip? What’s the – What’s the new thing? Since it’s been a bit since we’ve chatted and all that?”

She gives you a momentary look before she thinks. “You’re going to marry Aemond soon.”

You suppress a groan. “Yeah, I guess you’re … happy about that. Right?”

Helaena smiles softly and you feel your heart flutter a bit. “Marriage isn’t so bad. Aemond won’t ignore you. He’ll be nice to you.”

You frown. “He’s ignoring me right now.”

“Aemond was worried about you,” she says. Your hand stops pulling the needle through the fabric. That’s the second person to tell you he was worried.

Helaena sets aside her needlework to give you her full attention. “He just … Sometimes has trouble conveying how he thinks and feels. You’ve always been very mindful of him, though.”

Yeah, the old owner of this body but not you!

“I guess so,” you say, tossing your own needlework on the cushion next to you. “Can’t say my mind is getting any better lately.”

A noise from the children takes your attention away. They’re giving a plate of biscuits being offered by their servant rather disgusted looks.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

The servant regards you with an apologetic expression. “The prince and princess have been having some difficulty eating their snacks lately.”

“They think it doesn’t taste good,” Helaena explains. “The royal kitchen has tried just about everything to please them, but nothing seems to work.”

You’ve got an idea.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They should have known you were up to something when you were being so … compliant. Way too compliant. You excel in your lessons the following two days and spend some time praying like you’re supposed to before you spend the night scribbling furiously down on some paper. You shoo away Jaquetta whenever she inquires about what you’re doing but you unveil everything one day after your lessons. You snatch the papers and gleefully make your way to the royal kitchen, your two companions in tow.

“My lady, a maiden of noble birth like yourself should not be–” Septa Lettice tries to dissuade you as you enter the kitchen with a bit of misplaced swagger but you promptly cut her off with a yell.

“Bring me your ingredients at once!”

The entire kitchen seems to freeze in space before the attendants scramble about to gather everything you wish. They assemble fruit jam, flour, honey, and anything you ask for. If being a future princess grants you this authority, you might consider being nice to Aemond in the future when you see him.

You give a sweeping gaze over the ingredients, putting your hand on your hips. “That’ll do it.”

“My lady,” Jaquetta says, “What do you plan to do?”

“Don’t worry yourself, Jackie,” you respond, washing your hand in some water and covering your hair with a napkin. “Lettie.” Septa Lettice makes a face. “Let me work my magic.”

Despite their anxious words and the annoying way they hover about you, they soon join the growing crowd of kitchen staff that watch you, entranced by your skills. It should be expected, though. Who can beat you when it comes to cooking? Even baking these jam filled cookies for the twins is a piece of cake. If the royal cooks can’t make anything that pleases them, then you definitely can.

You inspect the heat under the baking oven located some ways away from the kitchen. Your eyes trail along the metal of the oven. It shouldn’t be too time consuming to bake the cookies as long as the heat was regulated. With that over, you crack your knuckles and get to work.

You hold your hand out towards the kitchen staff. “Small knife for designing, please.”

“My lady, that is–”

You narrow your eyes. Soon, a small knife is put in your hand and you get to cutting out insect shapes of the cookie dough you prepared. You make two of each design, putting a dollop of the fruit jam mix in the middle of one cut out dough piece and then putting the other on top of it. You make sure to draw each part of the insects with precision – butterfly wings, caterpillar body, beetle legs. Something for both the children and Helaena to enjoy.

“If these are burnt by even a little bit–” You tell the servant that manages the oven, handing over the tray of cookies. You drag your thumb across your neck. “You’re dead, okay? On the future princess’ order.”

He gulps and scurries off.

You nearly trip over your own feet that afternoon when you hurry up the long staircases and through the many hallways of the Red Keep to Queen Alicent’s room. Helaena takes the children there to visit their grandmother, and you’re determined to be there to have them enjoy the treats you’d made.

“Helaena!” You call out to her in a sing-song voice as the servants open the door for you, Jaquetta following behind you with the food and Septa Lettice right behind her (nearly out of breath).

Several eyes fall on you, but any thoughts of shame are pushed aside immediately when you see him there.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

Aemond regards you with a quick sweep of his single eye. “I came here to see my niece and nephew.”

“…” You narrow your eyes. “Okay.”

You hear Alicent let out a quick sigh before giving you a tired look that has you shrinking a bit. “I see your lessons have given you no progress.”

You flush. Something about disappointing Alicent makes you embarrassed. “No, no. They’ve been going well. I, uh–”

After clearing your throat, you straighten up as you’d been instructed and take those light steps towards Alicent and Helaena, both of whom are sitting on the couch. You give both of them a little curtsy – light like a cloud, your teachers told you. Alicent’s mouth turns upwards, her eyes are expectant. You want to roll yours. You know what she wants.

You swallow your pride and glide across the room towards Aemond, not meeting his eyes. Stopping in front of him, you give him a quick curtsy before grabbing your plate of sweets for Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. The children look up at you as you kneel down beside them.

