#persy watches

[persephone-on-main]

I'm watching Rebecca (1940) and once again it made me think 'I would never let anyone treat me this way, I would make Manderley mine', I again and again catch myself judging the main character/narrator, but consciously I know it's quite likely I would be just as intimidated as the second Mrs de Winter. Living in the shadow of someone who seemed to do everything perfectly, with a husband who values your innocence, your lack of experience to the point of unhealthy obsession, who wants to see you as a happy child more than a partner, an antithesis to something instead of your own person, is not a life possible to live if you have half a brain cell. I think the tragedy of second Mrs de Winter is that she had nobody in her corner, nobody to show her how to react in the face of microaggressions, of completely unjustified cruelty (I mean, as if it can ever be justified) which made her especially susceptible to that psychological torment, to self doubt. The introduction in which she's psychologically and verbally belittled by Mrs Van Hopper already shows something that should be obvious: abused people often apologize for even existing, being loved and valued seems like a fantasy, completely unrealistic, which makes the second Mrs de Winter not a character that should be judged this harshly, she's actually someone quite... relatable. Nobody can be like Rebecca, because nobody should be like Rebecca, her confidence, fearlessness, decisiveness was arrogance and conceit, so her charm was the charm of a liar, impossible to copy if you have even a sliver of mind conscience.

[watchingmoviesandshit]

Snoopy Presents: Welcome Home, Franklin (2024)

[shatteredfears-arch]

me everytime my stupid hormones do the stupid hormone thing: lol what if— we became besties— ahaha and what if— we wrote ships together — and also what if— we wrote spice together— ahaha jkjk unless—

[lemurchick]

Accidentally logged in on twitter just when someone remembered about having an account.

[southislandwren]

ooh the geminids peak dec 14 and i will still be in bortle class 2 :) gotta check the moon phase but this should be pretty good

[wilyzombie]

https://twitter.com/latestinspace/status/1690062313351729152?s=46&t=De95FmJsf8uy13smNUjwYw

[unoislazy]

I lied to all of you, Hiccup later, Mizu now!

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Disclaimer; Possible spoilers.

Mizu will be referred to as “he/him” since the reader won’t know her secret at this point in time.

I can’t guarantee this will be completely in character, I’m still learning more about the characters so bear with me.

Part Two

Part Three

————————————————————

You had been traveling alongside Mizu and Ringo for a fair amount of time. You had been haphazardly picked up along the way, very much to Mizu’s dismay. The only reason you were allowed to tag along was your fighting skills. Your skills were no wear near Mizu’s level, not many people would be, but you were able to do enough that if the need arose, you’d be able to form some sort of protection for yourself and possibly Ringo.

But you wanted to learn more.

You didn’t want to do like Ringo and become a Samurai, it should be clear to anyone that Mizu was not a samurai, you wanted to learn how to fight. Throughout your travels with the two you watched how the man practically danced with a sword, the elegance as he leapt through the air and sliced up men with ease. The sword seems to be a sort of extension of him, of his arm, or his heart. When he wielded the sword it was like they were connected more than just physically.

You didn’t understand it well but you wanted to learn.

You had your reasons for wanting to fight. You didn’t want to learn in the name of tyranny or even greed, you wanted to learn to prevent a situation from happening ever again.

When you were younger, you certainly weren’t the most popular kid in your village. You never truly did much to attract attention so people often never really batted an eye to your presence. However, that meant no one truly noticed when you would walk around with several visible injuries some days after being picked on by some of the other village kids.

They didn’t pick on you for any other reason than they were bored and they knew they wouldn’t face any consequences if they went after you.

And they were right.

You tried your hardest to fight back but they were always a step ahead of you. So from then on you knew you wanted to learn how to fight, if not to protect yourself then maybe to have the hopes of one day protecting someone else.

You all continued to travel in complete silence, the snow lightly crunching beneath yours and Mizu’s feet. The only thing giving away Ringo's position was the bell that was wrapped around his foot. You looked down at his bell and smiled, it was almost like putting a collar on a pet, it was kind of funny to you. Ringo turned to you, noticing you looking at the bell and he excitedly smiled.

“Do you like it? Master gave it to me, he says I’m too sneaky so now he knows where I am at all times!” He loudly exclaimed, you think he was trying to whisper but he was obviously doing horribly at it. Mizu, who was walking a few steps ahead of you two, gave you a slight glance over the shoulder. You didn’t really notice as you were still smiling at Ringo, you enjoyed his ever optimistic demeanor on everything, it was so different from everyone else’s dreary lives and it gave you a reason to smile.

Ringo leaned over to you, trying his best to lower his voice but he still said everything quite loud.

“Maybe master will give you one too! That way we can both be sneaky apprentices.” He whispered, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Me? Get a bell?” You laughed before continuing, “I’m not going to call the man my master, I have no reason to.” You stated pretty plainly, which obviously confused Ringo.

“You want to learn how to fight, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to learn from Mizu, right?”

You nodded your head agreeing with him before realizing what he was getting at.

“So then Mizu is your master!”

“Woah, no way.” You argued, now crossing your arms with your head raised high.

You had your issues with calling some man your master. Especially one that barely gave you the time of day. Plus, if it wasn’t for your persistence and Ringo's persuasion, he would’ve left you on that street corner where he found you.

But he didn’t.

He instead let you travel along like a stray dog, following him around on his dark mission that you felt no need to ask about. You had talked to him maybe a handful of times before but he clearly didn’t want to give you the idea that he wanted you around. You were welcomed here, but with very cold and rigid arms instead of nice warm ones.

You might’ve been following him like a stray dog but you’re no pet.

And so you refuse to get that stupid bell.

“Why don’t you want to be Masters apprentice? I’d say it’s very fun, I get to do stuff for him all the time!” Ringo said, it was obvious he was trying to persuade you in some way.

“Well my friend, I think that position is occupied, number one. And number two, I want to learn how to fight, that’s it. I don’t want to learn the ins and outs of being a samurai. I’m simply hoping Mizu will teach me, as a friend.” You explained, it seemed this finally clicked with Ringo, but then you watched as his face contorted into more confusion by your answer.

Before he could ask, Mizu abruptly turned to the both of you and simply stated,

“It’s getting late, we should rest here.”

You both nodded as Mizu walked off in some random direction with Ringo following him. You however, took a moment to just stare at the already dark night sky. You hadn’t realized just how long you had been traveling, and you were a bit peeved that you had missed seeing the sunset. Although it’s not like you would’ve really been able to see it anyways, you were currently deep into a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees with no clear direction in any which way.

Speaking of not knowing your direction, you quickly looked back down and spotted Ringo, quickly following after him as to not get left behind. If they had left you you would’ve been screwed, you have no idea where you are, or how to get out of the forest, not to mention there’s usually many dangers in the woods that you’re not yet prepared to deal with.

It didn’t take long for a fire to get set up and for Ringo to start cooking. He might not have made the world's best soba, but you’d argue it was pretty high up there. You and Mizu sat quietly by the fire, not really saying a word to each other as you stared at the scorching flames before you.

You wanted to ask if you could try training, while you’re both not doing anything, you wanted to try.

But you were almost afraid of Mizu. His stoic demeanor often sent shivers down your spine especially when he had such a stern tone of voice.

Well it’s now or never.

“Hey Mizu?” You began. You could see him just barely out of your peripheral vision. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at you, but you didn’t want to look back as you continued,

“Before Ringo finishes the food, would you mind sparring with me?” You asked. Mizu stared at you for a moment before looking back to the tree he had been looking at before. Maybe he was thinking about his answer?

