#or perhaps some sort of mushroom

[queenhawke]

my gender is nonbinary except at work where i present as a woman bc my real gender is none of my coworker's business

[dr-spwewps]

aww what a cute vide-

*sees what mushroom that is*

[ataraxiaspainting]

360-Degree Vision.

Yan Silas x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, non-con, oral (male receiving), forced infantilization, Silas calls himself Mommy because he's a weirdo, and "force feeding".

Word Count: 700.

OC and art pictured above belongs to amazingly talented @meo-eiru!! i really love her art, so be sure to check her out!! <333

*~*~*~*

Silas only allows autumn leaves and snow to fall where your feet don’t touch but your eyes can still see.

It’s an odd sort of shape, the barrier he has around his tree. It reminds him of those little sketches you do he puts by his bedside table. He read from a book that human mothers do that whenever their children give them drawings, though you never gave yours to him per se. More likely than not you were waiting for a more special occasion, but he found them in your toy box whilst he was tidying up from another long day of taking care of you. 

What a unique art style you have – he read in the same book that human children’s little doodles can be nearly unrecognizable from what they are supposed to be most of the time, so he doesn’t question how the circles you drew kept going around and around and leading to nowhere.

A snail’s shell, perhaps? 

The spirals seemed too large and too filled… 

He’ll give you points for creativity. 

Positive reinforcement was key with these kinds of things, or so he’s been told – if you ever ask for a pet snail, he’ll get one for you in little to no time at all.

*~*~*~*

“Baby,” Silas’ smile is smaller because of the concern he has for you right now. “You have to finish your dinner. It’s good for you. When you finish we can go see little mushrooms and squirrels, okay? Only for a little bit though,” His right hand is still above your head, squishing you down when your body seems to want to get up too soon. “Mommy doesn’t want you to get sick again…”

Despite Silas sitting down, he was still more than half your height – your knees sink further into the mattress both of you are on.

They are shivering so much but he doesn’t notice.

No, it’s not that he doesn’t care – he’s too busy flaunting his length and chest to you to pay attention to how you actually feel, wanting you to pick your poison once again; seeing this as necessary to your development.

Last time for yesterday’s meals you chose his cock – the day before that you chose his breasts.

The more you suck from him, the more you’re given treats after. Something resembling those colorful markers you used to get at the local dollar store, containers of blueberry yogurt you hope came from his village’s cows or some similar type of animal, a new dress he had sewn himself or had customized and bought from a nearby elf tailor.

“I’ll even bring some paper and those pencils you like drawing with, hm?” Silas continues as he scoots closer to you – he holds your hair so gently now, but whenever he cries tears of pure happiness the grip will tighten quickly. “Maybe you can see a snail up close for those little spirals you like doing.”

…

No matter how much you rebel and kick and scream, the elf wouldn’t move back from you – if anything it gives him more of a reason to come closer, so you can have more of his ‘love’. After only a little bit of time, you learned how to let the frustration out in a way that didn’t have Silas doting over you so suffocatingly – drawing spirals. You were told once by a friend they can be therapeutic in times of stress. You most likely will never see her again but you would want to hug her because it works. 

You hid them amongst the dolls and building blocks you were given in times you were alone – staring at them made you feel less lonely, made you feel like you had more of a choice in how you spent your waking hours.

You didn’t expect Silas to find them. He never checks your toy box because you tidy it up so often.

You don’t know how to explain your drawings in a way Silas will understand. Not that he understands a lot of things that come out of your mouth.

You just nod. Maybe drawing a snail’s body below those spirals can help you too.

“Good girl! Listening so well!” His smile widens and you can see his eyes getting watery already.

[pomefioredove]

hello! i'd like to request the vice dorm leaders + someone of your choosing with a reader who's cursed to speak in third person (the reader's used to it by now, it's everyone else who makes it a problem). maybe they see the reader getting made fun of by some other students? i hope this isn't too vague oTL

YAY vice dorm leader request!!!!! I love those silly beans. didn't include anyone else (sorry ruggie) cause my computer is dying as I write this

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cursed

type of post: headcanons characters: trey, jade, jamil, rook, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

Of course, it just happened to be an obscure, ancient curse that no contemporary textbooks had a reversal for...

So, until Trein can go through his older tomes, you're stuck like this.

And all its ups and downs.

you explained the situation to Trey after he had shooed off some first years who were bothering you about it

"that one's... new,"

but he adapts really well. better than anyone in his dorm, actually. perhaps he's just so used to being surrounded by nonsense, but he handles it with ease

it's just like you're speaking in riddles

he becomes a sort of interpreter for you, and before long, it becomes rare to see you without him, or him without you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the way Floyd was going on about that "funny thing you do", you may as well have been fetching sticks and rolling over. Jade isn't so surprised when it turns out to be nothing more than a curse

lucky (or unlucky??) for you, Jade doesn't mind

you don't say much, which gives him the wonderful opportunity to drag you around and talk your ear off about fungi

(finally, someone who can't tell him to stop talking!!!)

eventually, you begin speaking through different genera of mushroom, since talking about fungi doesn't require personal pronouns

you may as well just marry him now tbh

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil, for one, is actually concerned about you

first of all, who goes around casting ancient curses on innocent bystanders?? second of all, why are you always an innocent bystander???

zero survival skills. SIGH

oh, well, if he must find you a reversal spell and save you from your curse and be your hero... so be it!

it's definitely not like he's taking advantage of your misfortune to get some attention... he'd NEVER (lying)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook isn't phased. not for a SECOND. he probably speaks to himself in the third person when he's alone, anyway, so his reaction is something more like... "beauté!!!"

he's just a little freak. it'd take a lot more than a speaking curse to surprise him

he'll eagerly help you in search of a cure, or he'll interpret for you, or he'll just speak for you, if you'd like. tbh, he's probably already figured out how to reverse the spell, but he's enjoying having you rely on him

maybe a little too much

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Lilia has seen a lot of weird things in his lifetime. a lot of amusing things, too. right now, you're a little bit of both

which he loves, of course

he's familiar with such a curse. niche, isn't it? he hasn't seen it in... oh, maybe three hundred years. you're quite special, aren't you?

he'll probably also start referring to himself in the third person alongside you, just because it's silly

of course, you don't think it's silly, but, strangely, he helps you feel less weird about it

Lilia will always match your freak

[hirukochan]

I feel cheeky sending another ask but I lived the interrogation one so much so just 3 so words: snape sex pollen. Perhaps a professor x professor?

(Ps: is their a place that I can support your writing!!!)

Snape x Professor sex pollen coming right up 🫡

Writing is one of my many beloved hobbies; liking, reblogging, giving kudos or commenting is all the support I need! Thank you very much for asking though!

Blue Speckled Mushrooms

(Severus Snape x fem!Professor oneshot)

Words: 2572

Warnings: 18+ Sex Pollen :D - mutual dub-con, some biting, rough smut

Summary: In your continuing efforts to catch the grumpy Potion Master's attention you follow him into the Forbidden Forest - a mistake of perhaps destiny unfolding?

This is play post-war, Sev survives - not that it matters much to the 'plot'

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

It could have been so easy. Gather these blasted Moon Cornflowers and Speckled Blue Mushrooms and return to the castle. It’s all he asks for. Moon Cornflowers and Speckled  Blue Mushrooms to finish the brew currently under stasis in his office. Two plants. Just a few of each. They couldn’t be preserved through either magic or other means and had to be harvested within three hours of being used in a potion and only during a full moon. 

Now usually this is no problem for an accomplished potion master such as Severus Snape. A quick trip to the forest and done. He knows the half-forgotten paths, the safe routes. Knows how to avoid the Centaurs and other nastier beasts that live in the Forbidden Forest.

He does not know how to avoid her.

Irritating, stupid girl.

She took over the History of Magic position earlier that year, one of Snape’s first students he taught after becoming a professor himself at merely twenty-one. A seventh year at the time who already stared at him in the library back when he was a student. 

She just wouldn’t leave him alone!

“Midnight stroll?” She asks with that irritating smile on her stupid pretty face and follows him into the forest.

“What do you want?!” He growls at her. She keeps trying to make conversation with him, keeps sitting next to him during meals or in the staff room, talking. Always talking. Talking talking talking. 

How can a single person be this annoying?

She is still talking. Jesus fucking christ!

“So anyway…what are you doing here?”

“I don’t see how that is of any concern to you.”

“Just curious, is all.” She replies. Stupid girl. And she is still following him!

You have no idea what to do anymore. You’ve tried everything. You’ve tried catching his attention by talking to him, leaving the top button of your blouse undone, batting your lashes at him like a teen on a love potion, you’ve searched his company, flirted like your stupid life depends on it and the cranky bastard doesn’t even recognise it! 

You run to catch up with his long strides, wrapping your cloak around yourself to shield yourself from the cold night air.

You were about to go to bed, just finishing up your rounds through the castle on the lookout for students out of bed when you saw his billowing cloak sweep out of the entrance door. You of course followed him. Curious as to what he was going to do outside but also secretly hoping today’s the day he’ll finally notice your intentions.

Perhaps you have to be less subtle. You thought men like to be subtly seduced but Snape is not like any man you’ve known! Maybe he doesn’t like playing cat and mouse, doesn’t enjoy the chase. 