“Look what your future auntie made you,” you say, holding out the treats for them.

“You made that?” Helaena says, reaching out a hand and plucking a spider shaped cookie.

“Yep, yep!” You nod. “You can have some too. And Her Majesty.” You don’t even bother to look at Aemond. “And His Highness too. If he wants.”

You hear him get up from his seat, the wood creaking beneath him. His boots echo through the sounds of the children munching happily on the cookies as he comes over. You lift your eyebrows in surprise and stand up. He grabs one of the cookies, a butterfly shaped one, and takes a bite.

“…You cook, my lady?” He asks.

“Huh?” You say without a thought. Oh. Right. Maybe you didn’t think about that.

“The servants told me you were in the kitchens yourself,” Alicent adds, and you can already tell this is going to be a battle with the two of them.

You bite back any mean retort you had prepared. “I … wanted to make something for my future little niece and nephew. And as far as cooking, um … “ You shrug, tripping over your words for a moment. “My illness unlocked a new, creative side to me. Like sunshine after the storm.”

Alicent and Aemond look at you like you’ve lost your mind.

Helaena smiles widely. “That’s wonderful. I look forward to what else you will make.”

You smile back at her, showing teeth. Alicent looks ready to protest but you cut her off.

“I’ll make something for Aemond.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself. You look up at him and into his eye, something burning inside you. That same kind of passion that kept you going throughout your life. “Something you’ve never had before.”

“That…” Alicent trails off.

“I look forward to it,” Aemond says.

You don’t know why, but you feel taken off guard by that.

You don’t know why but you toss and turn at night, thinking of what Aemond would enjoy. Food is the way to someone’s soul. You’re not that interested in getting to know Aemond beyond the superficial, but you figured if there’s anyone you need to NOT hate you … it would be Aemond. You don’t care what Helaena or Jaquetta has to say, that kid looks like he could sink a sword in you without so much as breaking a sweat. Besides, it got you out of having to appeal to Alicent to let you in the kitchens again.

You’re not getting out of this marriage. The thought makes you want to sink into the bed and into the darkness even more. Marriage? In this place? Your husband is going to tell you what to do? Why couldn’t you have been sent into the body of a rich widow? Then you’d at least have some money to throw around with no one to tell you what to do with it.

But what are you to cook him? Aside from what others have said to you, you’ve no idea what he likes, and you’d already promised him something new. You use your brain to go through what you know.

“Fighter,” you mumble. “Diligent … Something filling, but not too heavy.”

Perhaps a broth. A broth that’s full of flavor, savory like a victory. With some kick in it. A robust flavor on the tongue with some spices and herbs.

Your eyes pop open as you sit up.

“…Ramen.”

[sylacris]

— “rather melodramatic, aren’t you?”

alternatively: “always your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it’ll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could’ve been” / you were tasked to kill dazai osamu and yet…

dazai osamu x gn! reader

content: mild angst, smoking, a gun, dazai-typical suicide mentions, may be ooc, not proofread. inspired by: dangerously yours episode 1: masquerade.

wc: 1.5k words

a/n: nothing beats coming back to tumblr just to drop something i wrote on a whim. will i be consistently posting? if my motivation doesn't go away -v-

Dazai Osamu knew his past would catch up to him one day.

Not only associating, but being a high-ranking official in the Port Mafia is a time in his life that he not only refuses to come back to but perhaps even actively haunts him incessantly in those dark drunken nights and smoke-filled lungs. On those nights alone, he only has the company of sake bottles and memories of the past—both good and bad.

He knows that he'll never be a good person—not what Odasaku wanted him to be, at least—yet he tries; he always has been trying.

But there comes a time when it seems as if trying isn't enough and repentance will be the only solution—perhaps even his death would be worth more good than all of the good he's done combined.

And repentance he shall receive as his lover stands right in front of him with a cold glare that exudes such burning rage, an anger that could've made him falter even the slightest if only he wasn't looking forward to such a death in the back of his mind.

With a smirk that never seemed to disappear, Dazai reaches out of his pocket, making them raise their guard with a glare and a finger on the trigger. "Mind if I have a smoke?" He doesn't even wait for a reply before pulling out the cigarette and lighter from his pockets.

"You can do anything you please, Dazai," you grunt.

Dazai puts the cigarette between his lips; he really is so carefree, even in the face of an enemy, though perhaps he sees you less as an enemy and still as his love.

Glaring at the unfazed man that stood before you, you sighed. This was for your people; kill the demon prodigy; that was your assignment. There was no way you were going to back down after months of getting to this point.

"But that doesn't mean I won't finish my mission here once and for all. You won't get away this time, demon prodigy."

After hearing his former title in the mafia, Dazai's eyes seem to darken, and there is a slight furrow in his eyebrows before he composes himself once more.

He lights the cigarette, inhaling the smoke before puffing it out. With a sigh, the man looks at you, ever so calm, even at gunpoint. and states in a matter-of-fact tone, "You can't pull the trigger, Bella." You knew he could always perceive you like an open book; it was something he could always do.