Your eyes slowly crept over to look at him from the side. He didn’t really make a move to give you an answer, he simply sat there, thinking.

“It can double as extra training for you. Obviously not to your level, but you can use me as a warm up.” You persisted, now fully looking at him. You stared at him for a moment, he was probably in the most relaxed position you ever have, or ever would see him in. He rested one of his arms on his knee with his back against the tree trunk that lay behind himself. His dark hair was in its usual top knot and his glasses remained on and pushed up.

You didn’t know why he wore those glasses, you had never seen him take them off, and you had never seen behind them. Maybe he just really enjoyed wearing them, maybe a family heirloom?

Well, from what you knew about the man, his family definitely wasn’t something he’d want to honor with an heirloom. Plus, they seemed more of a newer style of glasses so there goes that idea.

After staring for what was in reality, maybe ten seconds, you looked away. If he wasn’t going to train you then who was, why were you even here if he wasn’t going to give you a chance. Were you seriously just along to be Ringo's makeshift bodyguard? Seriou-

“Fine, get up.”

You looked confused, being snapped out of your thoughts so abruptly had you thinking you completely made up what you thought you just heard.

“Do you want to learn or not?” Mizu asked, now standing before you, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. You nodded eagerly, quickly standing up and following Mizu just a little ways away from the fire.

It wasn’t like the forest was pitch black, you could still see thanks to the bright moonlight, it was just a little bit harder.

Mizu stopped in a little open area, just enough room for a fight to take place. You looked back, seeing that the fire wasn’t too far but It was enough that you couldn’t exactly see what Ringo was doing because of the trees that blocked your vision.

You stood a little ways away from Mizu, getting into a fighting stance, unarmed. You knew how to use a katana and naginata very loosely, but you wanted to just start with hand to hand. You knew Mizu could easily kill you if he wanted to regardless of what the fighting style was, but you trusted him even the slightest bit to not commit to ending your life.

Now you both stood quietly before each other. Both in fighting positions as you waited for the other one to move. If you were to attack first you were far enough away to give Mizu time to counter you. If Mizu attacked first, you might have time to counter or dodge but you weren’t going to get very far.

So, without another thought, you charged at Mizu. He waited for a moment before doing the same, and just as you were about to swing, he threw snow right in your face.

“Hey!” You shouted, wiping the snow out of your eyes before looking up and seeing Mizu sending a punch right for your face. You successfully dodged underneath and swung your leg to send Mizu off balance.

“You must be ready to use all the elements to your advantage.” He instructed, easily jumping out of the way of your kick and backing away. You quickly got up, dodging another one of his kicks before going in for a punch. You sent too much momentum into it which left you way too open and vulnerable leading Mizu to easily knock you off balance.

It was clear he wasn’t going to hurt you, just humiliate you for your lack of understanding of how to fight.

You fell to the ground, looking up at Mizu who was just staring at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You two continued to fight for some time and you honestly could have sworn that you saw him smile a few times. Sure it might’ve been at your expense but you still felt proud enough to achieve such a feat.

You were slowly but surely getting the hang of it as you went.

Or so you thought.

You had gotten yourself into a position where you had a full plan of attack, but it seemed like Mizu was already eight steps ahead of you because with one simple move, he had knocked you down, now pinning you to the cold and snowy ground.

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to find a way out to attack but it was no use. He was indeed a lot stronger than you.

“Stop fussing, you lost.” He stated with what you could have sworn was a teasing smile. Fighting really brought out a different person in Mizu and honestly you didn’t mind it. It felt as if you two had finally started to get to know each other, even if it was just through a series of dodges and snarky remarks. It took you a few moments to realize he was actually straddling you, very tightly one might add. His hands were firmly holding down your hands and it was clear he was not going to budge.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the current situation you were in. It was nothing short of humiliating to practically beg to fight someone only to wind up underneath them, but you also couldn’t help but admit you also felt embarrassed for other reasons.

You looked up at him, and it was just then you noticed that his glasses had fallen off. You didn’t know when, you didn’t know where, all you knew was now you were staring at a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to be watching you in amusement.

He watched as your face changed from a sour expression to one of confusion,

“What’s wrong, can’t handle losing?” He teased, nearing you ever so slightly.

That was until you muttered,

“Your… eyes.”

With those two words, Mizu’s amused expression dropped suddenly and he jumped off of you and faced away in a matter of seconds. He quickly grabbed his glasses that had gotten thrown off during one of his many expert maneuvers.

You sat up, now staring at the back of the makeshift samurai who didn’t utter another word.

You had heard stories of ‘the demon eyes’ when you were a kid, everyone did. You might’ve believed those stories when you were younger but here stands someone with those ‘demon eyes’ and you saw nothing more than just a very scarred individual. Sure, Mizu was scary good at wielding weapons, but that wasn’t some demonic power, that was pure skill, and you admired him for it endlessly despite never wanting to admit that outloud.

You both sat in silence, you leaning on your hands and Mizu, sitting with his legs crossed and his back towards you. After a moment of just sitting you took a breath in, as you did so you noticed Mizu’s head lower ever so slightly as if he was preparing to hear or feel something he had heard before.

Your eyes softened as you stated,

“Your eyes… they’re very pretty.” You complimented. You could see Mizu freeze for a moment as you stood up, walking just up behind him.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of stuff he had gone through throughout his life, having to deal with people treating him differently for something he couldn’t control. You didn’t need his whole life story to know it was probably rough. It didn’t take a genius to know that considering where you are, sitting in the middle of the woods as the man before you continued to try to track down certain people for a reason unbeknownst to you.

Mizu continued to sit in silence as you kneeled down just behind him, you reached out your arm to touch his shoulder but you hesitated for a moment. Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should just leave him alone, it’s clear he is not comfortable.

You just wanted to show him some kind of comfort, even if it was just in the sense of one little shoulder touch, so that’s what you did. Your hand ever so gently rested on his shoulder before you quietly muttered,

“I mean it.”

Mizu’s head ever so slightly turned towards your direction, but before he could say or do anything you took your hand off of him and quickly stood up, quietly rushing back to Ringo who was still carefully preparing your food.

It was only a few more minutes before Mizu followed behind you, making his way towards the fire. Neither of you mentioned what had just happened and you continued to sit in silence just as you had done before. It was as if all the progress you had made to getting to know him while fighting, had gone down the drain.

Until you heard him quietly mutter,

“Thank you.”

[mask131]

Greek monster myths (1)

Various mini-articles loosely translated from the French « Dictionary of Feminine Myths », under the direction of Pierre Brunel. (You could also translate the title as “Dictionary of Female Myths” – the idea being all the myths centered around women)

Article 1: Gorgô

[Note: this mini-article is distinct from the mini-article about “Gorgons”]

The appearance of Gorgô, at the end of the eleventh chant of the Odyssey, is meant to cause fright – not just to Odysseus himself who is just done with invoking the dead, but also to the audience hearing this rhapsody (the Phaeacians listening to Odysseus’ tale), and to the very listener of the Homeric poem. Gorgô forms the dominant peak of this “evocation of the dead” (nekuia), she is the “chlôron déos”, the “green fear”. Odysseus’ mother, Anticleia, just disappeared back again nto the Hades – the hero wishes to summon other shades, such as those of Theseus and of his former companion Pirithous, “but before them, here is that with hellish cries the uncountable tribes of the dead gathered”. And Odysseus adds: “I felt myself becoming green with fear at the thought that, from the depths of the Hades, the noble Persephone might sent us the head of Gorgô, this terrible monster…” (633-635). It is barely an apparition, it is the possibility of an appearance, but it is enough to terrorize the living.