You’ll be blunt! Yes, if a stroll through the forest at midnight doesn’t do the trick you’ll gather what little courage you have and just make the first step yourself. You’re an independent woman! You don’t need to wait around for Snape to realise you’re interested in him and make the first step.

“Are you gathering ingredients of sorts?” You ask and walk quicker to keep up, pressing your arm against his by walking closer to him. He glares at you.

“Obviously.” He snarls and looks forward again.

“Cool. cool cool cool….um…which ones?”

He audibly grumbles.

“Sorry, I couldn’t understand you.” You smile. He is making it very hard to be attracted to him. Grumbly bastard. Prickly idiot. Why can’t he just fuck you? Shove you into a broom closet and let out his frustrations if you’re so bloody annoying to be around! Why can’t you fall head over heels for someone normal?

Because normal is boring.

Your eyes glide over his sharp jaw, every muscle tensed, about ready to snap, beneath his pale skin that shines in the moonlight.

“I said, you were a daft, simple-minded girl when I had the misfortune of attempting to teach you potions - I very much doubt you’d understand any more now than you did seventeen years ago!”

His venom cuts deep. You stumble backwards. You thought he was clumsy when it comes to socialising, that he perhaps didn’t understand your intentions, not that he loathes you.

“Oh…” You murmur. “Um…okay…” don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. “Sorry for bothering you.” You turn on your heels and run. He calls after you but you ignore it, disappearing between the trees into the undergrowth, away from Snape because you are about to cry your eyes out like the stupid little girl he sees in you and you are not about to embarrass yourself any further than you already have! You just want to go back to your quarters.

Stupid girl! Insufferable, annoying, bothersome, foolish girl!

Snape runs after her. He considered leaving her to her own fate and capabilities and collect his ingredients but he had been cursed with a conscience. A nasty, biting thing demanding he not let her run to her death in an Acromantula den.

He’ll tear her a new one when he catches up to her! The sheer idiocy! Running into the Forbidden Forest like that! What possessed her.

“Stop running!” He snarls, draws his wand and sends a non-verbal Stupor at her. She stumbles and falls face-first into the flower field spreading over the clearing they had entered during their chase. Snape lifts his spell.

You spin around, furious. How fucking dare he? Isn’t it enough to insult you? Does he have to embarrass you by forcing you to bear your pathetic little hurt feelings to him?

He stands at the other end of the clearing, pale blue flowers reaching to his calves, emitting a gentle glow. He looks furious. The light of the full moon illuminates him from the back, deepening his already sharp features, cloaking his face and body in menacing shadows.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” He snarls and points towards the direction you were running in. “Do you want to be eaten by enormous spiders?”

“Like you give a damn!” You shout and pick yourself up off the ground. Swiftly you brush loose dirt and a few pedals off your robes and out of your hair. The motherfucker stunned you!

“I might be a cold son of a bitch but I am not letting a colleague run to her death - no matter how annoying said colleague is. The way back to the castle is-” A wind picks up. His cloak flutters behind him, the fabric whispering with the motion. Pedals are ripped from the flowers.

His eyes widen.

You tilt your head to the side, brows pulled together. “Severus?”

“Stay where you are!” He hisses, sending droplets of spit flying. You look around, confused, searching the dark rows of trees for some beastly critter about to attack but you find none. Snape’s eyes are pinned to yours. His chest is heaving, his breath seems shallow. You take a step forward to which Snape instantly backs away, keeping his wand pointed at- you?

“What’s going on?”

“To the castle! Go back to the castle!”

“I am not your student! You can’t give me orders! And to think I’ve been trying to go on a date with you for months!”

“You have to go back to the castle now or- what?” His wand hand sinks a little. A crease forms between his brows. You’ve never seen Severus so puzzled.

“Year really…” You mutter. “Back in school too-”

“I am not in the mood for jokes or pranks.”

“It’s not!” You take another step forward. Severus’ back hits a tree. The wind picks up. A sweet scent reaches your nose, infiltrates your mind, swirls around your brain like vapours of a potion-

Weren’t you cold?

You were! Yes, you were- but it’s so hot- when did it get so hot?

“Stop that!” Snape snarls again.

“Stop what?” You roll your eyes and pause- your cloak lies in the flower field three steps away from you. You have unbuttoned your robes, revealing the white blouse and dark trousers underneath- when-?

“Go. back.” He has his jaw clenched, teeth pressed together. His nostrils flare, his eyes flick down to your chest and he seems to struggle to force them back up.

“Are you hot too?” Your fingers pry open the buttons of your blouse without you even noticing or you’re just not thinking about it…

“Go-”

“What’s happening?”

“Pollen-”

“What?”

“Where you shit in Herbology too?!” He snaps and you glare at him about ready to-

Your blouse slips off your shoulders and falls to the ground. “Stop- you don’t want this-”

“What? What is this?”

“A rare flower.” His voice sounds pressed, as though he’s struggling to speak, to breathe, to exist. He has his back moulded to the tree, clutching at the bark with his hands, straining to keep his eyes on your face.

The button on your trousers is open.

“The pollens they emit to the air to spread and form these dense fields- they have a unique effect on humans-”

“Which effect?”

“Can’t you tell, stupid girl?”

Your trousers push past your hips.

“You should be running from me, not stripping for me.” His eyes graze over your body, standing in front of him in only your underwear, devouring the sight. His eyes trace along the curves of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake…Heat rushes to your core.

“Sex pollen-” You gasp, noticing you’re standing a mere arm's length away from him now.

“The rather crude colloquial name - yes.”

“Severus- what-”

“Too late, stupid girl.” He snarls and the next moment he’s on you, pouncing at you like a wild beast. His woodsy, herbal scent flows around you, mixing with the sweet smell of the damned flower. His hands grip your arms roughly, blunt nails dig into your flesh. Severus swirls you around and pushes you against the tree. Bark scratches against your skin, stabbing into it but you don’t even notice.

It’s like a trance has taken over your mind and only one thing matters. 

He.

Severus’ mouth latches onto your throat. A million tiny explosions rush over your skin where he touches you and you moan, a feral sound ripped harshly from your throat, echoing over the empty clearing. Severus growls in response, even more feral, even less human. His teeth scrape over your throat. His hands roam over your body, squeezing your breasts, your thighs. Then he tears at his own clothes, shedding layer after layer with a quickness and urgency that has your head spinning.

“Stupid girl.” He repeats and kisses up to your jaw, your cheek. Heated, open-mouth kisses that leave your skin marked by his saliva. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, searching for something to hold onto, something to pull you back into reality, your head spinning, skin exploding, core hurting. You’re so aroused, so need it fucking hurts.

“Severus-” You moan. His hands find your thighs and he lifts you up. Your legs wrap around him on their own accord.

“You should have run when you still had the chance.” He snarls against your lips, his breath brushes over your skin. “You’ll regret this.”

“Shut up and fuck me, you prick!”

Your lips meet in a violent clash of teeth and tongue. You’re pretty sure he bites you or perhaps you bite him. None of it matters anymore when you feel his prick against your soaked entrance. You’ve never been so wet- never so wound up- so desperate for sex-

You cry out when he enters you, a forceful thrust that buries him to the hilt in your twitching channel. He is big. Too big under different circumstances perhaps. He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pounds into you, spearing you open, using his grip on your waist to bounce you on his cock in sync with each of his thrusts.

You cling to his shoulders, your nails drawing blood, fingertips running over old scars, exploring the surprisingly defined muscles of his lean stature.

Your breasts bounce, rubbing against his naked chest, his lips lay claim to yours, your face, your neck, your chest.

He stumbles, his left side giving in and you tumble to the ground. You’ve seen that happen before. The venom of you-know-who’s snake has left him with some permanent damage, not only the huge scar on his neck.

You don’t care.

You push him down to the ground, your hands on his chest and move your hips, lifting them, letting them slam back down, riding him. You throw your head back, your eyes closed, lips parted as his cock drags along your inner walls with delicious friction.

“So- so full-” You moan. Your breasts sway. Severus catches them, squeezing them with such pure delight on his usually reserved face. He twists your nipples between his fingers, revelling in the noises he coaxes from you.

“You could have had this so much sooner, idiot.” You hiss and grind down against him before lifting your hips up once again.

“Wha-?” His puzzled expression is almost cute.

“I’ve been trying to get you to ask me out for months!” As though to reinforce your discontent with his lack of romantic interest you pick up your pace. His head drops back into the flowers. The pale blue petals glow in his inky black hair.

“How was I supposed to know?” He asks, bucking up to meet your movement.

“I was flirting!”

“I thought you were acting especially stupid for some reason.”

“Arsehole!” You dig your nails into his chest but Severus seems to like that. His eyes squeeze shut, his lips part, pleasure drawn into every wrinkle of his face.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“I’d have called you stupid. Perhaps laughed at you. Slip poison in your tea.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.” 

Quicker than you can follow his movements you’re underneath him and your legs on his shoulders. Your head is still spinning when Severus starts pounding into you. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the clearing, accompanied by your and Severus' animalistic, feral sounds of pleasure.

“I don’t-” You moan and dig your fingers into the dry soil underneath you.

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to say me neither.”