"You can't pull it because you love me," he says, looking at you directly.

"Isn't that why you're taking your sweet time?" Dazai lightly taunted, taking another swing at the cigarette before throwing it to the ground.

"Who said I ever loved you to begin with?" you defended.

He took a step forward, placing his hands inside the pockets of his pants. "So all the times we spent together were nothing to you, Belladonna?" he frowned, yet something in his tone made you think he was looking down on you—or rather, almost not taking this situation as seriously as you are.

"Of course it was; that would be obvious to you already, no?" you bite back, yet Dazai had such audacity to only smile at your hostility. which ignited your anger even more: "I never loved you, and you never loved me; I know you were just using me; you deceived me; don't give me your pitiful excuses, Dazai."

Another step forward, and you backed away. "I never loved you?" He repeats what you said, almost as if he's stopping himself from laughing at your statement, as if you said something so horribly inaccurate that Dazai merely perceives it as a joke.

"I mean exactly what I said," you replied, only earning a chuckle from the man.

"You say I never loved you, yet you are the only person I've ever wholly entrusted my heart to; you say I never loved you when even though I knew about this plot of yours, I still stuck around." As each second passes, Dazai moves closer to you, which makes you alarmed, only gripping the gun harder than it should be, knuckles almost turning white.

You warned, "Stay back!"

Yet Dazai's brave; he knows how to get what he wants, and he wanted you.

"Don't you wonder what was going on in my mind every time we were together, knowing you had ulterior motives to get closer to me, yet I still accepted you wholly, for what can i do when what my brain says is not what my heart wanted to follow?" Dazai sighs, shaking his head.

"I don't care; I don't care about you! Everything I've worked hard for has led up to this; don't try and stop me, Dazai." Empty threats leave your mouth as Dazai seems to ignore your mild distress.

"Oh Bella. If only you knew just how much of a fumbling mess you've made me. You took my heart, yet I would gladly let you take more of me as you pleased. You've made a fool out of me, yet I'd play the jester in your story if it meant it would satisfy you."

"You tricked me into loving you!" you shouted through gritted teeth and a clenched fist, not thinking properly in your state as your eyes whip around to find something, anything, perhaps an escape route but

"Were you not the one who approached me with the intention of stealing my heart?" Dazai retorts. He always knew how to keep your eyes on him, and now that the gap between the two of you is gone, it almost feels like you are suffocating from how close he is and how much adrenaline is in your veins.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"My, Bella, if you were resolute on doing this then you would've shot me minutes ago. But look at where we are now. A point blank shot yet no bullets being fired at me," Dazai teases, placing his hand on top of the gun you held up, "quite a situation we have here, yes?"

You remained silent, dropping the gun on the floor as your hands shake from how hard you've clenched them, carving moons on your palms as you avoid Dazai's eyes, sorting your mind. You needed to kill him; that was what you'd been working for for so long. However, in a few words and touches, he already had you around his finger yet again.

And God, was it so annoying.

"You're so still; your face is like ice—what are you thinking?" He's gotten close enough to where he reaches to cup your face, as your shaky hands really couldn't muster the courage to shoot him as he says.

A held exhale leaves you: "What does anything you have to say matter, Dazai?" You bit your tongue before looking down: "If I fail now, everything that I've worked for and everything that I've been raised to do up until now would be… useless." You mutter as he merely observes you.

"What can a breaking heart do if it is left to choose between what it has known for so long and what it wants to love now?"

Dazai smiles at you with pity as he traces your jawline before tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They looked at you as if you were the night sky. Dazai has always given you such a soft look in your time together, directed only at you, and you would be lying if you said your stomach wasn't filled with butterflies—though whether it's from the adrenaline or from his lovelorn acts, you'd never know.

"Well, then I'll give you a choice, darling," Dazai starts.

"Shoot me and complete your mission. No one has to know of this ordeal, and you get to leave scot-free back to your organization." He pauses.

"However, when the time comes, you will find moonlit nights strangely empty because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always, your heart will be aching for my presence. You will see the moon, and it'll remind you of me, of us, of what we used to be and could've been."

"I don't-" 

"Shh, I'm not done yet, Bella," he lightly warns, placing his index finger on his lips and chuckling before continuing on.

"Or, you could choose to follow me, stay as my lover, and join the Armed Detective Agency. If anyone from where you came from looks for you, we will do everything in our power to protect you. You have been interested in what we do in the agency; not only that, you are an ability user too, no?"

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheeks as you pursed your lips at his question before giving an answer: "Yes, both of those are correct."

Dazai gives you a closed-eye smile and says, "Your eyes would have such a shine in them whenever I talked about the agency on our little dates. I bet they'd like you."

Your thoughts couldn't help but imagine what it would be like with the agency. You lightly smile at such a statement, and if Dazai picked up on it, which you assume he did, which he always does, unsurprisingly, he chose not to comment on it.

"So, Belladonna, what will your choice be?"