Jean-Pierre Vernant, in his work “La Mort dans les yeux” (Death in the eyes), establishes the link which ties together Gorgô and Medusa. Because Gorgô is more than a singular unification of the three Gorgons: she is a superlative form of Medusa, she is what happens when her petrifying gaze survives beyond death. By studying the depictions of Gorgô in ancient statues, Vernant establishes two fundamental traits: the faciality, and the monstrosity. He explains that “interferences” take place “between the human and the bestial, associated and mixed in diverse ways”. Maybe Gorgô is, as Vernant suggests, “the dark face, the sinister reverse of the Great Goddess, of which Artemis will most notably be the heir”. But Gorgô is also placed in the function of watchful guardian of the world of the dead, a world forbidden to the living. The mask of Gorgô expresses the radical alterity of Death and the dead.

Article 2: The Graeae

Daughters of Keto and Phorkys (they are thus also called “The Phorcydes”), sisters of the Gorgons, these divinities of shadows, which were born as elderly women and doomed to share one eye and one tooth for all three, appear exclusively in the tale of Perseus and Medusa.

The most ancient mention of the Graeae comes from Hesiod’s Theogony, which only counts two of them and names them Pemphredo and Enyo (Enyo was also the name of a goddess of war within Homer’s Iliad). The third of the sisters appears within a fragment of the Athenian logographer Pherecyde: Deino (“The Dreadful”), later called Persis by Hyginus (in his “Preface to fables”). Other authors, like Ovid, prefer to stick with two Graeae. Hesiod makes a quite flattering portrait of them: he makes them elegant goddesses with a “beautiful face”, even though they were “white-haired (understand “having white hair due to old age”) since birth”. And while their very name means “old women”, the Antique iconography actually follows the Hesiodic model: the depictions of the sisters as disfigured by the effects of time are quite rare… At most the artists will just put a few wrinkles. These mysterious hybrids between youth and old age, virginal seduction and sinister ugliness, finds an echo within a few lines from Aeschylus “Prometheus bound”: “Three ancient maidens, with swan bodies, that share a single eye and a single tooth, and who never receive a look from the shinng sun or the crescent of the night.” Aeschylus had an entire tragedy written about them (Phorcydes) which was unfortunately lost – but Aristotle wrote about it in his “Poetics” and implies that the play insisted on their monstrous aspect, placing them within the legendary area known as “the gorgonian fields of Kisthene”, and closely associating them with their sisters, of which they form a reversed image. Indeed, the Gorgons have a very powerful eyesight which no mortal being can face, while the Graeae have an extreme form of blindness. This trinity of women, old by nature, can also be understood as the antithesis of the three Charites, the Graces which embodied eternal youth.

The Graeae seems to have only a role within the myth of Perseus. And, outside of a few details, this legend does not change much from Pherecyde to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, passing by Lycophron, Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, and Hyginus’ Astronomy. In all those versions the Graeae are the jealous keeper of the secret path that leads to the Gorgons, and Perseus must steal their eye in order to obtain the knowledge needed to reach Medusa. However, Pherecyde did change an element: according to him the Graeae do not protect the path leading to the Gorgons, but rather the path leading to the nymphs that hold the magical items Perseus needs to fight Medusa.

Due to their limited presence in Greek mythology, the Graeae have quite a poor cultural posterity. In the 19th century Goethe will remember them: in his “Second Faust”, Mephistopheles appears under the guise of “Phorkyas”, a monster with only one eye and one tooth. In the world of paintings, Edward Burne-Jones, who created a true “Perseus cycle”, had a strong interest for them: he worked for a very long time on a painting of the Graeae. Their face is barely visible, but the cloth that wraps itself around their body is menacing ; they are within an arid desert, under a dark sky heavy with clouds – they perform a sinister dance, in a mockery of the Graces. Perseus comes to steal their eyes, and the grey color that invades all the nuances of the picture symbolizes the unique presence of those strange crones, both disquieting and pitiable.

Article 3: Echidna

Echidna, “the viper”, is according to Hesiod the daughter of Phorkys and Keto, themselves born of Pontos, the Sea, and Gaia, the Earth. Echidna’s sisters are female monsters like her: the Graeae, and the Gorgons. Hesiod describes her as having half of the body of a “fair-cheeked nymph”, while the rest of her body is the one of an enormous, big, cruel, spotted and terrible snake which “lies within the secret depths of the divine earth”. Echidna as such belongs to this large mythological family of snake-women, of which the most famous case in France is the fairy Mélusine. But unlike Mélusine, Echidna can never leave the snake-half of her body, and thus a better French heir would be Marcel Aymé’s depiction of the vouivre with her cohort of vipers.

Theodore de Banville, when he imagines Hesiod scolding him for sanitizing Classical mythology, makes of Echidna the symbol of the archaic mythology: he tells him that he is “making a toy out of the history of the gods” by depicting Love as “a sweet child, free of carnivorous appetites, ignored by the Furies and by bloody Echidna”.

Echidna precisely appears as a being led by an amorous desire within Herodotus’ tales, that he claims to have collected among the Greeks of Pontus Euxinus: as Herakles was sleeping, Echidna steals his horses away. She only agrees to give them back if he sleeps with her. When Herakles leaves her, she tells him that she will bear three sons from their union. He advises them to only keep with her one that would be able to bend a bow just like him, and to force the others to leave. She does that, and this favorite son is supposed to be the one that created the Scythian people. This meeting between Herakles and Echidna might be derived from the famous encounters between Herakles and three of Echidna’s other children: the Nemean Lion, the Hydra of Lerna, and Cerberus.

In Aeschylus, Orestes compares his mother, Clytemnestra, to “a horrible viper”. Sophocles has Creon call Ismene, which he believes to have helped Antigone, “a viper that slid in my house against my will to drink my blood”. These examples show a link between the Ancient metaphorical speech, and the mythological allusions. Indeed, only the context can allow us to determine if these authors meant “viper” as a common name, or as a proper name: as “Viper”, “Echidna”. But it confirms the idea that, in Ancient Greece, Echidna is a monster born of an archaic fear of the women, and embodying their supposed perfidy.

[rockbell1003]

The Qualities For A Husband

Hello! It's been a while, but I come bearing a new fic featuring even newer faces. I'd like to preface that this was written purely because I fell down a Bridgerton/historical manhwa rabbit hole and there is very little historical accuracy happening here. So please take it all with a grain of salt and enjoy my regency delusions 😊

It was her first time at the royal palace. The extravagant ballroom was filled with the newly come-of-age sons and daughters of the kingdom’s nobles. The young ladies who had debuted on the marriage market were gossiping to one another as they eyed the young sons of influential noble houses. This party was nothing more than a means of networking for the parents, by securing political ties through the marriage of their children. Persis sipped sparkling grape juice from a crystalline glass as she watched the marriage-minded mamas shepherd their offspring. She found it mildly comical and a touch depressing at the same time. 

“Ahem.” 

Persis raised a delicate eyebrow as she turned towards her chaperone, her cousin, Theodore. She, too, was meant to mingle and meet a prospective partner for her house’s benefit. However, Persis held no desire to have herself paraded around like a show pony. She may be unable to find a love match but she refused to sacrifice her dignity to secure a husband. “Is something caught in your throat, dear cousin?” she inquired facetiously as her gaze drifted from Theodore back to the rest of the ballroom. 

“I am fine, why aren’t you conversing with the list of potential suitors Father gave to you?” he asked. 