“I do whatever the fuck I want, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

His balls slap against your arse. His hand drops between your bodies, his fingers find your clit, run over it once- twice-

You see stars. Dots of light exploding all over your field of vision and pulling you into darkness, bringing the complex system keeping your body alive and moving to an abrupt stop. Your lungs refuse to fill with air, your brain crashes, your limbs tense, your whole body forced into a contortion made of carnal desire and the world-ending pleasure Severus Snape brings you.

You twitch. Then you inhale sharply, filling your lungs with air, shuddering, whimpering under Severus who spills inside you with an ear-splitting grunt and then slumps down above you. On top of you. Your legs found the ground somehow. His cock still inside you, throbbing, slowly softening, you lay in the dirt like a starfish, feeling dizzy, overwhelmed and confused.

“Friday.” Severus murmurs, his lips brushing over your cheek as he speaks. “Dinner. Be ready on time or I’ll leave without you.”

“Mh?” 

“You really are dense." He grumbles. "Your date, stupid girl. Friday.”

[paleepeaches]

Dom Connor x afab!reader (smut)

Warnings: foul language, rough sex, creampie (this is literally my first smut so) 18+ fuckers

“Please, Y/N, please, I’ve been a good boy.” 

You laughed mockingly down at him, continuing your assault. “Connor, being a good boy means having patience. Just look at you.” Your hand tilted his chin upwards, and his brown, warm eyes met yours. They were blown and filled with need. 

“We’re just getting started, and you’re already begging for me to fuck you.” As soon as the words flew out of your mouth, something switched inside Connor. Perhaps it was some sort of secret code, you said, but it caused his eyes to lower into an almost primal stare. He growled hungrily, hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, and in one swift motion, he flipped you over. You fell to the bed with a soft thump, a small gasp leaving your lips. You couldn’t believe the puppy dog android had it in him. Usually, Connor was always the one underneath you. Now, the roles were switched. His interrogation side had come out to play.

He took hold of himself, adjusting the position and moving his swollen leaking tip closer to your clit. You gasped loudly as soon as you felt him. Your hands gripped the bicep of his arm, nails digging into his shirt and faux skin. You whined and withered below him as he rubbed slow, delicious circles over your sensitive nub. You could feel his sticky wet pre cum coat your folds, making a lewd mess.

His head lowered to your ear, his breath fanning over it and causing goosebumps. “Who’s begging now?” His voice was hoarse and filled with mockery. He retracted from you, showing that lopsided grin off to you. He was taking enjoyment in watching you whine and beg. It was an unusual but pleasurable sight for him that made his LED spin yellow. 

“Please, Connor, I need you.” Your voice was small and breathless.

 He chuckled darkly and smoothed your hair out with one hand. “I’m gonna need more than that, Y/N.”

You knew the detective in him wouldn’t be satisfied with a lazy half-confession. He wanted you to spill out how much you craved his touch. He wanted to hear the soft pants and whimpers laced with your words as you told him how much you wanted him to fuck you. It was a new experience for you but one you took with a sense of thrill. You bent for him and opened your mouth again, begging, “Please, Connor, I need your coc-” You were cut off by him slipping his mushroom tip past your folds and into your achingly tight cunt. You moaned, clawing at his bicep again.

“You can do better than that. Come on, I know you can use that pretty little mouth of yours.” He stared you down with a stern gaze. He wasn’t satisfied with your soft, small voice. You knew he wanted more for you to be practically crying out for him. 

“Come on, baby, tell me what you want.” Connor slowly inched his tip back out, and your cunt let it go with a wet squelching noise. You whined, feeling the loss of him inside you. He knew how to make you break, bend and beg. His job was to get confessions, and he always accomplished his mission. 

“Please, Connor! Please fuck me. I’ll be a good girl for you!” You cried out, clawing needily at his arm, the one gripping his cock. 

He smirked down at you, enjoying your confession. He was satisfied enough and slammed himself into you. You moaned out, back arching and cunt clamping down on him. He groaned, panting as he felt you struggle to adjust to him. “Fuck, you’re always so tight, baby.”

Bucking your hips up, you struggled to fuck yourself up on his cock. His hand gripped your waist, pushing your hips down and pinning them on the bed below you. “We just started, and you’re already begging for my cock.” He echoed your words, teasing you. He didn’t let you respond and rammed himself into you, fucking your poor sopping cunt. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the loud moans escaping your throat. He noticed the lack of noise quickly, his LED spinning red. His hand gripped your face while his thumb pushed past your lips, invading your mouth. Pressing his thumb on your tongue, he urged you to moan. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear those pretty little noises.”

You obeyed him simply feeling like you’d do anything for him-not that it wasn't the truth. You let yourself go, crying while he plunged himself balls deep into you. His tip kissed your cervix and caused you to wiggle under him, spreading your legs further apart so he could fuck you deeper. “You like that?” He cooed at you. You nodded vigorously, wanting to cry for him to hit it again.

He groaned again, hitting your cervix once more. “Fuck.” The more he snapped his hips into yours, the more wet you got. He could feel your arousal spill out of you, coating his cock and bathing his heavy ballsack. You could feel the thick bundle of nerves inside of you coming undone. Connor could tell you were close by the way your pussy clenched tighter around him, desperately sucking him in. “This greedy little cunt wants to cum?’ He questioned you darkly. 

“Please, please, I wanna cum.” You gasped out, panting from the extreme overdoes of pleasure he was providing you. 

Connor wasted no time and pinned your arms above your head; his other hand slipped under you, gripping your ass cheek. He was ramming inside of you, causing your whole body to jolt violently. Your eyes rolled back, and cries escaped you that you weren’t even aware of. All you felt was his delicious tip bumping repeatedly into your cervix. Whimpers spill from your mouth, and your cunt contracts, clenching down on him as you cum. 

“Shit!” He growls as he feels your warm arousal coat him, soaking his cock. All he needed was to feel the unbearable sensation of your cunt milking him to cum. Hot spurts of his seed pant your insides as he pants heavily. He thrusts sloppily into you a few more times, making sure not a single drop of his cum was wasted. He pulls out and watches his cum pour out of you, stuffing his finger and pushing it back in. 

[bloodiedrogue]

PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse. 

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides. 

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your— 

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire. 

“You look tired.” 

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid. 

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort. 

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers. 

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs. 

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it. 

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions. 

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely? 

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep. 

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be. 

So why hasn’t he said anything? 

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth. 

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push. 

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with. 

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation. 

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes. 

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many. 

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat. 

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate. 

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out. 

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin. 

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down. 

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake. 

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you. 

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent. 

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking. 

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold. 

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again. 

“I don’t know!” 

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around. 

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest. 

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path. 

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you. 

“What happened?” 

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours. 

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him. 

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest. 

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest. 

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt. 

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more. 

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.” 

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt. 

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?” 

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not. 

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away. 

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night. 

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams. 

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours. 

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking. 

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.” 

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.” 

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch. 

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst. 

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist. 

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat. 

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.” 

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort. 

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.” 

“To be fair, neither am I.” 

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.” 

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.” 

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions. 

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold. 

Show me the dream. 

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying. 

-

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @tea-a-holics @ghostinvenus @theenadaa @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @ilana-the-lasagna @lillifer @geektarts

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

[chocodile]

Thought it would be fun to illustrate some Amaranthine cuisine from various regions (and time periods). Long writeups under the cut!

Western Kingdom Cuisine: Northern Upper Class

The cultural cuisine of the northern part of the Western Kingdom is shaped by the region's harsh, snowy climate. The cold meant that it was easier to keep food from spoiling, but hard to find it in the first place. During the warmer spring and summer months, food would be collected and then salted, dried, pickled, or otherwise preserved in order to last through the winter. Red meat is their primary dietary staple, and is served in a wide variety of ways, including raw and engastrated. Dairy is also common in all forms -- cheese, butter, milk, and as a component of common sauces and chowders (another cultural favorite, and great way to use up leftovers). Alcohol is also common, with a favorite cultural drink being a spiced, warmed fermented milk with a flavor similar to eggnog.

Northern dishes prioritize making use of all parts of the animal, especially nutrient-rich organ meats and fat. As a landlocked region with few rivers, fish is somewhat uncommon, but not unheard of, especially salted or pickled fish shipped in from the south. Also, as mentioned before, eating animals, including "one's own kind", is not taboo at all in this region. In such harsh climates, turning one's nose up at a filling meal is seen as ridiculous.

When good meat is available, though, presentation can get a little… creative. Or, as some might describe it, obscene. Feasts for nobles often involve whole roast hogs stuffed with turkeys stuffed with game birds stuffed with exotic, imported pickled fish, ground meat sculpted into strange and creative shapes, and other ostentatious displays. If a nobleman's chefs can do something artistic with the meat that his guests have never seen before, it's considered very impressive. Of course, to foreigners, a western kingdom noble's banquet can look rather nightmarish and grotesque. Such displays of excess are generally the realm of the wealthy, but most families will still celebrate with a "turducken" or similar engastrated roast once a year during winter feast.

Fresh fruits and vegetables make up only a small component of northern dishes. Berry preserves and pickled vegetables are prepared during the summer months, but the only "fresh" vegetables accessible during colder months are hardy root vegetables and tubers harvested from geothermal caves. Mushrooms, also harvested from the caves, are eaten in many forms.