Persis sighed, “If you haven’t noticed, the list Uncle compiled contains boys that have much to be desired,” she tilted her champaign flute in the direction of a young man exuberantly talking at a young girl whose disinterested expression was politely concealed behind a hand fan. “Take him, the son of Count Ingles. Despite being the top candidate to graduate from the Capital’s knight academy with honors, and as his father’s successor, the boy clearly has no education in decorum. That poor girl looks bored out of her mind and he hasn’t even noticed.” 

“It would set Mother and Father’s minds at ease if you would at least participate like every other young noble here, Persis,” he sighed, “please Percy?”

The usage of her childhood nickname. It was a dirty trick and Theodore knew it. Persis turned to her cousin with narrowed eyes, “Fine, but I will not be abiding by Uncle’s list. He is not a good judge of character and you know it.” 

Her cousin nodded curtly, and gently pushed her towards the center of the ballroom. Persis grumbled but resigned herself to her fate. 

The next few minutes were not completely horrible. She managed to escape dancing and instead mingled with a few groups of noble ladies and men. They were shallow conversations filled with only pleasantries, suddenly, however, one conversation took an interesting turn.

“It appears that young Lord Macintire did come to the ball,” Eve the daughter of Count Grenwich said in a hushed tone. Persis followed her gaze to see a handsome young man standing off to the side of the banquet hall. He was engaged in conversation with a few other older gentlemen, “'tis a pity though,” Eve continued her voice trailing off and gaze averted.

Persis glanced back to the lady standing next to her, “I beg your pardon?”

Eve widened her eyes at Persis, “Oh! That’s right you’re new to the Capital,” she gestured towards the gentleman, “That man there is Bastian Macintire, son of the current Duke of Macintire.” 

Persis gave the woman a tight-lipped smile, despite being what the young ladies of the Capital believed to be a country bumpkin, she was in fact aware of the Dukedom of Macintire and the controversy surrounding their future heir. The Duke is the most powerful noble in the kingdom after the King and the current Duke has two sons, both of marriageable age. Perfect prey for lower-ranked nobles hoping to form connections through their daughters. 

“He is the firstborn son of Duke Macintire, yes?” Persis asked, taking another sip from her glass.

“He is but he is not the son set to inherit the title, due to his poor constitution. It has been decided that the second son will inherit the Dukedom.” 

Persis froze, the crystal rim of her glass against her painted lips as she glanced back at the young man. She had heard countless stories about him from Theodore, the two were the same age and both went to the academy together. However, she never had the pleasure of making his acquaintance, until tonight. From appearances alone, he did not look sickly, perhaps a bit on the leaner side as he did not have the same strong muscular build as those who dedicated their lives to the sword. As Persis eyed the young lord from the corner of her eye she noticed him quickly turn his head away and into his shoulder. It almost looked as if he flinched not once but three times consecutively, but just as fast as she caught the movement, the young lord regained his composure and continued to converse with the other men. Persis lowered her glass and turned back to Lady Eve, “I am not sure I understand why his presence here is a pity? Surely there are young ladies who desire to be betrothed to him. He certainly doesn’t look sickly, perhaps the title isn’t as set in stone as you say it is.” 

She shook her head, “according to the Duchess, Lord Frederick is sure to become the next Duke.” 

Ah so there it is, Persis thought. It was common knowledge that Bastian was the son of the late Duchess of Macintire, the Duchess Lady Eve was talking about is the Duke’s current wife and mother of Lord Frederick. 

“Many of the ladies do not wish to tie themselves down to a man with no title, let alone a man who is constantly confined to his sickbed.” 

Once again Persis wondered how much of Lady Eve’s gossip held some form of merit and how much was fed to high society from the Duchess. At a young age, Persis had learned to appreciate the knowledge found in gossip but not to assume it was fact. The information she had just learned from Lady Eve did contradict a few things she had learned about Bastian Macintire from her cousin.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind having him as a husband.” 

An audible gasp was heard from the ladies, Persis set her glass down on the nearest table.

“It’s nice to know that I won’t have any competition in winning his favor,” she smiled, “you ladies enjoy the rest of your evening.” Persis walked away, leaving the ladies to gossip amongst themselves.

Despite her bold declaration to vie for Lord Bastain’s hand in marriage to the group of gossiping noble ladies, Persis had found herself retreating to an open balcony with a glass of champagne she managed to swipe from one of the servers. She sighed and took a sip of the alcoholic beverage, closing her eyes to savor its sweet taste. Lord Bastian was the perfect candidate for her husband, he wasn’t on the list of suitors her uncle made so that was already a benefit. If he was struggling to inherit the dukedom then perhaps he would be open to becoming a marquess instead? Persis opened her eyes and swirled her champagne around in its flute as she drifted deeper into thought. She needed to find someone who would help her inherit the title her father left behind. She couldn’t let her uncle continue to act as proxy now that she came of age, let alone did she want to. Ideally, she wanted to find a man who would let her assume full control of the responsibilities of Marquess, but she knew how farfetched a dream that was. 

“hNXT-uh,” startled out of her thoughts, Persis turned around to see Lord Bastian duck his head into his shoulder as he made his own escape to the balcony.

“Pardon me, I did not realize this balcony was occupied,” he bowed his head in apology and began to retrace his steps.

“It’s alright, you can join me if you’d like,” Persis gestured back to the ballroom, “it appears that you need the reprieve from dancing and small talk.” 

He cleared his throat, “then I would be most grateful Milady,” he trailed off. 

“Persis Basilwood, Milord.” Persis supplied. 

Lord Bastian smiled, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Basilwood.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Macintire.” Persis replied. 

She couldn’t help but take note of Lord Bastian’s features in the lamplight. Despite the other noble ladies dismissing his physique, he was tall and appeared to have some well-toned muscle hidden beneath his impeccably tailored tailcoat. His dark hair was perfectly coiffed minus a small curl that seemed to have been dislodged and now fell by his brow. He also had striking hazel eyes that in the soft lamp-lit light, almost appeared golden. 

Persis took another sip from her glass as she watched him look out into the courtyard. Now privy to his side profile her eyes were suddenly drawn to his nose. It wasn’t all-encompassing on his face but not too small either. His side profile looked like the busts of ancient warriors her aunt had bought and displayed in their foyer. Strong and straight, and even in the soft light she noticed that his nostrils appeared a little flushed in color. 

She hid a small smile behind her drink, so there was some truth to the rumors regarding his health then. Just not quite as life-threatening as the gossip leads everyone to believe.

Suddenly, Lord Bastian inhaled and swiftly ducked his head into his shoulder, “HnGXT, ngxt, h-hHh..ih’Ngkx,” he sniffled and raised his head, running one finger crookedly under his nose.

“Bless you,” Persis said before he could utter any apologies. 

He lowered his hand to adjust his cravat and cleared his throat before responding, “Thank you.” He almost looked embarrassed and Persis had no desire to make the young lord any more uncomfortable.

“Are you hiding from the marriage-minded mamas then?” she inquired.

He glanced at her with widened eyes, “I beg your pardon?”

She gestured towards the ballroom with her glass, “Surely you are here to avoid being entangled with ambitious mamas who hope their daughters can capture the attention of the son of a duke,” she paused and looked back at him, “Why else would you find yourself here?”

Despite the dim light, Persis could see relief wash over Lord Macintire’s features. She concluded that the Lord did not want her to know that he must’ve snuck away due to what she assumed was a battle with his constitution. Persis took another sip of wine and looked out at the palace courtyard, she was more than happy to offer him another plausible excuse. 

“And what of you?” he inquired, “why are you hiding away?” Persis noted that he didn’t answer her question, but answered his anyway.

“You are not the only one who needs a respite from socializing,” Persis set her glass down and placed both of her palms on the ledge of the balcony, closing her eyes and concentrating on the soft breeze that caressed her skin, “I’d rather spend my time here than listening to young lords prattle on about the qualities they are looking for in their wives,” she opened her eyes just to roll them, “Delicate and demure, they might as well just purchase a porcelain doll.” She turned to Lord Macintire with a small smile, “Please do not tell my cousin or I will not hear the end of it.” 

Lord Macintire returned her smile with a grin of his own, “Your secret is safe with me,” he took a few steps closer to the ledge of the balcony so that he was now standing next to her, “your cousin mentioned that you were quite bright and a tad bit spirited,” he said as he gazed out over the courtyard. 

Persis let out a small sigh through her nose, “I did not realize that my cousin liked to talk about me to his fellow schoolmates.” 

Lord Macintire let out a light breathy chuckle, “he is quite proud of you. One moment he’s boasting and the next he’s threatening any man who might try to court you.” 

Persis dropped her head and groaned, “I apologize for any offense he may have caused you.” 

“No need, it was all in good fun. Although I will admit that his stories did cause me to wonder what it would be like to meet you.” 

Persis looked up at his confession to see him smiling at her with an almost boyish grin. It was - she dared to say - cute. 

“And do I live up to your expectations, Milord?” 

Persis did not tear her gaze from him, daring him to respond. However, whatever he was going to say to her teasing provocations was lost. Persis watched as his expression crumpled, his eyes drifting shut as his nose scrunched. Bastian quickly turned his head away and into the shoulder furthest from Persis.

“hiiNXT,hi…ih..GNXT,” he sighed and raised his head from his shoulder, “excuse me.” 

He sniffled wetly, fist pressed against the underside of his nose, “I beg your pardon, that was not very gentlemanly of me.” 

Persis shook her head, “You do not need to apologize, it does not bother me one bit.” She bit the inside of her lip and then reached into the pocket of her ballgown, pulling out a delicately embroidered handkerchief.

 “Here use this, you’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep stifling them like that.” 

However, her offer fell upon deaf ears as Lord Macintire’s attention was solely on keeping this new stubborn tickle in check. Persis looked up to see his face contorted in pure itchy misery. Lord Macintire’s eyes were squeezed shut as his nostrils flared, his breathing becoming more erratic with each shaky breath. Persis quickly unfolded and pressed the handkerchief into his hand, hoping he would catch on and use it. As soon as she curled his fingers around the linen square and released her grip, Lord Macintire immediately brought the cloth up to his face and cupped it around his nose. 

“HEH-MPFH!, HMNN--HMPFshhk! gh-heh…HEMPFH-uh,” 

Persis knew it was poor manners to stare but she couldn’t help but watch as Lord Macintire seemed to lose control. Each sneeze was more powerful than the last and he was left curled into himself. An unfamiliar heat seemed to coil in her stomach, she felt her cheeks flush, unsure of what just transpired but wanting to experience it again. 

It took Lord Macintire a moment to collect himself and soon he was back to standing straight. Persis quickly turned to the side to give him the privacy she should have given him in the first place if she wasn’t so distracted. She watched from the corner of her eye as he kept the handkerchief tented around his nose, he sniffled a few times before folding it and gently wiping the cloth against the underside of his nostrils. Persis wondered if he was embarrassed to use it to its full effect or if he was worried about ruining it and her ‘gentler sensibilities’ with it. 

“Thank you, Milady.” 

 Persis turned around and smiled, “Do not mention it Milord, are you feeling better?”

Lord Macintire coughed lightly into the fist holding her handkerchief and Persis swore she saw a light dusting of pink across his cheeks. “Much, thank you again. However, I am afraid that I ruined your handkerchief.” 

Persis shook her head, “I am just glad that it was of some use, I have no sentimental attachment to -” Persis was cut off by the resounding chimes of the Capital’s clock tower. Her eyes widened and she turned to face the direction of the bells. Suddenly all too aware that it was now midnight and all unmarried ladies would have to depart from the ball. She thought she had more time, she glanced back at Lord Macintire, lip caught between her teeth. There was no guarantee that he would be coming to the following balls, or partaking in any other social events in the Capital. This may be her only chance. She hoped that her panic was not visible on her face as she posed a question to the young lord.

“Forgive my candor but if you wish to reciprocate my kindness, perhaps you would like to meet me for tea?” 

She watched as his eyes widened, not that she was surprised. She was being outlandishly bold, it was expected that the man would take the first step in courting a woman, not the other way around. But Persis did not have the luxury of other demure noble girls with the entire season to secure a husband. She did not have the time to give him coquettish smiles and send signals his way with a minute flick of a hand fan under the watchful gaze of her chaperone. No, if she wanted to form a courtship with Bastian Macintire, she would have to take the necessary steps to do so. 

“I would like that very much snf, I will send an invitation to your family’s Capital estate in the morning.” 

Persis took the skirts of her dress in her hands and began to make her way to the balcony’s open doors. “I look forward to it, Lord Macintire. Now if you’d please excuse me, I must find my cousin post haste before he realizes I spent an unseemly amount of time with you unchaperoned.”

She stepped out of the balcony and back into the ballroom, quickly making her way back to Theodore. Persis couldn’t hide the smile that graced her lips as she caught a glimpse of Lord Macintire’s own boyish grin. Yes, she wouldn’t mind having him as a husband at all.

[mosneakers]

◇

Seymour: [Croaky voice] My sisters love me now, but oh, Persy sure wasn't too thrilled to have me as her baby brother back in those days! [Soft chuckle] She wanted me dead.

Tycho: No, I'm sure she was just adjusting.

Coraleye: Yeah! I bet it all changed for her when she saw your handsome little face.

Seymour: It took her some time to warm up to me. Even then the little shit preferred her animals and imaginary friends.

Coraleye: [Smiles] Uncle Bo...

Kirsten: And she wasn't even the one they considered "troubled." Gwendolyn, now that's the one they had to watch out for...

Gwendolyn Darling

Mr. and Mrs. Darling often wondered what kind of personality —if any— Gwendolyn would have developed if it weren't for the invention of the modern television. Her entire demeanor was made up of pieces of tidbits she collected from her time spent in front of the screen.

Despite the children from school finding her rather strange, Gwendolyn navigated social settings with ease. She'd smile like a dazzling silver screen starlet, and crack jokes like a beloved gameshow host.

Persephone Darling

Persephone was a very grumpy and irritable child. often opting to keep to herself due to her crippling social awkwardness. As Seymour explained, her only real friends were creatures with feathers or four legs, as well as those conjured by her imagination. But where she lacked in cheerfulness, she made up for in athleticism and harbored a profound passion for animals. Persephone maintained an active lifestyle and found enjoyment in a variety of sports, spanning from swimming and ball games to the art of ballet.

As Seymour's due date drew closer, a knock on the door followed by the family dog barking madly signaled an unexpected visit from Agnes's nephew, Mortimer—a visit undoubtedly orchestrated by Cornelia. As if he were being forced to recite the offer against his will, Mortimer reluctantly extended his services to babysit the girls, as her days grew busier with a new baby. Agnes appreciated the offer and could've certainly used his help, but she knew well that Mortimer, being a teenage boy, would likely rather be off doing something else, rather than tasked with keeping an eye on his younger cousins.