Bread made in this region is typically very hard and dense. This "thickbread" is intended to be soaked in gravy, milk, or soup to soften it and make it more palatable. Attempting to eat the bread without softening it is a clear indicator that someone is a foreigner, or perhaps so poor that they can't afford a proper meal. Some "thinbread" is baked slightly softer and intended to be eaten in slices, but culturally, it's still expected that you put some sort of gravy or spread on it so that you don't look like a confused foreigner or destitute peasant.

For dessert, northerners often eat dessert breads soaked in sweetened, spiced cream and topped with berry preserves and candied mushrooms. Berry tarts are also made with preserves during colder months and fresh fruit during summer months, and are associated with spring, celebration, and hardship ending. These berry tarts are often eaten at celebratory dinners at the end of winter and given to students after finishing exams.

Many residents of other territories find traditional northerner food a little overwhelming due to how rich and dense it is. It can certainly take some getting used to. Eastern Kingdom residents tend to find northern cuisine especially nightmarishly grotesque and barbaric due to their cultural views around meat. However, with increased trade and travel over the last few decades, northerner food is beginning to look more like the food from the rest of the Western Kingdom, and some of the more offputting cultural practices like the ostentatious engastrated meatcraft and inedible-unless-softened bread are becoming somewhat less popular.

Eastern Kingdom Cuisine: Coastal Citydweller

The Eastern Kingdom's cuisine is similarly influenced by their climate. The desert that spans much of the region meant that, aside from its sparkling oasis cities and rim of fishing towns along the coast and major river, many residents traditionally lived a nomadic lifestyle. Additionally, unlike the Western Kingdom, they absolutely do view "eating your own kind" as tantamount to cannibalism, which meant that most red meat was only consumed during times of desperation or occasionally during holidays/rituals, though the latter is mostly seen as a weird unsavory rural thing.

The Eastern Kingdom's meat taboo generally does not extend to fish, shellfish, and insects. Fresh fish and shellfish are routinely consumed near the coast, often seared in olive oil and spices and served over a couscous-like grain base, and a salty paste made of fermented fish is smeared on bread in interior regions. Beetles coated in chopped nuts and chili powder and dried, and honeyed crickets are also popular snacks.

Eastern Kingdom cuisine also involves a lot of nuts, beans, and seeds as major dietary staples. These foods are long-lasting, spoilage-resistant, nutrient-rich, and grew easily along the banks of the kingdom's major waterway and oases even before cities settled there. These three food groups are found in nearly all of their cooking. Nuts and seeds are baked into bread and desserts but also mixed into stir fry-type dishes to add protein. A common dessert and trail snack consists of dried dates mixed with walnuts. Dates and figs are also made into jams and eaten spread over bread or as a component in sauces.

Vegetables and fruits, as well as olives, were grown in grand, sprawling, aqueduct-fed gardens in oasis cities and on riverbanks. Cacti, once cultivated extensively by ancient nomads, are served chopped and glazed with honey, another dietary staple.

Dairy, derived from pack animals used by nomads, is also somewhat common, though difficult to transport without spoilage. It is paradoxically seen as a practical, basic food by nomads and farmers, who can milk it directly from its source, something of a luxury by city-dwellers.

Additionally, the Eastern Kingdom's sprawling coastlines mean an extensive seafaring presence. As a result, they have brought back many novel plants from far afield to be cultivated in the Eastern Sultan's personal palace garden. Among these: cocoa beans, which are refined into a spicy energizing herbal drink similar to coffee. "Chocolate houses" serving this drink can be found throughout larger cites, sometimes mixing the cocoa drink with more familiar sweetened cactus juice to stretch the expensive cocoa powder further.

Post-Fall Cuisine: Ironfrost Middle Class

The society that eventually emerged after the fall of the Old Kingdoms was quite different from what came before. Though discovery of ironworking led to the rise of industrialization--processed food and automated canning, among other innovations-- the harsh, permanent winter that eventually consumed most of the continent meant that cuisine never reached the levels of decadence it had in the Old Kingdoms. This is especially true of the working class in Ironfrost, whose rather dreary cuisine is shown here.

Limited accessibility of fresh fruits and vegetables--grown in engineered greenhouses or shipped in from the far south over increasingly long distances as the cold spread southward--meant that nearly all vegetables are eaten canned. Many, especially those in rural northern towns that lacked greenhouses, may have never even seen a fresh tomato or head of lettuce before. (The City of the Sun produces fresh fruit and vegetables for the far north--including exotic apples in nigh-extinct Old Kingdom varieties--but cutting a trade deal with the reclusive city-state can be difficult due to the whims of its elusive cultish leader.)

The one exception? Mushrooms. Like the Western Kingdom northerners that lived there before them, Post-Fall societies came to rely heavily on harvesting edible mushrooms from the geothermal caves below the tundra. Mushrooms are a crucial dietary staple and can be roasted, pickled, fried, pureed, or even candied. Many of the more specialized cooking styles such as candying were passed down by survivors of the fallen Western Kingdom, thought the passage of time and changing availability of spices and other ingredients have rendered many recipes quite different from their ancestors.

Fresh meat is easier to access and easier to preserve with minimal loss of taste or texture thanks to the frigid weather providing easy "refrigeration" by way of outdoor iceboxes. However, a whole, freshly-cooked roast is still considered a rare treat for most, especially for the mine and factory workers living within the dense industrial labyrinths of Ironfrost. Canned and dried meats are popular due to being less sensitive to spoilage when kept indoors or transported across different climates.

Overall, the heavy reliance on dried and canned food means that most available ingredients are ugly, mushy, and lacking in natural taste due to the extensive preservation process. As a result, stews, loafs, and casseroles are common, as well as jellied aspic dishes. Any manner of preparation that can hide the appearance of limp, shriveled vegetables or disguise the taste of eating the same salted meat every day is useful. Creative meat presentation, such as sculpting ground meat into fun shapes, decorated meatloaf, and ornate aspic molds is another cultural holdover passed on by Western Kingdom survivors, though in the current day it's associated more with the middle or lower middle class rather than nobility. It is now more of a way to make the most out of poor circumstances than to impress fellow nobles at parties.

(Side note, not pictured: Modern day Ironfrost elite tend to favor very plain dishes made out of fresh food, garnished with sliced fruit--the mere fact that they can access such exotic fare makes their wealth self-evident! An aspiring elite with limited funds can choose to rent a bowl of Sun City apples or even an elusive pineapple to impress party guests instead.)

One of the few pieces of Eastern Kingdom food culture that survived to the present day is chocolate, though like Western Kingdom dishes, it is now quite different from its original form. These days, cocoa is blended with fat and sugar and eaten as a dessert: chocolate. This has caused its popularity to explode. Chocolate bars are incredibly popular for their delicious taste and portability, and cakes and cookies made with chocolate are coveted by the poor and wealthy alike. Of course, the cold climate means that cocoa beans can only be grown in specialized greenhouses, and the owners of these greenhouses are keen to charge a premium for access. Ironfrost and The City of the Sun are the two major cocoa producers and it's not unheard of for Ironfrost soldiers to bully smaller cocoa growers out of business to maintain their near-monopoly. Still, hidden cocoa grows scattered around the tundra ensure that a large supply of "bootleg" chocolate remains on the menu--just don't get caught with it in Ironfrost territory.

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

The first thing you notice is the muffled sounds of the forest. Wind whistling through long, slender trees, shaking even more coloured leaves onto the floor beneath you. You laid there for a while, contemplating. How did you end up here? How did you wake up in this area, a place you’ve never seen before?

Beneath the normal sounds of the wilderness around you, there’s other noises, too. The distinct sound of metal clanging, and another more human-like whistle. It sounds like it’s human, but something about the noise has you questioning the truth. It sounds otherworldly, something that you can’t quite place yet you’re aware there’s something unsettling about it.

Your boots press into the ground when you stand up, sliding around in the slightly damp mud. The cold Autumn air has ensured that the floor isn’t safe to walk on, especially not with the freshly biting essence of ice coating the crunching leaves. You decide you have to walk anyway. How else are you meant to get out?

You felt like you weren’t even sure you wanted to get out. Something about the forest was unsettling, creating a burning pit of anxiety in your tummy yet almost feeling at home. It was like the feeling of being inside your home at night with all of the doors unlocked. The cold nips at your arms, bare apart from a t-shirt. You haven't exactly been planning on going out tonight. What had you been doing, before you woke up here? You couldn’t remember, even upon scratching your temples and closing your eyes, really trying to get just a slight memory of what you’d been up to.

Your foot slips but you manage to catch your ground. You begin to walk, unsure of where exactly you were going, only knowing that you needed to find something. If you were only looking for the source of that jarring whistle, then so be it. It had to be something. There had to be another presence between these trees, be it human or uncanny. It feels like it’s been hours since you awoke on the leaves, and you turn back, looking at the bed of moss that you’d arisen upon. It’s almost arranged to be like a den of sorts, comfortable perhaps for someone a lot smaller than you.

It’s only been minutes. You check your watch, only to find that the time hasn’t changed since 4pm today. It’s dark outside. There’s no way in hell that it’s still 4pm, perhaps closer to midnight - maybe even later, but you walk anyway. You walk and walk, ignoring the way your arms have turned a weird shade due to the cold of the air. It’s too cold.