Agnes remembered back to her sister Cornelia's assertion that Mortimer's best friend, Bella Bachelor, was beginning to "smile at him in a different way now." Struck with a clever idea, Agnes proposed a deal to Mortimer: If he would be willing to babysit the girls and take good care of them during her labor and the early days with the new baby, he could bring Bella along to assist him. Considering his mother didn't allow him and Bella to be alone anymore, Mortimer lit up like a lightbulb, and eagerly accepted. He did request, however, that Agnes not mention Bella's involvement in this arrangement to his mother.

And it sure was lucky the Darlings got a babysitter just in time, for not long after, in the early hours of the morning at 4:27 AM, on All Hallow's Eve, the Darlings welcomed a bouncing baby boy with little babydoll eyes. They held him close, celebrating the first happy birthday of many more to come.

←Previous

[normal-about-boys]

Yandere skeletons

the votes are in and you guys crazy anime trope papyri, and here I am to deliver such things to you on a silver platter.

-------------------------------------

Cinnamon: For someone who is normally as subtle as a brick to the face, he is REALLY good at hiding the fact he's stalking you. Plausible deniability goes a looooong way.

He is very focused on the details. He watches you as closely as possible without being noticed, writing anything noteworthy in a notepad He carries around [and he deems everything noteworthy so he's gone through like, 4 notepads already].

Cinnamon asks you out after a few months of "getting to know you" with a grand romantic gesture.

He left notes and chocolates and flowers in your work locker! How sweet! How did he get your locket combination though? Eh, whatever, he probably asked your boss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carnation: I've never met someone so patient and impatient at the same time. He kidnaps you immediately, or what feels like immediately. The basement he locked you in is really nice, a fully finished place with all the amenities. Hell, it's better than your place.

But that doesn't change the fact he keeps you locked up in a basement with no windows.

So you fight back.

And this is where he can be patient, you can throw tantrums or play hard to get, but he knows you'll break eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honey: He is in the background. He can't go up to you and have a conversation like a normal person. He wants to, but evertime he's near you his soul feels like it's on fire and he can't move.

He's always there though. He goes with you everywhere, just a few steps behind. Always watching.

He keeps a collection of sorts, things he takes from you. He has a whole closet filled with anything from used toothbrushes to locks of hair.

The only time he can be next to you and feel normal is when you're asleep. He'll sit next to your bed and lay his head down, his fingers playing with your hair. He will stare at your sleeping face while talking about whatever comes to mind. It would be sweet if he didn't break into your house and steal your underwear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jam: Jam is scary. I mean, they all are, but he's the one that feels the most.... dangerous.

He's a manipulator. He needs you, and he needs you to need him just as much as he does you. He'll do anything to make that happen. Jam will whisper in your ear lies to isolate you, keep you from interacting with others.

You can't have anyone else, only him.

He'll never be satisfied either. First, he makes sure you have no one else, then you live with him, then you depend on him, but even then it's not enough.

Who knows how far he'll go to make your mind, body, and soul completely his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Persimmon: He is extremely delusional. In his head, you two are the perfect happy couple. He does everything he can to keep you happy and safe, and in return you are the most perfect little human ever.

In reality, he's deranged and keeps you locked up. You used to be able to roam free in his house until you kept breaking things and trying to fight him, now you are tied up. He drugs you to make you easier to handle. You used to refuse food when you learned it was drugged but quickly stopped that when he force-fed you.

Life is hell with Persi.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So erm..... yeah yandere boys. I tried to make it more light-hearted at first but my love for horror came out. Woops. I know these aren't the best so constructive criticism is welcome!

[justmenoworries]

Lore Olympus Episode 268 Spoilers

I don't know why I keep giving this comic chances.

Once again, another character comes floating out from the ether to save Persie's ass so Persie won't have to stand up for herself.

Like, we hate Apollo in this house, but he was right about one thing: Persie's been doing jackshit to solve any of the problems she and her hubby caused.

The only reason Apollo was able to corner her like this is that she's been sitting on her ass doing nothing but feeling sorry for herself for the past ten episodes.

Side note, but have you noticed that Dionysus vanished into thin air? We haven't seen that kid for like days. Who exactly is watching him while all this is going on? Who's taking care of him?

At this point why exactly did Persie steal Dionysus from Zeus if she isn't planning to be any more present in his life than his actual father? I said it before and I stand by it: the nymphs in the mortal realm would have made infinitely better parents than hxp.

And now, because Persie continues being the most incompetent ruler in a pantheon that includes Zeus, Hera is going to be forced to confront her abuser.

Lovely.

Dread Queen, my ass.

[lunamay3]

Since the watch party for the Thunder Saga is tomorrow, I’m going to put out there my last minute predictions for the Thunder Saga and the rest of Epic: the Musical.

So if you don’t want any spoilers for the Thunder Saga, don’t read on.

So, I still stand by my initial theory that the first two songs of act 2 are going to set up some theme that is going to be continued throughout the rest of the act, only to be resolved during the last song. Mostly because this is exactly what happened in act 1.

So, The Horse and The Infant and Just a Man do not draw their plot from The Odyssey. Sure the Trojan Horse is retold in the Odyssey, but, perhaps more importantly for Epic, the infant, Prince Astyanax, is not mentioned anywhere in The Odyssey. As far as I can tell the only pieces of Ancient Greek literature that mention Astyanax being murdered by Odysseus (or on his orders) are The Trojan Women and Iliou Persis.

Furthermore, The Horse and The Infant and Just a Man set up the theme in act 1 of “When does a man become a monster?”, a question that is resolved in the act 1 closer Monster.

We know that the first two songs of Act 2, Suffering and Different Beast also do not draw from The Odyssey, which seems to parallel with The Horse and The Infant and Just a Man.

We also know that Suffering and Different Beast probably are duets between Odysseus and Penelope due to the fact that Jorge and Anna Lea are listed as singers on the songs. And Jorge has told us that song 40, the last song of act 2, is going to be a duet between Odysseus and Penelope. This, to me, also seems to parallel the set up between the first two songs of act 1 and the act 1 closer.

In short, I think Suffering and Different Beast are going to play the same structural role in Act 2 that The Horse and The Infant and Just a Man played in Act 1. But I guess I can’t completely prove that until The Ithaca Saga comes out.

[pr41sethemoon]

Take Some Time | Jake Kiszka x Reader ☾

Word Count: 927

Warning(s): Little bit of stressed-out Jake lol, a smidge of sexual tension, and but ultimately Fluff 🤍

|Sorry in advance if any errors|

Okay Jake moment here…don’t imagine

Jake is having an irritating day. He's been stressing out lately over stuff at work. Been in and out of Zoom meetings all day. Trying his best to write and come up with new riffs for a few songs while attending those meetings. He was dreading today. The huffing and puffing fits were in full force. He had no patience for anything. Overall, Jake was tired and overworked at this point.

You could tell once he came home from the studio, especially how he greeted you. He didn't say anything but gave you a small kiss on the cheek and went straight into his office. Your brows furrow as your lips slightly pierce together feeling bad for him. You knew he needed a bit of space for a while, so you figured you come up with something for him.

About an hour or so later, you give his office door a knock. You're also trying to balance the tray and the drink you held. The door opens with a gust of wind, revealing Jake who was looking down at you. You give him a sheepish smile, "I brought you something to eat." already walking in, you give him a little bump with your hip.

A brief small smile is shot your way before he gives your hip a tap. You could hear him give a tired huff as he walks back over to the desk, "Thank you, sweet." he says softly before taking a seat and getting back to work.

"Woah woah," your brow arches, " Could you take a break?" you set the tray down on the little coffee table.

He’s already tapping away on the keyboard, "Sorry honey, this stuff has to be finished by Sunday and I want to get it out the way."

You fold your arms over your chest watching him "Jake, It's literally Tuesday, I'm sure you'll have it done in no time." you say softly.

You saw that he was not budging, and your head slightly tilts at his stubbornness. You move to stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He's already shaking his head at you.

"What are you shaking your head for?" you ask as a smirk slowly appears on your face.

He already knows what you're trying to do. His brows furrowing as he keeps his focus on the computer screen "You're not going to get me to stop like this." he’s so damn stubborn.

You chuckle quietly "What are you talking about? I've hardly touched you."

He snorts but doesn't respond, he's going over some notes he wrote out during his meeting.

“I know you’ve been at this all day at the studio,” your hand slightly rubs over his chest, playing with the charm connected to his chain. “You’re tense, Jacob.” lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

He sighs “It’s not going to finish itself, love.”

Silently sighing to yourself, moving a hand to slide over his hand that was on the mouse. "Jacob." you coo to him. "You're overworked, and you need to relax." you nuzzle your nose to his sweet spot just before his jawline.

You could feel him tense against you, leaning back into you with a slight furrow on his brows again. "Plus, I miss you Jake, you've been working so much." pressing your lips to that spot elicited a small groan from him.

Jake turns his head a little to face you, he's giving you his signature squint. "You're going to drive me crazy." he says with a huff.

You give him a cheeky hum before cupping his jaw gently as you plant another kiss on the sensitive spot. This sent ripples through him, and a smirk plays across your lips "You can't deny that you love it though." you coo to him.

He stares back at you, his brows tinge. As much as he wants to hold his ground with you, he simply can't. Not this time at least. You got him wrapped around your finger and all you could do was smile innocently to him.

"Maybe for a little bit." he finally decides. Your smile grows bigger, standing before him you. His hands slide up the side of your hips, pulling you between his legs. "You're so persistent." He says softly as he looks up at you.

You chuckle with a playful roll of your eyes. "Please, like I said, you love it." Your hands slide into his as you pull him out of the chair. Closing the space the two of you as you lean up to give him a gentle kiss on his lips. You then remember the food you made for him, "I can reheat that for you."

He looks over at the food for a moment as he mentally makes his decision. He hums, his hands slowly sliding down your lower back. A smirk slowly creeps its way to his lips before he looks down at you. "I don't think so." Before you could even process what he says, his hands are on the backs of your thighs lifting you up. Squealing, you wrap your legs around his waist.

"I can eat that later." he says softly as he nuzzles his nose into your jaw. "But right now, were going to spend the rest of the day how I'd like to spend it."

He's littering your neck and jaw with kisses, hitting all your ticklish spots. "Sounds like a plan, my love." you say between giggles as your arms wrap themselves around his neck, letting him carry you out of the office.

Fin

| You made it! Thank you for reading. ♡︎ |

[southislandwren]

After my tattoo that’s it…. Summer’s over…….. the grind never stops 😔💪

[sm0lprism]

Bite-Sized (10) - A G/t BG3 fanfic

This contains g/t (giant/tiny content) so if that isn't your thing, then I suggest you stop reading. Thank you!

Read on ao3

Chapter 1 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Series master list

Summary: Ria awaits her impending fate inside Astarion's mouth. Will this be the end for her or will Astarion surprise her?

Pairing: Astarion x f!borrower!oc (Tav/oc) (slow-burn)

Warnings: MOUTHPLAY WARNING!!! If you are uncomfortable with mouthplay or vore-ish themes, then DO NOT read this chapter! No actual vore occurs but mouthplay is VERY prominent and makes up the majority of this chapter. Swearing/course language.

Word count: 2.5k

EDIT: shoutout to my good friend @smolgloves for coming up with one of the ideas for this chapter!! (you know which one hehe)

It took every fibre in her being not to scream as Astarion’s lips passed over her body, pulling her inside his open maw. Before her eyes could adjust to the change in lighting, she was suddenly pressed to the roof of his mouth as he took a loud gulp and swallowed the remaining beer from his cup. She remained motionless as the giant fleshy muscle held her in place, all she could do was watch in terror as the liquid disappeared down his cavernous throat in a matter of seconds. All it would take was one swallow, and she would disappear down his gullet too.

His tongue suddenly relaxed, the beer now gone down his throat, and she found herself lying on the expanse of his wet, warm tongue. The scent of beer was heavy in the air, but it chilled her to the bone when she could also smell the metallic scent of blood hanging evidently in his mouth too. Tears burned her eyes and she stifled a sob. Her breathing came out in raspy gasps as dread hooked its claws into her once more as she attempted to process what was happening.

Gods, is he going to eat me?! Will I die like this?

Her mind immediately flickered back to when she had first met Astarion, how he had been so intent on eating her, how he had tasted her blood, running his tongue over her arms, and held her squirming in his cold fist like she was nothing but a mere piece of meat ready to be eaten. Fear clung fiercely to her heart and it quickly spread to the rest of her body like wildfire, smothering any other rational thought that was left in her brain. How could she sit idly, inside a vampire’s mouth, and not do anything? If she didn’t do something right now, she could be taking a trip down his throat very soon. She refused to wait around to see what would happen if she chose to remain idle.

My dagger.

As soon as the thought struck her brain, she hastily reached for her tiny dagger that Dammon had so carefully crafted and gripped it firmly in her trembling fist. Without a second thought, Ria drove her dagger into the flesh of his tongue and began stabbing the muscle multiple times as pure adrenaline clutched onto her hungrily with a vice-like grip. No sensible thoughts crossed her mind as she stabbed relentlessly, all she could think about was how much she didn’t want to go down Astarion’s throat and into his waiting stomach.

“Let me out!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs, blood from his tongue now splattering over her clothes as she continued to stab the wet surface, tears streaming down her face. “I haven’t come this far to be eaten by the likes of you!”

The fleshy surface beneath her suddenly tensed before pinning her to his palate once more, an audible grunt resonating loudly from the back of his throat. In the confusion of the moment, the dagger slipped out of her grasp and clanged against his large molars before falling and wedging itself between some of his pristine teeth that were dangerously close to the back of his throat. All she could do was watch in stunned silence, aside from the gurgling noises coming from the back of his throat, as her only means of defense was completely out of her reach.

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Now she was quite literally at his mercy.

Perhaps stabbing his tongue so persistently wasn’t a good idea after all.

Sealing her eyes shut, she waited for the dreaded moment where he would swallow. Surely after her outburst of frequent stabbing, he would be done with her and gulp her down with no hesitation. Her body trembled as more sobs racked through her core violently as she waited for the end. But moments passed, and she was still pinned to the roof of his mouth as his tongue firmly held her in place.

What is happening?

Opening her eyes, her gaze scanned her surroundings and she was soon greeted with a formidable wall of teeth. She shuddered as her eyes fell on his fangs, so large that they could impale her entire body if he so pleased. Those same fangs had almost ended her life only a few weeks ago, and now she was face to face with them once more inside the vampire’s mouth. Chills snaked down her spine, suppressing another shiver, as she recalled those memories yet again of that fateful night. However, this time was different to when she had first met him – she was alive and inside the vampire’s mouth now, and surprisingly not halfway down to his stomach.

Why hasn’t he eaten me yet?