Eventually, you think you may have found something. The forest forks into three separate routes, one straight ahead of you and one either side. The route ahead of you looks to lead to a more flourishing bank of land, bright crimson and ivory mushrooms alluring you into their domain. Daisies and other fauna lead up the way, dewy with fresh water and well taken care of. The route to your left is haggard, leaves hanging off of trees and branches bending like long, winding fingers against the dark night sky. To your right, you’re alarmed to see the presence of random strips of metal adorning the ground, some with dents and some pristine.

Do you…

Keep going ahead?

Turn to your left?

Turn to your right?

[servantofthefates]

Spell Ingredients in Traditional Witchcraft

As one would imagine, some of this is now illegal, considered barbaric, or relegated to myth. But others remain. For example, blood magic has stayed.

Human or Animal Fluids and Body Parts

Your blood proves your devotion and serves as your signature. Your target’s blood allows you to manipulate them. Similarly, your saliva, when consumed by another person or an animal, gives you considerable power over them.

Animal entrails are consulted for divination. Their organs are often used in healing balms and all sorts of potions. In curses, the animal that represents a person can serve as a living poppet.

Fruits, Herbs and Other Foodstuff

Then and now, these are staple ingredients. Leaves and eggs are used for divination. Plants, tree barks, grass, crops, and fruits are used in healing ointments, sleeping draughts, teas that induce miscarriage, and worn and edible amulets.

Perhaps lesser known is the use of poisonous mushrooms, flowers and seeds. Simply by being cooked or brewed, they can kill a target from a distance – if fed to an animal, that distance can extend beyond continents.

Religious and National Relics

This list includes the more generic garments of saints, crowns of kings and queens, and armors of warriors, as well as the very specific Holy Grail, Blood of Christ and the True Cross (fragments of the wood from the cross Jesus supposedly died on).

These relics are believed to hold immense power that can be harnessed to heal untreatable illnesses, grab or maintain power, increase beauty and wisdom, raise the dead, and attain immortality. As can be expected, rituals that require them are rarely executed, as these items are rather unusual.

Objects Obtained During a Quest

A common wildflower taken from the top of a specific mountain… A normal fish taken from a particular river… Your typical holy water taken from a faraway cathedral… Ordinary items made extraordinary through the method by which they were obtained.

The logic behind it is that the spellcaster proved the strength of his or her intentions, by overcoming any challenge that came with securing them. Such ingredients are incredibly potent.

Yes, traditional witchcraft can sound weird in this time and age. Click here to find out why.

[dunmeshistash]

Greetings, Mr. Meshi!

This is perhaps a bit of an unorthodox question, but one that has been bothering me for an unreasonable amount of time.

Now, here's the thing: I OBSESS over Marcille outliving everyone she holds dear. It's a theme very close to me, but even beyond that I just find it to be one of the most interesting elements of Dungeon Meshi's story for me personally. I've written an embarrassing amount of lengthy essays on it that will never see the light of day - that's how obsessed I am over this specific element of her character. But, there's something that bothers me...

A lot of poignant stories and artworks that tackle this topic get comments on 'em whenever Falin is the subject of aging, each one some variation of "Everything points to Falin having an extended lifespan after her revival!" which... Seems weird to me?

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but setting aside my personal annoyances, I don't remember anything pointing to this at all. At least, nothing concrete.

I don't know if this is a question you'd want to answer or not, but since your blog is a hub for all sorts of opinions and headcanons, I'd love to know where this line of thought could originate from.

I really wouldn't blame you if you didn't answer this question, though. Part of me feels I'm just asking this because I want to see if others share in my confusion or not.

Rrrregardless, though! Lemme take the opportunity to say that your blog is delighful. Love it! Also, that mushroom man with the funny face that sometimes responds to you with lengthy essays is also really cool. Everyone is cool. At least here on the northern hemisphere! It is smack dab in the middle of fall, after all! Coolness all around! Stay frosty! Or don't! Maybe warm up at a fireplace. I don't know!

Hi there! Thank you for the kind words, I love reading other's opinions on what I post so I also love the additions by the mushroom <3

It's quite hot over here in northeast Brazil, send some coolness my way please I'm dying.

Your question isn't strange at all! And I don't mind answering anything (unless it's rude or sounds like shipping war bait) so don't worry.

(Decided to put the rest under a readmore, TLDR: Kui said "maybe so, right?" about Falin having a longer lifespan but I have arguments why I don't think this actually confirms it. Anyway if you're someone who likes the headcanon you might want to skip this post)

To be honest those type of comments bother me too because I also LOVE Marcille's struggle with mortality and sometimes "Falin will live much longer!" feels undermining of the lesson she had to learn. I don't mind it in the headcanon sphere where everything is allowed and happy endings grow on trees but when it becomes intertwined with canon it starts to make me a little disappointed.

Just a reminder of the lesson she has to learn

She has to come to terms with the cycle of life and death, that something she wants (everyone to live longer) shouldn't be forced upon others just because it causes her grief. So, to me at least, Falin being made into something that will end up outliving other tallmen would undermine the message? In a canon sense ofc, if you're writing a wish fulfillment story then her living longer would have a different meaning, I just wanna be clear I have nothing against it in that sense, it all depends on what story you're trying to tell.

Anyway, actually answering your question that idea comes from the fact she was fused to a Red Dragon, and the fact her body has been affected by it, her sight was fixed and she grows feathers for example, so people theorize maybe her lifespan has been affected too. But we don't really know how long dragon's live so it's hard to say how much it would have been affected if at all.

It also comes from this answer Kui gave in a QnA

Q: Would Falin have an extended lifespan after the whole chimera thing? A: Maybe so, right?

To me this reads as the usual non-answers Kui gives, like, "I'll leave it up to your imagination" but for other people this read as a confirmation of the headcanon, in another questions she answers "I hope so" about Thistle leading a happy life after having his desires eaten and it's even debatable if Thistle survived at all so I don't think those comments indicate much of canon (I'm that way about most QnA answers tbh, unless it's something inconsequential like confirming Mithrun's Brother's name or stuff about very minor characters)

Another argument I have against her having a different lifespan is Izutsumi, Izu has been mixed with a monster but continues to age at the same rate a Tallmen would, even tho she also has different biology because of the Great Cat she's fused with (ears, reflexes, eyes etc etc) she is still a tallman

Falin isn't really the same thing as Izutsumi tho, I understand, but it's the closest example we have, if we believe the AB descriptions and demi-humans are really mixes between humans and monsters that's also another argument about it not affecting lifespan, since all of them are short lived and have an average lifespan of 55.

All of this *can* be dissmissed tho, the other demi-humans and beastmen are all mixed with mammal monsters and nothing nearly as powerful as a Dragon, so there is arguments to be made that Falin is different and that she *might* have an extended lifespan, all I'm saying is that there's no solid confirmation of it, it's fine to believe it but going around "correcting" other people saying it's a fact wouldn't be right I don't think, especially if you're saying that in a conversation about Marcille journey of death acceptance.

Death is a touchy subject and everyone is at different stages of their own journeys with it so I really don't want to judge those who would rather have Falin or even Laios live longer. I'm not really sure how to talk about this in the proper way, but I hope I didn't make anyone upset!

[mistriavalley]

Telling Shane about the Junimos

Gender neutral

TW: established relationship, mentions of drug consume (it was just a potion from the wizard), mentions of alcohol

Masterlist

It's no secret that Shane doesn't believe in magic or anything that hasn't been backed by science

You on the other hand are over here fighting all sorts of monsters while helping a bunch of round forest spirits to rebuild the community center and seeking advice from the local wizard. Your hands are full with all the stuff that hasn't been proven by scientists yet

Obviously Shane doesn't think much of the strange items you bring to the community center or the amount of times you ran to the tower in the west with a poisonous mushroom. So what if you need a Bream for the broken down house in the town? It's just your way of fixing things...apparently

The two of you had that talk so many times where you ask him if he's absolutely sure that he doesn't believe at least a little bit in magic

"Nope."

One day you decide to take him to the community center to show him what exactly you're doing there. Of course he won't see the Junimos, but maybe he will be convinced by the item lists they need from you and the boxes where you put said items inside

But to him the letters look like scribbles of either a madman or a toddler that hasn't learned how to write yet and the boxes where you put the items in are...well they must be your doing, right?

He doesn't know how to react to your frantic explanation about some spirits that look like apples. The old Shane would have told you off and walked away, but you're very important to him and the new Shane doesn't wanna hurt your feelings in any way or at least tries to avoid it

"You did all these things for the community center? Wow. You're doing great."

The tone in his voice makes it more than crystal clear that he doesn't believe a word you said. It's frustrating, but he'll see

"Do you trust me, Shane?"

"Uh..."

He looks around the place. He always knew you were a bit quirky, but now he's pretty sure he's apparently dating a second Emily

"I want to open your eyes."

He blinks a few times

"Sure?"