She wriggled around against his soft tongue, wondering if he was simply tasting her before the inevitable happened. Surely if he was going to eat her, he would’ve done so by now – right? His tongue barely moved, cradling her delicately against his palate, and it showed no signs in flicking her body down his throat. All she could do was wait painfully to see what he would do. Her heart pounded relentlessly against her ribcage, threatening to burst right out of her chest, her stomach dropping like a stone. If Astarion didn’t end her soon, the sheer suspense of the moment would.

After what felt like days, his tongue slowly relaxed and lowered her down until she was resting on the bottom of his mouth again. She didn’t dare move a muscle as she quivered on top of his tongue. Seconds turned to minutes, but still nothing happened. His tongue was surprisingly still as well, holding her as if she was as fragile as glass. While she sat in the vampire’s mouth, her overwhelming fear started to slowly dwindle. Her body was still frozen in place, refusing to move, worried that if she attempted to move again, he would squash her to the roof of his mouth, or even worse, swallow her whole. While she laid on his tongue, the only noises she could hear was the bubbling noise at the back of his throat. It certainly unnerved her listening to his bodily functions, a constant reminder of where she could easily end up if Astarion willed it.

Saliva coated her entire body, drenching all her clothes until they were a sodden mess. She sniffled as she realised that if she survived this, her clothes were completely and utterly ruined. There was no way she could walk out of this with any dignity left to her name, if she managed to get out of this at all. At least it was…pleasantly warm inside his mouth. It shocked her that while Astarion himself was icy cold to the touch, his mouth was surprisingly cosy. It pained her that the thought even crossed her mind, but the warmth that radiated from his mouth could only be described as such. Perhaps there was hope for her yet. She recalled Astarion winking at her moments before he slipped her inside his mouth, and how he had looked almost apologetic. Maybe she would be fine after all. And maybe stabbing his tongue had been incredibly stupid of her, but in her defense, after everything that she had been through, stabbing him was a perfectly reasonable reaction to the situation. Or at least that’s what she would keep on telling herself.

Pools of saliva had now started to gather around his tongue, steadily increasing by each passing second. A small yelp escaped past her lips as the fleshy muscle suddenly pinned her against his teeth, his throat releasing a very loud swallowing sound as the gathering pools of saliva vanished down his throat in a matter of seconds. Panic fluttered in her chest like a swarm of butterflies as she watched the liquid disappear so quickly down his gullet, and she shivered, thinking how easily that could’ve been her.

He…he still isn’t swallowing me.

His tongue soon relaxed, no longer pressing her against the wall of giant teeth. She inhaled a shaky breath, attempting to calm her frantic beating heart as she slowly accepted that perhaps she was safe after all. Why would he deliberately avoid swallowing her multiple times if he wasn’t going to do it? Especially after she had stabbed his tongue so harshly, she had expected him to swallow her almost immediately after doing something like that. But despite everything, he was holding her on top of his tongue like she was some kind of prized jewel. She was surprised that the vampire could be so gentle, especially in his mouth of all places where his dangerously sharp fangs could easily tear her in half.

Does he…care about me?

As soon as the thought entered her brain, heat blossomed across her face and her heart almost skipped a beat. Maybe he did care about her somewhat, after all, she had persuaded the group to allow him to feed on bandits and other thinking creatures. He had expressed gratitude towards her, and he had even thanked her for it the previous night. But she still couldn’t believe it.

No, that can’t be right. There’s no way that he could, especially after everything that’s happened…

The burning blush on her face only deepened and she knew for a fact that he could feel her tiny heartbeat pounding fiercely against her chest. She needed to get out of there quickly. She wasn’t sure just how much more of this she could take without turning into a complete mess.   

Gods, why me? Why did I have to suggest the alcohol idea in the first place?

As if her prayers were answered, light suddenly showered down on her small frame as his lips parted open. A startled squeak jumped out of her throat as pale, cold fingers gripped her waist and pulled her out of his mouth and into the cold air from outside. She shivered as the freezing air caressed over her saliva-coated skin, and for a brief second, she almost wished that she was back inside the warmth of the vampire’s mouth.

Before she could even process the thought, silky fabric smothered her entire body and gently massaged small circles into her drenched skin and clothes. She was completely numb to it all, her brain still attempting to comprehend what was even happening, but through all her mixed and flustered emotions she gathered that Astarion was attempting to dry her with what seemed to be a handkerchief of some kind. He continued to softly dry her soaked body, including her little head, his saliva and drying movements causing her hair to stick up in utterly ridiculous angles. Her face burned with embarrassment as he continued to dry her body and she was a little grateful that he couldn’t see her face during that moment.

The fabric soon pulled away, revealing Astarion’s piercing red gaze that settled on her small frame as she quivered in the palm of his hand.

“Well.” Astarion’s tongue swiped over his lips, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “That certainly got a lot more intimate than what we planned for, didn’t it, darling?”

She opened and closed her mouth, but no audible sound registered on her lips. How was she supposed to talk after going through all of that, and then have him say that to her? Not to mention the way he ran his tongue over his lips – although she couldn’t tell if that was deliberate or not, it sent her heart spasming in her chest. Her mind failed to string together a coherent sentence as her lip trembled.

Astarion faltered, clearly seeing the look of distraught across her puffy face made him rethink what he was going to say next. His usual cheeky demeanour soon faded and was quickly replaced with a look of worry that once again surprised her.

“I do apologise for…uh…that.” He cleared his throat, his sanguine eyes staring at her with a soft warmth that was much unlike his usual piercing glare. “Holding you in my mouth was not my intended plan at all.”

He paused for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together as he cradled her in his hand.

“Are you alright?”

Her throat felt as if it were being crushed by some unseen force, tears pricked at her eyelids as her gaze darted away from his face to look at the floor below her as she sat in his cold palm. She didn’t know how to respond, after being faced with death once again and having those memories resurface, all she wanted to do was to run away and hide.

Of course I’m not alright. After all that, how can I possibly be?

“Ria?” Astarion’s voice rumbled all around her, startling her from her thoughts.

“Put me down,” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

Both of his eyebrows shot up upon hearing her request. “Ria, we can ta-”

“I said put me down!” she exclaimed, tears burning her cheeks, her face swollen and puffy from crying. “Please. Now.”

He didn’t question her further as he dropped to one knee and lowered his hand to the ground. Immediately she hopped off his palm, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she blinked back more tears.

She angled her neck upwards to look at him, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her tiny body as she swallowed back her rising fear. Now that she was on the ground, she was reminded once again just how small she was compared to him and everything else.

She needed to get away from him.

Before he could say anything, she sprinted away from him in the opposite direction. The ground trembled as his footsteps shuffled around on the dusty ground, and that only made her run faster.

Maybe it was utterly foolish for her to run away from her only means of protection, but she couldn’t bear to be around him in her current state. For her own sanity, she needed to get far away from him. They were still outside the Goblin Camp, the noises of the cheering from the goblins celebrating their latest kill rung heavily through the air, but she ignored it and continued to sprint towards the main building.

“Ria!” Astarion’s voice boomed from above, rattling through her very core and sending adrenaline spiking through her bloodstream. His large footfalls sent trembling earthquakes through the ground and she forced her legs to continue to run with all she had, not daring to look back.

In front of her she saw a small hole encrusted in the wall of the main building, just the right size for her to crawl into. She dashed inside, briefly feeling Astarion’s fingers brush past her hair as he made a failed attempt at grabbing her.  

“Wait, just hold on!” Astarion shouted from outside, his voice piercing her tiny eardrums and she flinched from the intensity.  

She ignored his words and instead ventured into the depths of the Goblin Camp.