That's all you need to hear to grab his hand and lead him towards cindersap forest

Shane's mind is racing and he has no clue what to expect. The expression on your face is so serious that it's almost scary. What do you plan on doing with him inside the goddamn woods of all places? Will you perhaps sacrifice him? Hah! What a ridiculous thought! And even if. At least it would be happening by the hands of his hot significant other

You lead him up some stairs towards no other place than the tower. It's taller from up close. Shane had looked at it many times from the ranch, but only the tip of the roof is visible from that distance

But is this really happening? Is he seriously going to meet that crazy dude who lives on the border of Pelican Town? Shane doesn't know if he should feel worried or excited. He never particularly cared for that guy or what his business here is so it's difficult to say

Once you two take a step through the wooden front door, Shane is being hit by an earthy smell. This place smells more of the forest than the forest itself. The room wasn't particularly big and it lacked furniture. The big, colorful sigil on the floor is the first thing that catches his attention

Inside the alien looking symbol stands a man with a thick, purple beard and black clothes. The man's eyes light up at the sight of you, but it's immediately being replaced by a frown once his gaze meets Shane's

You pull the stranger aside and started a hushed, but heated discussion with him. Shane feels out of place with his worn out joja sweater and old cargo shorts. Everything here is so mystical and Shane is...well, he is Shane

The sound of a cough rips him out of his thoughts and his legs seem to be moving by themselves as the purple man waves him over to an enormous cauldron. The reassuring smile on your face is the only thing that keeps him sane at the moment

A cup filled with a bubbling, green liquid finds its way into his hands and he just stares at it for a long time, unsure about what to do now

"Drink it."

"Hold up, buddy! You want me to do what exactly?"

Shane has mentally prepared himself to be sacrificed by his partner (for some reason) and not by some old guy who smells like he uses dirt as deodorant

You gently put a hand on his shoulder and plant a kiss on his cheek

"Nothing bad will happen to you. You have my word. I had to drink it too in the beginning."

Okay, so nothing bad will happen, but something definitely will happen to him. Cool. Yea.

"Just pretend it's beer, Shane. Alright. Bottoms up."

The moment the liquid touches his tongue he feels the strong urge to spit it all out onto the floor. It tastes of donkey ass or at least that's what he imagines it to taste like, but it's not that what he should be concerned about

Almost right after thag horrible experience, an explosion of colors hits him and what the fuck? Are those trees flying around him? His knees cave in and he plops down onto the hard floor. By Yoba. Not even Gus' strongest hits like this

Thankfully this odd feeling vanishes as quickly as it came

"Did you fucking drug me?"

"It was a potion."

"That doesn't answer my goddamn question!"

You tell him that it was no drug and that this will help him read the letters and see the spirits. Since he doesn't have a natural connection to nature like you do you had to ask Rasmodius to change the potion a little bit

"I'm so sorry. I should have warned you, but he told me you won't feel any side effects like I did."

"No, don't worry. I'm not mad at you."

But the wizard on the other hand shouldn't show himself around these parts

It doesn't take long for you guys to leave the tower and it feels like as if something is being lifted from Shane's shoulders the more distance he puts between himself and that place

"How do you feel?"

"Fine? I think? I keep expecting to fall over and die though."

"Noooo! That won't happen."

He doesn't want to imagine what the guy put in that so called "potion" of his. Raccoon shit? Poisonous berries? Worms? He shivers at the thought

Once again Shane finds himself inside the old community center with you and once again nothing looks out of the ordinary. Well, except for the dead fish that are piled up in the corner

But then he spots something in the far corner and rubs his eyes. It's gone. Ah, that was probably just a trick of the light

You startle him by holding up one of the letters infront of his face and...wait a minute. Where are the unreadable scribbles? Why can he read the writing now? Shane shakes his head violently. You must have exchanged the letters, but when? You hadn't left his side at all today

He goes through every room, reads every letter and checks every single box. The content of the boxes fit. So you actually do have a system here even though he can't find a sense in it

Then he hears a noise echoing through the hallway to the right

"What was that?"

"A Junimo."

For the first time since forever he finds himself praying to Yoba. He has gone mad. The "wizard" has made him mad with the raccoon shit drink

Shane bolts out of the house and stumbles back home. Back to the ranch. Part of him is trying to drag him towards the saloon to drown the madness in beer, but he can't drink now. He needs to think

After this incident you don't see him for a whole week. Every now and then you do spot him in town, on his way to work, but decide not to approach him. Obviously he's avoiding you right now and you don't want to push things. He had gone through a lot now and probably just needs the space. It still worries you

A week later someone knocks at your front door right as you were about to hop into bed. Shane is standing there, looking more tired and exhausted than ever. You feel the familiar sting of guilt in your chest

"Can we talk?"

Without saying a word, you step aside to let him in. Both of you sit down in the living room infront of the still glowing fireplace. A comfortable heat eminates from it

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd open my eyes."

"I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be. I mean it kinda sucked, yea."

An unbearable silence stretches on. This moment is like torture to you. You have no idea what to expect. Is he angry? Is he sad? Will he break up with you now? You banish these thoughts before your mind can wander any further

"Thanks."

Wait what? That came...unexpected

"But I only thank you. Not that wizard dude in that shitty tower with his raccoon shit potions. I guess...I guess I needed something like this. I needed to know that we're not alone in this world. It's kinda comforting in a way."

You throw your arms around him, relieved that he doesn't hate you. It also feels like a burden has been lifted from you, because now you don't have to keep these things to yourself. Now you have someone to talk to

"I'm free tomorrow. We could go through the lists in the center together maybe and see what we can do."

"Shane..."

"Stop. No. Don't. Don't get all soft on me and shit. This is still super fucking weird."

"Oh."

"Yea! Like why the fuck do these spirits need raw fish? How the fuck do you repair a building with dead fish?"

"OH!"

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Rip Cheato

Debut: Paper Mario

Hello! I am glad you made it. You are just in time, because some guy is here. He's here looking for You! He wants to sell you a Dried Mushroom for 64 coins. Will you buy it? It's not a good deal, but consider this: he has a sort of lamp antenna growing from his scalp. I think that is pretty cool, personally.

He probably makes good use of his lamptenna, since he lives in the sewer. I bet a Sewer Man would know his fungus! Maybe his Dried Mushrooms are impeccable. Maybe he even dries them with his lamp. Don't be judgemental, now. Don't judge someone because his name is derived from "ripoff" and "cheat". Are you the kind of person who would immediately assume someone smells bad, just because their name is Poop Fartley? You better not be. Rip Cheato's name is a little deceiving because while he does sell junk for 64 coins, if you buy what he offers, he'll also sell Star Pieces for 64 coins, and Hoo-Wee! That's a Hot Commodity! I trust him. I think he's just being cheeky for fun.

Name: Chet Rippo

Debut: Paper Mario

Now this guy is whuzzah! What's the deal with this guy! Rip Cheato is weird, true, being strangely human in a game where those are quite limited, but he has a theme going on. He looks like a Sewer Man. Now here we have Chet Rippo, who is some sort of alien platypus clown umbrella? I don't know what he is, but I think it is absolutely splendid. To quote an ancient philosopher:

"Sometimes in life, there is a weird guy." -Opabinia

If I didn't know any better, I might think Chet Rippo would appear from a UFO or circus tent or perhaps a dimensional portal. He doesn't! He just hangs out in Toad Town. He's a weird guy, but a weird guy is still a guy, you know? Except this is no normal guy because he can alter Mario's abilities! For 39 coins he will raise Marios HP, FP, or BP by two points, but- and this is important- he says "heh heh". That means he's shady! For each stat he increases, he will decrease the others each by one!

This makes Chet Rippo far stranger of a guy. Someone in real life could sell you overpriced garbage. But someone in real life altering your stats for a low price? Scary to think about! Imagine someone granting you the ability to remember twice as many bug facts as you currently can, but also making the vision in your left eye worse and making you 25% more sensitive to cold. Frightening magic! But at least the guy doing it is a funny creature.

Chet Rippo appears in The Thousand Year Door as well, but like, does he really? This is a whole different design, and it's not nearly as fun... Eyes In A Void Wizards are fun by default, and so is wearing a barrel on one's head, but this game has a bunch of Eyes In A Void Wizards, and this guy used to be one of the weirdest creatures in the entire game! To hell with this guy. Let's look at his better version again.

Look at him go! Like a flapjack octopus! His arms are even like the fluttering fins! Could he truly just be a big octopus wearing a weird hat? We may never know...

[edgeray]

hii edge! is it possible if i request an arlecchino/reader with beauty & the beast au :0? thank you so much in advance aaaaaa i love your writing so much it always makes my day^^

To Break a Curse

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon! Of course, here's going to be my reminder that if you request from me again as an anon, give yourself a name/emoji :). So I technically have already made a beauty and beast au (here is the link), but I suppose I could just rewrite the concept. The original au did differ a lot from the ‘disney’ version so for this one, so for this one, I will actually try to align this more with the disney version. Slightly dark because I'm not going to have talking kettles and candlesticks in here. Will be assuming gn! reader for this. Also I'm glad that you enjoy my works and bit sorry for the delay ^^ I am so sorry the ending is shitty at the end I am deadass about to fall asleep, I was this close 🤏 to falling asleep. I was typing with my eyes close lol. It's like 3:30AM for me so I'm gonna hit the hay. Maybe I should stop writing these at 12AM lol.  Content warnings / info - mean arle at the start, semi-graphic violence, prolly forgetting something but I'm tired, 2.7k words 

You've heard of the rumored forsaken prince, everyone in your village has. People rarely mention her by name, opting to call the cursed prince ‘the Beast,’ based on her animal-like claws and her temperament–just as vicious as a feral beast. The castle which she alone resides in sits on the outskirts of the forest next to your village. Every villager warns you to never trespass into the Beast's territory, unless you wished to never return. However, you've never believed in the existence of the Beast and her castle--after all, you've gone to the forests numerous times and have never encountered her. Perhaps this was just a way to scare off children from getting lost. 

Today, you learned how wrong you were. Venturing into the forest to forage for your dinner, you had accidentally delved too deep into the forest, now lost. Night approached soon as you searched for an escape or a shelter, but your search was unsuccessful.

Trudging through the forest, you heave for breath, your feet aching from traversing the rough terrain of the forest, not helped by the uncomfortable shoes you chose to wear. You thought that the foraging wouldn't take long but you found a large patch of mushrooms that led you deeper into the forest than you intended. You gaze up at the sky, it being pitch black with only the moonlight and the stars guiding you through. 

The shadows produced by the trees unnerve you, your imagination and paranoia warping them into abstract monsters stalking you. You know that there is nothing in the forest that can hurt you, unless the rare bear, but the knowledge didn't soothe you any more. You feel something hit your forehead–something light and small… and wet. It takes a couple more droplets before you realize it’s now downpouring. You bite your lip out of frustration, wrapping your arms around yourself to store as much body heat to yourself. Your footsteps speed up and you look more frantically, until you see something imposing in the distance. It's hard to make out in the fog, but it seems like the outline of some sort of building. 

You run towards it, only to be faced with a wall. You follow along it until you reach a gate, and behind the gate, you can vaguely make out a structure larger and more obscene than anything you've ever seen before; it looks nothing like the village establishments. If anything, it dwarfs your entire village as a whole, likely massive enough to fit your village inside based on the height alone. At least this would provide you shelter from the rain and cold, is the only consideration you make before pushing open the gates and rushing down the stone path. 

You nearly trip over the stone passage and as you arrive at the entrance, you soon realize it’s a castle. Its uncanny shape now makes some sense, but from then on lack of light through the windows, it seems like no one lives here. You press on, entering the castle. You’re thankful you're no longer being pelted by the rain and then you're immediately struck with awe from the decor and grandiose of the interior. Although the castle is unlit, you're still able to make out some details of the room you enter. Admiring the spiral staircase and the magnificent pillars, a thought strikes you. Why does no one inhabit the castle? 

Abruptly, there is the sound of something shuffling and it makes your marveling halt. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and fear clenches onto you tightly as the incessant terror of not being as alone as you though plagues you. Spinning around, you search for the origins of the sound only to scare yourself when you accidentally kick against a piece of furniture. You yelp out, before silencing yourself when you cognize it was nothing. 

And then a thud. And another, coming from behind you. Paralysis enraptures your body and before you have the time to breathe, a heavy weight crashes into you, making you tumble into the ground. You let out a scream, turning around to view what just struck you, and two glowing red orbs stare back at you. You gasp wildly, trying to scramble away when your throat is suddenly tightened and you're forced against the ground. It feels like claws are just barely brushing against your neck, threatening to puncture into you if you so much as breathe. A whimper escapes you and a whispered plea escapes you as you lock your eyes on the pair of red. 

“P-please…” 

A deep, resounding voice responds to you, causing shivers down your body. “What are you doing in my home?”

Tears well in your eyes and you try your best to speak as clearly as possible. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't k-know! I'll go, p-please let me go!” You beg, your hands raise to pry off the hand over your throat but a feral growl stops you. 

“Do you know whose home you intruded into?” 

You shake your head. The grip around your neck intensifies for a few moments.

“Speak.”

“N-no…” 

“This is my castle, Prince Arlecchino's. Though, the villagers like to call me something else… what was it, ‘the Beast?’”

You suck in an audible breath as your eyes grow wide. This is the Beast? The Beast is real? Then are the rumors of people disappearing in the castle true as well? What will happen to you? Your mind goes into a frenzy, with all the wonderings of what the Beast would do to you.

“P-please don't kill m-me…”

“Kill you? No,” the Beast answers coldly. The hold on your throat slackens and the Beast’s hand slips away. “I won't kill you. But you've trespassed my home. And for that, you will remain here, for the rest of your life.” 

“W-what? B-but,” you breath is caught when you feel a tug on your arm pulling you up to your feet, the same claws that pressed against your neck digs shallowly into your arm, making you wince. 

“This is your punishment,” the Beast says, its red pupils glaring down at you coldly. You gulp, but accept your fate. The Beast could easily kill you with one swipe of her hand. 

“Follow,” it instructs, and you do, trailing behind the Beast as it navigates the dark surroundings effortlessly, a testament to how long it's been here. You trip over another piece of furniture, making you stumble onto the ground. 

“I'm sorry–” you stammer out an apology immediately.

“Be quiet,” gruffed the Beast. You scramble to get up but feel yourself hoisted up, by the Beast presumably. You yelp from the sudden position, now carried in a bridal style–its hold is surprisingly gentle and its claws don't prick you.

“Where are you taking me?” You inquire, clutching onto the Beast’s shoulder–which for some reason shocks you that it’s firm just like any other human, although you know that the Beast is a human–when it goes up the staircase. 

“A guest chamber.”

“A guest chamber?” 

“Would you prefer the dungeon?”

“No… thank you… Prince Arlecchino.”

The Beast pauses its movements, halting in place. 

Your thoughts flood with anxiety, wondering if this would trigger a violent reaction from the Beast. “Did I offend you? I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“No. It's just been a long while since someone referred to me from my title.” The Beast continues walking, unaware of how its–her–words shattered your mindset. 

That's right, how could you forget? ‘The Beast’ is still a human, cursed or not. Perhaps Prince Arlecchino deserved being inflicted by a curse, but you could not imagine yourself with the fate instilled on the forsaken prince, nor being singularly called ‘the Beast’ by every waking person. It's dehumanizing and awfully isolating, and it makes you question how long it has been since she's been called that, how long it has been since she has been seen as a human. 

It makes your heart ache. 

You count the flight of stairs that she goes up, and then for the first time, you see orange light coming from one of the rooms at the end of a corridor–an open fire likely. As the Prince walks closer to the room, you're able to make out more details; it's a bedroom, but more apparently, you can finally see her. You tilt your head up, and you expectedly, yet unexpectedly at once, you view a very princely face: pale, flawless skin framed by snow white hair and ebony strands, and sharp jaw. Prince Arlecchino glances down at you, sharp cross-shaped pupils burrowing into you. Her expression seems curious of yours. 

“You do look like a prince…” you think out loud absentmindedly, your face flushing as you realize your verbalization. 

The Prince says nothing, thankfully, and doesn't note your fluster. You look away from her face and glance at her hands. Like you've heard from the villagers, they are black, as if dipped in ink and her nails are red claws. Though what the villagers have yet to mention was the markings on her forearm, which are, admittedly, entrancing. She finally sets you down once she enters her chamber, which is obviously well-lived in. 

Taking a nearby candle holder and a few logs of wood set nearby the hearth the Prince silently exits her room to go into the room next to hers. You follow her into the room, this one obviously not used but still has a lot of furniture. Using the logs and the candlestick, she ignites the hearth and what you assume is going to be your room fills with heat and light. 

“This is your room from now on. Do not ask for me for the rest of the night,” she gruffs, and closes the door behind her. Her footsteps go away towards the direction of her bedroom. 

You blink, reality setting in. You’re still in your wet clothes, but you can't do much but strip and wrap yourself in dry sheets. You do exactly that, before sinking into the bed. It's like how you imagine sinking into a cloud to be–you fall to slumber in the manner of minutes. 

— 

You do not see her until the next morning, when the sun finally peaks out and you're able to see where you walk. Exiting your room, you note that she's not in her chamber, and you wander the castle. A whiff of something metallic combined with a musk catches your attention and you travel down the stairs until you reach the ground floor. You spot a figure crouched over something, and when you near the sight more, you discover the Prince hunched over a deer carcass. A sickening rip makes you cringe as a limb is torn off from the body. 

“P-prince?” You ask hesitantly. The Prince turns, a calm expression over her face. Only a bit of blood smears her lips. 

“Yes?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Eating. It is also for you.” 

You stew in silence long enough for the Prince to turn back and resume. “Prince Arlecchino, how long have you been surviving like this?” 

“Since I was cursed.” 

Your heart aches again. “It is raw.”

“Indeed.” 

“It cannot be good for you.”

“It is all I have.” 

It is a sad sight. You think that ‘the Beast’ fits her the best here, like a starved animal instead of a human trying to live. 

“Prince Arlecchino, if you allow me, I can improve your eating experience. It would be healthier for you and it would be more appealing to eat.” 

The Prince perks up her head, glancing back at you.

That day, the Prince learns of the wonders of cooked venison. And perhaps, you've never seen a brighter, warmer light than the one that glints in the Prince's at her first taste. 

—

“What is it that you're reading?” 

Arlecchino glances up from her book. “It is a romance novel.”

“I didn't think that you'd be interested in such things, Prince.” 

“You grow curious about things you do not have.” 

You frown and contemplate. It seems like… she's always wanted company. “Prince, may I ask you why you chose to isolate yourself here?”

The Prince remains quiet for several moments before she responds, in a voice uncharacteristically quiet. “The villagers do not accept my appearance.”

“Because of your curse?”

“Yes. They’re afraid of me. Of my eyes, of my hands. Of my strength.” 

“Have you not tried undoing the curse?”

She bitterly laughs. “There is nothing that breaks the curse. It is impossible.”

You narrow your eyes. “There must be something. There's no such thing as an unbreakable curse.”

“You are right. However, the conditions to break this one is… unobtainable.”

“What is it?”

 The Prince's gaze shifts from you to the stack of books that pile by her bedside. You recognize some of the titles from your village library–they were all in the romance category. You never realize until now that the Prince looks at them with a hopeless longing. “To be loved and to love, is what it is in simple terms.”

There is that heartache again. 

You shake your head, trying to any more painful thoughts circling around the Prince. “If you truly gave up on breaking your curse, you would not still be alive, would you?”

“I will not entertain this thought,” is all she says, but you know her answer already. 

You sigh. “Can I at least… read with you?”

The Prince tilts her head and pauses. A clawed hand grasps onto yours, and you're pulled into her lap. The steady heartbeat of Arlecchino's can be felt from the contact. 

— 

It takes several weeks for you to figure that the Prince does not enforce her punishment. You have escaped out of the castle before, if only to find more things to forage. She has seen you exit out of the castle but she does not chase you or force you to return back. Although you’d like to see the village again, you're also not sure if you do want to go back–the castle is quite comfortable and you’ve had enough of petty village squabbles. You wonder why it is that she doesn't stop you, why she was so forceful of it at the beginning. 

You recall the discussion regarding her curse. She had given up on finding a way to break her curse, however, she had always sought out company. Perhaps she had the punishment to force you to stay… to enjoy a company she has been able to for years. Now, Arlecchino has given up on you being a potential cure to her curse. It must be why she's no longer hesitant to let you go.  

But she is wrong. In those weeks you spend with her, you've learned much more about ‘the Beast.’ You've learned that she is kind in a quiet, observant manner. She's hunted for you, lit your fireplace, made your clothes. She cares for nature, appreciates its beauty and intricacy unlike anyone else you know. And she is romantic, some of the village men could not compare to her when she's read so many books. 

One day, a rose is left on your bed, no doubt collected on your bed. 

That night, you approach her room.

“Prince Arlecchino?”

“Yes?”

“The rose… thank you for it.” 

The Prince remains in silence, observing you with adoration in her eyes despite her bone chilling features. “You’re welcome.”

“Roses are often used as a way to confess,” you say. You know that she knows already, given the amount of books she read. “Is this what I think it is?”

Prince Arlecchino nods. Tentatively, she takes your cheek in her hand and cups it, her claws gently brushing over your skin. “Yes. I think I am in love with you.”

A smile forms on your face and you lean in to press your foreheads against one another, creating an intimate air. “I love you too, my dear Prince.” 

The two of you lean against one another, your lips meeting each other and you close your eyes. The Prince places a hand behind your head, pushing you closer. You don't notice that her nails are no longer red, nor are they sharp. She doesn't notice either. 

The ink from her arms wash away, and with that ‘the Beast’ is swept away, stolen away by you. Prince Arlecchino stands in place of the missing ‘Beast.’ 

[vintagerpg]

Looking at some recent RPG books this week starting with this beauty, Caer Mundus: The Lost Realm (2021). It’s a system agnostic attempt to reconstruct a plausible Celtic world for RPGs (the people we call the Celts didn’t write anything down, so what we firmly know about their culture is pretty scant). It’s emphatically psychedelic, with mind-altering substances (particularly mushrooms and red honey) fueling magic, visions and bravery.

There’s a ton of tools in the book: dogs, horses, heroic rivals, a system for tracking acclaim (and social stigma), tables galore. There are templates that present Celtic versions of Bards, Druids, Rangers and Warriors that can be laid over most system’s character creation systems. There are, of course, many spirits and monsters derived from the surviving mythologies of the British Isles (selkies, dullahan, coraniaid and so on).

Perhaps the most interesting part of the book is the epic quest line, the Song of the Blaze Above. It begins with an omen of apocalypse, which spurs the three old kings to attempt to purge the ellyllon, a sort of fae culture that has co-existed with humanity. The quest sees the players recruited to unite the three kingdoms (installing new kings if necessary) in order to prepare for the coming battle with the true threat: an army of ogres (who, through their naming, are highly implied to be Romans, at least metaphorically). That battle has three potential flavors: one where humanity can triumph, one where humanity is doomed and one where the ogres are a red herring and the fae are the true threat after all. It’s neat to have all the events mapped out, and pretty clear how you can map them to a system of your choice. Along the way, characters grow from scrawny whelps to epic heroes. There’s an Afanc. What more could you possibly want?

Grim and gritty art throughout, in the vein of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, but slightly lighter and more realistic. You can catch glimmers of a way of life here. The cover is by Sawblade, whose art has decorated many a death metal album cover. My pal Darkwizard Berserker did the logo.

[hanjisungslag]

haiii >_< what type of fantasy characters/stererotypes would aot characters be?

- any characters you want but def reiner pls＾ ty baby

🧝‍♀️ aot characters & fantasy

characters included: eren, armin, mikasa, sasha, connie, jean, annie, reiner, bertolt, levi, erwin & hange!!

notes: this was so fun to do omg

✧ eren jaeger - hero gone villain

okay i know this is a bit basic to do… but c’mon!! he’s literally the epitome of ‘i’ve become what i sought out to destroy’ and i just can’t think of him as anything else. he fits the stereotype too well😭.

✧ armin arlert - mage

he is soooo side kick mage, no? tell me you can’t imagine armin (specifically with the mushroom hair) wearing a wizard gown, hat and holding a magical old stick. he doesn’t like to leave his tower often but is usually forced to when something goes amiss - i can imagine him sighing deeply while reluctantly grabbing his magical old stick.

✧ mikasa ackerman - sidekick

bad ass sidekick who lives in the woods & is probably on the run. i’m thinking… arcana muriel vibes for this but less stoic and quiet (and less cursed) but, she definitely learnt to fight in the woods when she was 3 OR taken in by an old, rugged guy whose family died tragically. either way, everyone’s terrified of her but she steals bread for orphans or some heroic shit like that.

✧ jean kirsten - prince

himbo prince😭 i mean this in the BEST way possibly mkay! he’s not really a himbo however… he just gives prince who accidentally got entangled in a weird adventure and he doesn’t know how to live without servants. he’s be like “erm, i am not crossing that muddy river.” BUT THE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT WOULD BE INSANE by the end, he’d like finally understand how bad the government is or how poor the townspeople are and give them money.

✧ connie springer - the fool

sigh… the fool, the court jester, etc etc. he would be himbo prince jean’s court jester 100% and they’re like actually pretty good friends, they’ve known each other since they were kids. he also gets dragged along with jean on a weird adventure and he would be the comedic relief. (also a shoulder for jean to cry on when he gets mud on his fancy royal shoes).

✧ sasha braus - henchman

hunter/henchman hellooo…? literally expert at using a bow and arrow? grew up in the woods?? she would EAT so hard being a henchman and to make it even better, when someone hires her they don’t know she’s a girl and whenever someone finds out, they’ll be so shocked!! feminism!

✧ reiner braun - the beast

dare i say… some sort of big beast? like a big, fluffy beast but make it sexy, beauty and the beast vibes perhaps. imagine fighting this big and surprisingly attractive who lives under a bridge. IM SORRY THAT WOULD BE SO FUN… i’m thinking like diane from sds vibes too!!

✧ bertolt hoover - squire

young, little boy training to be a knight aka a squire. tell me you cant see this little cutie patootie dressed to the nines in armour, learning how to swing a sword?! maybe him and annie trained together or dare i say, he looks up to her.

✧ annie leonhart - knight

sworn shield to a princess that she falls in love with. imma need someone to write a fanfic about this RIGHT NOW!! we all know annie knows how to whop some ass so, of course she was chosen by the king and queen to protect their precious daughter but what happens when… she falls in love! GAH!! of course, she could never speak of her feelings - maybe one day.

✧ levi ackerman - assassin

leader of some sort of renegade, like a special group of assassins. no matter what universe this man is in, his crown will never fall! his title carries on throughout all possible realties m’kay. same backstory though 100%, raised in the poor ditches but learnt how to fight and now he’s a leader of a renegade! you have to pay big buck to get levi to assassinate someone, he’s the best of the best after all.

✧ erwin smith - commander

i’m sorry to be basic and boring but a commander of an army. HE HAS TO BEEE 😭it’s too perfect, i’m sorry. except imagine the army is all medieval and dripped out in chainmail!

✧ hange zoë - pirate

a pirate. LIKE CMONNN especially s4 hange with the eye patch?! i can totally imagine hange running a ship and sailing the seven seas. they’re literally a commander too? it was written in the stars, they’re perfect for the role! i can totally see them playing devious pranks and tricks on other pirates trying to secure the same treasure.